Chapter Text
The moon was flooding the skies when Mei Changsu returned to the main hall of the East Palace. Light of pure white spilt like water along the blood-red carpet into the hall, bringing to prominence the vastness of the entire palatial space. It was a rare wintry night without wind, and Mei Changsu, clad in thin fur and martial robes, entered with light steps into the chamber, still adorned with extravagant pageantry from the coronation of the Crown Prince, though that newly conferred Crown Prince was merely a lonely figure under candlelight, sitting with ink brush in hand, lost in thought.
But that loneliness was perhaps only an ethereal image; when Mei Changsu looked again, Xiao Jingyan had risen up from the high dais, his golden guan and ceremonial robes cutting a bold and majestic figure brimming over with glowing high spirits, and his smiling eyes were resplendent with light. “Xiao-Shu! You have finally come.”
Mei Changsu could not help but smile back, hands clasped behind his back as he stood with with dashing ease. “Your Highness summoned me—dare I not come?”
Xiao Jingyan took large strides until he was in front of him. “At noon, Commander Meng had already reported the counts for each camp, and I had thought you would return by sundown, not that it would take until this hour.”
“General Meng was only in charge of the counts for each camp. As the army supervisor with your jade token, I must ensure everything else is in order, of course.” Mei Changsu clasped his fists in a pretence of a modest salute and closed in with a smile. “The entire army is gathering in their camps for their grand valediction banquets; did you call me here with good wine and food at the ready?”
Xiao Jingyan’s mouth corners held a smile as he gazed deeply into the radiant man before him—three days ago, in the official appointment ceremonies at the imperial gardens, the imperial decree was issued to name Guest Courtier Su Zhe as the army supervisor, equipped with the Crown Prince’s token of authority; this man was yet clad in fluttering white when he accepted the decree with modesty, but after he returned to the East Palace to receive the token, he seemed to have become a new person entirely, his comportment, countenance, intonation, and elocution somehow not at all concealing that gallant bearing of the Lins’ xiao-Shu long ago.
“Naturally.” Xiao Jingyan gripped that hand in its fist-form salute. “Let us go; I have got something for you yet.”
Mei Changsu did not refuse either, letting Xiao Jingyan tug him through the decorated hall of the back palace directly into the outer veranda of the inner palace. The annex room on the west side was fully aglow with light, and a palace eunuch had long been waiting at the door to serve, pushing the door open as he said, “Sir Su has finally come.”
Mei Changsu was about to smile at that, but his expression froze at the splendour of the array of goods before him. Xiao Jingyan looked at him from the side, also with a not-quite-smiling expression as he explained, “this is what Consort-Mother prepared for you herself. She sent the eunuch with it here this morning, who has been waiting all along for you to inspect the wares so he can report back.”
Mei Changsu examined it thoroughly with gaping astonishment. Not speaking of the sets of brand-new helmets and armour, the winter clothing and martial robes, there were every conceivable item for use in the winter, from furs, quilts, carpets, and curtains to the smaller sleeves, gloves, hand warmers, and medicine, every item laid out in a most perfectly organised fashion that filled most of the annex.
He watched in a daze, turning his head after quite a while to meet Xiao Jingyan’s dark probing eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “I am going to war, not to be married off for convenience—what ever is such a big spread for?”
“All Consort-Mother’s ardent caring—I’m afraid it is not yet at its end.” Xiao Jingyan’s gaze was ardent as well, and he found the other’s words rather amusing. “I know you are off to war, so I personally chose two cases of emergency war-time items and already sent them to Li Gang. These remaining ones I’ll send with someone to the supplies camp once you’ve had a look; you may as well bring them.”
Mei Changsu seemed listless for a moment before turning back to salute deeply at the eunuch awaiting orders. “I thank Her Ladyship for these generous gifts. Pray tell Her Ladyship to not be concerned; this humble general shall do my utmost to be loyal and filial on this trip.”
The palace eunuch accepted his salute, then made his own to take his leave and report his completion. Mei Changsu saw him off with hands still clasped, then heaved a thoughtful sigh. “The urgent matter of war does not allow time for a farewell in person. Jingyan, in the coming days, give Aunt Jing a kowtow in my place.”
Xiao Jingyan had been gazing upon him with rapt attention, but looked down at those words and swung his sleeves as if he hadn’t heard. “Let’s go.”
Watching those hands clasped behind a straight back, Mei Changsu gave a bitter laugh beneath lowered eyes and followed. He saw Xiao Jingyan cross the warm chamber[1] into the innermost bedchamber, where the indulgent luxuries of the outer halls were completely absent, and it was all very much the picture of the solemn sparseness of Prince Jing’s Manor.
Within the chamber, a banquet of food and wine were already prepared upon Xiao Jingyan’s daily sitting mat. The servers were still his personal attending soldiers of yore, who now all saluted and took their leave, leaving the two host and guest to sit opposite from each other. Xiao Jingyan opened the clay seal of the wine pot with his own hands, and Mei Changsu pushed his cup closer and teased, “Your Highness can finally afford to drink the Royal Ruby[2].”
“I am yet simple in my ways. These two pots of Royal Ruby were gifted from the Mu Manor a few days before,” Xiao Jingyan poured wine as he explained word by word, “arriving together with a carrier pigeon letter by Commandery Princess Nihuang’s own hand: ‘this wine is a tribute to xiongzhang[3] in my place, one for the grand valediction, and one for the victory celebration.’”
Mei Changsu smiled with head dipped and cup in hand as he heard. When she received the news in the south, Nihuang must have known instantly he would never linger in Jinling, so as to send him this letter that could reach the capital in time. Their marriage union from their past life might have dissolved, but their army histories and presents, separated by vast expanses of mountains and waters, still mirror each other out of bonds of loyalty and honour.
“Xiao-Shu, a toast to you from me on behalf of departed friends and family.” Xiao Jingyan knew the sentiments he must have been feeling. “They would for certain drink a cup to their heart’s content for you, knowing your return to the battlefield.”
“Duty calls—dare I not forge forward?” Mei Changsu raised the cup and drank it in one tilt of the head. Ten years plagued with constant illness and poison, and to preserve his frail and sickly frame, he had long not had such a good drink. The strong and perfumed wine flowed smoothly down his throat, and his qi and blood roiled through his organs with great freedom, his eyes blurring over with sublime abandon as he gave a laugh with head back. “What wine! Splendid!”
Xiao Jingyan’s eyes misted over as well; he moved the fuling chicken soup over, to facilitate the pairing with wine. Mei Changsu did not put up a false brave front, but he held the soup bowl with one hand while the other still knocked the table with finger bent. “Bring wine.”
Xiao Jingyan did not defy him, filling up another cup; he smiled suddenly. “Seeing you in such cheer actually reminds me of your first time to the front lines.”
Mei Changsu’s gaze fell upon the wine, his thoughts drifting afar at those words. In those days, with their first battle imminent, fierce generals of the Chiyan Army were encircling their tents like tigers, waiting to pounce, and in the encampment of tens of thousands, there was only the sound of the young marshal yelling “bring wine”, already catching the thrown pot in one hand from the young prince riding alongside him before his words had dissipated.
Those sights and those people were as distant as a lifetime ago; Mei Changsu tilted back his head to finish another full cup, then collected his gaze back at Xiao Jingyan. His trial by fire and splintered bones were no less than reincarnating into another person, and as for Xiao Jingyan, he had already been polished into metal and stone from the upheavals and intrigues of warfare and politics; his red robes and gold guan reflected against the candlelight and wine at present, the lofty majesty of his mien no longer the unbridled liveliness of his youth.
“Jingyan,” Mei Changsu said softly, voice tinted with wine, slightly hoarse, with the end sound swallowed in the throat. Xiao Jingyan tilted his head upon listening, gazing intently at him for a moment before answering, “xiao-Shu.”
Mei Changsu smiled after all; his greatest aspiration was already realised, and his path forward was to be his return as well—to sit and drink with Xiao Jingyan was a gift from fate itself, so why should he mourn needlessly? He raised his head to push his cup over. “I called you for you to replenish the wine.”
A flame flickered light and dark in Xiao Jingyan’s eyes, though after a pause, he still refilled the wine for him and discussed the plans for the campaign. Before they realised it, thrice the wine was served, the moon crept down past the trees, and the night watch drums sounded double; Mei Changsu leaned into his chair-back with some drunkenness upon his breath and stared at the bright red bow before the room partition in a daze.
Xiao Jingyan’s gaze never drifted, and now he turned his head back to follow his sight without appearing surprised. “These years, before every time I embarked on an expedition, I would carefully clean it once again.”
Light flashed in Mei Changsu’s eyes; he rose up, walking to the stand with some unsteadiness in his steps. It was as if the scene in Prince Jing’s Manor re-enacted itself, only now, Xiao Jingyan said gently, “xiao-Shu, for your expedition this time, I wiped it back and forth yesterday for a whole night.”
Mei Changsu spread his fingers, his palm hovering over the limb of the bow for quite a long moment before gripping it. The bow had seen many years without any sign of ageing, its feel in the palm polished and natural, as if it never left its master’s side.
His heart storming, he glanced upon the bow in the light for a good while, then turned to stand erect a-top the steps, lifting his hand to grip the bowstring firmly. The feeling of equipping the bow spread from his palm to his entire body; for over ten years, this was perhaps the first he felt, with such authenticity, Lin Shu’s existence inside this sick and frail frame.
The forest of candles before the steps flickered their shadows, shining red flames[4] in Mei Changsu’s pupils that alternated bright and dark. The gesture to draw the bow flowed naturally, born from utmost familiarity; his breathing was deep and regular as his back stood straight, forearm stretched and level, his back hand pulling the bowstring back slowly and steadily.
But the bow had not been drawn to half its extent before Mei Changsu had used up his entire strength, his back as tight as the bow but unable to progress any longer. His breath caught between gritted teeth, man and bow frozen in tableau for a moment, and the dim light that re-ignited among the ashes of his heart extinguished again—he could not return to being Lin Shu, after all.
Xiao Jingyan had risen and walked over some unknown time ago. Mei Changsu was about to retract the bow when he pressed against his back all of a sudden, spreading his arms to clasp his two hands in his own. The two of them were of similar stock and build; Xiao Jingyan imitated his posture, and his entire body fit perfectly against Mei Changsu’s, without a seam.
Mei Changsu froze solid as if threatening to break; Xiao Jingyan’s arms were strong and frame trustworthy, steadfastly standing his ground against the force of the bow, and then he held his hand, in a manner that did not allow for protest, and drew the old bow fully open, bit by bit. The empty, arrow-less bow faced the vastness of the hall; Mei Changsu’s mind was thunderous in its silence, and he could only feel the heat all around him, Xiao Jingyan’s bright red robes as if a mirage of raging flames, devouring him utterly and without sound.
It could not be known how much time had elapsed—perhaps after only a fleeting instant—when Xiao Jingyan released the empty bowstring; outside the palace doors was the moon, peaceful as still water, and inside was the sound rending the emptiness to pieces. The illusion of fire and radiance wore off; Mei Changsu leaned, drained of power, against Xiao Jingyan, and only until his hollow eyes regained clear brightness did he realise that Xiao Jingyan half held the bow while the bend of his arm was perfectly and tenderly holding him tight.
Mei Changsu breathed in deeply; he had endured, without yielding, the conflagration that charred his body, the poisonous mites that devoured his bones, those years of flayed skin flayed and splintered bones, and a decade of ice and fire coursing through his veins, but now, inexplicably, his prideful metallic armour melted off with Xiao Jingyan’s warm embrace, rendering a sudden soft weakness inside him that he could not help.
The bright red bow slipped from his hands; he could feel nothing but that handsome bridge of Xiao Jingyan’s nose approach and sink deep into his shoulder, possibly accompanied by a sob. Mei Changsu steeled himself to force out a smile. “Fear not, this time to the north, I won’t pretend braveness on these weaponry and exertions; I will stay most properly in the encampment.”
Xiao Jingyan’s arms closed in tight as he breathed in deep, as if to ward off pain, but it seemed he could not truly grip the thin body in his arms no matter how he tried. The rims of Mei Changsu’s ears were burning hot; he turned around as if to say something, but Xiao Jingyan released his arms and pushed him away softly.
That long-lost tenderness gone as quickly as it came, Mei Changsu watched Xiao Jingyan vacantly, only to see his eyes swimming with emotions, as if forcibly restraining himself for a long instant before he choked out with difficulty, “xiao-Shu, I know everything.”
Mei Changsu widened his eyes in shock, his heart in deep turmoil. Xiao Jingyan did not wait for him to speak. “Consort-Mother told me all of it.”
He looked at Mei Changsu with great sorrow. “Some days ago, Lin Chen asked to visit the East Palace, and brought with him a list of medicines to bring to the front lines, asking me to assist with procuring them.
“I did not want to entrust it to the imperial physicians, so I took it into the palace and had Consort-Mother arrange it herself. But who could have expected that as soon as she saw the list, her tears fell like rain.
“Then I understood it all. I did not have the heart to question Consort-Mother, and wanted to find Lin Chen, but she stopped me.
“She said, Jingyan, for certain xiao-Shu will tell you nothing, but as your mother, I have it not in my heart to be cruel. If you let him go like this, when you find out the truth one day, I fear you shall hurt with ceaseless regret for all of your remaining days.”
Xiao Jingyan’s eyes were soaked full of sorrow, settling with trepidation in an unknown direction before he collected his gaze, fixing it upon Mei Changsu’s face. “Xiao-Shu, xiao-Shu, how can you be so cruel?”