Chapter 5
Chapter 5
I hardly knew how I rid myself of that splendid human plaster.
Little Twenty-Nine’s scene would soon reach Father. It would not hurt me, but her mother had long lost favor and her maternal clan had fallen. A marriage alliance with Jin seemed designed for abandoned princesses without backing. She had placed herself over the fire.
Not my concern.
Grandfather’s return would make Mother and me targets of jealousy again. At least Father had produced no more children in recent years, leaving my place as youngest secure.
That day taught me appearances meant nothing without substance. Unfortunately, I had no idea what my own substance was.
News of Grandfather’s decisive victory sent the realm into celebration. In the harem, Consort Shun sneered, and even the Empress envied Mother’s father and brothers. Her own relatives mostly caused trouble; a successful provincial graduate was treated like ancestral smoke rising from the graves. Soldiers, meanwhile, gained rank by chopping off heads.
After Consort Shun needled her once too often, the Empress dismissed her, then hurled a teacup at her second son when he entered cheerfully carrying a thrush cage.
The bloodied Second Prince had no idea what he had done.
Father spent that night at the Palace of Eternal Spring as a reward. I disliked his visits because the entire household had to revolve around him.
At the next morning audience, cold snorts sounded from every direction. Mother casually snapped the arm from her chair and tossed it onto a side table. All snorts ceased.
The Empress broke into a cold sweat but led everyone onward to the Empress Dowager. Her Majesty sincerely praised Mother’s family as loyal heroes and great servants of the realm. Mother accepted it. Everyone enjoyed praise.
The sun blazed when Grandfather returned. Father personally led the officials outside the city. Grandfather galloped ahead through a cloud of dust, dismounted neatly, and knelt with all eight sons.
Father beamed like a delighted yellow rat. Grandfather’s habit of bringing every son reassured him that none remained at the frontier to build a rebellion.
Grandfather had once said being emperor was the bitterest job in the world, prompting Father to pour out his own complaints. He trusted Grandfather because forcing such a loyal, powerful man into revolt would be idiotic.
That evening’s banquet belonged to the Xu family. Father drank with Grandfather and spoke to Mother to display favor. The Empress smiled stiffly.
Jin’s envoys presented a princess, dancing wildly with silver bells on wrists and ankles and a veil over her face.
I whispered that so many bells at midnight might attract ghosts.
Mother shuddered. “Close that troublesome mouth.”
The dance ended. Even Father, long numb to beauty, stared hungrily and called it excellent three times. The consorts’ expressions came in every color.
Grandfather sat fierce and straight, his battlefield aura making me tremble. Mother alone dabbed her eyes and said he had grown thin.
Grandmother, allowed to sit beside us, replied, “Thin? He eats an entire lamb leg and drinks half a catty of spirits at one meal. Perhaps it all turns to dung.”
My eight uncles toasted Father in turn until his tongue thickened. Too many brothers-in-law could be troublesome.
Standing shoulder to shoulder, they frightened away every treacherous thought. One punch from each could burst a man’s head.
Grandmother quietly asked whether anyone had mistreated us. Mother said all the consorts were wonderfully agreeable, always yielding to her, and their children never fought me for anything.
Grandmother praised her good fortune and said I looked honest, a true heir to the Xu family.
I nearly blushed beneath the compliment.