Chapter B _ Fire Under Dry Wood_01

Zhang Huaiqian returned from the gallery and went back to his seat. The commotion in the hall persisted, but the initial enthusiasm had somewhat dissipated. Nangong Bo and Bai Xingjian were hunched together, examining by the light of a nearly consumed candle the new verses calligraphed on the wall. They exchanged stifled laughs that were lost in the general hubbub.

He let his gaze wander around, at the paper and silk lanterns painted with a hundred flowers, hung high, and at the poem papers with varied calligraphy that trembled slightly in the wind, attached to the beams. The candlelight and moonlight intertwined, elongating and slightly tilting the guests' shadows, which danced gently on the floor and walls, as in an unreal shadow play.

Zhang Huaiqian's gaze finally settled on Chu Jin, not far away. He saw him slightly turned to the side, leaning on a small low table, one hand supporting his forehead, the knuckles of his fingers appearing excessively white in the lamplight. The slight blush that alcohol had brought to his cheeks had faded, leaving only a weary pallor. His eyebrows were unconsciously furrowed, and his other hand, covered by the wide sleeve of his robe, masked his lips from which one or two very light and contained coughs escaped.

Since the failed coup of the former Crown Prince, this thrilling affair, although Chu Jin had been designated as the new Crown Prince and his position was apparently most enviable, he had in reality inherited an unstable situation, with countless problems, leaving him almost no day of real respite. In recent months, he had visibly lost weight, his energy often left him, and he had almost never stopped taking medicinal decoctions.

Zhang Huaiqian's heart tightened, an unconscious worry tingeing his features. He quickly approached a few steps, crouched beside him and, deliberately lowering his voice, said to him with a solicitude that brooked no argument: "The night is already advanced, wouldn't it be better... to return early to your residence to rest?"

Hearing this, Chu Jin slowly lifted his eyelids, sketching an extremely light and apologetic smile. Finally, he nodded with an air of helplessness, his voice a little weak: "So be it, after all... I'll listen to you."

Bai Xingjian had approached without anyone knowing when, holding in his hand a camellia flower just picked from a display in the hall, still pearled with dew. The petals, of a deep red, seemed like congealed blood jade in the candlelight. He delicately placed the flower on a cut sheet of mulberry paper, pushed it in front of Chu Jin and said, his tone playful but sincere: "Brother Qiongliang, our meeting tonight was as if we had known each other forever, I regret not having met you sooner. This camellia is a small gesture from me, Bai Xingjian, may it serve as a souvenir of this Hundred Flowers Festival."

Chu Jin raised his hand, his fingers lightly brushing the fresh petals, a sincere smile floating on his lips: "Thank you for this charming attention. To have been able to make all of your acquaintances tonight is a real happiness." While speaking, he gently gathered the flower and the paper in his hand.

Then, he placed his hand on the arm that Zhang Huaiqian had already extended and, leaning on him, slowly rose. During this movement, the wide sleeve of his robe slipped, revealing a thin and delicate wrist.

Zhang Huaiqian felt a weight lift from his shoulders and let out a sigh of relief. He turned immediately, searched the hall for a moment with his gaze, and called out in a loud voice: "Brother Qingxuan!"

Nangong Bo, hearing the call, put down the scroll of poems he was holding and approached quickly.

"Qingxuan, His Highness is tired. You absolutely must escort him personally to his residence. On the way... allow no negligence."

Nangong Bo, seeing that Chu Jin indeed looked unwell, nodded several times in agreement: "Zijing, rest assured, I understand."

The three men slowly exited the noisy great hall. Outside, the waiting carriage was already ready. Zhang Huaiqian personally helped Chu Jin to board, carefully adjusted his cloak, then stepped back and ordered in a grave voice to the coachman waiting at the side: "Go slowly, don't jolt him."

The coachman responded respectfully and gave a light crack of the whip. The carriage slowly moved away from the Pavillon Xingyi and its festive lights, the wheels rolling over the blue stone pavers with a light "gurgle," and soon melted into the thick darkness of the night, leaving behind only the two lanterns hanging at the front, like two stars about to be extinguished, receding further and further.

Huaiqian watched Chu Jin's carriage turn the corner of the alley, the two faint yellow gleams disappearing completely into the night, before letting out a slight sigh of relief. He was about to turn to look for his own horse and go home when he saw his own family's carriage, the one that had brought Wei and Dugu Rong back, return, bumping along, and stop not far away. The coachman, looking embarrassed, jumped from his seat and looked worriedly towards the entrance of the Pavillon Xingyi.

His heart tightened, a bad premonition washing over him. He quickly approached, stopped the coachman, and asked in a grave voice: "What's going on? Have Wei and the others returned so quickly?"

Seeing him, the coachman immediately looked contrite, rubbing his hands and stammering: "My... My young master, Miss... she... on the way, she absolutely insisted that she had lost something important, and she... she jumped out of the carriage, impossible to stop her. It seemed to me that Miss and Miss Dugu came back to look for something around here, near the Pavillon Xingyi..."

Before he had even finished his sentence, Zhang Huaiqian's face had gone from white to green, then from green to black, a veritable rainbow of emotions. He raised his hand and pressed hard on his throbbing temple, took a deep breath to try to calm his anger, but the fury in his voice was impossible to conceal, his words seeming almost to escape from between his clenched teeth: "That scatterbrain who knows neither the heights of heaven nor the thickness of the earth! When will she ever stop her foolishness!" With that, he turned and strode into the maze of the district's alleys.

It was already well past curfew. The streets were almost deserted; only the occasional "clang-clang" of the patrolling soldiers' armor and the regular sound of their footsteps broke the silence of the night in a particularly distinct way. His gaze quickly scanned every dark corner, every entrance to an inn or tea house with dim lights. Every time he caught sight of a figure resembling Wei's or Rong's, his heart tightened, he quickened his pace to check, but was disappointed each time.

"Thoughtless! This is pure madness!" grumbled Zhang Huaiqian as he walked, his steps growing faster under the effect of anger, his voice sounding a little incongruous in the silence of the alleys. "If I find her, she'll see how I'll correct her! Father will have to... have to confine her for three months!"

He was so exasperated that he no longer cared about propriety and began to shout: "Wei! A-Wei! Show yourself!"

His voice echoed at length in the night, startling a few sparrows nesting under the eaves of the shops, which flew off with a rustle to disappear into the deeper darkness. Around, apart from the sound of the wind, no answer.

It was then that a patrol of municipal guards, armed with long halberds and scimitars at their belts, emerged from the corner of an alley. The bright lanterns illuminated Zhang Huaiqian's slightly agitated face. The patrol leader, seeing him walking quickly and calling out alone in the street in the middle of the night, immediately became alert and called out in a loud voice: "Who goes there? After curfew, why are you still in the street?!"

Zhang Huaiqian felt his heart tighten, thinking things were turning bad, but he quickly regained his composure, at least outwardly. He stopped, took his identity plaque from his tunic, and said in a grave voice: "I am Zhang Huaiqian, from the Hongwen Pavilion. I have an urgent matter and am looking for someone. I acted hastily, please excuse me."

The patrol leader took the plaque, examined it carefully in the light of the lanterns – it was an insignia of the Eastern Palace – then looked Zhang Huaiqian up and down. Seeing his quality clothes and his assured demeanor, uncommon among scoundrels, his face softened slightly. He returned the plaque to him, his tone becoming a little more respectful: "My respects, Mister Zhang. I was wondering who Mister Zhang was looking for? My men and I are on patrol tonight, perhaps we can help you."

Zhang Huaiqian had an idea, but thought for a moment: his sister's nocturnal escapade, disguised as a man in the alleys of the taverns, was an embarrassing family affair, not suitable for disclosure. If these soldiers started looking for her with great fanfare, it would only make things worse. He thought for a moment, then clasped his hands in a salute: "I thank you gentlemen officers for your kindness. It's nothing serious. I think the person I'm looking for may be resting in a familiar shop in the neighborhood. No need to trouble you. I will continue to search on my own."

The patrol leader, hearing this, could not insist further, but merely reminded him, for good measure: "In that case, Mister Zhang, be careful. The city is not very safe these days."

"Certainly, certainly," replied Zhang Huaiqian, clasping his hands again.

It was only when the sound of the soldiers' footsteps faded away that Zhang Huaiqian let out a heavy sigh. The anger on his face intensified, and his steps became even faster.

The night wind was cool. The carriage wheels rolled over the cobblestones, producing a dull sound. Inside, silence reigned. Nangong Bo, half-leaning on his side, his elbow on the window ledge, was dozing. The night wind entering through the slightly open window lifted a corner of the curtain, revealing the scattered lights of the streets and the intertwined shadows of the nocturnal capital.

Chu Jin was leaning against the soft cushions, his eyes half-closed. He unfolded the mulberry paper, holding the flowering branch in one hand, while the other tapped a slow rhythm on the armrest, as if he were thinking about something. A moment later, he suddenly spoke, his voice low and soft: "Qingxuan, earlier, in the district... that young person who called themselves 'Shengji,' do you know them?"

Nangong Bo, who was dozing against the window, started upon hearing this. He lifted his head towards Chu Jin, then couldn't help but smile: "That's probably his sister."

Chu Jin opened his eyes, slowly turned his head towards Nangong Bo, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Mmm, she is indeed a... young lady of lively spirit and remarkable talent, who has nothing to envy in men." Hearing this, Chu Jin simply shook his head and did not reply. His gaze returned to the outside of the carriage. His eyes, following the shadows of the houses and trees that sped by, stretched by the moonlight, became deep and distant, his mind lost in unknown thoughts.

A moment later, he asked, as if by chance: "By the way, you and Zijing... you seem to be very close lately?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Nangong Bo immediately sat up straight and said respectfully: "Brother Zijing is an upright and humble person. He shows no arrogance of a son from a great family towards us, his colleagues from modest backgrounds. That is why, among those of the same promotion, many entertain a deep friendship with him. Particularly a few colleagues also from the provincial examinations; in private, they all say that Brother Zijing is radically different from those idle young men of the capital who only know how to discourse vainly and enjoy life."

Chu Jin tilted his head slightly: "Mmm, it is true that many among you possess great ambition and real talent. What is even rarer is that those who come from the provincial examinations have for the most part personally known the sufferings of the people; their words do not lack solicitude for the country and its inhabitants. Those who have managed to fight their way from the provincial examinations to the palace examinations, although their families are not as wealthy as those of the nobility, possess thereby a more solid erudition, acquired in the field, and an indomitable will." He paused, his tone softening somewhat. "It is precisely because they have personally experienced the difficulties and sorrows of the people that, when they become officials, they will be able to better understand popular feelings and act for the good of the people. If the court could count more talents of this caliber, the sufferings of ordinary mortals in this world might perhaps be somewhat alleviated." After coughing lightly several times, he continued: "I will inform Father Emperor as soon as possible in order to quickly organize the palace examinations and officially confer your posts upon you. The talents of this world must naturally be at the service of the court, integrated within it, so that their knowledge is not in vain."

Hearing this, a gleam of excitement shone in Nangong Bo's eyes, and his voice was tinged with sincere admiration: "Your Highness is enlightened! If it were so, it would be a great chance for us, students from modest backgrounds, and also a great happiness for the people of this world. In the past, official posts were mainly occupied by the great aristocratic families or relatives of the imperial family. Although the imperial examinations offered a glimmer of hope to scholars from the lower classes, if we could be chosen personally by the Son of Heaven, and become true 'disciples of the Son of Heaven,' then it would be... it would then be an honor we dared not even dream of before."

Hearing him speak thus, the smile on Chu Jin's lips widened, and the fatigue on his features seemed to fade somewhat. He lowered his eyes again to that branch of camellia carefully wrapped in mulberry paper, his fingers lightly brushing those few blood-red petals. The petals were delicate, their edges still damp with night dew. At the mere touch of human warmth, they already seemed ready to wilt.

He interrupted his gesture, a complex and indecipherable expression crossing his gaze. A moment later, he delicately placed the flowering branch back on the paper, as if he feared, with a single press, to injure this fragile beauty. He closed his eyes slightly and gently rested his head against the soft cushions of the carriage.

The carriage rolled on for another moment and slowly stopped in front of a rather secluded-looking residence. The coachman announced respectfully: "Your Highness, we have arrived."

It was only then that Nangong Bo, as if waking from a dream, lifted his head and drew aside the carriage curtain to look outside. He saw that it was not, as he thought, the Eastern Palace of the imperial city, but a dwelling with a relatively modest gate, whose stone lions in front of the door were even smaller than those of ordinary princely residences. His heart couldn't help but skip a beat, and he let out: "Your Highness, you... you still reside at the Palace of Prince Rui?"

After all, Chu Jin now bore the title of Crown Prince and should, logically, have long since moved to the Eastern Palace.

Chu Jin seemed long accustomed to this kind of astonishment. He replied with an "mmm." "I'm used to it. Father Emperor hasn't pressed me, and I... if I moved so quickly, it might seem too eager on my part, which wouldn't be a good thing. Besides, the palace is ultimately less peaceful than here. Lately, I've been continuously ill, and I really haven't had much energy to deal with the hassles of a move."

Nangong Bo carefully helped Chu Jin into the inner courtyard of the princely palace. This Palace of Prince Rui was indeed as simple as the rumors said. The lanterns in the courtyard diffused a yellowish and weak light. Apart from a few old servants who stood respectfully, their hands clasped, there was almost no human presence. A faint light filtered from the windows of the study, suggesting a few scrolls of unread reports on the desk, and beside them, a candlestick whose candle was almost consumed.

After accompanying Chu Jin to the door of his inner apartments, a competent-looking eunuch already came forward to meet them. Chu Jin stopped on the threshold, turned to Nangong Bo, his voice low but imbued with a warmth one could not refuse: "Qingxuan, you have gone to a lot of trouble tonight. It is getting late, the curfew has passed. What if... you spent the night here, in my dwelling? I will order the servants to prepare a guest room."

Nangong Bo clasped his hands, smiling: "Since it is so, I will trouble Your Highness."

Chu Jin smiled slightly and ordered the eunuch: "Take Mister Nangong to the guest room, take good care of him, allow no negligence."

When Nangong Bo had departed with the servant, Chu Jin finally entered the heated pavilion slowly. He placed the camellia branch and its mulberry paper in a corner of the desk, his fingers lightly brushing the petals, a thoughtful expression in his gaze.

A moment later, one or two light and contained coughs escaped his throat. It was only then that he removed his outer garment, somewhat damp with night dew, and slowly headed towards the inner chamber. The lights in the room flickered, casting unstable shadows on his figure, but also stretching even deeper the contemplation and solitude of that night.