Only after Sheng Jinyu had left did the Emperor finally wake to amusement. “Well? What do you make of it?”
The eunuch plastered a grin on his face. “Oh, Your Majesty, how could I possibly understand all these twists and turns?”
The Emperor laughed and gave the table a sharp pat. “You? Is there anything that can hide from your eyes?”
The attendant bowed so low his back creaked. “Your Majesty flatters me. I am unworthy.”
“Out with it,” the Emperor prompted.
The man thought a moment before answering. “Princess Zhaoyang is a vision—stunning beyond words. They say even the greatest hero will fall at a beauty’s door. Prince Yu is at the age of hot blood; with the princess coming on so boldly, who could stand against it?”
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed with interest and he nodded. Age had softened his appetite for matchmaking, but he still enjoyed watching the young pair off together. “A pity she belongs to Lu Hongxi.”
“Indeed,” the eunuch hurried on, “I heard Prince Yu has angered Princess Zhaoyang more than once. It seems the princess has given up for now.”
The Emperor raised an amused brow. “Really? I thought she’d keep fussing at the Empress—”
He fell silent as soon as the Empress’s name touched his lips. His face tightened. The eunuch, quick to sense the change, trailed off.
After a moment’s rumination, the Emperor said, “Mention it to the Empress. Have her pick a suitable noble lady for the palace... decide it at the spring banquet.”
Mourning for the Empress Dowager had dampened his interest in new consorts, yet he found the court lately too stifled. A wandering Taoist had warned of bad feng shui in the palace the day before; now with Sheng Jinyu’s visit, the idea of bringing someone in to lift the spirits seemed harmless enough.
The eunuch’s hand trembled and he knelt so fast he nearly fell. “My lord, I deserve a thousand deaths!”
The Emperor rubbed at the spot where the man’s palm had slammed down and scolded, “Why so jittery?”
The attendant picked himself up cautiously. “I—my mind wandered. Perhaps I should fetch a palace maid to serve, to—”
The Emperor waved him off. “No, no. Tell me what you were thinking.”
Lowering his gaze, the eunuch spoke in a hush. “I’ve heard a rumor... about the Empress’s adopted daughter.”
The Emperor blinked and then comprehension creased his face. “Ah. The Empress’s foster daughter—the one who tried to steal Zhaoyang’s husband, yes?”
The man nodded so earnestly he bobbed. “Yes. Her name is Shi Aohan, a distant He family cousin. Lately I heard that when she was a child some master read her fortune and said she was the reincarnation of the Nine Heavens Maiden—”
The Emperor frowned. He remembered that story. When reports first reached him about the woman who chased Zhaoyang’s husband, she had been called something divine. Having met her in person, the Emperor had found her merely pleasant, nothing more.
“Only a true dragon would be her match,” the eunuch hurried on, then froze.
The Emperor’s eyelids twitched. “What did you say?”
The man dropped to his knees and begged. “Your Majesty, I only overheard! Truth or not, I have no proof. I am a fool. Punish me.”
The Emperor watched him coldly for a long while. “When did you hear this?”
“Just the other day, in the imperial gardens,” the man stammered. “Two maids were gossiping. I scolded them then and there. I haven’t heard anything since. It must be nonsense. Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He slapped himself across the face again and again until his ears flushed.
Finally the Emperor lifted a hand. “Enough. If it’s idle talk, don’t spread it.”
The man wiped sweat from his brow. “Your reprimand is just.”
“See to it someone looks into it,” the Emperor said. “Find out who started the rumor and why it stopped.”
Spring banquet day arrived. Lu Wanning followed behind the princess and Lady Wei, her eyes dull and unfocused.
They had barely entered the palace when Madam Lu San glanced over and startled. “Only a month gone and the princess looks so much thinner.”
The princess’s consul, the noblewoman by Lu’s side, sighed. “She always seems scattered, but she’s deeper than she looks.”
“Such filial devotion,” Madam Lu San praised.
Lu Wanning kept her head bowed. Some of the pallor came from grief—she understood the inescapable truth of death—but mostly she was sleepless and distracted by a single pressing thought: how to keep the Lu family intact.
Sheng Jinyu remained maddeningly inconsistent with her. One moment tender, the next cool; his capriciousness gnawed at her. For reasons she could not name, his shadow appeared in her dreams each night, dragging her from real sleep. And then there was the court custom: one full year of mourning required abstaining from meat. Others might steal a bite in secret, but in the Lu household—except for the nourishing needs of Lady Wei and Lu Cheng—everyone faithfully adhered to the vegetarian rule. No wonder she was shrinking.
Because it was early, Lu Wanning did not enter the main hall. Spotting Jiang Shishi nearby, she went to her at once.
Jiang reached out and felt Lu’s hand. “Wanning, you’ve grown so thin.”
Lu Wanning shook her head. “I’m all right. How are you, Sister Jiang?”
Jiang’s cheeks had a touch of color today; a hint of powder brightening her face made her look well. She’d had her wedding postponed, but with He Nanfeng cut off from his family, when she married she would be mistress of the house, free of in-law pressure. It showed in her countenance.
She eyed Lu’s plain clothes. “You’re dressed so simply today—no pattern at all. That’s not like you.”
Lu Wanning said little and led her to a quiet spot to chat.
“Did Zhen sister write to you?” Jiang asked.
“She did.” Jiang began to complain. “She sent me a grasshopper once—I thought it was some woven trinket but it was real and dead! Nearly frightened me out of my wits.”
Lu couldn’t help snorting. “That’s nothing. She once sent me a snake as long as an arm.”
Jiang clutched her chest. “Thank Heaven she didn’t send the wrong thing by mistake. I’d have lost my soul.”
Lowering her voice, Lu Wanning asked, “Have you heard where he’s gone?”
Jiang’s face flushed faintly and she nodded. “Before he left he had someone tell me he’s visiting an old friend. He said letters might be inconvenient, and to not worry.”
Lu’s eyes flickered. She knew He Nanfeng hadn’t truly gone sightseeing—Sheng Jinyu had sent him away—and letters might risk betraying his movements.
Jiang glanced around, then leaned in, conspiratorial. “Did you hear? The Qi Shan Prince’s heir has slipped away.”
Lu Wanning’s breath caught. The heir to Qi Shan, though still styled a prince, remained in the capital as a hostage of sorts; his escape would surely unleash the Emperor’s wrath.
And the Prince of Qi Shan commanded great forces. If the Emperor’s fury could not be soothed, then—