Why Does Mr. Xie Favor Me? Chapter 9
byChapter 9 Reflection Behind Closed Doors
To be old beyond one’s years is an ill omen!
The night faded amidst his resolute silence, and the silhouette of Guzang gradually sharpened under the morning light.
The palace paths were silent, save for the echo of his footsteps.
By the time the morning dew began to rise, he had been kneeling on the jade steps outside Xuanshi Hall for nearly an hour. His court robes were soaked dark by the dew, his jade crown was meticulously fastened, and his back was held perfectly straight.
Yet, this upright posture appeared exceptionally desolate before the empty imperial terrace.
The faint sound of silk and bamboo music drifted from within the hall; Noble Consort Zheng was playing the konghou. The melody was lingering and seductive, utterly discordant with the solemn atmosphere below the steps.
After the music ceased, the shrill voice of a eunuch rang out: Summoning Xie Heng, Vice Director of the Left of the Department of State Affairs, for an audience.
When Xie Heng rose, his knees flared with a piercing pain that made him stumble. He steadied himself, brushed away the non-existent dust from his hem, and stepped over the vermilion threshold.
The hall was filled with the scent of ambergris, a warmth that felt stifling. The Emperor reclined on a soft couch, peeling lychees newly sent as tribute from Lingnan. Noble Consort Zheng sat below him, her fingertips still resting on the strings of the konghou. As he entered, a nearly imperceptible smile flickered in the corners of her eyes.
Your servant, Xie Heng, greets Your Majesty and Her Ladyship the Noble Consort. Xie Heng knelt in salutation.
The Emperor did not tell him to rise. He finished peeling the lychee with deliberate slowness before speaking. I have heard about the matters in Danyang. Is the plague under control?
By Your Majesty’s great fortune, it has been contained.
How many died?
Two hundred and thirty-seven people.
The lychee pit was lightly tossed into a golden tray with a soft clink.
Two hundred and thirty-seven lives. The Emperor took a damp cloth from an attendant to wipe his hands. Minister Xie, when you first petitioned to implement the Tu Duan reform, what did you say? To increase the treasury, to strengthen the military, and to settle the commoners. And now?
Xie Heng’s forehead touched the ground. Your servant is guilty.
Wherein lies the guilt? Noble Consort Zheng suddenly spoke, her voice soft. Vice Director Xie acts with a heart for the country; what guilt could he have? If there is blame, it can only be laid upon the ill-timed heavens, for a plague to break out just as the reform reached its critical moment.
These words sounded like an excuse, but every syllable was meant to kill. She was directly linking the plague to the reform.
The Emperor glanced at the Noble Consort and continued, The Wang family submitted a memorial, stating they have donated fifty thousand strings of cash and thirty wagons of medicinal herbs for epidemic prevention. They have also yielded five hundred qing of land to settle the refugees. The Cui and Wu families have also made their contributions.
He paused. As for you, Minister Xie, besides asking for punishment, do you have anything else to say?
This was a move to force him to take the blame for inciting civil unrest and causing the plague.
Xie Heng raised his head. Your servant indeed has three crimes. First, I was overeager for success and failed to observe the timing of the heavens. Second, I was negligent in my oversight of personnel, leading to ineffective epidemic prevention. Third…
He paused. I failed to discover the source of the plague early enough, bringing suffering to the people.
He did not mention the Wang family’s poisoning, nor did he mention the coercion of the aristocratic clans. Because if he mentioned them now, those thousands of refugees in Danyang would die tomorrow from that so-called natural disaster.
The Emperor stared at him for a long time, then suddenly laughed. Minister Xie, oh Minister Xie, you are still so… He did not finish, turning instead to the eunuch. Draft an edict.
The eunuch spread out the yellow silk.
Xie Heng, Vice Director of the Left, though his intentions for the Tu Duan reform were good, acted with excessive haste, causing chaos in Danyang and bringing the suffering of the plague to the people. He is to be fined one year’s salary and ordered to reflect behind closed doors for three months. Furthermore, the matters of the reform shall be temporarily overseen by Wang Chun, Vice Director of the Right.
Wang Chun, a member of a branch of the Wang clan of Langya and a cousin-uncle to Wang Yan.
Xie Heng closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were as calm as still water. Your servant accepts the edict and thanks Your Majesty for your grace.
One more thing. The Emperor peeled another lychee, this time handing it to Noble Consort Zheng. Since Minister Xie is reflecting behind closed doors, the daily affairs of the Department of State Affairs will be temporarily handled by Wang Chun. Take these three months to recover your health properly.
This was a move to strip him of his actual power.
I thank Your Majesty for your concern. Xie Heng kowtowed.
Then rest with peace of mind. The Emperor waved his hand. You are dismissed.
Xie Heng rose and withdrew. As he reached the palace doors, he heard Noble Consort Zheng ask in a coquettish voice, Your Majesty, about the Wang family’s request for a commemorative plaque…
Granted. The Emperor’s voice sounded weary. They are charitable and benevolent; they should be rewarded.
The palace gates slowly groaned shut behind him, sealing the warm fragrance and the music inside.
Once the vermilion gates of the Xie manor closed, they stayed closed for three months.
Autumn deepened in Guzang, and a thick layer of golden ginkgo leaves covered the courtyard. Xie Heng rose every morning to practice calligraphy, read history in the afternoon, and played chess against himself under the corridor in the evening.
His routine was as disciplined as that of a reclusive scholar, yet the faint dark circles under his eyes and his occasional cough betrayed the hidden currents beneath this calm.
Xiao Jue lived in the guest room of the eastern wing, ostensibly to recover from his injuries. However, he found all sorts of excuses to linger. One day he would say the Vice Director’s chess skills were exquisite and he wished to learn; the next day he would claim the manor’s cook made the best roasted meat.
Xie Heng saw through it but did not speak, allowing him to wander about the manor.
On this afternoon, Xie Heng was in his study copying the Sang Luan Tie. When he reached the four characters for pain pierces the heart and liver, his brush suddenly stalled, and the ink bled into a dark blotch on the paper.
The ink is no good. Xiao Jue stood by the door at some unknown point, holding a celadon bowl. Try this.
The bowl contained crushed pine soot ink mixed with borneol and pearl powder, giving off a dark, shimmering luster. Xie Heng recognized it; this was a special ink used in the Northern Frontier army for secret documents. It would not dissolve in water nor burn in fire.
Where did this come from?
I brought it from the Northern Command. Xiao Jue placed the ink stick beside the inkstone. General Han may be… but this ink is good ink.
Xie Heng did not ask what came after the pause. He spread a new sheet of paper and dipped his brush in the new ink. The strokes were indeed much smoother, though his wrist still trembled almost imperceptibly when he reached those four characters.
Xiao Jue stood behind him, watching. Suddenly, he said, The Vice Director’s calligraphy is even sharper than it was in Danyang.
Sharp?
Like it was carved by a blade. Xiao Jue gestured with his hands. Especially the diagonal strokes; they are both keen and cold.
Xie Heng set down his brush and looked out the window. Ginkgo leaves swirled in the wind, one drifting through the lattice and landing beside the inkstone.
Xiao Jue, he suddenly asked, if one day I truly become a blade that possesses only an edge… what would you do?
The youth froze for a moment, then grinned. Then this general will be the scabbard. He patted the sword at his waist. It might be a bit rough, but it’s thick enough. It can at least protect the blade from snapping too quickly.
The words were blunt and clumsy, yet they stirred something in Xie Heng’s heart. He looked down at the ginkgo leaf and said softly, A scabbard can also be worn down.
Then we’ll wear down together, Xiao Jue answered without hesitation. It’s better than the blade snapping all alone.
The study fell silent, save for the rustle of paper in the wind. After a long while, Xie Heng picked up his brush again and added two lines of his own at the end of the Sang Luan Tie: New ink can be ground, and paper can be spread anew. Only the traces of this heart grow more solitary with the passing years.
Xiao Jue stared at those two lines for a long time. He did not know many characters, but he understood the word for solitary.
Just as he was about to speak, a crisp voice came from outside the door: Brother is writing those depressing characters again!
Xie Nanqiao stepped into the room, lifting her skirts. A maid carrying a qin followed behind her. When she saw Xiao Jue was there, her expression instantly cooled.
Nanqiao. Xie Heng set down his brush. Why have you come?
Brother hasn’t left the study for days. I came to see if you really intend to become an immortal in here. Xie Nanqiao leaned over the desk. Seeing the two lines of text, her brow furrowed. Writing these again. To be old beyond one’s years is an ill omen!
As she spoke, her eyes darted toward Xiao Jue, curiously sizing up this general of humble birth who was always by her brother’s side.
Xiao Jue felt his ears grow hot under her gaze. He cupped his hands and said, Greetings, My Lady.
You are Xiao Jue? Xie Nanqiao’s eyes lit up. I heard that in Danyang, you single-handedly fought off over a dozen of the Wang family’s private soldiers?
It was twenty-three. Xiao Jue corrected her instinctively, then immediately regretted it, fearing he sounded like he was boasting.
Xie Nanqiao laughed, a smile so bright it seemed to illuminate the autumn light in the room. Impressive.
She turned to Xie Heng. Brother, for a man like this, isn’t it a waste of talent to have him accompany you in writing and playing chess every day?
Xie Heng lowered his head. Then what do you suggest?
We should go out for a stroll. Xie Nanqiao’s eyes twinkled. Tomorrow is the Double Ninth Festival, and the maple leaves on Mount Qixia are turning red. Brother is reflecting behind closed doors, but no one said you aren’t allowed to go mountain climbing.
Xiao Jue’s eyes brightened as he looked expectantly at Xie Heng.
Xie Heng had intended to refuse, but seeing his sister’s hopeful eyes and the unmistakable light in Xiao Jue’s gaze, the words died in his throat.
Only for half a day, he said.
This was already an exceptional indulgence. From the study to the foot of the mountain, it was but a single night away.