A Crane Cries in Huating - 9.2

The bright blue moon shines on the wine glass and the pearly sky glitters behind it.

It was a clear night in the courtyard, with half of the moon already rowed out of the clouds. 

Even though the moon wasn’t full, it was bright and lovely at the same time. The east wind suddenly blew, stirring up the fragrance of flowers and plants in the courtyard, slowly floating like ripples and like moonlight over the water, going on to soak his robe. 

Dingquan stood quietly in the courtyard for some time, let out a long sigh, and ordered, “Set the dinner in the water pavilion in the back garden.” 

Since he seldom had such an aesthetic mood in the past few years, the servants on both sides hurriedly agreed and went to report to Zhou Wu. Zhou Wu’s reception didn’t end there. He rushed over to ask Dingquan if he wanted Concubine Xuan and others to join him for dinner. His ambition to serve as a matchmaker never ceased. 

This time, however, Dingquan was stunned for a moment before he realised what he was talking about. He waved his hand in utter boredom and said, “There’s no need.” 

Zhou Wu didn’t feel bad since he was used to being outright rejected by him. He led Dingquan forward with a lantern. But when he saw the food table placed in the centre of the water pavilion surrounded by servants holding lanterns, making it appear as if it were daytime, he knew everyone’s ears were in for a scolding now. 

And indeed, Dingquan said with a furrowed brow, “Way to kill the mood. Good job at being an eyesore.” 

Zhou Wu had to disperse the crowd for him and ordered them to keep a watch from a distance away.

Dingquan didn’t feel like eating anymore, so he just drank from his cup after sitting down. He slowly deliberated on Xu Changping’s words as the wine settled in his stomach. 

On the day when his younger sister died, he was at the empress’ palace watching over his mother and weeping. Even when he was all tired out from crying, he did not leave the palace. His mother thought he was fast asleep and whispered softly to her trusted lady-in-waiting, but he didn’t remember anything else. Only one sentence remained fresh in his memory: “Take him out of the palace yourself and don’t let His Majesty find out.” 

Later on, he remembered these words, probably because of the secret pleasure he felt deep inside his heart — that his mother, who was always quietly accepting of all bad situations because of her noble upbringing, would also have the determination to disobey the supreme power. With this kind of pleasure, he, who was still not sensible back then, silently kept this secret and wishfully shared the crime of deceiving the emperor with his mother. At a time when all the insiders had gone, if he believed in his own abyss-like heart, he should believe in Xu Changping who had seen that very abyss.

He needed such a person, and he knew he needed such a person that was shrewd, close, secretive, and legitimate. Just like how the saying went “The king’s affairs are over, and the bow is about to be hidden.” It will be a matter of time before the emperor issues an edict to change the affairs of the palace. The Household Administration of the Crown Prince was going to be revamped. If he didn’t get close to someone from within it, the communication between the Eastern Palace and the courtiers would be very inconvenient in the future.

His speech was flawless, his appearance was just right, his shrewdness was impeccable, and his identity was also appropriate. And this was what sent a shot of fear through Dingquan’s heart.

Xu Changping was wearing official robes today because he was from the Household Administration and his rank was low. Wearing private clothes would attract suspicion, which must also be why he rode a horse today. He didn’t want anyone to ask for his titles and honours but just wanted to show that his current high rank and big salary was enough for him, and therefore he would not change teams. Xu Changping knew that Dingquan could read his shrewdness, so he unabashedly put this shrewdness on display. Then he must also know that the more shrewd a person was, the harder it was to convince others. This was the challenge Xu Changping had set up for Dingquan — like an empty hook — whether he was willing or unwilling depended entirely on his will.

Xu Changping was gambling, betting on whether he dared to believe it. Dingquan was also gambling, betting whether he should believe him.

Dingquan got up, walked a couple of steps, and put his hand in the water. 

The moonlight was like flowing water, the moonlight was like white silk, the moonshine filled his sleeves, the moonshine filled his lapel. Throwing itself into a cup, floating in a pool, and embracing the pear blossoms. The whole world was flooded with the dazzling brilliance of a mourning dress, putting one in a trance that makes one suspect they were in a dream. 

All of this was actually just a luxurious gamble. What they mortgaged was their lives and wealth, in exchange for vast lands and broad hills; to be a general at the battlefield and a high minister at the court, to grant the wife a title and make the son the heir to one’s titles; to be a distinguished person till death, and have a funeral pomp after death. 

One day, he should be able to feel peace and happiness in his heart and come to enjoy the clear moonlight once again. He wondered to himself how different the moonlight in Changzhou was from that in the capital. Surely, the scene would be different when it shone on armour and on pear blossoms, on banners and silk cloths? He heard that the desert under the moon was similar to the vast snowfields. He really wanted to see it with his own eyes. He really wanted to see this land that had given birth to him.

Several courtiers that were standing far away in accordance with Zhou Wu’s order saw Dingquan staggering as if he was drunk and hurried forward to assist him. Dingquan had always had a limited drinking capacity and he even had a lot on his mind at this time. After drinking a few glasses, he was feeling woozy, so he obediently let others help him and walked back slowly.

Back in the warm pavilion, Kouzhu saw that his footsteps were clumsy and that he was clearly drunk, so she hurriedly ordered someone to prepare him a hangover soup and instructed A-Bao to bring it over. Dingquan didn’t pick up the bowl of hangover soup, just took two sips from A-Bao’s hand, then pushed it away. He stumbled up, walked to Kouzhu, held her sleeves and swayed them, leaned close to her ear and said, “Come comb my hair.” 

He had always been conscious of his appearance and every day he had to loosen his bun and tie it up again. Oftentimes, Kouzhu would comb and tie his hair, and sometimes A-Bao would. However, this sort of behaviour tonight had never happened before. Seeing Kouzhu help him remove his robes, he felt like neither staying nor leaving. In the end, however, realising that both of them ignored him, Dingquan quietly retreated. He slowly moped back to the room where he lived and sat down by the window. 

A dying candle was flickering and the boundless darkness was oppressing from outside the window, cutting the woman into a paper-thin shadow, and pasting it on the window lattice.

Dingquan got up from the couch and walked to the bronze mirror. He looked at the face reflected in the mirror, and said to Kouzhu after a while, “You go back too, I will sit here by myself.” 

She sighed and said to him, “If Your Highness is unhappy, let me accompany you.” 

Dingquan shook his head and smiled. “No need.” He patted her hand as if he had something to say, but in the end, he simply said, “No need.”

Kouzhu closed the door and left him per his wishes.

Dingquan leaned on the table to stand up, feeling exhausted to the core, but his mind was very clear. 

The past shattered all over the ground with a clanging sound, the cold and sharp edges glinting under the clear moonlight. He stepped on them with his bare feet, and with the slight movement, the sharp pain of cutting and peeling spread from the soles of his feet to the bottom of his heart. Dingquan thought that no matter what kind of pain, it would gradually be forgotten, but who would have thought that running over it again would be just so heart-wrenching, like walking in endless hell? What is Father thinking in the palace? What is Brother thinking in his mansion? What is that Xu Changping guy thinking at home? Where is A-Rou’s fiancé supposed to be at this moment? He had to think about everything one by one. This was the homework he must do every day.

His mother never taught him this way. She wanted him to be a cooling shade to people, rain in summer, a comfort to the near and a relief to the distant, a tolerant and benevolent ruler. But he could no longer be that kind of person. He stepped on the mess all over the floor and spread his hand on the spotless mirror, but when he pulled it back, his fingers were all stained black. No matter how much he asked them to clean the room, he still felt that it was dusty, and even though the robe on his body was better than the snow, he still felt that he was wearing black clothes. Even the bright moonlight coming in from outside the window became murky and dirty.

There seemed to be cold tears trailing down his cheeks, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. Only then did he really admit that he was extremely lonely. In this world, he could trust no one. Not his father, subordinates, siblings, wife — nobody but himself. 

But tonight, standing in the misery and solitude of scorched earth^[1]坚壁清野 1. to fortify defenses and raze the fields (idiom); to leave nothing for the invader; 2. scorched earth policy, he decided to gamble again, just for the chance to see the moonlight in Changzhou with his own eyes.

Translator: turtleneck

Editor: idlemousse