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At fifteen, Yuan Zhu is appointed as Gao Zhan’s apprentice, destined to serve the Emperor of the day.
For the first week, all he is tasked to do is learn the Emperor’s whims and fancies - waiting and watching as Gao Zhan skilfully divines the Emperor’s next wish. Gao Gonggong advises Yuan Zhu to learn the preferences and habits of the imperial princes, and not just the current Crown Prince. His subtext is clear: long may the Emperor live, and no one knows which prince will be their next master.
It is a time of change. Everyone acts as if nothing is amiss in the palace. But the servants, ever their masters’ eyes and ears, can feel that the ebb and flow of power is more turbulent than usual.
Gao Zhan rarely leaves the Emperor’s side, and some matters are above Yuan Zhu’s pay grade, which leaves him with free time on his hands. Ever industrious, Yuan Zhu has taken to talking to the other servants about what the Emperor and the princes are like.
Little of what he hears surprises him. But his curiosity is piqued by how the older servants discuss one prince in particular.
That prince is the least effusive, but the servants say he speaks his mind and speaks the truth. He receives little imperial favour, but the servants say he is the pillar of Liang’s recent military successes. He smiles the least, but the servants say he is the kindest and most just of the princes.
In future, they say, he will be a credit to whichever of his brothers succeeds the throne. The last is said in hushed tones, for fear of the words reaching the Emperor’s ears.
“Why,” Yuan Zhu asks, “does Prince Jing never smile?” The effect of the question is instantaneous - gone are the conspiratorial smiles as the servants divulge what passes for juicy gossip in the palace. Instead, they refuse to say another word on the subject, and shoo him back to his duties.
But Yuan Zhu is curious, and he takes Gao Gonggong’s advice seriously. At the next opportunity, while the Emperor is taking an afternoon nap, he approaches Gao Gonggong.
“Gao Gonggong,” he says, “I’m curious-”
Gao Zhan interrupts him, “Curiosity can be a dangerous thing in the imperial palace, and especially if you are to serve the Son of Heaven.”
“Forgive me, Gao Gonggong,” he apologises instinctively.
“Go ahead, child, you can ask me anything, but be careful elsewhere in the palace.”
“Why does Prince Jing never smile?”
Gao Zhan sighs heavily. He has seen Lin Shu and Xiao Jingyan frolicking in the imperial gardens as Xiao Xuan laughs delightedly at the toddlers’ antics. He has seen them as carefree best friends counting their spoils at each year’s Spring Hunt, and the Emperor crowing with laughter at their competitiveness. He has also seen Jingyan’s face on his return from Donghai, and the Emperor’s thunderous expression at Jingyan’s insolence.
All Gao Zhan says is, “Prince Jing lost someone very dear to him, many years ago.”
Yuan Zhu is struck by the pain on Gao Gonggong’s face as he says this, and he never says a word against Prince Jing after this.
Years and years later, Yuan Zhu looks back at his first impression of the then-Prince Jing with slight surprise, and he can truly say he has been there for every step of Xiao Jingyan's rise.
Xiao Jingyan becomes ever more learned, ever more just, ever more a great Emperor. But, Yuan Zhu thinks, if the Emperor has ever been anything approaching happy, it would have been when that scholar was by his side - a scholar in simple robes, with no power or title to speak of.