Chapter 13: Old Acquaintances Meet — A Finger Brushes Xie Qianli’s Arm, Like Touching a Burning…
Su Xueyi stood with his hands clasped behind his back, holding a posture of noble arrogance. Upon hearing the butler’s words, his expression stiffened for only a moment before returning to a look of breezy indifference.
“It matters not. It is only a matter of time,” Su Xueyi dropped the subject. “Go fetch my zither.”
The butler smiled sheepishly. “Yes, Young Master.” He hurried to obey.
In the afternoon, Su Xueyi played a newly composed tune in the courtyard.
The Jiaowei zither was passed down from a famous master, possessing a tone of elegant quality.
Su Xueyi’s skill was transcendent. As his fingertips swept across the strings, clear, piercing notes drifted recklessly over the flowers and trees of the Prime Minister’s estate, filling the surroundings with music.
Su Yin sat in the courtyard hugging a doll, gazing at her eldest brother.
She wasn’t the only one. Since Su Xueyi began playing, more and more living creatures gathered around: the estate’s handymen, attendants, maids, and even refined scholars stopping on the other side of the wall to appreciate the music…
When Su Xueyi finished the piece, the surroundings remained in a state of absolute silence for quite some time.
After three or five breaths, Su Yin stood up, tossed the ragdoll in her arms into the sky, and shouted excitedly:
“Big Brother is amazing!”
The other audience members fortunate enough to hear the performance within the residence couldn’t praise Su Xueyi as directly as Su Yin, but their eyes shimmered with admiration. Finally, they spoke in unison: “The Prime Minister’s zither skills are a heavenly sound on earth, leaving one drunk and mesmerized!”
Su Xueyi raised his eyes slightly, pressing down on the strings with a look of indifference as the lingering notes faded.
Su Xueyi was known as the ‘Universal Talent of Chang’an.’
He could always effortlessly garner worshipful gazes from those around him. Over time, it became a habit, leading him to find many people and things utterly boring.
His father scheming for the family’s prosperity—boring.
His stepmother chasing after petty profits—boring.
The brothers in his clan fighting for resources, often linking arms in friendship one moment and tearing each other’s faces off the next—boring.
Boring. Everything was simply boring!
At this moment, footsteps hurriedly approached along the paved path leading from the garden to the main gate of the residence.
Su Xueyi scoffed lightly, assuming someone from the Imperial Palace had arrived. His index finger hooked a string, starting a different tune.
He did not look up.
The footsteps stopped a distance away.
He surmised that Ying Xi might have been tied up by government affairs at the Department of State Affairs, unable to handle them quickly, and thus had only arrived at the Right Prime Minister’s residence in the afternoon.
In the past, whenever I claimed illness, Ying Xi would often come to visit me, Su Xueyi recalled.
He had to admit that Ying Xi was a beautiful youth. Ying Xi’s appearance was decent; it hadn’t made him feel bored yet.
But as an Emperor—especially an Emperor wanting to break the deadlock amidst internal trouble, foreign aggression, and a complex world situation—could a pretty face solve all problems?
Fawning was even less likely to work.
Su Xueyi knew Ying Xi wanted to curry favor with him.
The Little Emperor clearly had a face written with pride, yet he always forced himself into a posture of courteous humility before him.
Sending flowers, sending medicine, asking after his health… using tactics clumsy even for a boudoir woman trying to win back her husband.
Because Su Xueyi saw through it all, he wanted to tease Ying Xi even more, deliberately leaving him standing in the distance to sunbake for a while longer.
A refined man harboring schemes used different methods to torment people.
The piece Su Xueyi was playing, Changqing (Long Clarity), was divided into thirteen segments and was composed by Ji Kang, one of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove.
Playing Changqing in its entirety would keep the Emperor standing in his courtyard for at least an hour.
The transcendent, high-minded elegance expressed by the Changqing melody would surely attract the Emperor even more.
The Little Emperor would stand there motionless, willingly.
Su Xueyi secretly hooked his lips into a wicked smile. He continued playing Changqing, and sure enough, the figure over there didn’t move.
Ying Xi must be displaying his infinite sincerity toward me again, right? Su Xueyi felt no guilt.
Actually, reviving Great Qin is entirely possible, Su Xueyi thought.
But the price to pay for that possibility was too high, requiring him to plan and sacrifice too much. It would be better to let the family go into seclusion until the dynasty changed.
After all, Emperors flow like water; noble families stand firm like iron.
A new dynasty would still need to employ the Su family, and he could be among the first to switch allegiance, winning the new ruler’s trust.
Heh.
Let’s just use Ying Xi’s regard to raise my own value.
After all, he had no interest in Ying Xi, nor would he be dead set on serving him.
Changqing ended.
Su Xueyi pitifully gathered his fingers over the strings.
He seemed to adjust his sleeves inadvertently, then raised his head indifferently. What he saw were the tips of black cloth boots walking toward him from afar—it was neither Ying Xi nor a eunuch flying through the air.
Su Xueyi frowned slightly.
His face sank like still water. “Su Fu?”
He had been intoxicated for nothing; Changqing was played in vain!
Unaware that his questioning tone was filled with depression, Su Xueyi asked coldly, “What is it? What were you doing standing there blankly just now?”
Su Fu was stunned and hurriedly apologized, “Young… Young Master, to avoid disturbing your elegant mood, this lowly one waited here for you to finish playing, daring not move a muscle.”
Seeing Su Xueyi’s ugly expression, Su Fu filled his words with a survival instinct: “Young Master played continuously for a whole hour without a single mistake in the tune. Your patience alone crowns Chang’an! This lowly one’s admiration for Young Master is beyond words!”
Stop talking.
Su Xueyi’s brow twitched heavily; he felt even more insulted.
He first glanced at the sky, which had already darkened, then rubbed the center of his brow with his fingers. “Speak of business.”
Su Fu: “Hearing that Young Master reported illness, several court officials sent consolation gifts this afternoon. The food was distributed according to your instructions, and the supplements were kept for the Young Miss.”
Su Yin hugged her doll blankly, alerting instantly: “Yin Yin won’t drink medicine!”
Su Xueyi signaled with his eyes, and the wet nurse led Su Yin away. Before leaving, she obediently curtsied to her brother.
After Su Yin had completely left, Su Xueyi hesitated for a moment before asking, seemingly inadvertently, “The Palace still hasn’t sent anyone to ask about this Prime Minister?”
Su Fu: “Not yet.”
Su Xueyi: “…”
Su Fu seemed to realize that disaster issues from the mouth and hurriedly comforted him: “Rest assured, Young Master! With your talent, if you were to preside over the Department of State Affairs, it would be as stable as Mount Tai.”
“Perhaps His Majesty is just busy for the moment. His Majesty won’t forget Young Master! He won’t grow tired of Young Master! And he certainly won’t lose favor for Young Master!”
A mouthful of depressed old blood accumulated in Su Xueyi’s heart.
Su Fu had exposed him completely.
And according to Su Fu’s phrasing, he seemed to have transformed from a dignified Prime Minister into an unranked concubine, using the affected tactic of playing the zither while feigning illness to await her husband’s favor.
Su Xueyi took a deep breath, shoved the Jiaowei zither aside, and stopped playing.
Su Fu hurriedly bowed, shrinking his presence.
Su Xueyi stood up, looking toward where the sunset glow had vanished. For the first time, he actively wondered: What is Ying Xi busy with right now?
So busy that he forgot something important.
He told Su Fu to go inquire. Su Fu went. Su Fu’s back disappeared down the garden path.
Su Xueyi’s slightly furrowed brows did not relax.
Once, Ying Xi treated him well, day in and day out. Now that this kindness had suddenly vanished, a sense of uncontrollable unease surfaced.
The feeling was like a stone pressing down—a bit heavy, and the heart felt sour.
Su Xueyi carefully savored this rare sensation. Few people could trigger a change in his emotions. The corners of Su Xueyi’s mouth lifted slightly.
“Come here. Spread word outside the residence,” Su Xueyi ordered a domestic servant. “Say that this Prime Minister is seriously ill and may need to request a long leave of several months. Close the gates; no outside guests are allowed.”
The servant secretly sized up the Prime Minister, finding his mental state exceptionally hyperactive, not looking sick in the slightest.
If there was an illness, perhaps it was in the head.
The servant dared not comment. “Yes.”
Before the Duke of Ying’s burial, the Xie residence had completed the necessary rites early and sent an invitation to the Emperor.
Because the Emperor would personally attend, the burial date was set for the first day of the second lunar month.
Originally, the second day of the second month would have been better, but that was ‘Dragon Heads-raising Day.’
Digging the earth to bury someone on the day the Dragon raises its head—if it prevented the Dragon (the Emperor) from raising his head, it might violate the Emperor’s taboo.
Early morning on the first of February.
Ying Xi did not sleep in until he woke naturally.
He was neatly groomed and wore mourning clothes made of black hemp (Zima). This was the highest courtesy Ying Xi could offer the former Duke of Ying in his capacity.
Actually, the Emperor wearing plain court attire would have been sufficient, but Zima corresponded to important meritorious officials and royal relatives.
The deceased was gone. Ying Xi intended to win people’s hearts at the funeral, so he didn’t care what he wore.
Xie Ji certainly counted as an important meritorious official.
As for relatives, Xie Ji had married the former Grand Princess. Ying Xi was the adopted son of the previous Emperor. In terms of seniority, he had to call Xie Ji ‘Uncle-in-law,’ so wearing this wasn’t a loss.
The place of Xie Ji’s burial was Lishan, adjacent to Chang’an.
Lishan had been a geomantic treasure land since ancient times.
Morning light spilled down; ancient trees were planted everywhere, pines and cypresses remained evergreen, and the early spring magnolias were blooming perfectly.
A small stream wound around the mausoleum in the mountains. The branches and leaves of the newly grown trees were too dense; on the way up, one could only hear the water, not see it.
The mountain road was long. With spring emerging, the soil was damp.
If the Emperor hiked up, his feet would inevitably be covered in mud. Besides, Ying Xi didn’t have the strength for mountain climbing.
Six guards carried a soft sedan chair, transporting Ying Xi up the mountain.
Two carried the sedan in front, two in the back, and the last two supported the bottom of the sedan cabin to prevent it from tipping backward and falling, passenger and all, during the ascent.
After climbing for about an hour, the view suddenly opened up. The procession entered a flat area and arrived at the Xie family cemetery.
This branch of the Xie clan had moved to Chang’an from Chen Commandery. When the Emperor arrived, the Xie family had been waiting for a long time. Also present for the ceremony were old friends of the Xie family.
The Emperor wasn’t late; it was simply that subjects waited for the Emperor. Before the Emperor’s arrival, the Xie family had simplified the rituals.
Ying Xi appeared. The two sides met, and the officials bowed.
Xie Qianli, dressed in hemp mourning clothes, still wore heavy mourning. To express gratitude for the Emperor’s attendance, as a filial son, Xie Qianli kowtowed to the Emperor again.
Usually, Xie Qianli would kneel on one knee, performing a military salute. Today was different.
Today he performed a heavy salute to Ying Xi, prostrating his body, forehead touching the ground. His pupils were covered in bloodshot veins, and the hemp clothes made Xie Qianli’s face look dark, dampening his sharp aura.
Xie Qianli said, “With Your Majesty’s personal presence, my late father will be moved to tears in the netherworld. This General and the others will definitely not fail Your Majesty, willing to dash our brains upon the ground for Your Majesty.”
After he finished speaking, the other soldiers followed suit: “We wish to inherit the Duke of Ying’s legacy and dash our brains upon the ground for Your Majesty.”
It felt like a mountain collapsing before Ying Xi.
He saw the back of Xie Qianli’s head and actually discovered a white hair completely inconsistent with the other’s age. Ying Xi withdrew his gaze.
His eyes shifted to the crowd in the distance as he reached out to help Xie Qianli up. The two lieutenant generals, Feng Ze and Lian Qing, assisted in supporting the current Duke of Ying.
Ying Xi’s fingertips touched Xie Qianli’s arm, feeling like touching a scalding stone. Ying Xi curled his fingers back.
When Xie Qianli stood straight, he was more than half a head taller than Ying Xi. His gaze quickly swept over the hemp clothes on Ying Xi.
“…” In that instant, Xie Qianli’s breathing faltered.
At the end of the burial ceremony, Xie Ji’s coffin was transported into the underground palace.
The underground palace wasn’t large, adhering to the wish for a frugal burial Xie Ji had made long ago.
There weren’t many burial objects—just Xie Ji’s weapons from his lifetime, the porcelain cups he was used to, and his armor and cotton clothes. Those few cotton clothes were said to have been hand-sewn by Xie Ji’s late wife, the Grand Princess. She had said that while silks and satins were fine, they couldn’t be worn on the battlefield, and they weren’t comfortable anyway.
That the Grand Princess Huining, one of the most noble women in the world, would personally do needlework for Xie Ji showed the depth of the couple’s love.
It was no wonder that after the Grand Princess passed away from illness, Xie Ji took no concubines and never remarried.
The coffin was moved into the underground palace, the doors were sealed, and mercury was poured.
From then on, they were separated by heaven and earth. The crying of the Xie clan’s generals and relatives reached its peak at this moment.
And those generals and retainers of the Xie family, the people who followed the Duke of Ying—even as they wept, not a single one of them cast another glance at Ying Xi.
So the Emperor couldn’t temporarily determine if the Xie family held hate for him.
Amidst the grief, Xie Qianli’s expression was like petrified stone, revealing nothing.
Ying Xi shook his head secretly.
The burial ceremony ended, and the Emperor returned the way he came.
The Xie family also walked down the mountain.
The mountain path was winding and narrow. Due to natural causes, the Emperor’s procession couldn’t display a grand formation, still relying on that soft sedan chair for transport.
There were more people going down the mountain, making it appear crowded.
The descent was harder than the ascent. The guards carrying the sedan in front had to scout the path and bear the weight of the cabin while finding purchase with their toes.
A guard on the front left stepped on a loose rock. The rock couldn’t bear the weight and suddenly crumbled. The sedan cabin shuddered.
Inside the sedan, Ying Xi’s heart tightened.
Then he felt a palm heavily slap the side of the cabin from the outside. The sedan stabilized, and his suspended heart settled back down.
Ying Xi breathed a sigh of relief.
After a moment, his fingertips slowly lifted the curtain. His gaze explored outside the sedan, but he didn’t see anyone or any hand.
Thinking it was an illusion, his pupils reflected the small stream beside the mountain path.
Magnolia petals drifted down from the Xie family cemetery at the peak, swirling in the water like small boats.
Ying Xi stared for a moment. Somehow, his thoughts drifted to the Yangzhou border defense, and a sudden inspiration struck him. “Yu Jing.”
“This slave is here.” Yu Jing trotted over.
Ying Xi leaned forward and hooked his finger. “Go ask General Xie later. I have a method that can earn back the excess military expenditure. Ask him if it is feasible?”
Ying Xi explained his idea to Yu Jing.
Yu Jing replied repeatedly, “This slave will relay it immediately.”
A breeze rose, and Yu Jing’s figure disappeared from the side of the sedan.
That long wind blew from Lishan back to Chang’an, all the way to the Prime Minister’s residence.
Inside the residence, Su Fu reported repeatedly, “Young Master! Young Master! This slave found out—His Majesty went to the Xie family cemetery today!”
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