Chapter 32: What the World Cannot Retain

Li Qing knew leaving now might spell disaster. At fifteen or sixteen, emotions ran raw. If despair took root, tragedy could follow—no blade in his hand, yet blood on his conscience.

He sank back into his seat, drained a cup of wine, and murmured, *"Beauty fades in the blink of an eye. All that glories in time dulls, vanishes. My refusal stems not from disdain or your station, but to spare us future sorrow. Do you understand?"*

Wanling shook her head. Lianxiang and Hongxiu exchanged puzzled glances.

Another cup burned his throat, bitterness seeping into his thoughts. Immortality, he realized, might not be the blessing he'd imagined. These women—everyone he knew—would age and die. He alone would linger, watching lifetimes crumble to dust. Even his formidable, long-lived master would one day depart. What then?

The wine turned acrid on his tongue.

After a long silence, he sighed. *"Wanling, some truths I cannot share. But know this: a man like me… cannot wed. If you demand an answer, let these verses suffice."*

He drank deeply, then recited:

*"Through endless partings, grief I've known,*

*Yet returning finds blooms overthrown.*

*Silent beneath the falling flowers,*

*Spring's green window fades with twilight hours.*

*By lamplight, longing strains to speak,*

*New joy's thread snaps 'midst old grief's peak.*

*What the world cannot retain?*

*Mirrors lose beauty, trees shed blooms in vain."*

He rose and left.

**Outside the Drunken Immortal Pavilion**

Starlight soothed him—eternal witnesses to his transience. Under curfew's hush, moonlight stretched his shadow long across empty streets.

Days passed without revisiting the pavilion. Yet his legend grew. The poem's haunting beauty spread through the capital, scholars marveling, even the stern Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang offering rare praise. Culture, after all, defined dynasties—and the Hongwu era now claimed its poetic jewel.

Empress Ma's treatment entered respite, her health stabilized. Summoned to the palace, Li Qing faced Zhu Yuanzhang's blunt offer: *"Name your reward."*

*"Serving Your Majesty is duty enough."*

*"Enough platitudes!"* The emperor waved impatiently. *"Curing the Empress merits real recompense. Speak."*

Li Qing shrugged. *"Coin, then."*

Zhu Yuanzhang chuckled. *"So small an ambition?"*

*"I've no grand designs."*

*"You must!"* The emperor's gaze sharpened. This man would bolster his heir's reign. *"Your tax reforms already swell the treasury. A marquisate awaits—but it would strip your command. Wait a while longer."*

*"As Your Majesty wills."* Li Qing bowed, unfazed by delayed honors.

Pleased by his lack of greed, Zhu Yuanzhang pressed: *"What else? Gold? Land?"*

*"Only wine and fine meals,"* Li Qing grinned.

*"No taste for women?"* The emperor teased. *"That Wanling girl—redeem her. Cheaper than nightly visits."*

Unaware Li Qing freeloaded, the emperor gifted a chest of silver—enough for years of luxury.

**——**

Weeks later, Li Qing's pockets lighter from the Imperial Music Bureau's courtesans (exquisite but costly), he returned to the Drunken Immortal Pavilion. Fame dogged him—men mobbed him with questions about the poem until he shouldered through to the private chambers.

The women greeted him with mixed relief and reproach. *"We thought you'd forgotten us!"* Lianxiang pouted.

Wanling, paler and frailer, offered contrite smiles. *"My recent illness wasn't your doing. Your presence alone gladdens me."*

As they spoke, urgent knocks interrupted. Deputy Commander Liu Qiang stood outside, dust-streaked and grim. *"We found it,"* he rasped. *"Ouyang Lun's crimes… they're monstrous."*

Li Qing's humor vanished. *"Speak plainly."*

Liu leaned close. *"Smuggling salt, colluding with bandits, murdering investigators. Worse—he's using the Imperial Consort's seal to traffic Tibetan tea for warhorses. Enough stockpiled to arm a rebellion."*

Ice flooded Li Qing's veins. This wasn't mere corruption—it was treason. And the Emperor's daughter's husband stood at its heart.

*"Evidence?"*

*"Ledgers. Witnesses. His own signed orders."* Liu produced oilcloth-wrapped documents. *"Enough to hang him ten times over."*

Li Qing scanned the papers, dread and resolve warring. *"Prepare copies. We present this tomorrow."*

*"Your Excellency…"* Liu hesitated. *"The Princess…"*

*"The law knows no kinship,"* Li Qing said coldly. Yet his hand trembled slightly as he resealed the evidence. Tonight, stars offered no comfort—only the weight of duty, and the storm to come.