Chapter 17: Scheme Seventeen

The Emperor was already thirty, with a son of twelve or thirteen. Yet he still could not personally govern. It wasn’t that the Empress Dowager clung to power—it was the Emperor’s own misdeeds. During his brief rule, he’d committed a string of follies that enraged the court, nearly prompting the Empress Dowager to depose him. In the end, mindful that he was the Late Emperor’s chosen heir, she settled for forcing him to hand over power.

The Empress Dowager governed from behind the curtain, and the Emperor, rather than be deposed, willingly surrendered authority.

The Emperor’s love of folly was nothing new. He’d heard, from some source, that certain women had abnormal blood—that their flesh, used in medicine, preserved youth.

So he spent a great deal of money and effort to buy such a woman, and ordered alchemists to make medicine.

The Empress Dowager still knew nothing. The Emperor and Yun Qian had grown up together—not quite childhood sweethearts, but since entering court, most of her time had been spent cleaning up his messes.

This time was no exception.

Using human blood for medicine—absurd beyond limit. Having lived a second life, Yun Qian still nearly collapsed from rage at the news.

The Emperor, unmoved, told Yun Qian about the woman’s origins.

“I hear of a valley in the Northern Frontier whose people all live past a hundred—extraordinarily vital. The valley’s women are beautiful and skilled at preserving their looks.

“Zhen went to considerable trouble to buy this one.”

Yun Qian’s face went pale with anger, but she asked patiently, “Did Your Majesty massacre the valley?”

“No, no—Zhen bought her. It seems the valley was destroyed by Northern Frontier tribes, and the people sold off. Zhen’s luck was good; on hearing the news, Zhen sent men to handle it.” The Emperor was pleased with his fortune.

Yun Qian had no heart to continue. She turned to leave. The Emperor caught her and went on: “Zhen has sent men to make the medicine. A portion will be kept for you.”

Yun Qian nearly fainted on the spot. Over the years she’d cleaned up many of the Emperor’s disasters, but this was too monstrous. If the Imperial Censors learned of it, a spit of contempt alone would drown her.

“Your Majesty, this cannot be. Release the woman—even taking her as a consort would be better. To use human blood and flesh for medicine—how is that different from eating it? You are the sovereign of the realm. Once word spreads, the people will despise you, and the calamity that follows will be beyond sight.”

The Emperor was indifferent, his manner slight. “It’s nothing. Zhen did nothing excessive. They were sold openly; Zhen did not take them by force.”

Open sale was legal. The Emperor didn’t feel he’d done anything wrong. What others could do, why couldn’t he?

His throne gave him limitless power, not the removal of powers ordinary men enjoyed.

Yun Qian said a few more things. The Emperor still wouldn’t listen. As his minister, she had a duty to remonstrate. If he refused counsel, there was nothing more she could do.

She no longer wanted to do anything at all. Leaving the palace, her head spun; her subordinates carried her home.

Qin Xiang knew nothing of all this. Embraced, her heart flew to her throat. She didn’t refuse—she let her sister hold her.

Her sister’s body was cool, her scent faint—not like Madam Qin’s deliberately perfumed fragrance, but innate, cold and fragrant.

Like pear blossom, like plum blossom—cold, and scented.

“Who made you angry?”

“Short-sighted people.” Yun Qian didn’t explain. Such things, spoken aloud, would only reveal the imperial house’s folly—its unfitness for the throne.

Qin Xiang looked down at the long fingers locked at her waist, well-proportioned. She looked at her own hands and instinctively tucked them into her sleeves.

Yun Qian didn’t notice her expression. She let go of her own accord. “Tomorrow’s my rest day. I’ll take you riding.”

At the word “riding,” Qin Xiang’s expression brightened. “Good.”

“We’ll go out to the suburbs, not the riding grounds.”

“But that man said you were supposed to watch the races?”

“I don’t want to. No fun.” Yun Qian rested her head on Qin Xiang’s shoulder, going soft, clinging bonelessly.

Qin Xiang felt a fire kindling at her back, flames licking her whole body.

Even as she burned, she thought: a woman as resolute as her sister—how soft her body was!

So soft, so soft.

Qin Xiang couldn’t help grinning. Yun Qian noticed at once. “Little A-Xiang, what are you smiling at?”

Smiling at how soft you are. Qin Xiang didn’t dare say it. Instead: “Are you hungry? Let’s eat.”

“I was so angry I forgot. Now I am hungry.” Yun Qian sat up, her long hair sweeping the nape of Qin Xiang’s neck. Qin Xiang jolted and touched her neck.

She turned to look at Yun Qian. Yun Qian laughed lightly. “Why are you looking at me?”

“Nothing. I—I’m hungry.” Qin Xiang grabbed at an excuse, feeling itchy all over. Even a single strand of her sister’s hair made her itch.

Too sensitive.

When they’d tidied up, the maids had already laid out dinner.

Yun Qian ate lightly; Qin Xiang loved meat. The table held a bit of everything—meat and light dishes.

Sitting down, both picked up their chopsticks. Qin Xiang ate in big mouthfuls; Yun Qian nibbled daintily. Next to her, Qin Xiang looked like she’d crawled out of a beggar’s den.

Noticing this, Qin Xiang slowed down. Yun Qian set down her chopsticks—she was done.

Qin Xiang looked at the barely touched dishes and swallowed. Yun Qian rose. “I have matters to attend. Eat slowly.”

“All right.” Qin Xiang nodded desperately, afraid that if she hesitated even a breath, her sister would drag her out for a post-meal stroll.

Lantern in hand, Yun Qian left, leaving Qin Xiang alone with the fine dishes. She nodded to herself and picked up her chopsticks, feasting.

Chicken, fish soup, bamboo shoots with pork…

Qin Xiang ate fast, and finished each dish faster. When Yun Qian returned from her business, the table was spotless.

She hadn’t known the Little Empress had such an appetite. After digesting that, she said, “I’m going to the study to see my advisors. Coming?”

“I can?” Qin Xiang pointed at herself, incredulous. Advisors helped the master make decisions; their words were secrets. She could listen?

She could sit in on her sister’s secrets.

Suddenly, Qin Xiang’s blood ran hot.

Yun Qian took the lantern, dismissed the maids, and led the dizzy Qin Xiang to the study.

Qin Xiang had been once; the second time, she knew the way. Tonight, several people stood outside the study, all in long scholar robes.

Men of refinement loved long robes; only lowly laborers wore short ones, for practicality.

The advisors showed no surprise at Qin Xiang’s presence. They bowed. Qin Xiang, flattered, hurried to return the courtesy.

“You’re too kind, Son-in-Law.”

Qin Xiang’s face reddened, eyes starry. “The honor is mine.”

Yun Qian glanced over. “Where is Teacher Fang?”

Teacher Fang was a woman named Fang Ruoshen, once a schoolteacher, later recruited into the residence. Yun Qian respected her deeply and consulted her on every matter.

“Teacher Fang was delayed. She said—”

“Coming, coming!”

The words landed, and a figure hurried in, steps quick under the night. First she bowed: “Prime Minister Yun, apologies, apologies—I met a young lady on the road calling for help, so I was delayed.”

Qin Xiang’s eyes went wide. The next moment, Teacher Fang noticed the young gentleman at her master’s side. “The Prime Minister’s husband is far prettier than the young lady on the road. This was a worthwhile snatch.”

At the word “snatch,” Qin Xiang was too guilty to lift her head. Yun Qian shot Fang Ruoshen a glance. “Which family’s young lady did you rescue?”

“Can’t say. Let’s go inside first—my legs are sore.” Fang Ruoshen’s gaze was deep, with a mysterious air.

They went in and took seats. Yun Qian pushed Qin Xiang into the inner book chamber.

Qin Xiang understood. She went to find the travelogue she hadn’t finished last time. She had no interest in the Prime Minister’s business; the books were more appealing.

Outside, the others spoke, one by one reporting on the tasks Yun Qian had given them, then leaving.

Fang Ruoshen stayed, telling the story of the young lady she’d rescued. She’d never hidden her role as the Prime Minister’s advisor. Today’s young lady was an important person—a daughter of the Prince of Jin.

The Empress Dowager had three sons and one daughter. The eldest was the Emperor; the second and third sons were on their fiefs. Both had sent their legitimate daughters to the capital to serve at the Empress Dowager’s knee.

The Prince of Jin had married early, fathering his eldest legitimate daughter at fifteen. That daughter was now fifteen herself—three years older than the Crown Prince, and sharp-witted. The Empress Dowager and Grand Princess Yongning were quite fond of her.

The young lady’s carriage had broken down mid-road. Fang Ruoshen gave her own carriage to her, hence the delay.

For an ordinary person, a broken carriage was a broken carriage. But this particular one was unusual enough to warrant suspicion.

Yun Qian’s memory of this commandery princess was from her past life. After the Emperor was deposed, the Prince of Jin took the throne, and this girl rose with him, becoming an imperial princess.

She had heard a rumor: the girl liked women, and had a private relationship with the Little Empress.

It might not be true, but the Little Empress never denied it—a meaningful silence.

“If she comes to thank you, accept it. We’ll talk if anything comes up.” Yun Qian sent Fang Ruoshen away.

The study fell silent. The lamp burned bright. Qin Xiang, head buried in her book, didn’t notice someone approaching.

Yun Qian imitated Qin Xiang’s cross-legged seat, her skirt pooling over the floor. At the movement, Qin Xiang raised her eyes. Yun Qian’s gaze fixed on her, deep as moonlight scattering.

“Interesting?”

“All done?”

They spoke at once.

“It’s over. Come back, read another day.” Yun Qian took the travelogue from Qin Xiang’s hand. She glanced at it—a Northern Frontier travelogue. Startled, she said, “You’ve been to the Northern Frontier?”

Last time Qin Xiang had said she’d been somewhere, and she’d paid no mind. Now, seeing it again, she remembered.

In one day, the Northern Frontier had come up twice. Her voice sank.

Startled by her tone, Qin Xiang blurted, “I—I’ve never been.”

Hearing her answer, Yun Qian realized her tone had been frightening and quickly softened. “Never been is fine. Ride tomorrow, sleep early.”

Qin Xiang dared not read further. She scrambled up swiftly. Yun Qian rose gracefully, far more elegantly.

At the door, Yun Qian took the lantern. She went first, Qin Xiang following.

The study was nearest to Yun Qian’s residence. At the courtyard gate, Qin Xiang thought she would stop.

But Yun Qian walked straight past, toward Wanglan Pavilion. Qin Xiang’s heart drummed. Were they sleeping together tonight?