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Taking care of the Grand Empress Dowager, making sure she was happy and had everything she needed or wanted, was one of the Empress’s easier duties. The Grand Empress Dowager, despite having been a royal for many, many years, did not have overly particular or extravagant tastes in food or clothing or entertainment. Mostly she liked to see her family regularly, to visit with all of the consorts and all their sons and daughters and all of her extended family. This was not hard to arrange, given that most everyone in the royal family, or even in the capital, understood that it was quite advantageous to be in the Grand Empress Dowager’s favor, and moreover the Grand Empress Dowager was a friendly and likeable woman, easy to spend time with. The Empress herself probably spent more time with her than anyone else did, apart from her servants, and she liked the Grand Empress Dowager well enough too.
The Empress had known the Grand Empress Dowager in difficult times as well as easy. For example, twelve years ago, the Chiyan Massacre had taken a toll on her as it had on many. Two of her grandsons had been killed—one of her daughters along with the daughter’s entire family—and so many others… The Grand Empress Dowager had been beside herself then. But time and deteriorating health had worn away her memory of those days, and now she rarely brought any of the dead up, less out of grief and wariness (like most in the capital) than out of forgetfulness.
Until recently.
The Empress hadn’t thought much of it when the Grand Empress Dowager mistook Su Zhe, the visiting scholar and secret jianghu chief, for Young Marshall Lin Shu. It had been an awkward moment and caused a lot of gossip around the Inner Palace, but the Grand Empress Dowager had moments like this from time to time.
“Think nothing of it,” she told the maids. “She was mistaken, and it would have been cruel to try too hard to correct her. It was Sir Su’s kindness that he didn’t get upset or overreact.”
After all, many men would have reacted worse to being mistaken for a dead traitor, would have taken offense or been frightened by the association. Su Zhe’s graciousness had somewhat salvaged a difficult situation. That was what she thought at the time.
But perhaps it would have been better if Su Zhe had made a scene and broken the illusion that he was Lin Shu immediately. It would have been a disaster for the peace of the palace, but at least the Grand Empress Dowager probably would have forgotten it soon enough—upsetting things she would ruminate over for a day or so, but ultimately, they would slip her memory. Meeting her long-lost favorite grandson, on the other hand, seemed to have made a stronger impression on her than the Empress had expected, for day after day after this incident, she kept on bringing it up to the Empress whenever the Empress went to visit her.
For example, “Have you heard anything from Xiao Shu lately?” she asked one day, casually, over tea.
The Empress, who had been happily telling the Grand Empress Dowager about what the Crown Prince, Jingting, and her own son were up to recently, suppressed a flinch. She smiled and tried to change the subject back—“Consort Hui has recently brought a new doctor in to help with…”
“Nihuang is back in the city now. She was gone for too long,” the Grand Empress Dowager interrupted. “Xiao Shu must be very happy and spending all his time with her. It’s no wonder.” She shook her head. “Why their families have to put things off for so long… I should have a talk with Nihuang.”
“Of course, I could ask the princess to come visit you,” the Empress said. “She is a little rough and tumble, and could use some civilizing influence. And she’s fond of you.”
The Grand Empress Dowager shook her head. “If I can persuade her, then she can persuade Xiao Shu about the wedding too. Then again, no need to rush things. I won’t be too overbearing, will I? Am I overbearing, dear?”
“Of course not.”
“Just a little talk… but really, it would be better for me to talk to Xiao Shu. Girls don’t like to have to chase their fiancés around about these kinds of things. And even if he’s so busy, he should remember to have time for family. That little rascal—will you tell him to come and see me soon?”
Lin Shu can’t come and see you soon, or ever. He is dead, the Empress couldn’t possibly say. She smiled, and let the Grand Empress Dowager take it however she wished.
The maids reported to the Empress that the Grand Empress Dowager chatted to them about Lin Shu too lately, growing more and more restless at how long it had been since he had come to see her, complaining about how he used to be more attentive. They said they even heard her sometimes murmur his name in her sleep.
All of this was merely a symptom of her worsening mental health, of course, and the Empress mostly paid it no heed, merely hoped the Grand Empress Dowager would tire of the subject without any confrontation necessary. Comforted her with visits from other friends and family members. Did her best not to worry when nothing really seemed to help, and when the Grand Empress Dowager talked at length about Lin Shu with these other visitors as well (in the capital, mentioning his name was hardly done—speaking of him fondly was practically treason, and the visitors knew it and shivered). Until one day the Grand Empress Dowager brought the subject up with the Emperor himself.
The Empress was there at the time, sitting quietly at the Grand Empress Dowager’s side. The Grand Empress Dowager said, “Aiyah, if no one else can convince Xiao Shu to come visit me, can’t you?”
The Emperor started guiltily. “Xiao Shu…”
“I saw him a couple weeks ago. Or is it a month now? You know how the time flies by.” The Grand Empress Dowager waved a hand. “He used to come by a couple times a week, and now he doesn’t visit at all. It was the first time in so long, and he hasn’t come back. Joining the military must have gotten to him. Or Nihuang’s distracting him. But they still aren’t married. Something must be wrong. I’d like to talk to him about it, but he won’t visit.”
The Emperor took a deep breath. “Xiao Shu can’t come visit you.”
“Can’t he? Did you send him off again? You can’t have been so inconsiderate as to send him off without telling me, without him even saying goodbye.”
The Emperor said again, tightly, a little too loud, “Xiao Shu can’t come see you. He’s gone.”
“Don’t speak like that to me. Respect your elders,” the Grand Empress Dowager said sharply. She and the Emperor looked at each other tensely for a moment. Then she sighed. “Ah, forget it. Just get Xiao Shu to come back and come visit me, that’s all. It’s just an old woman’s wish. I’d like to see him again.”
“I had heard she was thinking of the past lately,” the Emperor said to the Empress later. “Find some way to get this off her mind. It’s unhealthy.” And, more importantly, it displeased him. So said his expression.
The Empress bowed apologetically. “Please, your majesty, it’s all my fault. Several weeks ago she met with a man who reminded her of Lin Shu somehow—something about his appearance, nothing he said—she thought he was Lin Shu. We should have tried more strenuously to correct her…”
“Who was this man?”
“Sir Su, Su Zhe, the scholar visiting Jinling.”
“The one who officiated the suitors’ exams?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
The Emperor hmphed. “Well, that’s simple enough then, isn’t it? Have this Sir Su come visit her. He’s a commoner; he’ll be honored. He won’t refuse. And she’ll settle down.”
The Empress was unsure this was a good idea, but still agreed to have it done. In general, she tried her best not to argue with her husband over small matters. He didn’t take it well.
The task of bringing the matter up with Su Zhe was handed off to Prince Yu. After all, for the Empress herself to summon a commoner to the Inner Palace would have been somewhere between scandalous (there were strict rules involving who could enter the Inner Palace and who couldn’t, and for the Empress to meet with a commoner even outside the Inner Palace was still not really done) and too great a condescension (a commoner didn’t deserve notice from the Empress anyway). Prince Yu, on the other hand, was a prince but not even the Crown Prince (yet) and he and Su Zhe were… not friends exactly but friendly acquaintances. Allies, though unofficially. They had a certain rapport. In short, Prince Yu and the Empress both thought that any reasonable request coming from Prince Yu, Su Zhe would probably agree to.
Prince Yu went over to visit Su Zhe around once a week. More if he was in the middle of some crisis he needed lots of advice on, less when things were quiet or when Su Zhe was in poor health. This week he went over, looked at the Su Residence’s garden, drank some tea, asked advice on how to deal with a certain minister’s recent incompetence (did no one in Jingling know how to effectively cover up their crimes anymore?), and finally, at the end of the meeting, mentioned his mother’s request.
“…it could be arranged for you to meet with the Grand Empress Dowager outside the Inner Palace for the sake of propriety. She likes to walk about the palace gardens, including those in the main area. Or there are a few other places in Jinling the two of you might meet—I could get permission from my father for her to come to my manor from time to time, and there are also a few discreet pavilions…”
He trailed off. Su Zhe was looking more unsettled by this request than he had expected. And mentioning various possible locations, giving practical details, did not seem to be reassuring him.
“You wouldn’t have to actually tell her you were Lin Shu, you know,” Prince Yu said. “She might not even think you were him this time. My mother only thought it was worth a try. And if she does think you’re him, you simply don’t deny it and give her some company, listen to what she has to say. No one will see it as a sign of treasonous ideas. My own father has approved it, though it would be better not to make that generally known.”
“I won’t mention it then, your highness. Thank you for your consideration. I’m sure with your protection and the Emperor’s approval, I would have nothing to fear. Still, I wonder if it’s a good idea.”
“May I ask why?”
Su Zhe’s fingers idly fiddled with the fabric of his robes. “A few reasons. First, there is the Grand Empress Dowager’s position to consider. To continue impressing her with the idea that Young Marshall Lin is still in this world, that her beloved nephew is alive and with her… it won’t make her stop bringing him up, and every time she does, it will make the Emperor and the court uncomfortable. The Chiyan case is closed, and locked away in the past. It is not a good idea to resurrect the dead.”
“My mother would usually agree with you. She has been trying to get the Grand Empress Dowager to forget about you and Lin Shu and think about other things for weeks. She’s offered a number of distractions and various excuses. But none of it has worked. If she were less upset about the matter, that would be for the best, we all think.”
“You may be right. However, there is also my position to take into account, and yours. I do not want my association with the royal family to be public knowledge. Right now you and I have a private arrangement; that is for the best. I’d rather not start drawing attention with such high connections. That’s for the best for you, too. It’s always better for your connections not to be too obvious—I don’t believe everyone knows as yet that I work with you, and that saves you some trouble as well.”
Prince Yu was too polite to call this bullshit. It was, of course. Maybe not every single person in Jinling knew of Su Zhe and Prince Yu’s not-exactly-friendship, but enough of them did that it would have been easy for anyone curious to find out. And did that damage Prince Yu’s position at court, his reputation? No, it did not. Su Zhe’s identity as chief of the Jiangzuo Alliance had also spread around, and it never hurt for people to know you had powerful backers in the jianghu as well as in the political realm.
There would always be areas where he and Su Zhe would not see eye to eye.
“Don’t worry about that on my account,” he said. “I don’t mind my association with Sir Su being known. As for yours, I can understand the need for privacy, but as I said, we can manage to keep these meetings fairly discreet.”
Su Zhe nodded. “I trust you would, but there is always something or someone…”
“And if it became known, what could be said except that you were helping to entertain and comfort a venerable old woman? It’s not a political act, nor anything offensive.”
“Your highness may be right,” Su Zhe murmured. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I take a day or two to think this over. I’ll let you know if this is something I can do—of course nothing would make me happier than to serve the Empress and the Grand Empress Dowager…”
“Of course, of course. Just let me know.” Prince Yu patted Su Zhe’s arm companionably. “Don’t worry too much about it or force yourself. It’s simply a request.”
A request from the Empress did carry a certain amount of weight, though, as they both knew. Prince Yu hoped that would be enough to make Su Zhe acquiesce. This matter really had been troubling his mother, and Prince Yu hated to see his mother distressed over anything.
It was a rare day when Xiao Shu came to Meng Zhi for advice. Frankly, it was a rare day when anyone came to Meng Zhi for advice on anything but military matters. The Emperor did so from time to time, but Meng Zhi always got the sense that he mostly wanted to bounce ideas off Meng Zhi and not actually listen to Meng Zhi’s opinions on them. For the brilliant Xiao Shu to do so was absurd.
Moreover, Meng Zhi wasn’t sure what the actual problem was here, other than that accepting any request from Prince Yu and the Empress felt a little dirty. “You’re worried about your identity?” he guessed. “People already know that the Grand Empress Dowager mistook you for Lin Shu—recognized you, actually—but they didn’t make much of it at the time. If she continued to take you for him, it might become more of an issue. People might start noticing the other similarities.”
“What similarities?” Xiao Shu said crankily. “There are none.”
There he went with his whole me-and-Lin-Shu-are-completely-different-people schtick again. It was true there were a lot of differences between a renowned Young Master and a frail scholar from the jianghu, and that Xiao Shu had done his best to change his manner of speaking and public attitude as well. But there were still plenty of things to notice, in Meng Zhi’s opinion. He still had similar tics when he was distracted, similar posture if you knew what Xiao Shu looked like when he wasn’t being militantly straight-backed, and used similar turns of phrase from time to time. Also, “There’s your association with Princess Nihuang.”
“…I’ve been trying to put her off.”
“Eh, I don’t think it does that much harm.”
“As you said, I can’t afford to have the same friends Lin Shu had. Even you and I only meet in private.”
Meng Zhi shrugged. “Well, there’s also your hazelnut allergy, though I don’t think that’s likely to come up.”
“I’m not worried about people guessing I’m Lin Shu,” Xiao Shu said. “It would be a huge leap to make. I look completely different, and there are at least very few similarities. Of course I must be careful, but this is the Empress’s request, and the Emperor’s suggestion. They won’t suspect me for something they themselves ordered.”
“I’m sorry, then. I don’t see what the issue is. Please explain it.”
Xiao Shu muttered something and sipped his tea.
“I didn’t catch that,” Meng Zhi said.
“…she might not recognize me this time.”
“Ah. Isn’t that good, then? If she didn’t recognize you as Lin Shu on seeing you again, it really would clear up any residual suspicion…”
“No one suspects me of being Lin Shu,” Xiao Shu said tartly, “except maybe Nihuang, and nothing can help that case at this point. Tai Nai Nai…” He sighed. “You’re right, of course. Clearing that incident up would be for the best. Still, I never expected her of all people to recognize me on sight. If she doesn’t recognize me again, wouldn’t that be ruining a good thing? Let her think her Lin Shu is alive out there and doing well. There’s no need for me to bother her again.”
“Her Lin Shu is alive out there,” Meng Zhi said, though the ‘doing well’ part was probably debatable. “She wants to see you. She’ll be happier if she does.”
Xiao Shu continued to sip tea and mope. Which just went to show that there really was no point in Meng Zhi being called upon to give him advice, since apparently he didn’t even want to listen to it.
“So Prince Yu wants you to pretend to be Lin Shu and give Tai Nai Nai company,” Jingyan said.
“Yes, your highness. He said it was the Empress’s idea, though, and I believe it. It doesn’t benefit him politically, after all.”
“It would make life easier for the Empress, that’s true,” Jingyan said with a snort.
Despite the fact that the Empress treated the Grand Empress Dowager well, as far as Jingyan could tell, he always got the impression that she saw the Grand Empress Dowager more as a task to be managed than as a person—certainly didn’t seem to see her as a grandmother. Though that was understandable—life in the Inner Palace was complicated, and no one there was as close or as friendly as they appeared to be—it rubbed him the wrong way sometimes, and today was one of those times. The Grand Empress Dowager had grieved Lin Shu heavily in the past, and now it seemed that grief was recurring in an odd fashion. The Empress’s idea of how to deal with that grief was to cover it up, to replace the noble Lin Shu with a scheming, commoner scholar who might say pretty words to the Grand Empress Dowager but certainly could not be anything like Lin Shu to her, could not love her the way Lin Shu had…
Couldn’t she have come up with a better way?
“I haven’t given Prince Yu an answer yet,” Mei Changsu said. “He’ll expect one in a couple days. I wanted to ask your highness’s opinion.”
“My opinion? On if you should?” Jingyan frowned. “I can’t see any kind of trap here, though it is an awkward situation to be sure. If you think you cannot handle entertaining the Grand Empress Dowager well, then you should refuse. She is a kind woman and good company, though. I don’t think it would be difficult.”
Mei Changsu leaned back a little. “When I met the Grand Empress Dowager, I liked her. She did seem like a good woman. But I don’t know if pretending to be Lin Shu for her is a good idea. Your highness, would it not be somewhat dishonorable?”
“Dishonorable? There’s nothing wrong with indulging a woman with an ailing memory.” Even though in this case it pissed Jingyan off, fundamentally if it made the Grand Empress Dowager happier, it wasn’t a bad idea.
“Pretending to be Lin Shu specifically concerns me, though. I believe your highness was close with Young Marshall Lin and that you had a high opinion of him. He was a martial man, straightforward and honorable. A person this woman loves, too. I am a stranger, and nothing like Young Marshall Lin. I am a weak scholar, a man of twisted mind and means, unscrupulous and cold. It’s not a role I’m well suited to play, and I wonder if I… if I would dishonor his memory playing it, or if in the end I would be so unconvincing she would only end up more upset.”
This particular concern surprised Jingyan. It was atypical for Mei Changsu to linger on the subject of the Chiyan case in the first place, or to speak about Lin Shu, but for his concerns to closely mirror Jingyan’s brief moment of outrage on first hearing the plan was particularly odd. The self-deprecating manner, perhaps, was the most normal thing about this objection. Mei Changsu was always describing his methods as harsh and ruthless, always reminding Jingyan, when he protested at various ideas, that he was not the kind of honor-loving man that Jingyan was, that he was willing to do the bloody, dirty acts that turned Jingyan off. Jingyan thought he had more bark to him than bite in some ways. He could certainly ruin people’s lives, even the lives of powerful people, and he certainly had a flair for trickery, but even a few weeks’ acquaintance had taught Jingyan that on a basic level, Mei Changsu did not overly chafe at Jingyan telling him to avoid hurting the innocent. He got the sense Mei Changsu would have done that for the most part of his own volition, even.
…unless he was simply deluding himself because he got along rather well with Mei Changsu, and wanted to believe they shared ideals at least on some level.
At any rate, what always galled Jingyan about such self-deprecation was the implication that Mei Changsu’s ruthlessness divided him from Jingyan on a basic level, as if Jingyan were not complicit in his current schemes, as if Jingyan were an innocent who had never lied or killed. Right now it annoyed him in basically the same way. Mei Changsu claimed he was the wrong man to give the Grand Empress Dowager company due to his lacking morals—if that was the case, Jingyan surely deserved to be banned from her presence as well.
He cleared his throat. “It’s true you’re nothing like Lin Shu. Still, the two of you might have gotten along if you met. I’ve thought sometimes your sense of humor is similar. And Lin Shu might not have used your methods, but he would have been happy to see you supporting me, and happy too to see you visiting the Grand Empress Dowager to comfort her grief over him. I don’t think you would dishonor his name.”
“…yet, it’s a part unfitting for me to play.”
“If the Grand Empress Dowager isn’t convinced by you, so be it. You shouldn’t put on an act for her. Just be kind and friendly, and let her believe what she wants. That’s probably the best you can do.”
Mei Changsu reluctantly agreed.
Jingyan wondered, later that evening, whether all those doubts—all that talk about honor—had truly been sincere. As Mei Changsu had said, Jingyan loved Lin Shu and honored his memory even now. Would he have found it offensive if Mei Changsu had proceeded with this act without consulting him and showing hesitance? Had Mei Changsu only pretended to be concerned so that Jingyan would absolve him and not get angry with him over something so innocent in the future? He could play Jingyan as easily as Prince Yu, surely, and Jingyan knew that he took care to salve any annoyances and doubts Prince Yu had in him, pretended to take all of Prince Yu’s worries very seriously while secretly scheming behind his back. It was simply what he did.
It was wrong of Jingyan to doubt him so easily, perhaps. But Mei Changsu was an easy man to doubt. Not much like Lin Shu indeed.
It was arranged that Mei Changsu would meet the Grand Empress Dowager in one of the less private gardens of the palace. There was a pavilion there where the Grand Empress Dowager would be waiting for him. He was escorted in by a couple guards—on his side, he was allowed to keep Fei Liu with him. The guards did not make him nervous, as a result, but neither was he calm.
Would she know him this time? Would she be happy to see him? Prince Yu had said she had complained to the Empress among others about him not coming to visit her lately. Lin Shu had been away from her for twelve years. There was nothing else he could have done, but it was still unfilial. Then again, if he started thinking about duty to family, he would also remember burial rites never done for his father or his mother or so many comrades, so many family members—grief never properly observed because he’d been wounded and sick and then, afterwards, preoccupied with the founding of the Jiangzuo Alliance and the seeking of revenge. When he avenged them, he could grieve them properly. And if he ever was able to restore his identity (a hopeless dream, maybe, but he sometimes dreamed it), then, he’d always thought, he could come see Tai Nai Nai, and all would be forgiven. She had always forgiven him for everything. Her pleas on his behalf had helped him get away with murder.
There she was, sitting in the pavilion, a young maid by her side. Mei Changsu bowed as politely as a commoner ought to and then sat down next to her when she gestured for him to do so.
(Fei Liu, meanwhile, jumped up on top of the pavilion to perch on a good vantage point to spot birds.)
“Xiao Shu,” she said, beaming, “you finally came to visit me! You took your time getting around to it, you rascal.”
“I apologize,” Mei Changsu said. “It’s my fault for not caring for Tai Nai Nai as I ought.”
“Oh, no matter, no matter. I know how young men are. Always running around, getting into fights and flirting with girls and all that. No time for anything else.” She shook her head, still a little scolding. “Oh, Xiao Shu. Have you been good lately?”
“Not as good as I should be,” Mei Changsu admitted.
“Oh? What did you do?”
He could never have told her about his political manipulations even if there were no maid present, even if she could have understood that Mei Changsu now wasn’t really Lin Shu, not in many, many ways. He had other faults, though. He said, “I’ve been lax on my martial training, though it’s not all my fault. I’ve been a little sick. And I haven’t come to see Tai Nai Nai in so long.”
“Oh, Xiao Shu, I told you it’s fine. Though if you can come more often, it would make this old woman very happy. Now what’s this about you being sick? Xiao Shu, you look so pale and skinny. Have you been taking care of yourself?”
“Very good care. I even have my own doctor now. Tai Nai Nai, did you hear I’ve bought myself a house in town? It’s a lovely manor. Commander Meng helped me pick it out.”
“How nice. Your parents must be very proud to see you with your own household.”
“Oh… yes. Anyways, I have my own doctor now. He makes me take a lot of awful medicine and lots of naps.” Mei Changsu made a face. “All my servants are busybodies too. So they take good care of me.”
“And are you eating well? Here, you should eat.” There was a plate of pastries she had brought with her, and she handed one to Mei Changsu.
Mei Changsu wasn’t really supposed to eat sweets, not very often and nothing too sugary, but he took a bite anyway. It tasted like childhood.
He blinked rapidly and put it down. “Ah, Tai Nai Nai, don’t worry about that either. I have a cook of my own too. Let me tell you about her.”
He spent more than an hour telling her about various members of his household—all members of the Jiangzuo Alliance, some present in Jinling and others not. She laughed at his description of the fierce but sometimes forgetful Zhen Ping, nodded approvingly at his description of Li Gang, and smiled at the description of Gong Yu but told him to be careful with these female subordinates—he still had yet to marry Nihuang, and she might get jealous.
“Nihuang isn’t the jealous type, you know. Anyway, Gong Yu isn’t like that.”
“Trust me, Xiao Shu. Even if she doesn’t seem jealous, it might bother her. Why aren’t the two of you married yet?”
“Yunnan troubles,” Mei Changsu said. “One thing and another. Don’t worry,” he said, “we’ll get around to it.”
Maybe he should have felt bad, for this out of everything he’d said so far was a lie. He would never marry Nihuang, not knowing how soon he would die. But what felt stranger than lying to him (lying was natural, in the capital) was how much he’d had to tell her not to worry. The Jiangzuo Alliance worried about him too, he knew, but they would never have been so vocal about it. The Grand Empress Dowager worried over everything. She wanted him to be well, and was unafraid to poke and prod and demand he take care of himself. Indulgent but with a strict side too. How he’d missed her.
When he had tired her out (and tired himself out) with conversation, he took his leave. She told him to come back to visit him sooner this time, and he promised he would. Prince Yu had hinted this might be a regular occurrence, after all. Perhaps he could afford this indulgence for the both of them.
(“I told you it would be fine,” Meng Zhi said smugly later.
Mei Changsu gave him a look.)