That was true enough, Maomao thought. If they hadn’t exchanged Jinshi and the true younger brother of the Emperor, a brilliant doctor—that is to say, Luomen—might never have been banished from the palace.
But by the same token Jinshi, who sat before her now, might well have been long dead.
“If there’s a problem, it’s my personal status,” Ah-Duo went on. “I did it—I did it all!”
“...ence,” said the Emperor.
“What’s that? I can’t hear you!”
“I said, silence!” the Emperor bellowed, so loudly that Maomao thought her eardrums might burst, as he rose from his seat. The great man hardly ever looked less than sanguine, but now his face was drawn and he was sweating profusely.
I’m going to need more than stomach medicine!
There was a knock at the door—it was Gaoshun and Chue outside. His Majesty had really shouted.
The Emperor sat back down, still sweating. He composed himself and then looked at Maomao. “Tell them it’s nothing,” he commanded.
“Yes, sir.”
She went over and opened the door.
“We heard His Majesty’s voice. Is anything the matter?” Gaoshun asked, worried. He was there along with Ba-something-or-other, Chue, and even Basen, who must have accompanied Jinshi as his bodyguard.
“I was told to tell you that it’s nothing,” Maomao replied.
“I don’t believe that for a second!” Basen exclaimed, but Gaoshun silenced him with a jerk of his chin.
“Understood,” Gaoshun said, not pursuing the matter. “If there should be any trouble, don’t hesitate to call for help.”
“Yes, sir.”
Maomao closed the door and returned to her stool. The atmosphere had not grown any less tense in the meantime.
Things are even more charged after that outburst.
She hoped fervently that the Emperor wouldn’t cause his appendix to explode right then and there.
“Ah-Duo. You be quiet for a moment,” the Emperor said. Ah-Duo looked displeased, but she didn’t say anything more. Instead His Majesty continued, “Zui, why do you refuse the Imperial title? You could stand at the apex of our very nation!” This time he sounded cajoling.
Jinshi didn’t quite seem to know where to look. “Is the apex of the nation such a fine place?” he asked.
“It is all that I know.”
That much was true, Maomao thought.
“There is none other here, except I. And if there had been anyone, they would have been wiped out. For my grandmother was the empress regnant.”
He called his own grandmother the empress regnant. His Majesty had spent all this time as the only child of the former emperor. His father’s preference for young girls meant further progeny had been unlikely to be forthcoming. He must have been raised with the utmost care.
He’d had one path in life, and one only: to become the Emperor.
“Zui. You’ve known and enjoyed a far wider world than I ever have—for I cherished you. Nonetheless, I have not gone easy on you. Surely you would be able to fill my place if you succeeded me, don’t you think?”
“What would become of Empress Gyokuyou and the Crown Prince?” Jinshi asked.
“The Crown Prince is still young.”
“Surely a regent could be set up? If I should vie for the throne at this moment, it would only cause chaos.”
Maomao agreed wholeheartedly. They were going around in circles. Neither side would give because there were things preventing them from doing so.
It doesn’t make sense.
The Emperor was asking Jinshi to succeed him on the throne when he had long ago established a different child as crown prince. Of course, he might be doing it simply to tidy up the power structure within the court, publicly prioritizing his own son.
Anyway, if they were really here to formalize the Emperor’s will, then Ah-Duo’s presence was puzzling. It would make more sense for Empress Gyokuyou to be there, but for this will, she absolutely could not be involved.
“Most of all, I’m not clever enough to balance several women at the same time. One is enough for me,” Jinshi said.
Maomao’s mind all but went blank.
“This when you were my testing stone in the rear palace?”
“I wish you would stop calling me that!” Jinshi said, his voice growing sharp. The frantic note seemed to be not anger, but embarrassment.
Balancing several women, eh?
He’d shot arrows through the hearts of so many ladies and consorts in the rear palace, but dig down just a layer and one discovered that this man was as socially maladroit as they came. So much so, in fact, that it caused him to make sure he was ready for anything. Maomao didn’t know what to do with him.
What could the Emperor be thinking, though? Surely he hadn’t forgotten what Jinshi had done in this very room? Maomao hadn’t looked for a while, but she was fairly confident the peony brand must still be there on his flank.
And indeed, it turned out that that, too, was accounted for.
“If you say you can love only one woman, then you need simply hem that person in. Choose one of the many lovely flowers in the rear palace and lavish your affection on her.”
“Do you not care if I don’t produce children?”
“If you can’t, so be it. That way, even if you do take the throne, the Crown Prince can remain the Crown Prince.”
Please don’t do that.
The Emperor was saying that Jinshi didn’t have to visit any other consorts. But Jinshi said firmly, “No, I’m afraid that won’t do.”
“Why not? You want your own son to be emperor after all?”
“No, sir.” Jinshi’s eyelashes lowered. “To love one consort only would be to make enemies of all the rest.”
“You need only give her your protection.”
“Enough resentment can penetrate even the greatest protection.” Jinshi clenched his fist. He had been in the rear palace long enough to know very well that however beautiful and intelligent the Emperor’s women were, they could be hideous indeed. “Even if it doesn’t lead to physical violence, it could still wound her heart.”
“What will you do, then? With this one woman of yours?”
“A fair question. I’m sure I could never make her my consort.” He looked slowly at Maomao. “Her form is unique, and I would be putting her in a place where she would be pounded from every side. It might change her shape.”
“It might not,” the Emperor rejoined.
“She might make me think it had not. I don’t think I could do it.” Jinshi smiled. It was a hollow look, but his fists were clenched in resolution. “If I must cage this unique thing, then much better to let it be free.”
He was clenching his fists so hard Maomao could see blue veins popping up.
“Can you do that?”
The Emperor was asking what he would do about the brand on his flank.
Jinshi smiled, more brightly, and brushed his side. “If I did, I suppose I would have to cut this off, or burn it away entirely.”
Maomao jumped up in spite of herself and glared at him.
I said never to do that again!
He gave her an apologetic look, a vulnerable expression that said: Do forgive me. Maomao, her breath hot in her nostrils, swore that she wouldn’t treat him even if he scorched himself again, but she sat back down.
“I see you’re quite a romantic. Isn’t that so, Ah-Duo?”
The Emperor looked at Ah-Duo, who had stayed silent just as she had been bidden. Now she sat with her mouth hanging open, looking stunned. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“Ah-Duo?”
“Er—mm. Yes. Yes, you’re right.” She shook her head as if to fling away the tear.
“Ah-Duo?” The Emperor looked outright perplexed.
“What? May I speak again?” Her spunk was back. Maomao might have thought she’d imagined the look and the tear, if it weren’t for the small dark spot where it had landed on the couch. Ah-Duo placed her hand over the spot as if to hide it. Then she asked, “So then, what do you want to do, Yue?”
“I want to be His Majesty’s subject. And when a change of rulership comes, I wish to be the Crown Prince’s subject as well.”
“Even if the Crown Prince leaves you to handle the weight of the throne or the bustling garden we call the rear palace?”
It was a loaded question, Maomao thought.
“A ruler’s subjects are there to help lighten that weight. Beyond that, I can only hope that the Crown Prince will prove to be skilled in the handling of flowers.” Jinshi sounded almost shy. He’d noticed Ah-Duo’s tear.
“You heard him.”
The Emperor didn’t say anything; he looked steadily at Ah-Duo, not at Jinshi. His gaze moved from her eyes, to her nose, her lips, and finally her hand, as if tracing the path of the tear she had shed.