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Spring
Contrary to popular belief, Fei Liu knows exactly what he is doing.
Li Gang watches him from the veranda, a pensive shadow in the approaching dusk. He’s less of a boy now, at least in stature, but neither height nor adolescence robs him of the agile stealth which has defined him since childhood. Quiet as a breeze, he weaves in and out of the garden, fingers drawn from flowers to flowers, all the white, pink, purple, and yellow. So close to sunset, the colours are set ablaze, crimson licking soft petals.
“You’ve taken too many again,” Chief admonishes when Fei Liu carries an armful inside, but the indulgent tone does not match the words. Fei Liu only sticks out an irreverent tongue and continues to arrange the choice blossoms in the profusion of vases and bowls scattered about the room.
The little smile that blooms on Mei Changsu’s lips as his eyes follow Fei Liu’s progress is as inevitable as the sun’s rise every morning.
Shaking his head, Li Gang too steps inside to prepare the brazier. Spring has come, but the nights are still cold and there is no such thing as too much precaution when it comes to the Chief.
Wrapped in a light fur cloak, Mei Changsu makes a curiously serene sight as he sits behind his desk, confronting a stack of documents. Duties as the Head Court Adviser do not rest lightly on his narrow shoulders, but anyone who so much dares to raise a word of concern on this subject will invariably find themselves silenced with one look. Li Gang will know; with his wealth of experience, he is a veritable expert.
“He’s growing up so fast.” There is a trace of wistfulness in the Chief’s voice as he considers Fei Liu with thoughtful, apprehensive eyes. “Don’t you think it’s time for him to have his own room?”
“You want to give him his own room, Chief?” Li Gang asks, surprised.
“Shouldn’t he have one? He can’t continue sleeping in mine—and that on the floor, no less.”
“If that is your concern, we can always arrange for another bed in the room.”
A frown. “That’ll still be unfair to him.”
“Then maybe you should ask him first what he wants.”
Chief gives him a pointed look; Li Gang returns it with an innocent one. He does not say that even the blindest, most obtuse, most oblivious human being knows what Fei Liu’s answer will be. He does not say that the sky will fall, the earth will open, the world will end first before any of them lets their chief have his sleep unprotected. Neither does he say that in the last month alone, they have thwarted three assassination attempts, one of them close enough to require Fei Liu’s intervention, just outside the main pavilion.
“You know what he will say,” Chief mutters, his tone accusing.
“It’s only fair,” Li Gang points out, keeping his neutral. Mei Changsu listens to no one—except, at times, Fei Liu, and Li Gang is not above exploiting this partiality when the need calls for it.
Chief casts one last wry look his way but then sighs and drops the subject. Li Gang hides his own sigh of relief. Fei Liu will not change. The thought both saddens and reassures, but there are sadder things in the world and Li Gang is a cautiously optimistic man. He takes comfort in the lightly scented air instead, the mingled flowers and the darker tang of tea.
The scent will linger the entire night, coaxing dreams and rest. The lavender, he knows from Young Master Lin’s offhand comment, will help the Chief sleep better.
He nods to himself in satisfaction. This is another good day, and for him, that is enough.
–
Summer
With summer comes many restless nights.
Meng Zhi, a northerner born and bred, suffers through the day’s sweltering heat with fortitude born of decades of self-discipline. In full armour, attending to his daily duties in the palace is more torture than privilege, but a soldier, he is fully aware, leads by example.
It doesn’t change the fact that this year’s heat is particularly vicious. Meng Zhi perseveres, as always, but when the day ends, he is only too glad to don cooler silks and lighter robes. His house is a refuge, owing to his wife’s clever management. In her charming company, many summer evenings have passed in a gentle, pleasant manner until they retire for the night.
This evening is not to be one of those.
“Meng-dage, the frequency of your visits has become rather alarming of late.”
Meng Zhi grins. “Come on, this is nothing. I used to come here almost every day, remember?”
Xiao Shu sighs, but the faint smile on his lips is all the confirmation Meng Zhi needs. At the beginning, he remembers, he used to arrive armed with an excess of reasons, ranging from the most critical to the most trivial, from the most believable to the most laughable, all dispensed without a second thought.
That Xiao Shu could easily see through them all was immediately evident. Confessions were made, compromise achieved. Now Meng Zhi has accustomed himself to simply announcing his presence whenever he drops by, no half-baked excuse offered.
“You look well.”
Xiao Shu raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I look well?”
“The weather has been too hot lately.”
“It’s you who cannot stand the heat. My enemy is cold.”
Meng Zhi nods, satisfied. He knows that nowadays, his vigilance for any hint of fatigue on Xiao Shu’s face is more a habit than anything else, a legacy from three long, terrible months in the frontline. Still, he can’t help himself most of the times. If anything, his protectiveness seems only to increase with each passing year.
They settle more comfortably on the pillowed floor, facing the open garden. Tea is poured, carrying a hint of chrysanthemum. As if by accord, they move to lighter subjects, content to occupy themselves with a hundred trivial topics, until night dawns and their conversation comes to a natural lull.
Meng Zhi is sipping his cooling tea and considering ways to introduce his next topic when he realises that Xiao Shu is looking at him, a suggestion of wry humour in his expression.
“Say what you want to say.”
Meng Zhi gapes at him. “I haven’t even said anything!”
“Your face does all the talking,” the younger man tells him mildly. “So what did you really come to see me about?”
Meng Zhi puts his cup down and sighs. “You’re going to say that I have a bad memory for asking you so many times, but never mind, I will ask again.” He clears his throat. “Xiao Shu, won’t you reconsider His Majesty’s offer? You know that things have mostly returned to how they’re supposed to be. Both the Imperial Guards and Capital Patrol are back to their proper standards. In fact, I can say for certain that the palace grounds are now safer than ever.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” is the solemn reply. If there is a hint of irony lurking in the undertone, then Meng Zhi is more than willing to pretend ignorance.
“The Emperor himself has given the order to reserve the White Crane Pavilion for your personal use,” he continues instead. “It’s in the outer level and definitely spacious enough to house your entire staff. Even better, it also only has one entrance, so you don’t have to worry about intruders.”
“So does my residence, come to think of it.”
“Xiao Shu, this is no laughing matter,” he says sternly. “This morning, when Lie Zhanying told me that another intruder had been caught in your house, I felt like my age had decreased by four years!”
“Fear not, he has been dealt with satisfactorily. Zhen Ping personally turned him over to the capable hands of Commander Lie’s Capital Patrol.”
“You were lucky your people stopped him in time!”
“Meng-dage,” Xiao Shu implores in a long-suffering voice, “I don’t have only luck on my side. I also have precautions, so please, don’t worry too much.”
“How can I not worry when this happens almost every month?” He stands up and paces the length if the room, his voice rising with him. “Of course Li Gang and Zhen Ping are more than capable, not to mention your little Fei Liu, but accidents can always happen. If precautions are your game, then why not increase it tenfold and move into the palace? What’s the harm, let me ask you?”
“Nothing whatsoever,” Xiao Shu answers, still in that annoyingly unflappable way of his. “Except I dislike the restrictions that court protocols will impose on my living space should I reside within the palace walls.”
Meng Zhi huffs and tries another tactic. “His Majesty mentioned it again today. He would feel more at ease with you safe in the Palace. Surely you’re not about to deny our Emperor that.”
A small shrug. “Not even His Majesty can have everything he wants.”
“Only you can say something like that,” Meng Zhi mutters, exasperated and fond in equal measure.
Xiao Shu smiles and pours him another cup of tea. Meng Zhi sighs; he can already feel his resolve melting as soon as that smile appears.
Well, he consoles himself, there is always another time.
–
Autumn
Lin Chen hates autumn.
In the barren bleakness of the capital, he is reminded all too clearly of the season’s splendour at his home. Lang Ya Mountain embraces autumn with bursts of colours and fragrance, life and decline entwined in one glorious display.
It was autumn too back then, when they first met, Lin Chen a painfully green apprentice under his father’s intimidating shadow, Changsu a heap of charred, poisoned flesh covered in filthy fur. The season was dying, fighting a futile battle with winter’s frosty bites when Lin Chen stood at his father’s side, hands trembling shamefully next to a pair of steady ones as they stitched flesh and skin and pieced a human body back to a semblance of a whole.
The screams still echo in his dreams sometimes.
It’s almost a relief to arrive and find himself welcomed with smiles instead of anxious frowns. A household’s mood, he has long since learned to appreciate, is a rudimentary but reliable indicator of its master’s health.
Said master is deeply asleep when Lin Chen comes into his quarters—or at least, he has every appearance of being deeply asleep. It only takes Lin Chen a second, closer look to notice that appearances are benignly deceptive at best and never more so than in Changsu’s case.
He grins. A clear stratagem, a silent approach, followed by a careful execution of a well-placed tickle, and Changsu opens his eyes with a yelp.
“Behold, he is alive.”
An exasperated look is tossed his way. “Why? Did you think you would find a corpse instead?”
“I have no doubt that I will one day.”
Changsu rolls his eyes but says nothing. Lin Chen seats himself in an empty chair next to the bed, vaguely aware that the persistent tightness in his chest has eased somewhat. Then Changsu offers him his wrist and they fall into the familiar ritual.
“You’re early this year.”
“Blame your subordinates,” Lin Chen tells him matter-of-factly. “They’ve been complaining about how hard you work and what a difficult master you are. They practically begged me to come.”
“Traitors,” Changsu mutters under his breath, and then adds, more solemnly, “You really shouldn’t listen to them.”
“Oh, and I should trust you instead? The person who can’t make even one sane decision when it comes to his own life?”
“But I’m fine, aren’t I?”
“There are varying degrees of ‘fine’, sure, but don’t even think that you belong to any of them,” Lin Chen retorts. “Not even remotely. Now be quiet.”
“It’s a long way,” Changsu continues, heedless of his warning. “There is no reason why you should come every year.”
“I said be quiet.”
“And you hate leaving the Hall at this time of the year.”
“Stop talking right now or I’ll render you mute.”
“Your threat is very unoriginal.” And of course Changsu cannot resist throwing one last bite, but he falls silent afterwards. Lin Chen glares at him throughout the examination. He cannot decide if he should be relieved or upset that there is practically no change in Changsu’s pulse.
“Satisfied?” And the man even dares to challenge him afterwards.
Lin Chen heroically resists an urge to carry out his threat. “It’s impossible for anyone to use that word in conjunction with you,” he says instead, dry and matter-of-fact.
Changsu smirks.
As absurd as it is, Lin Chen finds himself breathing a little more easily.
–
Winter
There are few sights in the world more horrifying to Xiao Jingyan than that of his best friend standing outside in the middle of falling snow.
Not only does it rouse an old guilt which has never quite lain to rest, it also immediately throws him into a state of heightened panic. Without a second thought, he crosses the threshold out to the veranda and down to the snow-draped garden.
“Are you mad? What are you doing outside?”
“I think better in the cold,” is the calm, unconcerned reply, even through a mist of breath.
“And risk your health in the meantime,” Jingyan accuses, fear lending more sharpness to his voice than he has intended. “Come in quickly.”
Xiao Shu obeys with a smile, but it’s a faraway thing. His mind is clearly elsewhere, wrestling fifty, sixty problems at once, as it always is.
“What worries you so?” Jingyan finally asks as he closes the doors decisively behind them.
“Our treaty with Dong Hai,” Xiao Shu tells him with a sigh. He has claimed his usual place next to the brazier and Jingyan notices the way his fingers quiver, now that the cold spell has been broken.
“You do not think the Marquis will succeed?”
“Marquis Yan will definitely bring the discussion to the desired conclusion, but the next few steps are just as important.” Xiao Shu raises his eyes to meet his. “This is an opportunity to crush Dong Hai’s spirit once and for all. If done correctly, they will not threaten our borders for at least the next twenty years or so.”
Jingyan fights an urge to reach across the coal and takes his friend’s hands. “I know this matter has greatly occupied your mind of late,” he says instead, “but consider your health too now that winter has come.”
Xiao Shu pulls a face. “When you talk like this, I’m tempted to take a leave.”
Jingyan snorts. “What is the use of a threat that will never see its execution? You’re the one who always ignores my urging to take a holiday.”
“You don’t think I will go through with it?”
“No,” Jingyan declares with a wry grin. “I don’t think you can bear the thought of leaving me to face our scheming neighbours alone.”
“Oh, is that Your Majesty’s opinion?”
“Stop with this Majesty nonsense.”
An eloquent eyebrow rises. “Why? Does it bother Your Majesty?”
Jingyan surrenders to a quick, sudden laugh. “You are the only person in the entire realm who talks to me like this now, do you know that?”
“Someone has to,” Xiao Shu says with a shrug and a smile.
Jingyan looks away, biting down a grin, affection a sudden stroke of warmth in his chest. He cannot say that he minds at all.
Definitely not.
End