Elio’s Notes: The title shortens a line from Li Yu’s Pusa Man: “In the painted hall, she sleeps by day; no one speaks.” The original lyric describes a secret visit interrupting a woman’s daytime sleep, which gives this chapter title an especially pointed echo once Zhao Kuangyin enters Li Yu’s room unannounced.
On the river islet, white duckweed is gathered; the sun sets over Jiangnan in spring.
A traveler returns from Dongting; at Xiaoxiang he meets an old friend.
Why has the old friend not returned? The spring blossoms must once again be growing late.
He says nothing of delight in new acquaintances, only that the road is long.
Elio’s Notes: The opening four lines are from Liu Yun’s Song of Jiangnan. The poem centers on someone in Jiangnan waiting for an absent loved one; a returning traveler refuses to say that the missing man has found new companionship and says only that the road home is long.
That year, the balmy spring day was a peerless scene among all four seasons.
Outside the window, a flowering peach tree stood at its finest, steeped in the grace and elegance of Jiangnan’s third and fourth months, blooming with reckless abandon. Someone extended a singularly elegant wrist, plucked a few petals, and smiled with the gentle warmth of jade. “Have you ever tasted peach blossoms?”
As though bewitched, he bent over those fingertips and lightly took the petals into his mouth, then shook his head. “Bitter.”
He was Jiangnan’s intoxicating dream, his alone.
Today, in the bitter cold, that jade-like man was still the same, yet now all the night rain seemed hidden beneath fluttering white robes as he slowly knelt without a stir. All his life he had known neither hardship nor poverty, seated high among the clouds while looking down upon the dangers of the mortal world. Zhao Kuangyin’s thoughts surged. Li Congjia… He should have been holding wine with a faint smile, watching all the dust and smoke of the world pass before his eyes without ever taking it to heart, surrounded by brocade robes and magnificent halls. But now… clothed in imperial yellow, Zhao Kuangyin looked at that white figure with something lodged in his throat and could not force out another word.
Standing dazed in the wind and snow, he realized that everything he had sought for so long… had required him to pay with everything in this life.
Even… that brilliant flowering peach tree.
Bitter.
And how could mere bitterness possibly contain all that could be written of it?
The Emperor turned, his face as grave as the snow scattering through the sky. His steps were firm and decisive, permitting not a moment’s hesitation, as he slowly descended Xuande Gate and walked toward his vast army.
The army’s spirits instantly blazed back to life. The sudden snowstorm and unbroken gloom had taken on an almost uncanny air, but when imperial yellow suddenly appeared before everyone’s eyes, it became once more a faith that seemed capable of saving ten thousand people from calamity.
Zhao Kuangyin held this world upright. To so many people, he too was a god.
Yet defeat lay in that god’s eyes. Xuande Gate slowly opened, and Zhao Kuangyin walked out one step at a time.
The one surrendering was Zhao Kuangyin.
He had lost completely.
Cao Bin presented the official robes that were to be bestowed upon the surrendered ruler. Zhao Kuangyin took them, and they seemed to weigh nothing in his hands. This was now the bond between the two of them. From this moment on, he would be Li Yu’s sovereign. “Your Majesty, bestow the punishment.”
Li Yu knelt motionless and silent in the falling snow, his lowered lashes casting a clear amber glow.
That pale figure was so slight it frightened the heart.
All the people waited for him to speak, but Zhao Kuangyin merely walked up to him. Joy and grief, cold sorrow and the passing years, in this moment all became no more than ink stains on useless paper. No amount of writing could capture a city filled with flying catkins and music beneath an azure sky.
“Get up…”
Li Yu heard the hoarseness in his voice and slowly shook his head. “This guilty subject does not dare.” The words had only just left his mouth. He waited for Zhao Kuangyin’s anger, for his fury, yet nothing came. A hollow melancholy rose in Li Yu at once. He… could not see.
Then he felt something cool and wet fall upon his face, carrying the bone-piercing chill of the northern frontier. Li Yu stiffened all over and raised a hand in disbelief. Whose tears?
He had always believed this man would never shed tears for anyone, proud with the bearing of a king, a man who stood alone between Heaven and earth.
Li Yu had never imagined that one day Zhao Kuangyin would be like this too. He suddenly lifted his face, and the emptiness in those eyes made the man before him even less able to endure the sight.
He could no longer see him.
Yet he stubbornly looked toward him all the same, toward the image in his memory of that raised-brow smile, the true dragon and sovereign of the realm.
It was not that he had never wanted to see this. This was the achievement that should have been yours. You have never disappointed anyone.
Snow filled the sky. How much time passed?
Only when Zhao Kuangyin felt his hands growing stiff did he find the courage to speak again. Everything around them had become nothing more than a vast backdrop beneath sky and earth. He could hear nothing else. Quietly, almost pleadingly, he said, “Will you get up?”
Li Yu lowered his head again. Behind him, his clansmen were all stunned. Cao Bin watched coldly from one side, then could only sigh and step back. Far away, the army did not know what was happening here and continued shouting loudly enough to shake the heavens.
Amid all that clamor, Zhao Kuangyin spoke softly, almost as though he were asking Li Yu to rise.
What use is there in doing this now…? I lost all of Jiangnan into your hands. In a single morning, all those thousand mountains and night rains vanished… and now you act like this…
“What use is there… Zhao Kuangyin…” The pale figure pressed a hand tightly to his heaving chest. He had forced himself through the entire day, but everything pent up in his heart had surged into his lungs with nowhere to go. Even his murmuring no longer held the strength for sorrow.
There is nothing left to grieve over. You are the ruler and I am the subject. That is all. There was never anything left that could be undone…
Seeing that he could no longer bear it, Zhao Kuangyin lifted the court robe that had been prepared as an imperial gift, bent slightly, and draped it over him. “It is so cold… Why did you not wear more? This is no longer Jiangnan…”
Li Yu felt as though the blood and bones throughout his limbs had long since frozen into stone. He had knelt rigid in the snow until numbness had swallowed every trace of sensation. The moment he felt Zhao Kuangyin cover him with the robe, he could endure no more and abruptly began to cough. “This guilty subject thanks Your Majesty…”
He struggled to rise. That wavering, deathly pale figure had never before been covered in wind and snow like this. Zhao Kuangyin reached out, no longer caring who might be watching from every direction. He was about to support him, but just as he reached Li Yu’s side, Li Yu stepped back and opened a precise distance between them, every gesture of etiquette and upbringing faultlessly measured.
The surrendered ruler called his clansmen forward to arrange his clothing. “How can the official robe bestowed by His Majesty upon this guilty subject be draped so casually?” He calmly brushed the cold from his shoulder, had them set his robes and crown in proper order, put on the clothing of a surrendered ruler, then knelt upright once more. “This guilty subject receives the decree.”
Zhao Kuangyin let his hand fall, empty.
The snow in his palm was not half so clean and pale as Li Yu’s face.
Not even the slightest weakness. You refuse to show even the slightest weakness! Zhao Kuangyin turned and stood at the center of Xuande Gate. “The three armies return victorious. A general amnesty is proclaimed beneath Heaven! The Ruler of Jiangnan has surrendered; his former offenses are pardoned. Li Yu is hereby granted…” He paused slightly. “Li Yu is hereby granted the title Marquis of Disobedience and shall reside at the Hall of Honoring the Worthy.”
Elio’s Notes: “Marquis of Disobedience” was a real title historically bestowed on Li Yu after Southern Tang surrendered to Song. Its literal sting is important here, because the chapter later turns the title itself into a deliberate piece of wordplay.
You…
There was nothing Li Yu could say now. Fine… what a fine Marquis of Disobedience.
He smiled faintly, elegant as ever. With perfect calm, he straightened his sleeve, bowed low, and gave thanks. “This subject thanks Your Majesty for your boundless grace.”
“Rise.” Zhao Kuangyin turned his face away, afraid that if he kept looking he truly would lose completely. Hearing the formal command of court, Li Yu finally rose slowly and stood amid the wind and snow.
In only a short while, scattered snowflakes had already settled into his hair, which nearly reached the ground and was bound simply with a plain ribbon.
“Fan Ruoshui rendered great service to Song by presenting the plan to build a floating bridge for crossing the river. He is hereby appointed Attendant Censor.”
Holding the scarlet official robe in his hands, Fan Ruoshui had not turned around, but his movements still stopped. Li Yu did as well. Though he could no longer see, he suddenly smiled.
Fan Ruoshui finally tightened his grip on the official robe and turned. Then he saw that the slight figure did not direct even the faintest trace of attention toward him.
There was only a thin smile at the corner of Li Yu’s lips, and emptiness in his eyes.
A sudden desolation rose in Fan Ruoshui.
He had expected Li Yu to react violently. Yet to him… none of it seemed to make any difference at all. Li Yu remained exactly as before, as though none of this could touch him in the slightest.
If not for his identity as a man of Jiangnan, Fan Ruoshui’s contribution in this campaign would have counted as extraordinary merit, deserving far more than this office.
And yet somehow… it did not feel nearly as glorious as he had imagined.
At the very least, there was no trace of defeat in that man’s amber eyes. And so everything left Fan Ruoshui, who should have been the victor, feeling immeasurably empty.
He began to doubt even more whether any of it had been worth it.
Just as the party was about to turn away, the Prince of Jin suddenly brought a bound group of offenders before the Emperor. He lifted his eyes briefly toward Li Yu and reported, “Your Majesty, while our soldiers shed blood in battle, these shameless wretches fled without fighting and even aided Jiangnan…” Several Song soldiers who had lost their nerve and deserted knelt beneath Xuande Gate together with a woman. The Prince of Jin’s voice was impassioned and pressing. “This younger brother believes that even amid a general amnesty, men who delayed the war effort in this way cannot be pardoned…”
A woman’s mournful cries suddenly rang out. “Your Highness… this servant never sheltered the people of the south… Your Highness, have mercy…”
Zhao Kuangyin frowned and waved a hand. “Do as the Prince of Jin says. On a day when the army returns with victory, do not let people like these spoil the soldiers’ celebration.” He glanced at them only once and paid no further attention. There would always be cowards wherever one went, and such people truly could not be pardoned. The Prince of Jin bowed to accept the order, only for the woman on the ground to seize him desperately. “Your Highness…”
“You secretly colluded with people from the Jiangnan palace. Did you think this Prince did not know?”
“Jingchan did not…”
Li Yu suddenly stopped. “Jingchan…?”
Nüying also started and hurriedly turned around. The moment she saw it really was her, she could not help calling out. Panic covered Jingchan’s face. Hearing someone call to her, she suddenly cried, “Queen… no, Madam, please do not harm Jingchan any further. Jingchan truly did not collude with Jiangnan. Your Highness, please judge clearly!”
The Prince of Jin smiled faintly instead. “Since you have met your former mistress, this Prince will show mercy and let you speak of your old affection. Whatever else you want to say, say it all. In a moment, all of you…” He lightly brushed the snow from his chest. Jingchan knelt trembling in the icy ground, utterly miserable. Hearing what amounted to a sentence of death, she looked up and met Zhao Guangyi’s cold gaze, then began shouting in panic.
Li Yu turned slightly back. Supported by Liuzhu, he returned toward them. The Prince of Jin said nothing and stared directly at him. Only when Li Yu came before Jingchan did he give a short laugh. “The Marquis of Disobedience can barely protect himself, yet you still want to keep this little maid?”
Li Yu ignored him completely and merely bent down slightly. “Jingchan… I still remember what you said.”
Jingchan froze. “Ruler… no, my lord, there is no need to mention it now. Jingchan betrayed her master. I cannot be allowed to live.”
Li Yu smiled with extraordinary gentleness. “You said not to die.”
Jingchan’s expression dimmed. Those words had been blurted out in panic back then, yet he had truly remembered them. Now she was nothing more than an insignificant servant, and still he had been willing to come over and see her.
“May I ask the Prince of Jin what crime Jingchan committed?”
She knew Li Yu could not see and lifted her eyes slightly toward the Prince of Jin at one side. He had calculated correctly. Zhao Guangyi had known this man would be unable to ignore Jingchan and would come over to inquire after her. Now he said, “Since the Marquis of Disobedience has taken a liking to this girl, and His Majesty was willing to pardon even the Marquis’s grave offense against Heaven, naturally this Prince would not dare deny my lord his face. I will spare her life and have her driven out of the prince’s residence. Whether she lives or dies after that will be left to Heaven.”
Every word from the Prince of Jin carried a barb. He swept his sleeve and left, casting Jingchan one last hard look.
Li Yu showed no expression at all. He slowly straightened. “Go out on your own. Remember what you said. Do not die.” Then he turned away. Nüying took Jingchan’s hand and told her to stand. Jingchan’s gaze remained fixed entirely on Li Yu’s back. He did not want to save anyone, nor did he want to keep anyone. He only wanted to tell her not to die.
Those words had once moved him too.
Jingchan suddenly rose. “…Jingchan is willing to continue serving Madam…”
Nüying sighed. “What use is there in following me now? Things are no longer what they were. The Li clan is made up of prisoners beneath the steps as well. Since you have been given this chance, you would be better off leaving.”
Jingchan stubbornly refused. Nüying glanced toward Li Yu. He showed no reaction, neither assent nor refusal. Liuzhu, however, looked at the girl and suddenly nodded. “Ruler, let her stay. Liuzhu has remembered some things that still need to be clarified. I thought there would never be another chance, but this works out well.”
Li Yu rubbed his wrist. “Then let her stay.”
After the ceremony ended, the carriages, horses, and entire escort followed Song regulations and prepared to send Li Yu toward Xunfeng Gate. Nüying repeatedly wrapped the thick cloak more securely around him. Li Yu did not care and simply let her fasten it. “Let us go.” The imperial order had been issued. Willing or not, he had to go first to the Hall of Honoring the Worthy.
The procession of carriages quietly withdrew.
He could not see. The moment Liuzhu climbed down from the carriage, she gave a startled cry. “Ruler!”
“Liuzhu…” He sighed softly. “You cannot call me Ruler anymore.”
“Yes…” She had addressed him that way throughout the journey and had truly never imagined that one day she would have to exchange it for a title bestowed by someone else. Liuzhu could not change the habit. Since no outsiders were here, Li Yu could not be bothered to correct her again. “What is it…?”
“This Hall of Honoring the Worthy is almost a replica of the Jinling palace. The general layout of the halls and pavilions is the same!” Nüying was startled too. She took a few steps forward to look around. “Even Yuxiao Pavilion… it has nearly the same soaring form.”
Li Yu frowned faintly. “The same… what use is being the same? Even if it is the same, it is not Jiangnan. Even if it is the same… we cannot go back.”
Everyone assumed he meant Jiangnan. They all fell silent, helpless to answer. Once inside the residence, they found that although it was naturally smaller than the imperial palace, the flowers and trees had been carefully tended. Jiangnan’s climate did not undergo such violent swings in temperature, so keeping these plants alive in Bianjing must have been difficult. Li Yu caught the scent of plum blossoms. “Plum blossoms carrying snow. A pity I cannot see the sight.”
Nüying immediately wanted to comfort him, but there was no regret on Li Yu’s face. That very calmness made it more painful. Once everything had been settled, Li Yu slowly entered the bedchamber to rest. “All of you may withdraw for now. Let me rest alone.”
Liuzhu knew the day had exhausted him. Everything he had done had been an act of will forced out of a weary heart, so she did not try to persuade him further.
So this was the place he had spoken of that day… the Hall of Honoring the Worthy inside Xunfeng Gate.
It had indeed been prepared with painstaking care, and yet the thought was almost laughable. Zhao Kuangyin, you spent so much effort building this residence, but now I cannot see it.
Feeling his way along the furnishings, he slowly reached the couch.
With no one else around, Li Yu could no longer stop himself from trembling with cold. He curled slightly inward, hiding beneath the thin layers of clothing, completely unable to control it anymore. The cold in his heart and lungs seemed to have seeped into his bones, impossible to warm away. With no other choice, he wrapped his arms tightly around himself and lowered the hanging gauze curtains.
He had said it. This place truly was nothing like Jiangnan. Li Yu suddenly remembered how Qingu in his palm that day had been just as icy, but then… someone’s gaze had been far hotter than he had ever imagined.
All the warmth he had drawn from that day had become an even deeper abyss of ice now.
The room was silent. Listening closely, he thought he could hear faint footsteps. Li Yu squeezed his eyes shut, wanting only to fall asleep as quickly as possible, but when everything grew quiet, the voices in his heart became magnified countless times. His body was too cold, while his mind grew clearer and clearer.
No matter what he did, sleep would not come. There was only the dry cold, growing harder and harder to endure.
There was a small sound. The door seemed to open. Li Yu turned slightly inward, assuming that Nüying or Liuzhu was still worried. He did not want anyone to see him like this, but after forcing himself through the entire day he truly could not bear any more. He raised an arm over his eyes and, left with nothing but a sigh, could not even be bothered to speak.
Something suddenly settled over him, carrying a gentle warmth. Li Yu instinctively leaned toward the soft thing and reached out to touch it. It was a fox-fur cloak.
It was simply… too cold.
There was no one else here. After a moment’s hesitation, he relaxed and let the fox fur cover him. Its soft warmth was deeply comforting. Li Yu gradually uncurled his limbs. He had been folded tightly into himself, but now at last he loosened. His dark hair fell across the side of his face, and for once that pale figure showed an almost obedient softness as he nestled against the satin pillow and prepared to sleep.
He could not be bothered to wonder who had come. Once the visitor saw that he was all right, they ought to leave. Yet the person beside the couch did not move at all and instead slowly sat down. Li Yu drew his shoulders in and was about to speak when a single sentence suddenly sounded. His whole body went rigid.
“If you are cold, why did you not say so?”
Li Yu froze, then abruptly came back to himself and tried to push upright. Before he could, someone firmly caught him from behind and pulled him back onto the couch. He lay on his side without moving and finally sighed.
The person behind him sighed as well, his voice muffled against Li Yu’s back. “So even you know what cold feels like… and know that fox fur is warm. Do not move. Just warm yourself for a while.”
Li Yu closed his eyes again. “Zhao Kuangyin… you really…” The moment he spoke, even his breath seemed full of cold. “Let go.”
The man behind him stubbornly refused to move. Warmth slowly reached Li Yu through the layers of cloth. For one illusory moment, Li Yu truly stopped struggling. It was too cold. He really could not endure such a low temperature.
He was so cold it felt as though his blood would freeze solid. As he trembled faintly, the man slowly took his hand and said nothing, only drawing the fox fur more securely around him. At last Li Yu stopped shivering.
“This is no longer Jiangnan… Remember to keep this fox fur around you. You are not accustomed to it. Northern winters are dry and bitterly cold. It snowed today… and in a few days it may be colder still.” His voice was low and hesitant, carrying something almost like fear. His grip tightened, as though he were afraid that one wrong sentence would make Li Yu put on that untouchable mask of a god or Buddha again and wound both of them. “Only for a little while. I have to return to the palace very soon. I was only afraid you would freeze yourself sick today…”
Li Yu remained silent and motionless, letting him do as he pleased.
Zhao Kuangyin wrapped him carefully in the fox fur and held him. Only when color slowly returned to Li Yu’s face did he finally relax. He reached out and traced around Li Yu’s eyes. Those pale brows stirred slightly as if he were about to open them. “How did this happen…?”
Li Yu gave no answer and turned inward again.
“What happened to your eyes?”
“How long have you been coughing up blood?”
“Are you still cold?”
There was no answer. He lay there quietly with a trace of languor, his face turned slightly aside, gentle as ever.
Zhao Kuangyin finally lost patience. “Speak.”
Li Yu still neither moved nor answered. “I told you to speak!” Zhao Kuangyin suddenly seized his arm and pulled his own upper body upright. The man who had been shivering uncontrollably from the cold simply let Zhao Kuangyin hold his wrist, still refusing to move, his hand resting there lazily without resistance. Zhao Kuangyin’s anger surged, and he was about to speak again when the corner of his eye caught the scar across that wrist. “This… I went too far that day…” His voice immediately roughened. The wrist was fine-boned and beautiful, but the long slanting scar still crossed it clearly, faded though its color had become. Zhao Kuangyin knew better than anyone that had the wound been only a little worse, it could have severed the vessels entirely.
He gently stroked that wrist and fell silent as well.
A long time passed, long enough for the warmth Zhao Kuangyin had given him to fade from Li Yu’s body.
Li Yu said nothing, lying there languidly with no sign of whether he was asleep or awake. Zhao Kuangyin held his wrist without moving and stared blankly. Li Yu’s long hair spilled down at an angle, nearly pouring onto the dark stone floor. Zhao Kuangyin slowly gathered it back into place and tucked that wrist once more beneath the fox fur.
“I lost. If we began again a third time, I would still jump after you to save you.”
“Congjia, why is it that everything I want… you cannot yield even slightly? Even just a little. I only wanted…”
He had not finished speaking when the man who had remained silent for so long suddenly tossed out a sentence, cold and clear. It struck the floor and shattered all the gentleness that had existed between them.
“A Marquis of Disobedience should naturally spend his whole life disobeying.”
Slowly, all sound vanished from the room.
He left.
Li Yu could no longer fall asleep.