Chapter 30

Wei Tong thought it over carefully. He truly had no idea when this body had been born, and the pair who had sired it certainly couldn’t be bothered to care. After a moment’s consideration, he gave his birth date from his previous life. “Not yet. My birthday is on the fifteenth of the eighth month. Nearly three months away.”

Xuan smiled faintly. “Good, then. That is a fine day. I still remember, your courtesy name is mine to choose.” Only then did Wei Tong recall that Xuan had indeed once said this, and that he had agreed. Shaking his head with a smile, he reflected that in his current position he had no real use for a courtesy name anyway. “It’s only a name, Xuan. No need to take it so seriously.”

Though it was said that men received their courtesy name at twenty upon the capping ceremony and women at fifteen upon the hairpin ceremony, in practice some received theirs while attending private school, and others were named by their elders in early childhood. Wei Tong, not a modern man at heart, was entirely indifferent to the matter.

Hearing how little Wei Tong cared, Xuan’s voice deepened. “Wei, this is not a thing to take lightly. Even if no one else cares, you must care for yourself.” Wei Tong clapped a hand over his slip of the tongue and shook his head in resignation. “Yes, yes, yes, Xuan. I will listen to you, I promise.”

Though Wei Tong answered readily enough, he still got a thorough lecture from Xuan. Wei Tong, who had been taking scoldings rather often of late… Fine, fine, fine. Everyone here was a big shot.

“Grinding ink, are you?” Only after lecturing Wei Tong into silence was Xuan satisfied with his attitude, and he changed the subject. Wei Tong murmured assent and resumed the interrupted motion. “My brush writing is simply hideous. An insult to my famed reputation.”

“Heh. Wei, what famed reputation would that be? Do tell, I’d love to hear it,” Xuan said with a light laugh.

“I guarantee it: give me a fine, slender pen, and I’ll produce the most beautiful writing you’ve ever seen.” Wei Tong ground the ink while praising his own wares. All those years of practicing hard as a child, and it turned out to be worth less than a simple brush.

“The whole world writes with the ink brush. Why would Wei alone strike out on some strange path and write with a slender little pen? And where exactly would such a pen come from?” Xuan’s voice was flat, carrying a faint, unreadable trace, but Wei Tong was too absorbed in the ink to notice.

“When I was small, I naturally couldn’t splash ink about like you people here. I could only scratch at the ground with a stick, which is of course nothing alike. Though I hear that in the West they use something called a quill pen. That’s slender, certainly, but you can’t get a proper grip on it at all. Honestly, it’s inferior to the brush.” Had pens not been invented in this era yet…

However familiar he was with Xuan, certain things were better concealed, and Wei Tong instinctively rephrased. A secret is only a secret if one person knows it. This one would rot in his belly; the day he spoke it aloud would likely never come.

“A quill pen? And some barbarian trinket is worth a place in your heart?” Xuan looked unimpressed. Wei Tong only smiled. “Xuan, at the very least, that idea never occurred to any of us. Same with those Western clocks. We have similar things, yes, but we have to admit, their craft is better than ours and better suited to the purpose. Only by thinking constantly can one improve, after all.”

He stretched lazily, gazing at the freshly ground ink. Compared to that first wretched batch, it had improved beyond measure. Everything, always, needed refinement to become better.

“Wei, I can’t help feeling you speak rather admiringly of those seafaring nations of the West,” Xuan said. Whenever he used that tone, it marked the birth of yet another point of contention.

Wei Tong thought otherwise. Resting his chin on one hand, he lifted his head toward the folding screen and said softly, “Xuan, however fine other lands may be, nothing compares to home. A man’s learning and labor are all spent for the soil beneath his feet. That is why traitors, whatever their reasons, deserve no forgiveness.”

“But for everything, when you see its good side, you ought at least to see its bad side as well.” It was a well-worn lesson, yet Wei Tong couldn’t help stroking his chin as he went on. “Xuan, why is it that none of you are willing to look? Yes, there are bad parts, but the good parts can still be learned from. Our country may be the strongest, but who can guarantee we will remain strong forever? The Qin dynasty swept up all six kingdoms. How magnificent! And did it not too vanish into history?” No dynasty lasted forever.

Xuan shook his head helplessly. “Must you be so recklessly bold every single time you open your mouth?” He never could resist saying the most shocking thing possible.

Wei Tong smiled more helplessly still. “I’m only telling the truth. Surely you won’t forbid even that? Besides, I only ever say such things to you, here. Outside this place, who would even know who I am?”

Wei Tong felt Xuan turn suddenly, unnaturally quiet. “What’s wrong?”

“So that’s why. Every time, you refuse so completely? You won’t even grant me the possibility of meeting you face to face?” Xuan’s voice came from behind the folding screen, carrying a thin edge of anger. Wei Tong rose to his feet and walked step by step toward the screen, as though by standing close enough he might see through it to the man behind. “Since you’ve raised the question, Xuan, it’s time this matter was made clear.”

“What my true identity is, I cannot say yet. But the moment I explain it, you will know exactly where I am. Only understand this: my status is just about the lowliest there is. Meeting you in the real world would mean, for you, nothing more than one extra servant at your side. Xuan, the day we meet is the day this nameless friendship of ours ends.”

“Nameless?” Xuan’s retort was ice cold, a breath wedged tight in his chest. “Is that truly how you see me?”

“Xuan, it may sound ugly, but for me, befriending any so-called high official or noble is simply impossible.” Wei Tong felt Xuan’s fury, drew a deep breath, and still would not stop. “I don’t believe it erases what has passed between us. But it is enough to rule out everything that might come after.”

“You hold my life and death in your hands.” Wei Tong said it quietly, but the words struck hard at Xuan’s heart. “Here, no matter what we say, there is always a screen between us. I like you, and you honor me. But out there, you are the master and I am the servant. Whoever you are, that much cannot change.”

When any man’s life can be held entirely in another’s palm, what room is left for respect, or for friendship?

Considering Wei Tong’s identity, Xuan went still for a moment.

So that was why Wei Tong had never once cared about his status. Whoever stood behind this screen, Wei Tong intended never to meet him. Even if they did meet, even now, even knowing what Wei Tong was, he would still let him live the life of a servant.

He was a eunuch.

Wei Tong leaned against the screen, thinking. Even though he had never once tried to guess at Xuan’s identity, even at his most cynical Wei Tong had never believed him an ordinary man. Dealing with someone like that, in the real world, the two of them might never have crossed paths in an entire lifetime. And in such a man’s eyes, a minor eunuch would simply not exist.

The suppression of the Qing era was the harshest of any dynasty, and the most vigilant. Wei Tong would not stake his own life on the gamble, not even for Xuan.

“To think that even now, you still don’t trust me. And… still so calm.” Hearing Xuan’s tone settle, Wei Tong finally relaxed. If Xuan had truly flown into a rage, Wei Tong would have felt uneasy too. Whatever else, the man still cared for him as a friend.

“This isn’t calm.” Wei Tong shook his head helplessly. “It’s the bare minimum protection for my own life… And besides, Xuan, if you’ve already guessed what I am and can’t accept it, then from now on you needn’t hold your tongue around me. I’ll go find Little Ke and do my best to keep you out, spare you from having to come and see…” Before the word “me” had left his mouth, a thunderous bang came from next door, and Wei Tong instinctively ducked his head.

“Wei. Say that again.” Xuan’s voice drifted over, clear and cold. Wei Tong grinned sheepishly and backed away a few steps to sit on the bed. “No, no. Xuan is right. You’re right.”

The only reason he had finally spoken so plainly was that Wei Tong could not, in the end, outweigh the place this friend held in his heart. However clearly his mouth denied it, in his heart he simply could not let go of this friend, and under Xuan’s relentless questioning, he had all but confessed everything.

“I’m practically transparent to you by now, Xuan. What more could you possibly want? Apart from not meeting in the real world, is there a single thing about me you don’t know?” Wei Tong said softly.

Xuan said flatly, “It’s not that you can’t know my identity. It’s that you have never once tried.”

“Exactly,” Wei Tong said with a light laugh. There were plenty of suspicious details, but Wei Tong would not dig. Television dramas were fine to watch, but one mustn’t take their worldview and map it onto reality.

For Wei Tong, being here in the dream was already a rare comfort. With anyone around him, even Dali, Wenxi, or Fugui, he could never speak so freely. But with Xuan, the good and the bad alike were accepted, and though the two of them quarreled often, he never had to fear it would cost him anything.

Perhaps people were simply selfish. Craving a feeling like this, yet unwilling to bear its consequences.

While Wei Tong was lost in thought, Xuan spoke. “I will no longer pry into who you are. But if trouble finds you, I may no longer respect your rules. In my eyes, nothing, however important, outweighs a life.”

“Whatever your identity, so long as you remain Wei, that is enough.”

Xuan’s voice was flat, but it drew only a resigned reply from Wei Tong. “Yes, yes, yes, Xuan.”

The next morning, Kangxi woke to Liang Jiugong’s soft calling as though he hadn’t heard it at all, staring up at the bed canopy in long silence. Perhaps it truly was time to stop…