Chapter 2

By the time he finished work and made it back, Wei Tong’s back ached so badly he could barely straighten up. He tapped gently at his lower back and kneaded it a good while before the soreness eased.

“Dali, I heard that before long, Grandpa Liang, who attends His Majesty, is going to pick a few apprentices. You’ve been in the palace several years now; you can’t stay a junior sweeping attendant forever. Why haven’t you thought of some way?”

Wei Tong had no desire to stand out. Ever since entering the palace, he had watched his words and curbed his steps, never reaching for what wasn’t his, never doing what needn’t be done. He knew the whole history of the Qing Dynasty, but right now he was only a tiny eunuch with no power whatsoever, and he had no wish to be swept into the dust of history.

It was only that Chen Dali had been so good to him these past six months, looking after him so faithfully, that Wei Tong couldn’t bear to watch the man languish in obscurity forever. Climbing higher would only do Chen Dali good down the road.

Chen Dali silently shook his head. He was a dull, plodding sort; Liang Jiugong would never take a fancy to him. He broke into an honest, guileless grin. “Wei Tong, I know you mean well. You’ve got a sharper head than me, so you ought to know that climbing anywhere in this palace takes silver. Lots of it.”

At those words, Wei Tong sighed. Chen Dali and he were both junior sweeping attendants, drawing two taels of silver a month on paper, though one and a half was the most that ever reached their hands. That was only because Qingning Palace sat under the Emperor’s very eyes, and no one dared be too brazen there. And then there were the social obligations; every eunuch’s birthday called for a discreet gift, so where was any silver supposed to accumulate? Liang Jiugong was the most favored man at Kangxi’s side, and would only grow more so. He and Chen Dali together couldn’t scrape together a hundred taels. Why would Liang Jiugong even glance their way?

Thinking of this, Wei Tong simply changed the subject. Life now wasn’t as wretched as it had been in the sweeping quarters, but the dozen-odd attendants on their crew were the lowest of the low; anyone who came along could order them about, so even their free hours were mostly spent busy. It was rare, like now, that no one had come calling.

But good times never lasted. Wei Tong had barely exchanged a few words with Chen Dali when the door swung open from outside and Zhang Jiu hurried in. “Wei Tong, Dali, you two, quick, come with me to the Imperial Kitchen.”

Zhang Jiu was a culinary eunuch. Though he lodged in the same courtyard, his standing was considerably better than that of the junior sweeping attendants.

Wei Tong’s brow creased slightly as he looked up at Zhang Jiu’s expression. “Isn’t the Imperial Kitchen work handled by dedicated staff?” A culinary eunuch’s lot was hard in its own way, but it was a fat post. Get on good terms with the Imperial Kitchen, and at the very least you’d eat well for the rest of your days. Take Zhang Jiu: he’d only become Liu Jinzhong’s adopted son, and after making culinary eunuch, he’d not only escaped the drudgery, he’d grown noticeably plumper in half a year.

And precisely because it was a fat post, it was also a scorching one.

“Don’t ask, just hurry and follow me. I’ll explain on the way. If Grandpa Liu loses his patience waiting, none of us three will get off easy!” The Grandpa Liu he spoke of was Liu Jinzhong, his godfather. Out of options, Wei Tong rose and followed Chen Dali outside, shivering the moment he stepped out the door. The snow was coming down harder than ever.

Only on the way did Zhang Jiu explain in a low voice.

“Near midday, my godfather was just leading men to collect the meal service when he ran straight into Lord Guwalgiya coming out of Qingning Palace. A few unlucky souls knelt a beat too slow, and Lord Guwalgiya declared they had given him offense. They’ve already been dragged out and beheaded.” Zhang Jiu whispered these words so quietly they barely carried, trailing at the back of the line, glancing left and right as he spoke.

Wei Tong’s heart lurched. So Oboi’s ambition was swelling by the day. His current position no longer satisfied him.

The trip back passed without incident, and the party returned safely to Qingning Palace.

By the time Liang Jiugong actually came out to oversee the meal service, more than half a shift had passed. His expression was grave. On emerging, he first called Liu Jinzhong, who stood at the front, off to one side, and after some words passed between them, Liu Jinzhong came over to face the rest of them. His normally plump face was now all severity. “When you go in there, every one of you had better keep your wits about you. If you rouse His Majesty’s displeasure, the paddle falls on your own hides, and whether it hurts or not is yours to bear!”

“Yes!”

Wei Tong’s face betrayed nothing, but he knew Kangxi was only fourteen. However deeply the boy concealed himself, he was not yet the man he would become. Wei Tong lifted the food box reverently and followed inside. Fortunately, as helpers, he and Chen Dali had both been relegated to the rear, carrying items of no consequence. Only then did Wei Tong understand why, back when they were loading up, Liu Jinzhong had gone out of his way to instruct Zhang Jiu to carry the very last boxes. So that was it: he was shielding his own apprentice. Any fire would be directed at the ones out in front. Old ginger really did burn the hottest.

His mind made up, Wei Tong followed carefully into the east side chamber. The moment he stepped through the door, warmth washed over him. Ambergris incense smoldering in the burner sent a faintly sweet fragrance drifting slowly on the air. A thick layer of dark-yellow carpet covered the floor, and the treasures arrayed on the display shelves, though arranged simply, were each exquisite and elegant. Below the north window stood a daybed, and by the table a low desk, where a figure sat sipping tea with slow appreciation.

That figure was Kangxi.

However resplendent the room, Wei Tong dared not lift his eyes, only moving forward cautiously with the line. One food box after another was opened and carried up. Thankfully, the serving was naturally left to the personal eunuchs and palace maids.

The box in Wei Tong’s hands held a plate of pastries. By the order of things, he was last; Zhang Jiu stood before him. After Chen Dali had safely withdrawn, Zhang Jiu stepped forward with his box and bent in a bow. A palace maid in pale violet court dress was just reaching to take it when, whether from fear and nerves or hands stiff with cold, Zhang Jiu lost his grip. The box wobbled two or three times before it ever reached the maid’s hands, and then it fell, crashing down with the clatter of plates and bowls striking each other.

Even as the food box dropped, Wei Tong could already feel the consequences Zhang Jiu might face. He squeezed his eyes shut and chanted silently, ten times over: Don’t step forward. Don’t step forward. Don’t step forward. Don’t step forward!

When Wei Tong’s hand closed around the falling food box, his back had gone soaked through in an instant. In the end, he simply couldn’t stand by and watch. With Kangxi in such a temper, Zhang Jiu might not keep his little life, even if the Emperor was no wanton killer.

Just as Liang Jiugong’s brow furrowed and he drew breath to bellow, a voice rang out, slightly husky with the rawness of a boy whose voice was still changing. “Oh? This junior eunuch of ours knows martial arts?”

Wei Tong and Zhang Jiu, already on their knees, immediately prostrated themselves flat. Anyone could see Zhang Jiu trembling. Wei Tong pressed his lips together. If he was punished today, it was no more than he deserved. Preserve yourself by keeping your head down ought to have been carved into his very bones.

“Never mind. Except for him, all of you may withdraw.” Kangxi’s voice sounded again. Apart from Wei Tong and Zhang Jiu, still prostrate on the floor, the palace staff immediately bowed themselves out, not forgetting to drag Zhang Jiu along with them. Watching Zhang Jiu hauled away, Wei Tong only knit his brow slightly and kept his eyes fixed on the carpet’s pattern, not moving an inch.

“Since you know martial arts, stand up and spar a round with Zhen.” Kangxi seemed to have been seized by sudden whim, calling Wei Tong up before he’d even touched his meal. “If you fight with all your strength, then even if you defeat Zhen, Zhen will not blame you. And Zhen pardons you for what just happened. But if Zhen discovers you held anything back, your crimes will be counted together.” Kangxi’s voice was mild, even rasping unpleasantly from his changing voice, but to Wei Tong it was like the sword of Damocles hanging over his head.

Wei Tong gritted his teeth and rose. Why would Kangxi seek out a junior eunuch like him for a match? This wasn’t The Deer and the Cauldron. Unable to fathom the Emperor’s intent, Wei Tong fretted, but he dared not defy a direct command.

Kangxi rose from the daybed as well, and only then did Wei Tong lay eyes on the Emperor’s face for the first time.

Kangxi was only fourteen. He could hardly be called handsome, and his face still bore the pockmarks left by smallpox, yet nothing could diminish the majesty that radiated from him. The sixth year of Kangxi, Wei Tong thought. A full six years had passed since the Emperor ascended the throne. Though the fourteen-year-old frame was still somewhat slight, standing before him made Wei Tong’s breath catch. That pressure required every ounce of Wei Tong’s will to keep himself from backing away. It was a feeling he could never have known in the modern world: the natural, innate authority of a Son of Heaven who held the power of life and death over all.

“Begin.”

The words had barely left Kangxi’s mouth before the boy was already attacking. Wei Tong startled, dodged left, and struck out with a reversed palm. Kangxi deflected his hand and pressed in, kicking true against Wei Tong’s right foot.

Pain!

Wei Tong gritted his teeth and held his ground, flowing into his opening stance. Kangxi’s eyes lit up. The little eunuch’s fighting spirit had been roused, it seemed. Just as Kangxi supposed, Wei Tong dared not actually harm the Emperor, but if he didn’t give his all, Kangxi clearly wouldn’t be satisfied. Besides, after taking hits one after another, the fire in Wei Tong’s chest had begun to climb as well. He wasn’t a born-and-bred ancient, after all.

Back and forth they went, until they had fought for the space of an incense stick. In such bitter cold, Wei Tong was drenched in sweat.

Wei Tong had trained a little back in university, and after transmigrating, his father in this life had been an escort guard who knew some boxing and kicking. After the two of them were taken in, there had been training of this sort as well. Whether it was talent or bloodline, Wei Tong had absorbed it all remarkably fast; he had simply never shown it. Today, Kangxi had forced every last bit of it out of him.

Kangxi, after all, had been properly taught martial arts, and was far superior to Wei Tong’s half-baked skills. Seizing on a moment of Wei Tong’s distraction, he hooked Wei Tong’s right foot and pulled, tripping him to the ground, then twisted both his arms behind his back and pinned him fast.

“You lose.”

Wei Tong lay sprawled on the ground, panting in vain. Kangxi’s martial skill was far beyond his own; managing to last this many exchanges was already respectable. Though he looked composed enough on the surface, his heart was hammering fit to burst. The Emperor’s person was sacred. If anything truly went wrong, his own life would be forfeit right here.

“Enough. Considering how hard you fought, Zhen pardons you.”

Kangxi rose smoothly to his feet and tugged his collar straight. Though the garment was hardly suited to sparring, he had fought with rare satisfaction today, and the sourness in his chest had eased somewhat.

As Emperor, Kangxi naturally had Anda to teach him riding and archery, and study companions to train with. But sparring with them was dull beyond words. Before Kangxi even made a move, he already knew exactly how much face each of them would save him.

But this junior eunuch… though Wei Tong had still clearly been holding back at first, by the end he had found his rhythm entirely. His skill was low, true, but fighting him felt far better than fighting anyone else.

Hearing Kangxi’s words, Wei Tong silently picked himself up off the floor with his head bowed. Kangxi’s blows had been anything but light; tomorrow he would be black and blue from head to toe. Even without an official punishment, it amounted to the same thing. Once up, he wasted no time straightening his appearance, simply bowing and standing at attention to await the Emperor’s instruction.

“Your name?” Kangxi said, studying him. Wei Tong bowed his head and answered with utmost deference, “This servant is called Wei Tong.”