IT WAS EARLY MORNING. The rooster crowed three times; the sky was just beginning to lighten, still tinged with blue. The moon had set, and Mingyue had finished packing her father's medicine box and basket. Keeping track of the time, she stepped out the front door.
Across the street, a thick layer of fallen leaves covered the already low steps.
Lord Situ still hadn't returned home.
Mingyue sighed, then walked toward the alley's entrance with her head down. A vendor selling steamed buns called out to her, and she responded with a smile but said nothing.
As she was about to turn the corner, she heard the creak of a door opening behind her, followed by the clinking of chains. Mingyue turned her head instinctively and saw Situ Jin step out of his house. Instead of his usual imposing uniform, he wore simple, coarse clothing today. There was a small bundle on his back and shackles around his ankles, the attached chains rattling with every step.
Two guards followed him out. Situ Jin's expression remained calm, as if he weren't a prisoner under escort.
Shocked, Mingyue lifted her skirt and hurried over. "Lord Situ! You—"
"He's no longer a lord, miss," one guard said.
The nightingale song of her voice made Situ Jin stiffen. He instinctively surveyed his current appearance; the glaringly obvious shackles on his feet stirred a rare frustration in his usually unflappable heart. Reluctantly, he turned around and politely greeted her. "Miss Zhu."
"Could you gentlemen give us a moment?" Mingyue asked. "I just need a brief word with Lord—I mean, Mister Situ!" She fished some silver from her purse. "This is for your trouble."
"No need, no need. Go ahead." The guards quickly waved off the silver. "Prisoners entering exile are usually permitted to say goodbye to family and friends before leaving the capital. This guy said he had no one, though, so we just had him pack his things."
Mingyue thanked them, then immediately turned to Situ Jin. "Tell me, what happened? How can I help you? Do you know anyone in the palace who could intervene? How may I contact them?" Tears welled in her eyes, and she steadied her voice only with great effort.
Situ Jin froze in surprise, then replied awkwardly, "No need to trouble yourself. This is my fault, and there's no help for it." Only now, as he and Mingyue were about to part, did he dare look directly at her face. Her eyes were already red, the thin skin around them flushed like an actress's rouged cheeks.
"Really? There's really no way…? Don't give up hope. I have some savings... Maybe we can try!"
Her words were rational yet naive. Mingyue's meager savings would be less than a drop in the bucket to the men currently in power. Besides, how could Situ Jin bear to see her run around begging for help on his behalf? He shook his head and remained silent.
Mingyue's heart grew cold. A man like Situ Jin never minced words. If he said there was no way to help him, then there truly wasn't. Her tears finally spilled over, and she stood before Situ Jin, crying uncontrollably.
Situ Jin was at a loss. He had no experience comforting women. He wished to wipe her tears but hesitated, bound by propriety. Although he wanted to tell her to stop crying, that seemed useless.
A guard handed him a handkerchief. Situ Jin gratefully took it and offered it to Mingyue.
"Lord Situ," Mingyue said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"My name is Zhu Mingyue. My father is Zhu Qinglan. I can embroider and identify medicinal herbs. My family's medical skills are passed down only to the men, but I learned some in secret. I've been accompanying my father on house calls since I was young, so I'm used to being out in public and speaking my mind. Many people say I lack propriety. Aunt Zheng next door says that no one would dare marry a girl like me, and I'll end up an old maid. But..."
But she liked him. Every morning, she woke early to dress up and peek through the crack in the door to see when he'd leave. The moment his door opened, she would sling her medicine basket over her shoulder, step out, and pretend to bump into him. Just one glance from him made her heart race all day, as if a restless rabbit were trapped inside.
After he was transferred to the military camp at Shili Slope, where he had room and board, he rarely returned home. Mingyue's heart had felt empty, and she'd wandered through her days in a daze. A few days earlier, she'd even mixed up a patient's herbs, earning her a scolding from her father. When she went out to gather herbs, she sometimes detoured to Shili Slope, standing at its highest point to glimpse the training grounds. Each time, she wondered whether one of the men wielding swords was Situ Jin.
Now he was leaving—going to a place far away from her. He might marry and have children there. They might never see one another again.
Mingyue cried bitterly. Each flutter of her long eyelashes sent large teardrops rolling down her cheeks.
"She lied," Situ Jin said.
Mingyue looked up in confusion.
"Aunt Zheng lied," Situ Jin continued. His eyes were like a gentle breeze breaking through thin ice. They rippled with emotion. "You're wonderful, truly. You're the most amazing maiden I've ever met."
Joy slowly filled Mingyue's heart, and her eyes brightened. Did his words mean she had a place in his heart? "Where are you going, Lord Situ?" she asked. "Will you come back?"
"To a border city in the north. Don't worry, the north is my home, and my swordsmanship is passable; the Tatars won't defeat me. As for whether I'll return, I guess that depends on luck."
Mingyue wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I'm sixteen this year, Lord Situ. I'll wait five years for you."
Situ Jin was stunned. His cheeks slowly flushed red. What did she mean, she would "wait" for him? Could it mean what he thought?
Suddenly, he wanted to flee. If not for the guards behind him and the chains on his feet, he'd have dashed away right that second.
He hesitated for a moment before stammering, "Five years is too long, Miss Mingyue. You—"
"What?" Mingyue sniffled and raised her chin. "You have that saying—'Even four horses couldn't break a gentleman's word.'20 Well, my word can't be broken by ten of them!"
Mingyue was a delicate girl—her shoulders were so narrow that they could be grasped in one hand, fragile as a riverbank willow—but her statement was firm and unyielding. Her stubborn expression indicated that she wouldn't change her mind even if the heavens collapsed.
Situ Jin sighed. "Fine," he said hoarsely. "If I haven't returned in five years, Miss Mingyue, please find someone else. Don't wait for me."
Mingyue shook her head. "No. If you haven't returned in five years, I'll go north to find you. I'll wait for you, and you must wait for me."
"Miss!"
Mingyue slipped a bracelet from her wrist. "This was my mother's. Take it—it's very important to me. You must return it to me someday."
"I can't."
"I want you to owe me," Mingyue insisted, holding back her tears. "If you do, you'll remember me."
Situ Jin hesitated.
One of the guards stepped forward. "You're a grown man. Stop pussyfooting around. A wife just fell from the sky, and you don't want her? I don't understand you at all. We're in a hurry—just take it." With that, he grasped the bracelet Mingyue held and shoved it into Situ Jin's hand.
The jade bracelet was still warm with the heat of Mingyue's skin. It burned in Situ Jin's hand, and his face flushed red.
Mingyue took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Until we meet again, Lord Situ."
The girl's figure gradually disappeared into the distance, her tea-colored dress blending into the early morning light like a faint ink stroke.
Until we meet again, Situ Jin silently repeated in his heart.
***
DUSK FELL.
The palace was mostly constructed from golden-thread nanmu wood. Though it was a high-quality wood, its overuse lent the building an oppressive gloom. As soon as the sun set, the Document Office plunged into darkness. The beams and pillars' heavy shadows pressed down, making it hard to breathe. A single candle flickered; the eerie light it cast on Wei De's wrinkled face made him look like a ghoul from hell.
Shen Jue stood below, his head bowed as usual, his jade-like hands holding a memorial. Slowly, he read, "'Emperor Gaozu once decreed that eunuchs must not interfere in state affairs—that they should only serve within the palace. Those who violate that should be punished without mercy. Yet now, under our wise emperor's rule, there are those who act fearlessly and disrupt the court's order: for instance, the Eastern Depot eunuch Wei De. I dare list his crimes for Your Majesty's consideration. Wei De—originally a street ruffian, illiterate, castrated in middle age—sneaked into the palace. At first, he feigned loyalty and trustworthiness to gain favor, but now he dares to commit great evils and disrupt governance...'"
Shen Jue's pleasant voice flowed like a clear spring. Everyone else was frozen in fear. The young eunuch massaging Wei De's shoulders gradually lightened his touch until it was as weightless as a mosquito. Wei De's mind was fortunately elsewhere, or he'd have dismissed the eunuch long ago.
Shen Jue continued, "'I humbly beg Your Majesty to execute Wei De, abolish the Eastern Depot, and restore order to the court. Then the land will be at peace. I, Wan Xian, kneel and plead for Your Majesty's mercy.'"
With that, Shen Jue closed the memorial and stood silently.
The room was deathly quiet, save for the clacking of Wei De's prayer beads, like the tick of a Western clock. After a while, everyone's breathing seemed to synchronize with the sound.
Suddenly, the string of beads snapped. Beads scattered across the floor, rolling in every direction. Everyone was startled; they all knelt immediately, pressing their heads to the ground.
"What 'great evils' have I committed?!" Wei De demanded. "A 'palace that knows only Eunuch Wei, not the emperor'?! This is an accusation of treason and rebellion!"
"Please calm yourself, Wei-gonggong." Qian Zhengde, always bold, crawled forward and poured tea for Wei De. "His Majesty has long since stopped caring about state affairs. Since this memorial is in our hands, we can suppress it and find an excuse to exile Wan Xian far away. If you're still angry then, we can go further and eliminate him—make an example of him to show the officials that the Eastern Depot and Document Office aren't to be trifled with."
Wei De glanced at Qian Zhengde but then turned to Shen Jue. "Shen Jue, you've always been insightful. What do you think?"
The composed young man pondered for a moment, then replied slowly, "Wan Xian has been an official for over twenty years, and he is set to retire this winter solstice. He has always been cautious—no, cowardly. I think he might just be seeking fame by suddenly condemning you, Father."
"Hmm," Wei De said. "Go on."
A disgruntled Qian Zhengde drew back, kneeling, and glanced at Shen Jue. The young man's profile was emotionless; his eyes, fixed on the carpet, didn't move an inch. Despite being a lowly eunuch from the Document Office, Shen Jue was permitted to stand at Wei De's side. Meanwhile, the newly promoted Qian Zhengde was disdained. Qian Zhengde secretly gritted his teeth.
Shen Jue continued, "In my humble opinion, Father, it would be best to ignore Wan Xian and let things run their course. As the saying goes, patience leads to great achievements. If you demote or dismiss Wan Xian, you could play into his hands and cement his reputation as a righteous official, provoking the literati to defend him. Even if the memorial doesn't reach His Majesty's eyes, rumors could reach his ears. Any loss would outweigh the gain."
"Well said, Shen Jue. You're not yet twenty, but you have a seasoned strategist's foresight. Very good."
"You flatter me, Father."
"The eldest prince injured his leg falling from his horse," Wei De mused. "The injury to his once-healthy son has put His Majesty in a foul mood, and his temper is unpredictable. I've served him for many years, but he might take his anger out on me regardless. These fools are just adding fuel to the fire. Loathsome wretches!" He coughed harshly, then added, "But I must teach that old donkey Wan Xian a lesson. He wants fame? I'll give it to him! Hmph. If I don't put him through his paces, he'll think the Eastern Depot is toothless. Xiao Yan, send people out to spread rumors in the court and streets."
"The rumors, Wei-gonggong?" a eunuch quickly responded.
"The old man seduced his daughter-in-law, and they're having an affair. That should make for entertaining gossip—enough to keep people laughing for a while."
With a few words, Wei De would turn Wan Xian into a laughingstock and his son into a cuckold, ruining Wan Xian's reputation and sowing discord between father and son. That kind of ruthless move was typical of eunuchs; if they couldn't win in the open, they resorted to underhanded tactics. They had no use for gentlemanly conduct nor measured responses. As long as they achieved their goals, any means—however despicable—were justified.
"What a brilliant plan, Wei-gonggong," Qian Zhengde fawned. "Let's see whether that old fool dares speak out of turn again."
Wei De threw a teacup at Qian Zhengde's head. "'Old fool'?" he shouted. "Who are you calling old?"
Wei De was over seventy, an age by which most officials had retired. But unlike civil officials, eunuchs were bound to the palace until death. Wei De could call someone else an "old donkey," but he wouldn't stand for being called old himself.
Qian Zhengde, covered in blood and tea, knelt and begged for forgiveness.
Wei De's anger didn't subside. He walked to the window and looked out through the latticework. The Forbidden City loomed darkly, its eaves and corners locked in combat, casting shadows like clashing weapons. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Get to work on my orders. All you do is flatter me—you never do any real work. Useless, all of you!"
Qian Zhengde nodded obsequiously, not daring to raise his head this time.
"I'm leaving the palace," Wei De added. "Xiao Yan and Shen Jue will accompany me. The rest of you, get back to your duties."
Wei De put on his black gauze hat, and Shen Jue and Xiao Yan followed him out. Xiao Yan of the Eastern Depot was to accompany Wei De out of the palace. He carried one of the palace's lanterns, walking slightly behind Wei De to illuminate his path. It twisted through a maze of walkways, one after another, the lanterns stretching into the distance resembling a long, winding serpent.
"How is the newly promoted Consort Li's health?" Wei De asked suddenly, after they'd walked a short distance.
The emperor had few descendants. The once-promising eldest prince had been disabled falling from his horse. As ruler of the nation, an emperor was under countless watchful eyes. He didn't need to be a paragon of virtue, but he did need to be healthy. If the reigning emperor managed to have more children, the eldest prince would likely never ascend to the throne.
Shen Jue understood exactly what Wei De was asking. "The palace maids reported that Consort Li missed her last cycle," he replied. "However, she has always been in poor health, and there have been previous false alarms. Pregnancy can only be confirmed after fifty days, so I've instructed the imperial physicians to check again in twenty."
Wei De's previously dark expression softened, and he smiled. "Jue-er, among all my godchildren, you're the most capable—but also the least clever."
"What do you mean, Father? I don't understand."
"Qian Zhengde only knows how to flatter; he has no abilities at all. Do you know why I promoted him?"
Even if he did know, he had to play dumb. "I'm not sure," Shen Jue replied.
"Because he smiles and knows how to talk. That's why I promoted him. Look at you—you always wear that deadpan expression. We eunuchs have some power, but we're ultimately the emperor's dogs—servants who must please our master. Smile more, say pretty things, and our master will be happy. That's how you get ahead quickly."
Shen Jue's hands tensed. "I understand," he said softly.
"Then go back to your room and practice in front of a mirror. If I don't see improvement in a few days, you won't stay in the Document Office. What use is a dog that can't please its master?"