Chapter 73:
Jiang Henian (Part 3):
“This Servant Will Not Disappoint Master…”
Yu Lin stood on the stone path, the pre-dawn sky a canvas of dark, swirling clouds.
He rose half an hour earlier than the prince each day. He could see the prince’s silhouette through the yellow silk screen in the main hall, dressing for the day. He waited outside, the faint scent of peach blossoms filling the air, the tree by the palace wall in full bloom. He looked at the sky, then at the tree, his gaze lingering, his feet carrying him closer, his hand reaching out, plucking a blossom, a single, perfect peach blossom.
He realized his folly only after the flower was in his hand.
“What are you doing?”
The prince’s voice, calm and even, and he knelt instantly.
“Master,” he said, his head bowed, the peach blossom hidden in his clenched fist.
“Why have you picked a flower?” Jiang Henian asked.
“This servant… this servant…” He stammered, his words failing him, not wanting to displease the prince with his impulsive act, but he had done it, and he had to explain. “This servant feared the rain would damage the blossoms, spoiling Master’s enjoyment, so I picked one, for Master’s pleasure, to be kept inside, away from the elements.”
He finished, his face burning with shame. What kind of servant offered a flower to their master? He clenched his fist, wishing he could go back in time, sever the hand that had dared to reach for the blossom.
Then he heard laughter.
Jiang Henian chuckled softly. “If it’s for me, then present it.”
Yu Lin, stunned, looked up at him, his heart pounding, then stepped forward, offering the flower.
Jiang Henian summoned an attendant. “Find a vase and place it in my chambers.”
The attendant took the flower, and Jiang Henian’s gaze lingered on it, a subtle change in his voice. “You are thoughtful.”
He was pleased. Yu Lin’s boldness had paid off. His master was the Crown Prince, showered with gifts, the East Palace filled with treasures, yet Yu Lin had sensed something missing, a touch of color, and the peach blossoms, a perfect complement to the prince’s beauty, had caught his eye. But flowers would wither, and he wished their beauty could last a little longer.
He had served the prince for two years, his physique strengthened by the East Palace’s ample meals, his height increasing, almost matching the prince’s now, his gaze often following his master’s tall, elegant figure, his robes flowing around him, his bearing like a mountain.
Yu Lin, however, could only stand outside the throne room, never witnessing the prince’s interactions with the court.
After the morning audience, Jiang Henian, as usual, was kept behind by the King, emerging half an hour later than the officials, some of whom lingered outside, waiting for him.
Yu Lin knew their intentions. Those officials, too cowardly to speak their minds before the King, would turn to the prince, hoping he would intercede on their behalf. The sight always filled him with disgust. They didn’t understand the prince, their pleas like buzzing flies.
As Jiang Henian emerged, Yu Lin stepped forward.
“Your Highness!”
His voice, loud and clear, a warning to the hovering officials, his body a barrier between them and the prince, his face stern, his hand outstretched.
Jiang Henian glanced back at him, his voice calm. “Return to the East Palace. Father has decided on Minister Chen’s matter. We await his decree.”
“Your Highness—!”
Jiang Henian didn’t turn back.
His master had spoken, and Yu Lin stood firm, his presence a dividing line, his authority unquestioned. “Gentlemen, please leave,” he said, his gaze sharp and cold, his tone brooking no argument. He knew how to deal with them. They knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use force, the prince always intervening on his behalf. They had learned to fear him.
Jiang Henian walked away, leaving the officials behind, Yu Lin following discreetly.
His master’s concerns these days were twofold: affairs of state and Princess Zhaoping’s marriage. But his worries were never expressed openly, his silence a mask.
Last night, he had reread a memorial three times, his usual spot on the veranda, beneath the peach blossoms, abandoned.
“Bring me the chessboard,” he had said, sitting at the stone table in the courtyard.
Yu Lin brought the chessboard, and Jiang Wan emerged from the side chamber.
“Brother, who are you playing with?” she asked, smiling.
“His Highness is waiting for someone,” Yu Lin said, knowing the prince only played with two people, Zhao Yinyang and Scholar Chen Ke, both elderly men with formidable chess skills, rarely losing to the prince.
Jiang Wan glared at him. “Who asked you to speak?” She sat beside her brother. “I’ve heard about the matter of Chen Huaiyi. Are you troubled by it, Brother? What does Father intend to do?”
“What have you heard?” Jiang Henian asked, picking up a black stone from the chessbox, then turning to Yu Lin. “What do you think I should do with Minister Chen?”
“Execute him,” Yu Lin replied without hesitation.
“Chen Huaiyi is a valuable official from our mother’s clan,” Jiang Wan said, tapping the table. “The Chen clan is your support, Brother. Killing him would create an opening for the Wang clan. You can’t just execute him.”
“I know,” Yu Lin understood Chen Huaiyi’s significance, but he didn’t retract his words. He believed he was right.
“Brother,” Jiang Wan turned to Jiang Henian. “What have you decided?”
He smiled, but didn’t answer.
An attendant announced, “Your Highness, Scholar Chen Ke requests an audience.”
“The person I’ve been waiting for has arrived,” Jiang Henian said to his sister. “Return to your chambers, Xiao Wan.”
“Fine,” she said, leaving the courtyard. Yu Lin retreated to a corner, noticing the darkening sky, quietly instructing an attendant to fetch an umbrella.
“Teacher,” Jiang Henian stood up as Scholar Chen Ke approached, bowing respectfully.
“Your Highness,” Chen Ke returned the bow, his long white beard almost reaching his waist, his steps hurried, his face flushed.
“You’ve arrived just in time, Teacher. Shall we play a game of chess?” Jiang Henian smiled.
Chen Ke wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing at the chessboard. “It would be my honor, Your Highness.”
“Sit,” Jiang Henian gestured.
They sat down, facing each other, their fingers hovering over the chess pieces.
Jiang Henian smiled, his movements precise and deliberate, the sunlight glinting on the golden threads of his robe, the embroidered dragon seeming to move, his voice calm as he placed each piece, his strategy aggressive, until the final move, a stalemate.
Chen Ke exhaled slowly. Jiang Henian looked at him, his smile fading. “I usually lose to you, Teacher. Why are you distracted today?”
“Your Highness, I…” Chen Ke began.
“If I take this piece, you lose,” Jiang Henian interrupted him, picking up one of Chen Ke’s white stones.
Chen Ke stood up abruptly, kneeling on the stone path. “Your Highness, I beg you to spare Minister Chen’s life!”
Jiang Henian also stood up, Yu Lin’s gaze following his every move.
He walked towards Chen Ke, his voice low. “Father asked for my opinion on this matter.”
“He doesn’t want to execute Minister Chen, to damage our relationship with our mother’s clan, to sever ties with our relatives.” He paused, then dropped the white stone onto the ground.
It landed at Chen Ke’s feet with a soft click. Jiang Henian looked down at him, his face shadowed by the overcast sky, his eyes cold and distant.
“I wouldn’t disobey Father. There’s only one answer. Incompetence is a crime punishable by death.”
“Minister Chen will be executed.”
His words were like a blow to Chen Ke’s aged body. “Your Highness! He has committed a crime, but he’s a valuable asset to the Chen clan, and your relative! Do you have no regard for the Chen clan?”
Rain began to fall, the first drops landing on Jiang Henian’s forehead. He looked up, his voice soft. “Who sorrows? It is my people.” He caught a raindrop in his hand.
Chen Ke’s face paled. “Your Highness…”
“Teacher,” Jiang Henian’s voice turned sharp, his eyes colder than the rain as he helped Chen Ke to his feet. “I am the ruler, all under heaven are my subjects. Should I prioritize a single clan over my people?”
Chen Ke trembled, his legs almost giving way, finally realizing the person before him wasn’t his student, but the Crown Prince, the future emperor.
Yu Lin stood behind Jiang Henian, holding an umbrella over him.
The rain intensified, the peach blossoms battered by the wind and rain.
Chen Ke stood there, his robes soaked, his shoulders slumped, his appearance pathetic.
“You’re old, Teacher, your accomplishments many, you should rest now,” Jiang Henian said.
“Yes… yes…” Chen Ke stammered, stepping back, his eyes wide with fear. “I’m old and useless.”
He knelt again, bowing deeply. “I’ll take my leave.”
Jiang Henian turned and walked inside.
Yu Lin closed the umbrella, shaking off the raindrops, watching Chen Ke’s retreating figure, the old scholar, tutor to both the King and the Crown Prince, now a frail and helpless old man, his steps unsteady.
He hadn’t understood his master, his pleas for mercy a foolish mistake.
Yu Lin had always despised the powerful, those who wielded authority, their lives a game of manipulation and cruelty, yet their power alluring, the powerless yearning for it, the free longing for control, the rulers commanding respect and awe.
He smiled, leaving the umbrella outside, and entered the hall, his gaze falling on the peach blossom, still fresh and vibrant in its vase, his heart lifting.
Jiang Henian sat at his desk, not reviewing memorials, his hands empty.
“Sit,” he gestured towards the opposite seat, his voice calm.
Yu Lin, aware of his place, hesitated, the prince’s formal tone making him uneasy.
“I also have a gift for you,” Jiang Henian said. “What do you desire?”
“To serve Master is this servant’s greatest reward,” Yu Lin replied.
“Is that all?” Jiang Henian shook his head. “Have we not been master and servant for two years? Do you still not trust me?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Yu Lin knelt instantly.
“You dare,” Jiang Henian said, walking towards him, his hand gently lifting him to his feet. “I chose you because of your ambition.”
“You don’t want to be a slave, you’re not afraid of death, you possess skills, why would I confine such a talent to the East Palace?”
Yu Lin stared at him, stunned, his heart pounding.
“Go to the Ministry of War,” Jiang Henian said. “The Chen clan, my mother’s clan, are mostly scholars. The Wang clan controls the military, their rivalry with the Chens a long and bitter feud. They won’t welcome my ascension. Executing Chen Huaiyi weakens my own support, so I need you to establish yourself in the military. Don’t disappoint me.”
He smiled, retrieving a long box from a cabinet, handing it to Yu Lin.
A sword, its blade forged from silver and iron, sharp enough to cut through bone.
Yu Lin took the box, Jiang Henian’s hand covering his. “A sword is a dangerous weapon. You are my man, someone I trust. Return to me safely, no matter the outcome.”
The prince’s touch, a brief moment of contact, sent a shiver down his spine, a warmth spreading through his body, like holding a burning ember in the snow, unwilling to let go.
His fear turned to excitement, his voice strong and clear. He drew the sword, its blade gleaming in the lamplight, and swore an oath. “This servant will not disappoint Master.”
