By the time the two of them came down from the mountain, the sky had begun to darken slightly. The twilight clouds spread across the horizon, turning the once azure sky into a brilliant orange-red. Wisps of cooking smoke rose gradually from the homes below, and the once bustling crowds of spring revelers were gradually dispersing. As Li Ying walked along a small country path, she saw a swing made of colored ribbons and a footboard strung between two willow trees. She couldn’t help but stop. In previous years during the Cold Food Festival, swings would be set up in the palace, and the consorts, princesses, court ladies, and female officials would all take turns on them. Her mother was especially good at swinging, both steady and high. She wasn’t bad either; among all the people in the palace, she could be considered one of the best.
Cui Xun watched her staring at the swing and asked: “Does the Princess want to swing?”
Li Ying nodded: “I haven’t swung for thirty years. I’m a bit afraid.”
“I will catch the Princess,” Cui Xun said.
Li Ying turned her head to look at him and smiled gently: “Then I’ll go!”
She walked to the swing, grasped the colored ribbons with both hands, stepped onto the footboard, and with a slight effort of her arms, the swing began to sway back and forth.
Cui Xun stood in front of her, watching as she swung higher and higher. At first, his mind was entirely on her safety, fearing she might fall. But soon, his gaze couldn’t help but follow her figure. Today, Li Ying wore a goose-yellow short blouse on top and a light crimson skirt below. Between her arms was wrapped a turquoise gauze shawl. Each time she swung up, her skirt danced and swayed with the movement. Her garments and shawl fluttered like those of a celestial being, the ornaments hanging at her waist jingling. Her smile was as charming as a blooming peach blossom, like a heavenly maiden descending to the mortal world. Cui Xun recalled that thirty years ago, the court historian had seen Princess Yong’an swinging during the Cold Food Festival and had written in the records that “Princess Yong’an’s radiance moved the world.” Such grace indeed deserved those three words: “moved the world.”
Li Ying swung higher and higher. Looking at the sky dyed orange by the sunset, at this moment, she seemed to have cast aside all her worries, returning to the carefree little princess of thirty years ago—the little princess who was adored by her father and mother, without any troubles.
She closed her eyes to feel the gentle breeze, her entire being seeming to merge with the world around her. The vast sky, the thousand competing peaks, the ten thousand rushing valleys—thirty years ago, it was like this, and thirty years later, it was still the same.
The universe is infinite, but human life is fleeting.
Li Ying slowly opened her eyes. She looked at the gaunt figure in the black crane-feather robe standing before her, upright like a solitary pine, desolate like fallen wood. She swung higher and higher. When she swung forward, she was very close to him, but when her body swung backward, she was very far, so far that she could barely see his figure.
He stood there, so alone, as if in all the world, he was the only person. Li Ying suddenly remembered that day when she had told Cui Xun that if it was truly her mother who had killed her, she would feel there was nothing to linger for in this world. She would go to the City of Wrongful Deaths herself and wait for her mother to die a natural death before she would reincarnate.
But if it were proven that her mother had killed her, would she go to the City of Wrongful Deaths without any reluctance?
At this moment, she suddenly hesitated.
Li Ying’s arms holding the colored ribbons gradually stopped exerting force. She suddenly didn’t want to swing so high anymore. Swinging high allowed her to see the clouds rise and the sunset glow, but it took her far away from him.
After being close to him, she didn’t want to be far from him.
The swing slowly came to a stop. Li Ying prepared to step off the footboard, but perhaps because it had been too long since she had swung, she didn’t stand firmly when dismounting and stumbled forward.
Cui Xun extended his arms in time to catch her. She staggered and fell into Cui Xun’s embrace. She raised her head, looking at his face, as pale as snow yet as beautiful as a lotus.
She didn’t quickly move away from him as she had before, but just looked up at him, her eyes as brilliant as stars. Cui Xun also gazed steadily at her. After a moment, however, he suddenly released his hands that were supporting her and stepped back imperceptibly, his expression calm: “It’s getting late. Let’s go back.”
A sense of inexplicable loss welled up in Li Ying’s heart. She pursed her lips, lowered her head, and said: “All right.”
The Cold Food Festival was coming to an end, but the banks of the Wei River were still filled with noise and excitement. More than a dozen noblemen in fine clothes were sitting around a high platform, watching two fighting cocks battle on the stage.
During the Cold Food Festival entertainments, cockfighting was especially popular. Some cheered loudly, while others held their breath. General Shen Que sat at a black sandalwood table, holding a golden cup and drinking the “burning spring wine” bestowed by His Majesty, watching the cockfighting on the stage with unwavering attention.
The two fighting cocks pecked at each other until feathers flew, and before long, the larger fighting cock was defeated. An official in a deep green regular court dress wearing a sixth-rank insignia clapped his hands and laughed: “General Shen, I’ve won.”
Shen Que’s father had been enfeoffed as the Duke of Shen, and after his father’s death, he inherited the title. But he never allowed people to call him Duke Shen, only General Shen. His face darkened. He glanced at the defeated fighting cock brought by the servant and said: “Useless thing! What’s the point of keeping it? Kill it and throw it into the Wei River!”
The servant received the order and lifted the fighting cock by its wings. The cock seemed to sense the impending disaster and struggled desperately, its cries pitiful. But it was still quickly dispatched with a twist of its neck by the servant, then thrown with a splash into the Wei River.
The sixth-rank official who had won also sat down awkwardly. Sitting opposite Shen Que were Wang Xuan, the Vice Director of the Palace Secretariat, and Lu Huai, the Deputy Chief of the Court of Judicature. Lu Huai said indignantly: “A fighting cock costs thousands of wen to buy, while a farming household’s earnings for an entire year of hard work are only a few thousand wen. To kill it after losing once is too extravagant.”
Wang Xuan smiled coldly: “The rewards Shen Que has received from the Empress Dowager and His Majesty are no less than Cui Xun’s. Would he care about a fighting cock?”
The spring banquet continued. The fighting cocks had been removed from the high platform, replaced by courtesans from the Music Bureau playing reed pipes and mouth organs. The strings played on, but the mood of the gathering had soured. Lu Huai said with disgust: “This man is narrow-minded and of low character, even worse than Cui Xun. If my uncle hadn’t asked me to befriend him, I truly wouldn’t want to attend this spring banquet.”
Wang Xuan also said: “Assistant Minister Lu has always been a man of high integrity. I don’t know why he’s especially tolerant of this man.”
“He is His Majesty’s cousin and the Empress Dowager’s nephew. My uncle certainly doesn’t want to offend him.”
But Wang Xuan had a different thought: Lu Huai’s uncle, Lu Yumin, was known for his integrity and hatred of evil. Even if a member of the imperial Li family broke the law, he would still report them without hesitation. Yet Shen Que was arrogant and tyrannical, corrupt and abusing his power—facts almost universally known in Chang’an—but Lu Yumin had never reported him. How strange indeed.
While everyone was privately criticizing Shen Que’s brutality and showing contempt on their faces, Shen Que gripped his golden cup and sneered: “Gentlemen, I know that you are all from aristocratic families and look down on me, a newly rich commoner. You look down on me, and I look down on you, too. But the mother of our current Emperor and my mother are blood relatives. His Majesty is in the prime of his life, so for the next few decades, I’m afraid you’ll have to hold your noses and continue to deal with a commoner like me.”
Shen Que’s words were incredibly arrogant. Lu Huai, Wang Xuan, and others changed their expressions. Lu Huai almost rose to his feet in anger, but Wang Xuan grabbed the hem of his robe under the table, and only then did he restrain his anger. Lu Huai said angrily: “Such arrogance! How is he any different from Cui Xun?”
Wang Xuan said: “There is a difference.”
“What difference?”
“At least Cui Xun knows who gave him his wealth and status, while this man, while enjoying his riches and status, hates the very person who gave them to him.” Wang Xuan shook his head and said: “How long this man can live depends on how long the person who gave him his wealth and status can tolerate him.”
The spring banquet continued. Shen Que drank a cup of burning spring wine, narrowing his eyes as he watched the musicians playing reed pipes and mouth organs on the stage. One pipa player was particularly beautiful. Her fingers lightly brushed and slowly plucked the strings, her head bowed as she played. Although she was a lowly musician, the way she looked at the officials below didn’t have the flattering obsequiousness of the other musicians. It was as if she weren’t the despised plaything, but rather she was the one who looked down on these noble descendants. Shen Que couldn’t help thinking of the Imperial Guard lieutenant he had lured to his death six years ago. Although born into a humble family and of low status, at the Long’an Postal Station, he had looked at him—the Emperor’s cousin and hereditary duke—with contempt. He had openly shown his disdain. Shen Que knew why he had looked down on him: because he had been disrespectful to the Commander of the Imperial Guard, so even a mere lieutenant dared to ignore him. But a mere lieutenant—how dare he?
Shen Que asked his servant: “What’s that musician’s name?”
The servant said: “Sheng Ah’man.”
“Sheng Ah’man…”
That Imperial Guard lieutenant was also surnamed Sheng. Even though he knew death was inevitable, he had still fought desperately, wounds appearing one after another on his body. Even when he fell to the ground gravely injured, he had suddenly lunged forward, nearly cutting Shen Que’s neck with one slash.
Shen Que had been terrified. The lieutenant was finally hacked to death by his guards, who rushed him all at once. When he died, his eyes were wide open, unable to close even in death.
But those guards who had killed him couldn’t help but show expressions of admiration on their faces.
He hated that kind of expression the most. A mere lieutenant—what right did he have? This lieutenant just wanted to enter the Tonghua Gate to seek help for the Imperial Guard, but he had made sure that, whether alive or as a ghost, he would never enter the Tonghua Gate.
Shen Que reflected on the past. He swirled his golden cup and murmured: “Both surnamed Sheng?”
The servant hesitated, but finally gathered the courage to say: “General, she is… Sheng Yunting’s sister.”
“Sheng Yunting’s sister?” Shen Que was startled, his golden cup falling onto the table. The servant quickly wiped up the spilled wine and poured him another cup. Shen Que stared at Ah’man and suddenly laughed coldly: “Bring that pipa player over to drink with me.”
Just as one piece of music ended and the musicians were preparing to leave the stage, Ah’man was dragged forcibly by Shen Que’s servants and made to sit beside him.
Unlike the other musicians at the banquet who were eager to please, Ah’man sat stiffly beside Shen Que, clearly unwilling. Shen Que slammed his golden cup on the table: “Not happy?”
Ah’man swallowed her anger: “I wouldn’t dare.”