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Li Gang hadn’t meant for things to go the way they did. The problem with establishing a household based entirely on subterfuge is that it naturally led to a certain number of awkward situations, such as when Prince Yu showed up unexpectedly to take counsel with Chief Mei, but Chief Mei was already in the hidden room meeting with Prince Jing and there was no way to let him know what had happened without alerting Prince Yu to any secrets.
At times like that, Li Gang cursed his luck. It wasn’t as if he had any great skill in deception, so this kind of thing was really a struggle for him.
“Chief Mei is occupied,” said Li Gang somewhat desperately, as the prince glowered at him, clearly in a thunderous mood.
“Occupied?” said Prince Yu in a rising voice. “How can he be occupied? What could be so important that he would leave me waiting?”
Li Gang thought fast and seized on the first plausible excuse that came to mind, not realizing how much grief it would cause him later.
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” he said, bowing. “I’m sure if he had any idea you would be coming, he would have spared no effort to meet you. When I say he is occupied, it’s on a somewhat, ah, delicate matter,” he paused, letting the words sink in. Prince Yu’s expression shifted slowly from anger to curiosity, eyebrows slowly going up.
It was working. Encouraged, Li Gang continued in a low voice:
“Normally I would never speak of the Chief’s private affairs but since Your Highness is such an important guest...Chief Mei is... entertaining ...a very dear friend, one who he does not often get the occasion to meet and whose company he values very much.” Another significant look. “I’m sure a man such as Your Highness understands…”
He saw the light dawn in Prince Yu’s eyes.
“Yes, I do,” he said, anger evaporating like dew in the summer sun. His expression had turned smooth and benevolent. “I see quite well. It would be the height of rudeness to intrude on a meeting between close friends. I shall have to return another time. Please do give my regards to your master.”
Li Gang bowed silently and watched as Prince Yu swept out. His entire body sagged in relief, and he turned to summon Zhen Ping.
“Quick, go get Chief Mei,” he hissed. “Something’s happened.”
By the time Prince Jing and Chief Mei emerged from the secret passage, enough time had passed for Li Gang to have some second thoughts about how Chief Mei would react to the whole situation. As such, he was feeling a little apprehensive when the Chief gestured for him to speak.
“Prince Yu came by to see you,” said Li Gang, wondering how much he should say in front of Prince Jing.
“I suspected as much,” said Chief Mei wearily. “His Highness is...demanding. How were you able to put him off?”
Li Gang swallowed and glanced to Zhen Ping for support, who reacted by stepping back slightly.
“Ah,” he began. “I may have implied that you were, uh—” his gaze, with ill timing, happened to fall on Prince Jing and he found himself stuttering.
Chief Mei raised a cool eyebrow.
“That I was what?”
Li Gang whipped his sleeves back and bowed smartly, hoping to ward off any more extreme reactions.
“That you had company of an intimate nature and did not wish to be disturbed,” he said quickly, eyes on the ground.
There was silence.
He darted a look upwards, and had to hastily duck back down again at the sight of two high spots of color in the Chief’s white and furious face.
“F-forgive me, Chief,” he stammered. In his peripheral vision, the traitor Zhen Ping took another step back.
Oh, this had been a bad idea. Though he would never admit it, Chief Mei had two big weak spots: Princess Nihuang and Prince Jing. Anything that might be considered a slight on them was sure to get Chief Mei’s full attention.
Which was, in Li Gang’s very private opinion, a little unwarranted. He was acquainted with the martial skills of both the General and the Commander, and so could say with confidence there were very few people in Da Liang who needed protecting less .
He stared at the floor and contemplated his imminent death. Sorry, Mother. Sorry, Father.
“Isn’t that rather clever?”
Li Gang started in surprise, nearly breaking his bow. It was Prince Jing’s voice, from somewhere to the left.
“What?” asked Chief Mei flatly. He sounded so nonplussed that Li Gang risked standing back up, and got to catch the Chief rearranging his expression into its usual polite mask to face Prince Jing.
“My apologies, Your Highness, but I don’t quite follow your thinking,” he said in a tone that was nearly calm.
To Li Gang’s immense surprise, the stern Prince Jing looked quite serene and not at all offended.
“Of course,” he said, nodding, and gestured for Chief Mei to sit. “What I mean is only that if I know my brother, he will be pleased to think he finally has an advantage over you. A man with no weaknesses draws suspicion and Jinghuan, like Father, has a suspicious nature.”
Chief Mei settled himself stiffly on the floor, and Prince Jing sat beside him.
“If he knows that the reason you are occasionally unavailable is because you are visiting a concubine, he will not have reason to suspect you are allied with someone else,” explained Prince Jing. “You would be well served to let him continue believing the story Li Gang has told.”
Chief Mei was silent for a moment, sleeve of his robe trapped between thumb and forefinger, and Li Gang was struck by the sudden reversal in roles. Chief Mei, normally so composed, had lost control of his emotions while Prince Jing was counseling him calmly.
“Prince Jing’s analysis is wise and considered,” Chief Mei said finally. “Your Highness is quite right.”
“Well, I am no Qilin Scholar,” said the prince, and Li Gang found his head whipping around to stare at Zhen Ping in disbelief.
Had that been a trace of humor from the notoriously ill-tempered Seventh Prince?
“Perhaps not,” said the Chief. If he noticed the joke, he gave no indication. “But Your Highness has an insightful mind, and that is no small thing.” He looked up. “Thank you, Li Gang. Zhen Ping.”
It was a dismissal, and Li Gang took it gratefully, praying that would be the end of the matter.
Prince Yu arrived at Mei Changsu’s manor several days later in a much better mood than his last visit. The inconvenience of not being able to see his strategist had been eclipsed by the value of the knowledge he had gained.
Mei Changsu greeted him promptly, and wasted no time before bending into a deep bow.
“Your Highness,” he said. “I must sincerely apologize for being unable to attend you when you arrived the other day. I have no excuse, I can only beg your forgiveness for the slight.”
The strategist looked much the same as usual, pallid and composed in his plain grey robes. Prince Yu had never imagined that a man as chilly as Mei Changsu would be seized in the grip of passion, but even the strongest heart could be vulnerable to the right person.
“Please, don’t apologize,” said Prince Yu. “I am the one who should be begging your forgiveness for barging in when you were otherwise occupied. It is a good thing your man told me.”
A fleeting expression that might have been embarrassment crossed Mei Changsu’s face, his mouth twisting down at the corner. Naturally, thought Prince Yu. Mei Changsu was a deeply private man and no doubt it would discomfit him to have someone know of his personal affairs. Prince Yu hurried to reassure him.
“Please do not worry, Sir Su. I will be the very soul of discretion. I would never presume to betray a confidence.” He had told Banruo, of course, but that hardly counted.
“You are most kind, Your Highness,” said Mei Changsu, inclining his head.
“Of course, you have no reason to be embarrassed,” continued Prince Yu. “The woman remarkable enough to capture the heart of the Qilin Scholar must be possessed of unparalleled beauty and refinement, a true pearl.”
A flush rose on Mei Changsu’s face, all the more visible against his pale skin.
“Ah—“ he said, seemingly struggling to find words. How extraordinary, to see the legendary Chief of the Jiangzuo Alliance looking like a lovestruck young man. “Yes. Yes, indeed. I frequently count myself unworthy.”
“I thought as much,” said Prince Yu, and summoned his servant. “Such a worthy woman deserves appreciation. You must accept these gifts for your beloved, then.”
This had been an unexpected benefit, a new avenue with which to gain Mei Changsu’s favor. Prince Yu had won a little ground when he had realized that Mei Changsu would accept gifts so long as they were for young Fei Liu, but this was nothing short of a decisive triumph. He had delegated Banruo to pick out a variety of silks, jeweled hairpins, and perfumes, which his servants brought in.
“Your Highness!” exclaimed Mei Changsu. “I cannot possibly accept—“
“ Nonsense ,” said Prince Yu forcefully as his servants set the trunks down in front of Mei Changsu. “I simply will not take no for an answer.”
Mei Changsu visibly wavered for a moment before folding gracefully.
“As you wish, Your Highness,” he murmured. “You are most generous as always.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Prince Yu, secure in the knowledge of his victory. “Now, if I may…”
“Not a word,” said Mei Changsu flatly, as Li Gang entered the room. The chests of gifts that Prince Yu had brought were still scattered about the room, half-open.
“Nothing, nothing,” said Li Gang hastily, raising his hands. Mei Changsu took a deep breath and valiantly suppressed his impulse to yell. This wasn’t really Li Gang’s fault. It would just be very easy to blame him. “It’s just...Chief, what are we going to do with all of this?”
He had no idea. In all his planning, he had never accounted for the proper disposal of what was, frankly, an extravagant amount of silks and jewels that he had no actual use for.
“Just…pack it all up and put it away somewhere,” he said wearily.
Fei Liu stomped in then, sparing a cursory glance at the chests before determining that they probably didn’t contain toys and losing interest.
“Water buffalo,” he announced, and Mei Changsu nearly dropped his tea cup.
“What?” he said, just as Li Gang cried, somewhat despairingly: “ Now ?”
“No,” said Mei Changsu hastily. “No, Fei Liu, tell him to wait.”
But it was too late. Jingyan—Prince Jing, he had to remind himself—was already coming in behind Fei Liu.
“Sir Su,” greeted Prince Jing, and stopped, taking in the state of the room. His eyebrows went up, handsome face arrayed in polite surprise. “...am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” Mei Changsu gritted out, forcing himself out of a seated position and seriously considering faking a bout of illness if it would only get him out of this accursed situation. “Your Highness. Please. Sit. Li Gang, tea.”
Li Gang vanished with alacrity. Fei Liu, bored, was already gone. Instead of sitting, Prince Jing wandered over to one of the half-open chests and lifted the lid, inspecting the contents. The silk inside shone in the afternoon light, the beautiful cream color of a lustrous pearl, individual threads glimmering in the sun and highlighting the fine embroidery work.
“Hm,” he said. “Sir Su must have very good taste.”
“They’re not mine,” snapped Mei Changsu, before remembering himself. That was most definitely not how court strategist Sir Su should speak to his liege lord and a royal prince. If only everyone would give him one moment of peace, he wouldn’t be so constantly out of sorts!
“They’re not mine,” he said as lightly as he was able. “They were actually a gift from Prince Yu, who is under the impression that I have a concubine. He believes he has found another way to buy my favor.”
Jingyan—Prince Jing, Prince Jing, he must remember—nodded seriously, heavy eyebrows drawn together in consideration.
“I see,” he said. “That sounds very like my brother.” He met Mei Changsu’s gaze. “Sir Su, I should apologize if by taking my suggestion from the other day, you have suffered any embarrassment. Truly, it was not my intention.”
The earnest nature of the speech was more mortifying than anything else so far, but Mei Changsu could hardly say that.
“Not at all,” he said instead. “What should I care about my reputation? I am already known to all as a cold and cunning man, how does a little embarrassment matter against that?”
Prince Jing nodded again.
“You are quite correct. No doubt Sir Su is above such earthly matters as a little embarrassment.”
The tone was so serious and matter-of-fact that Mei Changsu almost didn’t register the words until a moment later.
Was that—did he—?
Was Prince Jing teasing him?
“You know,” said Prince Jing without missing a beat, “it occurs to me that if I am the cause of the embarrassment, I am also the cause of the gifts.” A flash of white teeth, so fast that it might have been completely imagined. “Prince Yu would be furious.”
He had reached down and plucked a jeweled hairpin out of the chest, turning it over and over in his long and nimble fingers. Mei Changsu found his eyes drawn to the sight like an arrow to its target, half-hypnotized.
“I am sure nothing would make my brother angrier than to know that instead of a beautiful woman, I was the one who was receiving his gifts.”
He held the pin up to his head as if to mimic wearing it in his hair.
“What do you think?” he asked, with a little smile. “Does it suit me?”
The force of that smile struck Mei Changsu like a hammer on a gong. His heart, so carefully armored against suspicion, against recriminations and cold treatment, cracked open at the first sign of softness, leaving him raw and defenseless.
He should say something. He knew he should. This must not continue. He could not, could not allow Prince Jing to care about Mei Changsu, to tease him and smile at him and think of him as a friend. Mei Changsu was an empty shell, a tool to be used and discarded.
If he were Lin Shu again, he would have laughed, and teased Jingyan in return, telling him that in white robes and with hair dressed properly, he would be the spitting image of Consort Jing.
But he was not Lin Shu anymore, and he could not bear to have Jingyan look at him with fondness.
“I have upset you,” said Jingyan, setting the hairpin down. “I am sorry.”
“No,” Mei Changsu rasped. “No. Never. But, Your Highness, you should not—“
Jingyan stepped forward, and the words dried up in Mei Changsu’s throat.
“—should not,” he continued unsteadily, “become friendly with one such as myself.”
“Why not?” Jingyan asked, taking another step. They were very close now, a hand’s breadth apart. Mei Changsu could hear the characteristic stubbornness in his voice, familiar and dear and completely exasperating.
“It would not be appropriate,” said Mei Changsu. A feeble excuse.
“You do not want us to be...friendly?” inquired Jingyan, solemn and solicitous.
Mei Changsu closed his eyes. Of course he wanted . That was immaterial. There was simply no place for it in the meager pared-down planes of his existence.
“Please,” he said, and didn’t know what he was asking for.
And then Jingyan was kissing him, and Mei Changsu discovered that the sensation of wanting was, in fact, extremely material. It hit him in a full-body blow, leaving him gasping and clutching at Jingyan’s shoulders, scrabbling at the fine material of his robes. Jingyan’s mouth was hot and lush, setting fire to his chilled body.
They sank to the floor in a heap of tangled fabric, and Mei Changsu found himself unable to remember any of the reasons why this was a very, very bad idea.
Prince Jing was a decent man, thought Li Gang as he carried a fresh pot of tea down the hall. Just the other day he had saved Li Gang himself from the Chief’s wrath, for which Li Gang was appropriately grateful. But still, these days it seemed like Prince Jing was constantly underfoot. The Chief had important work to do. He could not be always entertaining royal princes—not to speak of his health, delicate as it was.
His thoughts occupied, Li Gang shifted the tray he was holding to one hand while he slid open the door with the other.
“Excuse me, Chief,” he said, and was greeted with the sight of the Chief of the Jiangzuo Alliance locked in a passionate embrace with the Seventh Prince of Da Liang.
Li Gang dropped the tea tray.
Teapot and tray crashed to the ground, hot water splashing all over his feet and ankles. A puddle of tea spread on the fine wood floor and oh, Auntie Lu was going to kill him.
He looked up anxiously, but neither of the men seemed to have noticed him. Chief Mei’s head was bent back, eyes closed as Prince Jing pressed open-mouthed kisses to his jaw and throat. Li Gang felt heat flame in his face and very hastily shut the door.
Well.
He picked up the fallen teapot and tray, wiping them off as best he could with his sleeve. He should go get someone to clean up the spilled tea—ah. No. On second thought, better to do it himself. Yes, that was the way. And just to be on the safe side, let everyone know that the Chief and His Highness were not to be disturbed.
Halfway down the hall, he had to stop because of the fit of hysterical laughter that had overcome him.
He hadn’t even been lying to Prince Yu after all!
“I am afraid,” said Mei Changsu somewhat breathlessly, “that this was a mistake. Your Highness.” It was very difficult to maintain the air of distance necessary for this conversation when he was still encircled in Jingyan’s strong arms, his hair coming down in the back.
Jingyan turned his head a little to listen more closely, arm tightening around Mei Changsu’s shoulders. His expression was the model of polite attentiveness.
“A, a momentary lapse in judgement on my part,” continued Mei Changsu, “for which I must deeply apologize—“
“Was it not enjoyable for you?” asked Jingyan. “I am not very experienced, but I do endeavor to give satisfaction.”
“No!” said Mei Changsu. “I mean, yes, it was, um, enjoyable…”
“Sir Su does not have any suggestions on how to improve future performance?” inquired Jingyan. “I would welcome his guidance.”
“Well,” began Mei Changsu, and stopped, caught between warring impulses.
“Sir Su has won quite a victory,” continued Jingyan placidly. “Having arranged it so I’m under your thumb.”
“Under my—“ Mei Changsu jerked out of Jingyan’s hold and stared incredulously before he saw the smile hovering at the edge of Jingyan’s mouth. “ You— “
Jingyan looked back at him with those big buffalo eyes, a spark of mischief gleaming in their depths.
“Your Highness,” he finished, with great difficulty. Oh, this was bad. This was very bad indeed. Jingyan looked so—so happy . And, against all logic and common sense, it was because of Mei Changsu.
Although, he thought, seeing how Jingyan’s posture had become loose and open like a great cat lounging in the sun and the permanent crease between his brows had smoothed out, perhaps this wasn’t so terrible. Perhaps he could salvage the situation after all. It was his job to smooth Jingyan’s path, after all. To see to his needs.
“You are thinking too much,” said Jingyan lightly.
“As your strategist, I trouble myself so you may rest easy, Your Highness,” said Mei Changsu, with a bow that was only slightly mocking.
Then he very deliberately shifted back into Jingyan’s arms, resting his head on Jingyan’s firm chest. He felt rather than heard the soft intake of breath that followed.
“So may I count on Your Highness to accept any further gifts that come from Prince Yu?” Mei Changsu asked.
“It does seem like the least I can do for the trouble,” Jingyan agreed.
“Well,” said Mei Changsu. “Alright, then.”