Elio’s Notes: The title is the closing line of Tang poet Wang Changling’s Listening to a Wandering Musician Play a Water Tune. In the poem, a zheng performance ends on a broken string as the listener’s grief gathers into deep tear-stains; the chapter later quotes the line in full.
Li Yu’s throat was bitter, but after swallowing the medicinal decoction, warmth gradually returned to his limbs. From somewhere beyond the gauze curtains came the faint sound of a wooden fish. He closed his eyes to rest, yet before long his eyes felt so exhausted and painfully sore that he lifted a hand to press them. The Young Elder’s low voice continued reciting the Lotus Sutra.
“If Your Majesty is tired, you should go back and rest.”
Li Yu smiled faintly with his eyes still closed. “Your Majesty? Starting tomorrow, I will no longer be one.”
The Young Elder looked startled for an instant, then immediately returned to his usual expression. The man before him had his eyes closed and did not see it. Prayer beads continued turning ceaselessly through the monk’s fingers. “Why does Your Majesty say that?”
The man in white raised one arm and rested it on the table. His mist-like outer robe of white gauze slipped with the movement, revealing a wrist whose bones stood out sharply. In the shifting light, the Young Elder could clearly see the scar there. Li Yu’s lips moved in faint self-mockery. “The Ruler of Jiangnan will lower the ceremonial forms and change imperial edicts to directives. From now on, everyone is to address me as Ruler of Jiangnan.”
Elio’s Notes: Li Yu’s shift from imperial “edicts” to lower-ranking “directives” is a deliberate reduction in sovereign ceremony under pressure from Song. Historical accounts also record this formal downgrading of Southern Tang institutions and royal titles during this period.
The Young Elder truly had not expected this of him and for a moment had nothing to say. Incense smoke coiled through the Buddhist hall. A tiny white insect had somehow fluttered inside and, dazed by the smoke, kept bumping blindly from place to place, unable to find its way out through the layers of gauze. Li Yu seemed disturbed by it as he rested with his eyes closed. “A white insect, even after autumn has begun…” He waved a hand, but the little thing did not leave. When he opened his eyes to look, the world before him suddenly blurred. The small white speck abruptly darkened to gray. Li Yu frowned and braced one hand against the table, forced to close his eyes again. The Young Elder noticed something was wrong. “Your Majesty?”
“…It is nothing. Perhaps I am tired.” The wave of dizziness slowly eased. Li Yu looked around and found nothing else unusual, then rose and walked toward the door. “I do not know whether I can truly steady Zhao Kuangyin, but even if it only works for a while, I have to try. Starting tomorrow, every ceremonial form will be reduced. Everyone must change how they address me.”
The Young Elder rose and watched his back as he slowly walked away.
＊
That evening, the palace held a banquet for the envoys from the Song court. Pearls were set into the walls throughout the Jinling palace, and nowhere more lavishly than Weiyang Hall. Their hazy radiance remained bright without being harsh, bathing the hall in unusually soft light. Jiangnan’s strings, flutes, sheng, and singing naturally intoxicated the senses. Wine cups passed from hand to hand amid a scene where elegance and sensual beauty seemed made for one another. Li Yu sat in the place of honor, one fingertip lightly tapping the side of his cup, his smile measured to perfection, neither ingratiating nor lacking in respect. The trailing skirts of the Golden Lotus dancers rippled across the floor while a performer’s slender, crystalline voice sang another night into a drunken dream. Above them, the Ruler of Jiangnan was gentle and luminous as jade. Even the men of the Northern Court had to admit that his reputation was deserved. This was an entirely different kind of charm. No wonder so many poets and scholars came to Jiangnan and thereafter found themselves entangled in longing.
Li Yu took a small sip of wine. Just then the pearls sewn across the Golden Lotus skirts flowed in motion, their delicate pale pink gleam catching the pearl-light that shimmered all around until everything became dazzlingly bright. He casually raised his eyes and swept a glance across the hall, then frowned. At the instant the light became most brilliant, everything around him suddenly dimmed. He truly had not rested well yesterday.
He had no choice but to close his eyes for a moment. A palace attendant immediately came over to ask, “My Lord, are you tired?” One exceedingly slender wrist rose to rub his temple, drawing another murmur of admiration through the hall. Li Yu smiled bitterly to himself and suddenly felt too lazy even to open his eyes. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with letting everything remain in darkness.
“It is nothing.” In the end, he still had to open his eyes and see these faces clearly. Derision, mockery, curiosity, all of it was merely the give-and-take hidden behind this performance. What Golden Lotus, what music of sheng and song, what heaven on earth? The sudden darkness beneath the brilliant pearl-light made him remember the day he had escorted Hongxiu back to Green Willow Lane. In that poorest of alleys, dim spiderwebs clung beneath every eave. Now, seated in the splendor of an imperial hall, he seemed to see those crooked webs again, dark and indistinct. The whirling Golden Lotus dancers became strand after strand of black web, something uncanny and corrupted. He could see nothing clearly, and yet it felt as though he saw everything far too clearly. The focus slipped from his double pupils. Disoriented, Li Yu seized a cup and drank. The warmed wine did indeed bring heat back into his body, and at last he felt his mind settle a little. When he asked the hour, he learned that the night had long since passed its midpoint.
They might as well disperse. Li Yu rose with a faint smile that seemed to dim even the pearl-light and leave the entire hall holding its breath. One wrist emerged from the elaborate purple brocade of his sleeve and hung at his side. For all the splendor wrapped around him, it could not confine the spare, quiet outline of his figure. The few white-jade steps beneath the place of honor in Weiyang Hall were polished bright enough to reflect a face. He descended slowly, intending to return to his chambers, but whether from fatigue or something else, his double-pupiled eyes had been unable to see clearly all day. His foot caught. His body swayed slightly and ink-black hair spilled beside his ear. Piaopeng hurried forward to steady him. “My Lord…” The hall, noisy a moment before, fell into watchful silence. Rumor had long said that since Empress Zhaohui’s death, the Ruler of Jiangnan had wasted away under the weight of grief and spent his days hiding in Buddhist temples to escape the world. Seeing him now, everyone thought the rumors must be true. Several officials behind the envoy raised their brows and exchanged secret smiles. They had not been wrong to call these southerners soft. How could someone steeped in apricot blossoms and spring rain endure real wind and storm? Seeing how frail the Ruler looked, they could report to His Majesty first thing upon returning that there was little reason for concern.
The men of the Northern Court watched coldly, yet had not expected that even this man’s moment of imbalance could become a scene worth looking at. Li Yu lifted his wrist, smoothed his hair back into place, and wore an expression so mild that not a ripple showed. Using the strength of Piaopeng’s arm, he straightened with effortless grace. His cultivation and composure were contained in nothing more than a breath. Not a trace of embarrassment or helplessness remained.
“Has my Lord spent so long immersed in Buddhist observance that you can no longer endure the worldly vulgarities of ministers such as us? If so, we should take our leave.”
Piaopeng had extended an arm for Li Yu to rest on lightly. Hearing the surrounding remarks, he trembled at once, anger rising in his chest. Li Yu, however, calmly released his support, and the smile in his pale brows and eyes only deepened. “This humble palace has always been desolate and unworthy of honored guests. These jade steps have absorbed the spiritual essence of Heaven and Earth for a thousand years. Perhaps the dragon aura is especially strong today and has withered the hearts of grass and trees.” Even jade and vegetation could understand human feeling. A brute like Zhang Zhao had nothing in his mind but the measurements of Jiangnan’s territory on a map. His aggressive manner had already exhausted Li Yu’s patience. With that, Li Yu smiled, swept out his sleeves, and left.
A coronet of purple gold and black jade bound his long hair. The sight of his retreating back was almost startling. All around him, not a sound could be heard.
＊
Outside Guangliang Temple, the bamboo grove lay dark beneath a rustling night wind. Someone stood alone within it, his shadow stretching long under the thin moonlight. He had waited in that secluded place for a long time before finally hearing the strings and flutes fall silent over at Weiyang Hall.
Only then did he turn slightly and sit down directly among the fallen leaves to meditate.
Voices came searching from a distance, extremely cautious. He did not open his eyes even when the newcomer finally stood before him. “Your… Your Highness?”
“Shh… the Ruler has bestowed the name Young Elder upon me.”
“Yes. His Majesty has been deeply concerned for Your Highness’s safety. Before we left, he ordered us to make certain we saw you in person.”
The Young Elder remained seated among the dead leaves, slowly rolling the prayer beads through his fingers. After a long while, he drew a sheet of paper from inside his robe and handed it to the envoy. “Keep this safe. Take it back for my imperial brother to examine and have someone paint the likeness according to this sketch. I have written everything that follows on the paper. Once he reads it, he will understand. For now, the first priority is to remove Jiangnan’s capable generals.”
The envoy accepted it and hid it away as instructed. Watching the Young Elder close his eyes again, he heard him ask, “Did my imperial brother entrust you with any words for me?” The man suddenly remembered and answered at once. “Before we left court, His Majesty repeatedly instructed us to tell Your Highness not to harm the Ruler.” The subordinate himself did not understand the reason. He merely repeated Zhao Kuangyin’s words exactly as they had been given. The Young Elder’s expression darkened further. He gave a cold snort and said nothing more.
Elder Brother really cannot let go of his worry. Autumn had made the grove look even bleaker, and after waiting so long beneath the heavy late-night dew, the Young Elder could faintly feel his stomach troubling him again. A thought suddenly arose. His brother could not stop worrying, but whose safety was he actually worried about?
His own younger brother’s, or was he more afraid that I would hurt Li Yu?
Was taking that blade for him really worth it?
＊
The envoy waited opposite him for a long time without hearing another word. The Prince of Jin’s expression only became harder to read. At last the man lowered his voice. “Does Your Highness have any further instructions?”
The Young Elder sat quietly, prayer beads moving through his fingers. “Enough. Return to the relay residence.”
The man bowed and turned to withdraw, but after only a few steps, the Prince of Jin’s voice suddenly came from behind him. For once there was hesitation in it. “There is one more matter…”
The subordinate immediately turned back. “Please instruct me, Your Highness.”
The Young Elder considered the question again and again, unable to decide how to ask it properly. He hesitated for so long, yet in the end could not suppress the thought. He had been away for all these days and did not know… “Is the Empress well?”
The envoy had assumed he meant to entrust him with some important affair. Hearing this, he froze and thought back over the events before his departure. “Your Highness, the Empress… her birth mother has passed away. His Majesty granted her a posthumous title and had her buried with full ceremony according to rank.”
The Young Elder opened his eyes at once and stared directly at the man. “Madam is gone?”
“Yes. Madam’s condition was already grave when Your Highness left court. Only a few days later…”
The Young Elder slowly stood. The dark bamboo path before him seemed to turn entirely into her long hair. By now Yunjie should have been surrounded by honor and wealth, exalted as Empress, yet he had not expected her last close relative to leave so quickly. If so, what meaning did her marriage today have at all? “The Empress… how is she now?”
The envoy paused. “I imagine not well.” The Young Elder knew he could not ask much more. In the end, she was his brother’s Empress. What right did he have to show such concern? He stood alone for a long while. In his ears, that pale figure seemed to speak again in the same light, almost indifferent tone: “The lives of Jiangnan’s people hang on a single thought. Reputation. Human lives.”
The Young Elder suddenly added, “Go back. When you return to court, remember to report exactly this: say that after many days in Jiangnan, the Prince of Jin has gained a deep understanding of the situation.” His voice dropped, the emphasis becoming unmistakably heavier. “In private conversation, the Ruler of Jiangnan disregards the authority of the Song court. His manner is arrogant, and he gives my imperial brother no regard whatsoever.”
The envoy bowed and nodded. “Yes.”
＊
The Young Elder slowly followed the shadowed path back toward the temple. In a little while, dawn would probably come. He pushed open the door to his meditation room and entered, acutely aware that his breathing was uneven. On a night such as this, was Yunjie once again crying until dawn? Those gentle brows and eyes should have been so beautiful, yet somehow every memory he had of Yunjie seemed tied to sorrow. The first time he had spoken with her had also been at night. Before the Autumn Pavilion in the Grand Tutor’s residence, even the ornamental rockery had seemed drenched in her desolation. One day she had been the cherished daughter of a powerful household, and the next she had been forced to live under another’s roof. How could she possibly have felt well?
Every bit of her heart had been embroidered plainly onto that handkerchief, yet Elder Brother had raised a hand and burned away Yunjie’s last support.
He tossed the prayer beads in his hand onto the table. The solemn, reverent Young Elder now sprawled without restraint in the dark meditation room and did not light a lamp. Night made it easy to hide certain things, good or bad, things one could remember and things one could never remember again. Yet the more carefully he thought, the clearer became the matters he had wanted most to stop considering.
He had said it himself. There were things he wanted to protect too.
He too had burned those sutras. Yet today he had picked them up again. If books could be taken up once more, then what about people…?
＊
In the imperial city of Bianjing, no lamps were lit in Zichen Palace either.
Since Madam’s burial, His Majesty had not come here once. Everyone in the palace said the two words Jiangnan had now become the most important matter of all.
These vast palace chambers were far grander than her former home, yet Yunjie could never sleep. Again and again she dreamed of those early years. When her father was still alive, Zhao Kuangyin had attached himself to their household. Back then he had been nobody. Now he was Son of Heaven.
That should have been his lifelong wish. In the end, he had achieved it.
But what of her own wish?
Her fingers slowly wound through her hair. It had grown beautifully and slid softly around her fingertips. Lying upon the phoenix couch, she suddenly laughed aloud. Had she not also gotten what she wished for? She had married him. If he became Emperor, she became Empress. What better ending could there be?
Then where, exactly, had everything gone wrong? When had Zhao Kuangyin become someone she could no longer understand? Her father and mother were both gone. At last she could live according to her own will, only to discover that he was no longer the man who had once accompanied her to Chaohu to burn incense, humored her foolishness, and practiced swordplay with her.
One journey to Jiangnan, and even Zhao Kuangyin had learned how to deceive her.
Not every wish coming true was a blessing. Her hopes, her dreams, had shattered from the moment he returned from Jiangnan.
Yunjie slowly closed her eyes and remembered what he had said the day she tried to die before him. “If I can keep him from dying, I can keep you from dying. What I mean to keep, I will keep!”
That was the first time she had seen his sword-like brows drawn tight and that overwhelming, commanding force burst free from where he usually kept it hidden. In the dream, sunlight stretched the figures longer and longer, openly mocking the sorrows and joys of the human world. Who could truly look after whom? All this stubborn attachment was only self-delusion.
It really was all… self-deluding attachment. The person Zhao Kuangyin had wanted to keep had never been Wang Yunjie. Tears slowly slipped down her face. Sleep. Once I wake, I will forget whether I truly cried at all.
Someone had once said to her, If fortune ever allows us to return to Jiangnan, would you be willing to go with me?
Yunjie had begun to fear those two words: Jiangnan. Whether it was one man or the other, everything that had begun there and tangled outward had overturned her entire life.
＊
“If one day Elder Brother and I were to contend against each other, who do you think would win?”
Yunjie had taken it for a joke. “Contend for what?”
“Anything. If that day truly came, what do you think?”
Yunjie sighed. “You would win.”
＊
On this side of the realm, the cold Buddhist temple was silent as death.
Autumn wind slipped through a crack in the window, carrying in the fragrance of osmanthus. The Young Elder felt only a suffocating tightness in his chest. His fingers curled slowly as he remembered those double pupils. Li Yu surely had no idea how many people’s obstacle on the path he had become.
While Yunjie is grieving herself sick, you still cannot forget to send instructions across a thousand li telling me not to hurt Li Yu.
He seized the prayer beads and hurled them to the floor. In the dead silence, the sudden clatter rang with startling clarity. He looked coldly out the window. The sky stretched vast and open, moonlight clear, the stars scattered across the heavens. With a night this bright and wind this clean, tomorrow would surely be fine.
What a pity. Perhaps the person you cannot stop thinking about will never again be able to see such a beautiful night.
The Young Elder slowly took the wooden bracelet from inside his robe and searched its pattern beneath the moonlight for the break hidden among the carved lines. At last he found it. His fingers lingered there. When that sword had struck the bracelet, Yunjie could hardly have imagined the circumstances of today.
A thousand ridges, ten thousand ridges, drowned in rain; the broken string falls silent, tear-stains deep.
＊
By the time the sky was fully bright, neither Jiangnan nor the lands north of the river had slept through the night.
All under Heaven soon knew that the Ruler of Jiangnan had reduced his ceremonial status, received the Song envoy in a purple robe, and observed the rites of a vassal minister. Not many days later, in obedience to the Song court’s command, he sent his younger brother, Duke of Zheng Li Congshan, into Song bearing tribute.
＊
In Fengque Palace, Nüying entered carrying a bowl of medicine. Seeing him frown, she said, “My Lord, the medicine must be taken on time.”