To Embers We Return — Chapter 4
***
Shen Ni’s new home was vast and had many rooms. She chose a bedchamber that was as far from Bian Jin’s as possible. The room was next to a side door, and Shen Ni was in the habit of leaving early for the construction site and returning home only late in the evening. The servants had also been instructed to bring Bian Jin’s meals — all fortified with a carefully-selected array of medicinal herbs — directly to her room. So although the two of them lived under the same roof, they almost never saw each other.
Every now and then, as Shen Ni made her way along the covered walkway that wound through the grounds, she would glimpse Bian Jin through the snow-laden plum trees, learning how to walk again under Auntie Wan’s watchful eye. Bian Jin had always been very driven, and it was clear that she wanted to recover as swiftly as possible. Anyone else who had suffered the same injuries would have needed to spend a full month resting in bed before they could even think of trying to get back on their feet. Bian Jin, however, was made of much sterner stuff. Within a few short days, she had already let go of Auntie Wan’s steadying hand, and was attempting to walk on her own.
On this occasion, Bian Jin had put her hair up. A few stray strands clung to the back of her neck, which was as slim and delicate as a graceful column of white jade. The tips of her ears were flushed pink from the exertion.
Shen Ni watched her quietly for a few moments, then looked away and left.
Two days later, Zeng Qingluo came to pay her promised visit to Bian Jin, her arms laden with gifts. Bian Jin was in much better spirits. She was wearing a moon-white cloak around her shoulders, and there was a little more colour in her face. She smiled at Zeng Qingluo when she saw her.
Shen Ni, who had come into the room just behind Zeng Qingluo, eyed Bian Jin covertly. Her shijie’s smiles were as lovely as ever, but while she was generous enough with them to Zeng Qingluo, she had not bestowed a single one on Shen Ni since their reunion.
Shen Ni turned and slipped out of the room, the better to let the other two renew their acquaintance.
Zeng Qingluo gave the presents to Auntie Wan, then took Bian Jin’s hands in hers. She was all smiles at first, but before they’d exchanged more than a few sentences, she realised that Bian Jin was still moving with great difficulty. The thought of how much Bian Jin must have suffered since they last saw each other, combined with her memories of all the care Bian Jin had shown her back at Shuangji Hall, brought tears to her eyes once more.
Bian Jin led her over to a chair, sat her down, drew out a tissue with one gloved hand and began wiping away Zeng Qingluo’s tears. ‘Why the sad face?’ she asked.
‘Oh, shijie, what you must have been through!’ cried Zeng Qingluo.
‘I’m perfectly well, aren’t I?’ said Bian Jin. ‘You, on the other hand… when did you come to Chang’an?’
Bian Jin had been off fighting in Yanluo for three years, then she’d gone missing for three years after that. Like Shen Ni, none of the other disciples of Shuangji Hall had heard any news of her since.
‘Three years ago, I followed xiaoshijie[1] to the front lines in Yanluo,’ Zeng Qingluo explained. ‘But after two years of fighting, my injuries became too much for me, and I couldn’t carry on. So I came back to the capital, and I’ve been making my living here ever since.’
‘The capital is no easy place to be,’ said Bian Jin. ‘Things haven’t been too difficult for you, I hope?’
Zeng Qingluo’s childhood had been a hard one. Her father had died when she was very young, and her mother had followed not long afterwards. Then she’d sought shelter at Shuangji Hall, where Bian Jin had treated her as gently and kindly as the older sister she’d never had — a rare spark of warmth in the lonely orphan’s life.
‘Not at all,’ said Zeng Qingluo reassuringly. ‘Xiaoshijie looks after all Shuangji Hall disciples who are in the capital — no one would dare mistreat us.’
That surprised Bian Jin a little. To her, Shen Ni was still the same impulsive, unruly child of sixteen. She had not expected that, in the intervening years in which she had no part, her shimei would have become the rock her fellow disciples depended on.
Shen Ni returned with Bian Jin’s beaker of nutrient beverage in hand. She was just about to step inside the room when she heard Zeng Qingluo ask, ‘Dashijie, you and xiaoshijie used to be so close — you two were the envy of us all! I still don’t understand how you could have brought yourself to punish her so harshly. Then after that, you stopped having anything to do with each other. It was as if you’d become mortal enemies. We were all so worried about the two of you, but none of us dared to ask anything.’
Shen Ni wrapped her arms around herself and leaned comfortably against the wall outside. She was interested in hearing how Bian Jin, who had never had much of a way with words, would try to fob Zeng Qingluo off.
Bian Jin was silent for a few moments. Then she said evenly, ‘I was too strict with her.’
Shen Ni had not expected that.
Then Bian Jin tried to change the subject. She wanted to rent a house somewhere in the city, she explained to Zeng Qingluo, but as it had been many years since she was last in the capital, she wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. Could Zeng Qingluo tell her how to arrange for viewings and so on?
‘I’m sure there’s no need for you to do that, dashijie,’ said Zeng Qingluo earnestly. ‘Xiaoshijie’s home suits you perfectly well. She must know that you were only trying to protect her, that you only wanted the best for her. And you used to be so close to each other as well — staying here will give the two of you the chance to mend the rift between you. Xiaoshijie isn’t the vengeful sort, I know.’
Oh, but I am, thought Shen Ni to herself.
Shen Ni couldn’t see Bian Jin’s expression, of course, and when Bian Jin next spoke, she couldn’t make out any emotion in her shijie’s voice either.
‘It’s best for us not see too much of each other,’ said Bian Jin. ‘I shouldn’t impose too long on her hospitality.’
It’s best for us not to see too much of each other.
Shen Ni’s gloved finger ran lightly along the beaker, up and down and up and down again.
Inside the room, Bian Jin and Zeng Qingluo were suddenly interrupted mid-conversation by shouts from the front of the house, mixed together with the loud clanging of drums and gongs. The din echoed through the quiet, elegant mansion.
A servant — with a footprint standing out clearly on his back — rushed into the room, looking for Shen Ni. Bian Jin and Zeng Qingluo asked him what was going on.
The servant wiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘Prince Wei has turned up at the residence uninvited, and he has a whole crowd of attendants with him. He says he’s brought along a full set of betrothal gifts, and that he means to take Mistress Bian as his… as his… oh! He’s in the main hall as we speak!’
Prince Wei had broadcast his plans for Bian Jin so far and wide — had, indeed, made a point of doing so — that everyone in the city knew what he wanted with her. While Bian Jin had been recuperating at Shen Ni’s home all this while, and had not ventured out of doors, she’d still heard enough scraps of gossip from the servants. Once she’d pieced them together, she knew exactly what Prince Wei intended — there was a long-standing hostility between the two of them. One reason she meant to move out of Shen Ni’s residence was that she did not want to bring her many enemies down on her shimei’s household. Prince Wei had turned up sooner than she’d expected.
Well. No time like the present.
Swiftly, Bian Jin drew out a small dagger.
Zeng Qingluo blinked. It was her own dagger, one that she always kept well hidden away on her person. She had no idea when Bian Jin had discovered it, and Bian Jin’s movements had been so deft and sure that she’d had no chance to respond. Had the two of them been facing each other in battle, Bian Jin would have driven the blade through her heart by now. Her dashijie might be heavily injured, but her fighting skills and instincts were still more than a match for Zeng Qingluo’s.
‘Wait for me here,’ Bian Jin told her.
On the surface, her dashijie might seem cool and indifferent to most things, but Zeng Qingluo knew that she burned with a strong sense of justice. ‘Dashijie, you’re not going to have His Highness’ — and here Zeng Qingluo made a throat-slitting gesture across her own neck — ‘are you?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Bian Jin. ‘I’ll make sure I drag him well off the premises before killing him.’
Zeng Qingluo stared at her in nonplussed silence. How could she not worry? No matter how much of a plague Prince Wei was, he was still the emperor’s own brother — her full brother!
As Bian Jin strode out of the room, Zeng Qingluo scurried after her, sending an urgent Messenger Pigeon text winging towards Shen Ni as she did: Xiaoshijie, where are you? There’s trouble!
***
‘My lord? My lord!’ Auntie Wan, who had been looking frantically everywhere for Shen Ni, finally found her. Shen Ni was standing under one of the trees in the rear courtyard, sheltering from the falling snow.
‘My lord, what are you doing here?’ said Auntie Wan. ‘Prince Wei has forced his way into the residence, and he says he wants to take Mistress Bian away with him! You must go to the main hall now, my lord!’
Auntie Wan had thought that would be enough to send Shen Ni marching off, but Shen Ni merely carried on standing there silently — so silently that Auntie Wan wasn’t even sure if Shen Ni had heard her. Shen Ni was staring intently at the beaker in her hand, her eyebrows slightly raised.
‘My lord?’ said Auntie Wan again.
Nutrient beverages did not taste particularly good, which was why Shen Ni had added osmanthus syrup to the portion in the beaker. It was a flavour that Bian Jin liked. Not that Bian Jin had ever made a show of her partiality for osmanthus blossoms. In the sixteen years Shen Ni had lived side by side with her, she’d only revealed it twice.
The first time was when they’d gone hunting together one autumn. They’d ridden by a grove of osmanthus trees whose blossoms filled the air with fragrance, and Bian Jin had taken Shen Ni on a leisurely little detour through it.
The second time had been during the preparations for one New Year’s celebration. Shen Ni had been put in charge of getting in cakes and confectionery for the festivities, and she’d asked Bian Jin what kind she wanted. Osmanthus cakes, Bian Jin had replied, almost without thinking about it.
Anyone else would probably have forgotten details as small as these long ago. It wasn’t that Shen Ni particularly wanted to remember them either, but her mind worked differently from most people’s. Ever since she was three years old, everything that happened to her, whether important or inconsequential, was etched firmly into her memory; she couldn’t forget it, even if she wanted to. The doctors had compared her brain to some massive storage vessel, calling it a rare gift. It was only when Shen Ni went through the medical texts herself that she learned what the condition she had was called: hyperthymesia.
When Shen Ni was little, before she’d learned how to handle herself on horseback, Bian Jin would take her riding, lifting Shen Ni onto the front of her saddle and placing her arms protectively on either side of her shimei as she took up the reins. Whenever Shen Ni threw her little tantrums, or kicked up a fuss over some trifle, or burst into tears, her shijie was always there to soothe her, indulge her, dote upon her. Shen Ni knew then that even if no one else in the world cared about her, her shijie would always love her and protect her.
All those moments when her shijie would pet and coddle her, taking the sting out of a refusal or punishment — she might not have stored them in her memory module, but they were branded onto her flesh-and-blood heart. Whether she wanted to or not, she could not forget them.
The sight of Shen Ni standing stock-still as if entranced only made Auntie Wan worry all the more. She was about to speak up again when Shen Ni handed the beaker to her and strode towards a corner of the courtyard, where a mass of wooden crates containing the emperor’s gifts had been piled up. Each crate had a sheet of red paper pasted onto it, bearing the words ‘imperial reward’.
Shen Ni plucked the red paper from the nearest crate and turned to her housekeeper. ‘Do you have a brush, Auntie Wan? The kind you use for writing?’
Auntie Wan did not know what Shen Ni intended, but she hurried to the study anyway, returning with a rabbit-hair writing-brush which she’d already dipped in ink.
Balancing the sheet of paper in the palm of her hand, Shen Ni scrawled something onto it with the brush as she walked towards the front of the mansion. Her strides were long and quick, and Auntie Wan barely managed to keep up. ‘What… what are you writing, my lord?’ she asked.
‘An invitation,’ said Shen Ni.
‘An… invitation?’ Auntie Wan repeated incredulously.
Meanwhile, in the main hall, Prince Wei was already sitting in state at the top of the room, in the very chair Shen Ni would ordinarily have occupied as head of the household. He was flanked by two neat rows of attendants, one on either side. Shen Ni’s own servants hung back by the walls, looking on nervously. Outside, the clang of drums and clash of gongs filled the air. Prince Wei’s servants were busily carrying trunk after trunk of betrothal gifts into the room. It was unheard of for a bridegroom to make such lavish offerings in exchange for the hand of a mere concubine.
Xinghua Street, where Shen Ni’s residence stood, was nowhere near as busy as the market quarter. But Prince Wei’s equipage was striking, and he’d deliberately set out to cause a commotion, so many of Shen Ni’s neighbours had gathered just outside her front gates to see what was going on.
Li Chu was holding a brilliant red camellia in one hand. When he saw Bian Jin approaching, the corner of his mouth quirked up, and he flicked the flower towards her. It came to rest at her feet. Then he tilted his chin and drummed his forefingers on the table in front of him. ‘It has been a long time since we last met, Sect Leader Bian,’ he said mockingly, a wolfish glint in his eye. ‘You really have come down in the world, haven’t you?’
Years ago, when Li Chu had tried to conscript the disciples of Shuangji Hall into his private army, it was Bian Jin who had thwarted him. At the time, she’d already taken on the mantle of sect leader formally, so it was by that title that Li Chu addressed her now.
In stark contrast to Li Chu’s undisguised aggression, Bian Jin replied with perfect calm, but there were barbs concealed beneath the surface of her civility. ‘It has been a long time indeed, Prince Wei,’ she said, ‘and I see your tactics have become even more underhanded than before. Have you come to offer up your other eye, so that I can make them a matching pair?’
Li Chu had not expected Bian Jin to challenge him. Pain shot suddenly through his cybernetic eye. Clenching his fists tightly, he hissed at his attendants, ‘Why are you still standing there? Seize my new concubine and bring her back to my residence at once!’
‘Yes,’ chorused the attendants, as they started towards Bian Jin.
Bian Jin did not even move. I’ll just let them to take me away, she thought. Once she was off the the mansion’s grounds, Shen Ni would no longer be implicated in anything she did. Even if she were to murder a royal prince, the crime would be hers alone; Shen Ni would have nothing to do with it.
Bian Jin was still healing from her grievous wounds, that was true, but her Shen Ni had carried out her repairs expertly. She’d been given a new cybernetic spine, and now she had strength enough for a single devastating attack — nearly as potent as it would have been at the height of her powers. Prince Wei’s minions had no hope of withstanding it, even if they joined forces.
Zeng Qingluo had been watching anxiously from a corner. On seeing that Prince Wei’s men really were bent on manhandling Bian Jin and dragging her away, she steeled herself to confront them and protect her shijie.
Before Li Chu’s attendants could get close to Bian Jin, however, something swept across their faces. Before they could see who or what it was, some huge force had struck them squarely in the chest, one after another, and they were all sent tumbling backwards. They ended up in a heap on the floor by Li Chu’s feet, wailing in pain.
That should be enough to make them feel as if their chests had been run over by some massive vehicle, at the very least, thought Shen Ni with satisfaction. Then, wrapping an arm around Bian Jin’s waist, Shen Ni drew her shijie lightly behind her and slowly lowered her outstretched leg. She fanned herself with the piece of red paper she was holding. ‘Apologies. I seem to have overstepped, quite literally.’
This close, Bian Jin could smell Shen Ni again; the floral scent seemed to be much fainter this time. Before her shimei’s nearness could awaken any distress, however, the pressure around her waist disappeared. Shen Ni had let go.
Li Chu’s eyelids twitched as he fixed his gaze on Shen Ni. ‘Marquess Jing’an, what is the meaning of this?’
Shen Ni caught and held Li Chu’s gaze. She placed one foot heavily on the camellia, grinding it into pieces, before sauntering towards him. Shock spread over the faces of her servants as they stared at the crushed petals. It was as if Shen Ni had trampled the pride of the royal family into the floor.
Shen Ni stopped in front of Li Chu, who now looked openly hostile. He remained sitting in Shen Ni’s chair. Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she said disdainfully, ‘You should have told me you were visiting my humble abode, Your Highness, so that I could arrange a proper welcome.’
Li Chu grunted. ‘Are you trying to stop me from taking my new concubine with me? I don’t think you rank quite high enough to do that just yet, Marquess Jing’an.’
‘You know,’ Shen Ni went on, ‘there’s quite a good deal of history between you and my sect, Your Highness.’
Li Chu squinted at her. ‘Enough of this non—’
Shen Ni interrupted. ‘Several years ago, Your Highness, you sought to conscript the disciples of Shuangji Hall into your private army. When my shijie graciously declined the “offer”, you threatened to raze Shuangji Hall to the ground. You and your men withdrew without doing so, no doubt deterred by the great favour which Her Majesty the emperor had shown to Shuangji Hall and your fears that any open retaliation against us would injure the reputation of the royal family. Shortly afterwards, however, a gang of masked bandits had the temerity to attack Shuangji Hall by night.’
Li Chu leaped instantly to his feet. ‘Shut your mouth!’ he roared, jabbing a finger at Shen Ni.
Shen Ni wasn’t about to listen to him, of course. ‘As it turned out,’ she went on, ‘the leader of the bandits wasn’t a particularly skilled fighter, and shijie was able to put his left eye out with a single arrow. He wasn’t in a position to tell anyone about the humiliation he’d suffered, so he’s been waiting all these years for an opportunity to get his revenge on her. My shijie has now sustained severe injuries, and stands accused of grave crimes she did not commit, yet you’ve come forward to say you want to take her as your concubine. I had no idea you possessed such an open and generous heart, Your Highness.’
Those last words were the very same ones which Li Chu had said to her outside the throne room, and now Shen Ni was repeating them right back to his face. She’d also exposed to the assembled onlookers the secret shame that Li Chu had been taken pains to cover up for so many years. Although she hadn’t expressly named him as the leader of the bandits, she hardly needed to.
Even Li Chu’s own attendants were taken aback. Shen Ni’s neighbours, who’d been drawn to the front gates of her mansion by the commotion, were all listening avidly. These were the spouses, relatives and servants of eminent members of the nobility, known for their propensity for gossip. If this news were to spread through Chang’an’s high society, Li Chu would be utterly humiliated.
A vein was now throbbing visibly in Li Chu’s temple. His mask of refined elegance had slipped off completely. ‘Shen Ni, you are but a mere marquess. Don’t you understand that I could have your head chopped off for the crime of slandering a member of the royal family?’
Shen Ni, holding the piece of red paper between two fingers, brought it up to the level of her eyes to block out Li Chu’s distorted countenance. ‘I was just telling an old story, that’s all,’ she said. ‘I haven’t even named any of the perpetrators. Why did you fly into such a rage, Your Highness? Unless… you’re not suggesting that you had something to do with those bandits, did you?’
Li Chu said nothing, suddenly conscious that he had fallen right into Shen Ni’s trap.
Shen Ni smiled, waving the piece of red paper lightly. ‘Whether you did or not, Your Highness, it makes no matter. I’m afraid you’ve wasted your journey here today.’
Li Chu’s eyes were drawn to the paper. His gaze shifted to the writing on it. ‘What’s that?’
Shen Ni put on a look of surprise. ‘You don’t mean to tell me you can’t read, Your Highness? This is your invitation to our wedding — I’m marrying my shijie. So perhaps your journey here wasn’t wasted after all. Allow me to give this into your keeping, Your Highness. It will save me another trip to deliver it to your residence.’
‘You’re marrying her?’ Li Chu said mockingly. ‘Very well, but you’ll have to wait till I tire of her first. Once I divorce her, you can wed her as many times as you please. Until then, don’t even think about it.’
The onlookers were beginning to feel that there was something odd. Although Shen Ni stood high in the emperor’s esteem, Li Chu was still a member of the royal family — the emperor’s own full brother. In many ways, he ranked second only to the emperor herself. Yet here Shen Ni was, trying to stop him from taking a concubine. How many heads did she think she could afford to lose?
The next moment, Shen Ni had tucked the ‘invitation’ beneath the front of Li Chu’s robes. ‘Those were highly offensive words, Your Highness. Given how strong the bond between me and my shijie is, I’m afraid you don’t have much of a say in the matter.’
This was audacious indeed from Shen Ni, bordering on outright insolence. She looked over her shoulder and met Bian Jin’s gaze. When she’d mentioned the ‘strong bond’ between the two of them, a trace of unease had come into Bian Jin’s eyes.
Li Chu was about to draw the sabre that hung from his waist, when suddenly from outside came the sonorous tones of an official of the Palace Domestic Service.[2] ‘Kneel and hearken to the emperor’s decree!’
Li Chu’s hand froze halfway to the hilt of his weapon. The arrival of an imperial decree was tantamount to the arrival of the emperor herself. As the official made his way through the front courtyard and into the main hall, every single person inside got to their knees, including Li Chu — though he did so very grudgingly. Shen Ni’s hastily-scrawled ‘invitation’ fluttered from his robes and drifted to the floor, with the words ‘imperial reward’ facing upwards. He stared at it in grim silence.
Shen Ni drew on a pair of fresh gloves, then wove her way through the kneeling crowd until she reached Bian Jin. In her ears echoed Bian Jin’s words from earlier: It’s best for us not see too much of each other.
Her eyelashes quivering, Shen Ni said to Bian Jin in a voice low enough that only the two of them could hear it, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with some unpleasantness in the days to come.’
Bian Jin quirked a delicate brow.
Shen Ni wove her fingers through Bian Jin’s. ‘Let us receive the imperial decree together,’ she said, ‘my lady wife.’
***
Author’s Note:
Little Fox Shen: ‘It’s best for us not to see too much of each other’? Then why don’t we see lots and lots of each other? I don’t just want to see you, I want to carry you right over the threshold of our bridal chamber.
***
Footnotes:
- In Chinese, 小师姐. In this context, it means ‘younger shijie’ (relative to Bian Jin). [return to text]
- In the original text, 内侍省 (pinyin: neishi sheng). In imperial China, the agency responsible for the routine administration of the palace, including the emperor’s daily life. Historically, this was staffed primarily by eunuchs. It is not clear whether this is also the case in the world of the novel. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 