Purely by Accident – Chapter 42
***
I did not, in the end, give the letter to the princess.
Confessing your feelings to someone face-to-face can be a difficult thing to do. It leaves you exposed and vulnerable, rather like taking off your clothes in public. Instead, I crumpled the letter carefully into a little ball and dribbled a protective layer of candle wax around it. Then I took it to Shuoyu Atelier, the biggest jeweller’s in all of Tengzhou, and asked the proprietor to seal it away in a hollowed-out gemstone, which would in turn be suspended from a jade hairpin. I would then, I decided, find a suitable occasion on which to present it to the princess, and it would serve both as my confession of love and a physical token of it.
The proprietor shot me a rather admiring glance. Sparks of excitement shone out of his small, shrewd eyes. ‘And is this hairpin meant as a gift for your sweetheart, young master?’
I nodded.
He rolled the little wax-coated ball round and round in his palm. ‘So this must hold a love letter?’
He was an astute businessman indeed. I nodded again.
The proprietor’s face turned bright red with excitement, and he clutched my hand. ‘Oh, what a brilliant idea — it’s worth a thousand times its weight in gold! Young master, I can tell just by looking at you that you would be perfectly suited to the jeweller’s trade. You have a natural talent for it. Would you have any interest in working here? At Shuoyu Atelier, we believe that the strength of any successful business is its people, so our top priority is the recruitment and development of new talent, and we give all our craftspeople a high level of creative freedom. Shuoyu Atelier, the best place for developing your career!’
Hm. I thought the matter over carefully, then said hesitantly, ‘Sir, your business philosophy is admirable. But truth be told, I’m doing quite well at my current place of employment. If ever I find that it no longer suits me, I’ll be sure to take you up your offer!’
The proprietor’s eyes dimmed, and he gave me a rather wistful pat on the shoulder. ‘Do you need this in a hurry, young master? A commission of this kind will take us a little over ten days to craft.’
I did some calculations. A little over ten days… that would take us to Shangyuan,[1] a day on which sweethearts would exchange gifts. ‘Excellent!’ I told the man, grinning broadly. ‘On the day of the Shangyuan Festival, I’ll be here bright and early to collect it!’
And so, on the morning of the Shangyuan Festival, I woke up earlier than usual. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Chu Feichen was already awake, and looked as if she had been up for some time. Her head was resting on my arm, and she was engrossed in playing with my hair.
I leaned over and kissed her, ‘Good morning, princess!’ I said, beaming at her.
Chu Feichen tugged at my ear, then rolled right on top of me. ‘Answer promptly, Wei Zisong: what day is it?’ she demanded, her brow wrinkling slightly.
Unruffled, I put an arm around her waist and replied without missing a beat, ‘It’s Shangyuan!’
Chu Feichen cocked an eyebrow, then reached out and plucked at the opening of my undershirt, widening it even further. One delicate hand slipped inside and began meandering slowly across my chest. ‘And what should you do on Shangyuan?’ she asked, her voice low and beguiling.
A shiver ran through me, though at the same time, I was beginning to feel rather hot. Hastily I caught hold of her roving hand. ‘I should give my wife a present!’ I declared, as if swearing a solemn oath.
Chu Feichen gave me an approving kiss on the brow, but her hand slipped free of mine and resumed its wanderings. She pressed her lips against my cheek, and murmured as softly as if she were in a dream, ‘Then tell me, what kind of present should you give me?’
This was nothing less than naked seduction!
Her lips and fingers continued their ministrations; a delicious tingle spread across my skin and over my heart. I rolled over, my arms around her waist, so that she was now lying beneath me. ‘And how many times would you like to receive this present, princess?’ I murmured indistinctly, my lips roaming haphazardly along her throat and shoulders.
Chu Feichen drew her shoulders in ever so slightly. ‘As many times as possible,’ she said, and her voice seemed to hold a barely suppressed smile.
Eh? Was there really something special about Shangyuan — something that could leave one’s wits completely addled with desire?
Not that I was in any state to think on that question any further. I reached out and began to undo Chu Feichen’s undershirt, but paused when she placed a fist firmly against my shoulder. Her eyes were dancing with merriment. ‘Are you truly willing to do that, Zisong?’
‘Of course!’
‘Excellent.’ Her hand slipped beneath the hem of my undershirt and made its way slowly up my spine. Her touch was faintly cool, and ever-so-gentle. Her voice, filled with pure delight, washed over me like a thousand spring breezes. ‘Then it’s agreed,’ she said. ‘Tonight, Zisong, you are to lie back and let me have my way with you.’
Eh? What? Had I just agreed to offer myself up on a sacrificial platter?
My lips, still busy at her throat, paused. I looked up and blurted out a most ill-timed question. ‘Do you even know how?’
Never, ever, at any point, underestimate a woman’s determination to get the better of her spouse, especially when the woman in question is as vindictive and prone to nursing grudges as Chu Feichen.
As nimble as a pair of snakes, her hands slipped suddenly round to my chest and began tracing circles against my skin; her touch was so feather-light that I could almost believe I was imagining it. ‘I didn’t before,’ she said, putting on a look of wide-eyed innocence. Then suddenly she tightened her grip. I let out a moan of pleasure, and she beamed with satisfaction. ‘But I’ve been taking many lessons as of late. What do you think, my prince consort? Am I a good student?’
Not only was she the best of students, she was clearly eager to test her newly-acquired skills against her teacher. I wrapped my arms even more closely around her waist, and said rather unsteadily, ‘Princess, you’re… far too modest… We can… ahh… we can continue… this little sparring match… tonight…’
Chu Feichen finally relented, and gave me a little pat on the shoulder to indicate that I should get up. She sat up herself, and began getting dressed. ‘Let’s take a walk through the city and see all the lantern displays first,’ she told me. ‘Here in Tengzhou, the streets are always a splendid sight during the Shangyuan Festival.’
The jade hairpin waiting for me at Shuoyu Atelier was now uppermost on my mind, but still I put my arms around here and gave her a cheerful grin. ‘Why, princess, are you proposing an assignation? “And when the moon rose over the willows / in sunset’s fading glow I met my love”.[2] Oh, what a perfect occasion for a tryst!’
Chu Feichen gave me a laughing tap on the head, before putting on a mock-ferocious expression. ‘A tryst? You and I are lawfully wedded spouses now — what need do we have of trysts?’
Now that was music to my ears. I grinned foolishly at her, quite forgetting myself.
The princess tweaked the corner of my mouth. ‘Are you busy this morning?’
Yes, I thought. I have to collect your lover’s token from the jeweller’s. But of course I couldn’t tell her, as it would completely ruin the element of surprise, so I made up an excuse. ‘Er… I still have some work to finish at the Hanlin Academy — a few more ancient manuscripts to annotate.’
‘Mm.’ The princess gazed at me long and deep, then uttered the words every loving wife knew would go straight to her spouse’s heart.
‘Come home soon.’
It was a very fine day, and I was in a very fine mood. Having duly collected the hairpin from the jeweller’s, I examined it closely as I walked along. Dangling from one end was the large jade bead in which my love letter was encased; it was an intense, practically verdant shade of green.
As I went past the entrance of Yixian Tavern, I was caught unawares by a voice calling my name from its upper floor. I looked up, and who should I see but the Third Princess herself, she who had been named the most beautiful woman in the empire.
She was waving at me from a window. ‘Wei Zisong, come up here!’ she cried animatedly.
I hesitated, unsure what to do. All the trouble that had followed my very first meeting with her at Chunyi House came instantly to mind; the memory still filled me with trepidation. Besides, she was now my sister-in-law. If we were seen alone together, the capital’s gossipmongers might began spreading a tale of ‘the prince consort caught dallying with his wife’s own sister’, and I’d never be able to explain that away even in a thousand years.
These tongues might not be flame, yet they could burn just as easily.[3] Gossip was a thing to be feared.[4]
And so I bowed slightly to the Third Princess, cupping my hands respectfully before my chest. ‘I’m rather in a hurry to return home, er, sanmei,’ I called. ‘Unless you have some pressing business with me, I need to be on my way.’
At that, her smile faltered, and she nodded slowly to me.
For some reason, I suddenly felt that she looked very, very forlorn. I recalled the woman I’d glimpsed the day Yang Enming had gathered us at this very tavern, and in that moment I felt absolutely certain that the solitary figure could be none other than the Third Princess herself. The difference was, I’d only caught sight of her back then, and now I was looking her full in the face.
I sighed, tucked the hairpin away into my sleeve, and stepped into the tavern.
Soon, I was sitting in one of the tavern’s private rooms, across a table from the Third Princess. ‘Wei Zisong, it’s been a while,’ she said as she poured me a cup of wine, and gave me a meaningful smile.
I turned the words over in my mind; they were perhaps just a little too familiar, and I decided to draw her attention to that, albeit obliquely. ‘S-sanmei,’ I began hesitatingly, ‘it’s the Shangyuan Festival today. Shouldn’t you be at home marking the occasion with Zhao xiong? What are you doing here at Yixian Tavern all on your own?’
The light faded rapidly from her face, and her lips quirked in a mocking smile. ‘Zhao Yishu? Why would he care one whit what I did?’
And now she sounded very much like an embittered wife. Of course, I knew that the bothersome Zhao Yishu had given his heart to Chu Feichen long ago, but on hearing these words from the Third Princess, I couldn’t help wondering: when the emperor had granted her hand in marriage to Zhao Yishu that day before the entire court, had he in fact been giving her what her heart desired?
This was of course an extremely private matter between the Third Princess and Zhao Yishu; as a ‘brother-in-law’ of unimpeachable behaviour and impeccable morals, it was hardly fitting for me to snoop further. Still mulling the matter over, I reached for my wine cup and brought it to my lips, intending to wet my throat.
The Third Princess leaned back in her chair and looked steadily at me for a long moment. ‘Wei Zisong, you’re rather adorable,’ she said suddenly.
What?
My hand shook, sending a good half of my wine spilling over my robes. Without even pausing to wipe it off, I turned a placating smile on the Third Princess. ‘Sanmei, my heart already belongs to another.’
She chortled then, and her face relaxed into an impish grin. ‘I know, you’re head over heels for my dajie. Even a blockhead could see that. Oh… you didn’t think I’d taken a fancy to you, did you?’
Ah. I had gotten hold of completely the wrong end of the stick. Awkwardly, I shook some of the wine from my robes.
The Third Princess’ grin faded slowly as she picked up the flagon beside her and refilled my cup. ‘If only I could fancy you, that might be a good thing,.’ she murmured as if to herself.
Oh, how desperately lonely she sounded. I studied her face, which bore such a strong resemblance to Chu Feichen’s, but had no idea how to comfort her.
The Third Princess looked up and smiled at me. ‘You and my dajie must have known each other long before that day on Luoxia Hill, right? And the two of you arranged to put on that little show to win over the empress dowager, didn’t you?’
Oh, why were all these princesses so terrifyingly clever?
I nodded cautiously. ‘Speaking of which, I really should thank you, sanmei. If you hadn’t come up with that tale of yours to cover up the gaps in mine, I’m not sure whether your sister and I could have continued with our pre-arranged performance.’
The Third Princess stuck out her tongue. ‘I knew it,’ she said. ‘The first time I saw dajie looking at you, I knew there had to be something between you two. I’ve never seen my dajie gaze at anyone quite so tenderly before.’ She paused then, and her eyes became distant. ‘If you hadn’t come along, I’d owe dajie a debt for the rest of my life.’
Although I’d hitherto succeeded in not prying into the Third Princess’ private affairs, this time I was unable to stop myself. ‘Why is that?’ I blurted out.
She looked steadily at me, a faint, rueful smile drifting to her lips. ‘Did you know that, before you turned up, dajie was in love with Zhao Yishu?’
I took a deep breath and nodded.
Her smile took on a note of mockery. ‘So I was the only one who didn’t know. Chu Feiyu, oh Chu Feiyu, you’ve always prided yourself on your superior intellect. And yet you still believed the reason he asked to marry you was because he cared for you?’ She downed her wine, then asked, ‘Do you still remember that story I told on Luoxia Hill?’
I nodded, a vague understanding beginning to dawn in my mind.
‘That wasn’t an invention at all,’ said the Third Princess. ‘Except that my rescuer was Zhao Yishu, not you. After I returned to the palace, I searched for him every way I knew how, but it all came to nothing. Until the year he competed in the imperial military examination. I could see him clearly from the viewing platform: that handsome, white-clad gentleman was the one who had saved my life. Zhao Yishu, so that’s what his name was — Zhao Yishu. A little hidden joy came into my heart then, along with some trepidation, and they took root and grew, day-by-day. In the two years that followed, I would often see him about the palace. I would find myself walking past the soldiers’ training yard just as he was leading them through their drills, and I would have told anyone who asked that it was by chance. Just a single glimpse of that resolute face would fill me with rare delight, as if I had been transported back to the night he had carried me in his arms to the doctor’s, the light from all those lanterns flickering and flaring on his face. He never looked at me twice, so for a long time I thought that was how it would be for the rest of my life. I would bury my love for him deep within my heart, then I would marry someone else, have children, slowly grow old, and die. I never expected him to ask for my hand in marriage, much less before the whole court. You have no idea how ecstatic I was when I heard the news. Heaven had truly smiled on me, or so I thought, and I promised to fill my life with good deeds from then on, in gratitude for this great blessing. But then…oh, he was so hard-hearted. On our wedding night, in the light of the very candles that had been lit to celebrate our union, he told me it was dajie whom he loved, and it was only the force of circumstances that had compelled him to marry me. The force of circumstances, indeed! And then later, when dajie left for the border provinces, I realised that Zhao Yishu’s love had not been unrequited. In one fell swoop, I had became the wicked sister who had stolen my dajie’s sweetheart. But why? Why didn’t she tell me sooner? If only I had known, I would never have consented to the match, no matter how smitten I was with Zhao Yishu.’
Her eyes were filled with sorrow. She threw her head back, and tears finally trickled falteringly down her face.
I stared straight ahead, feeling completely at a loss. Zhao Yishu, why did you betray the woman you loved, and why did you break the heart of the woman who loved you?
***
Footnotes:
- In Chinese, 上元节 (see footnote 9 to Chapter 23). [return to text]
- In Chinese, 月上柳梢头, 人约黄昏后. These are two well-known lines from a ci poem set to the tune of ‘Raw Quinces’ (生查子) by the Song Dynasty poet, politician and historian Ouyang Xiu (欧阳修). The first half of the poem, from which these lines are taken, depicts two lovers meeting at sunset on the day of the Shangyuan Festival. [return to text]
- In Chinese, the chengyu 众口铄金, which translates more or less literally as ‘the mouths of the masses can melt gold’. This is used to express the notion that public opinion can obscure the truth, and make onlookers believe in a rumour that is actually false. The chengyu originates from Discourses of the States (国语), a collection of speeches attributed to rulers and other prominent men from the Spring and Autumn period. Its authorship is sometimes attributed to Zuo Qiuming (左丘明), a historian who was a contemporary of Confucius, but this has been disputed. [return to text]
- In Chinese, the chengyu 人言可畏, which translates more or less literally as ‘the words of people are frightening’ and encapsulates the idea that gossip can give rise to all manner of negative consequences. The saying is derived from the Book of Odes (see footnote 3 to Chapter 26). [return to text]
douqi 随笔 