Chapter Text
The King returned on the morning of the summer solstice, one month after the great war had ended.
Zhang Hao stood still on the steps of the palace as he watched the outer yard flood with men. Some of them were on horseback and some were on foot, but all of them had remnants of blood streaking their armour. Hao didn’t need to count. He knew that it were less men than had left, even if his memory from so many years ago was blurry.
The King rode at the front, the weathered iron and brass of his armour dented.
Hao lowered his head the moment the King began to ascend the stairs, allowing himself only a fleeting glance to the side to make sure Kuanjui next to him was doing the same. Much like Hao had hoped, Kuanjui was perfectly poised with his head bowed and chubby, little hands folded neatly in front of himself.
The King approached them with heavy steps.
Hao wasn’t sure what he had expected. The last time he had seen his father, he had been a child of merely thirteen and in the six years since then, his memory had become blurry, but he had never forgotten the imposing feeling of his father’s presence.
Like back then, it made his heart race as the King came to a halt in front of them.
“My King,” his mother said, voice laden with all the emotion she had held in over the past six years of war time.
There was a moment of heavy, suffocating silence that resounded louder in Hao’s ears than the clamour of the army gathered in the front of their palace.
The King walked past them without acknowledging her, acknowledging anyone.
Hao balled his hands into fists, hidden by the sleeves of his ceremonial robes. It had been a long time since he had last felt the need to yell, but in that moment, there was nothing he wanted to do more. His mother’s hand on his shoulder kept him from doing so as they all turned to follow the King into the palace.
“Don’t frown,” his mother scolded him gently. “Today is a happy day.”
It was hard to believe that when he could see the rigid line of his mother’s form, the way her shoulders were drawn together like they only were when she was close to tears.
“But father—”
“Not a word.” Where his mother’s expression remained good-natured as they passed by some of the courtiers gathered to welcome the King back, her grip on Hao’s shoulder tightened. “Don’t speak ill of him. He is the King.”
Hao bit the inside of his cheek, but obeyed. He remained silent, remained close by his mother’s side so she might find strength in his presence when his father was unwilling to give her any.
They didn’t see the King until dinner, and even then dinner was a quiet affair. The only noise came from Kuanjui, whose twelve year-old self was obliviously, happily chatting on even when his tales found no acknowledgement.
His mother came to his room later that night and when Hao saw the red-rimmed state of her eyes, he felt that fury again. That urge to yell.
“Did something happen?” he asked, too loudly, too brashly for a prince, but he didn’t care.
His mother shushed him, forcing him to lay back down in his bed. It had been a long time since his mother had sat down by his bedside and stroked his hair. A part of Hao wanted to argue that he was too old for such coddling, but the bigger part of him sought the comfort of his mother’s embrace.
It didn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth, even as she forced his head onto her lap. “It has to do with father, hasn’t it? He didn’t even greet us! Six years and he barely spared any of us a glance!”
Hao didn’t want to admit it, but it had hurt him when his father hadn’t looked at him during dinner. The King had touched his mother’s shoulder and even half-smiled at Kuanjui at one point, because no one was resistant to Kuanjui’s charms, but for Hao he hadn’t had so much as a single look.
“Hao.” His mother’s voice was harsher now, unrelenting and strong in a way that Hao needed her to be.
He quieted down.
After a moment, her ministrations on his hair continued. “The King’s silence is not hateful. He’s just…”
His mother never finished her sentence that night and it wouldn’t be until years later that Hao realised what it was that had made his father turn taciturn. The King truly hadn’t hated him, or any of them.
He had just been ashamed.
They had lost the war, after all.
“But there is bigger news,” his mother interrupted herself. The smile that appeared on her face was the same she usually gave her courtiers. “Tomorrow, you will take a carriage to the North!”
Hao turned his head so abruptly he nearly cracked his neck. “What?” His heart began to race at the thought. He could count the times he had been allowed to leave the palace on one hand. “Why?”
“Their King has sent us an invitation for one of the royal princes to study in the palace. Kuanjui is too young to go and as the Crown Prince, it will be good for you to learn.”
“But—” But the North was where the war had been. Hao stared at his mother.
“It’s an honour,” the Queen emphasised. “You’ll live in the castle and study under the Great Masters.”
“For how long?” He thought of Kuanjui and how he had promised his little brother to teach him how to shoot an arrow soon. “Will I be gone over the summer?”
He wouldn’t be too sour about the whole ordeal if he got to avoid the searing sun of the summer season by spending the hotter months in the North.
“You will return when you have finished your studies.” Hao didn’t like the way his mother’s tone left no room for further questions. She slowly disentangled them, but not before she had leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep now. The servants will come in early tomorrow to wake you and pack your things.”
Hao knew that sleep was a far cry away now that his mind was buzzing with thoughts of the journey he was going to go on tomorrow, but he knew if he pretended to be tired his mother would find rest and so he obediently sunk into his pillows.
He waited until his mother had left until he slid out of bed again. He didn’t risk lighting another candle. Instead, he let moonlight guide him as he traipsed over to the chest standing across the room. He opened it. He knew that the servants would focus on packing clothing and things that would show the prestige of his court tomorrow, but these things mattered little to Hao.
He rummaged through the abundance of scrolls and codices stored in the chest, picking those out that were the most precious to him. He figured that if he was going to the North to study, he ought to bring some of his favourite readings with him. Once he was satisfied with the pile next to his knees, he procured a leather bag from the bottom of his wardrobe and neatly placed the scriptures inside.
Apart from his scrolls and books, he also went to the trunk by his bed and pulled out a few personal keepsakes. There was the small wooden box that held all the amber stones that Kuanjui and he had dug out of the sand on the beach during the last summer. There was a lemon yellow silk cloth, the colour of his mother’s house, and lastly the jade-studded hunting knife that she had given him for his ninteenth birthday earlier that year.
Blades were not Hao’s weapon of choice, but he figured that it could do him no harm, having something like the hunting knife with him if he was to travel to a foreign land, no matter if he went there on the King’s invitation or not.
Satisfied with the contents of his bag, he placed the leather satchel at the foot of his bed and climbed back onto the mattress. This time, it was easier to burrow under the sheets and succumb to sleep.
*
The next morning, the courtyard was filled with spectators as he walked towards the carriage that would take him to the North.
His mother stood stone-faced in front of it, though the red rimmed state of her eyes gave away that she had cried that morning, much like Hao had when he had realised that he was indeed going to leave.
They shared a smile and Hao willed himself not to cry again.
Kuanjui was sobbing openly, clinging to the Queen’s leg until Hao was near enough and Kuanjui could latch onto him instead. Hao lost no time falling to his knees, uncaring of the scandalised gasp of the head servant behind him who had spent hours of that morning putting Hao into the finest piece of clothing he owned.
But Hao didn’t care about the dirt on his knees when Kuanjui looked so utterly inconsolable. Hao took one look at his little brother’s face before he opened his satchel and pulled out the silken cloth he had put into it the night before. He used the yellow fabric to wipe Kuanjui’s tears before he pressed it into his little brother’s chubby hands.
“There’s no need to shed tears, little brother. Just wait, you’ll blink and then the summer will be over and I’ll return with the first autumn storm.”
Kuanjui hiccuped, chubby cheeks blotchy before he nodded. Hao smiled at him, allowing himself to hug his little brother tightly. With Kuanjui’s arms thrown around his neck, he pulled them both to their feet, walking over to the rest of his family. One of his mother’s servants took Kuanjui from his arms and Hao got the chance to kiss his mother’s cheek before he turned towards the carriage.
It was painted in shades of purple and sea shell pink like the flag of his people, with brassen embellishings that matched the symbols painted onto his underarms. In that moment, he felt like just another ornament.
He didn’t look back as he climbed into the carriage. His father had been absent during breakfast and Hao knew he wouldn’t come out now. Hao had said goodbye to his mother and brother and now there was nothing else to do.
A shout resounded from outside. It was followed by the neighing of horses and then the carriage was moving. Hao sat still in his place throughout it all.
There was nothing he could do to change any of it.
*
It took three whole days to get to the border. During the journey, Hao watched as the familiar sight of rich, red earth and golden fields outside of his window slowly faded into dusty greys and charred black. The war had left its mark on the land and to Hao, who had only ever known the beautifully painted walls inside Zhang palace, the sight was heart-wrenching.
The closer they got to the border, the bleaker the sight out of his window became until they were only a day away and Hao decided to stick his nose in one of his books instead, even if reading in the constant rattling sway of the carriage made him feel nauseated.
He tried to weasel some information out of guards riding by his window about the ruins they passed through, but the guards wouldn’t speak about the war, so Hao kept his questions to himself.
The sight outside his window got better once they crossed the border. Eventually, the razed earth and war-torn villages were replaced by rich fields of grass and deep green forests that seemed to sprawl until the horizon like the ocean had done at home. It was jarring in a way Hao hadn’t expected, watching the colour palette of life change around him in such a way.
He liked it, though.
It was new and exciting and so very different from what he was used to, having lived in Zhang Palace all his life. Maybe, he figured, maybe this could be the first thing he learned on his journey.
It was on their seventh day of travel that one of the guards shook him awake from the doze he had fallen into to tell him they’d arrive at the Northern capital by high noon. Hao felt both excitement and nervousness at the news. Most of all, he was excited to sleep in a steady, unmoving bed again.
An hour out from the capital of the Northern kingdom, they were joined by soldiers of the Sung kingdom, their celestial blue uniforms and silver-embellished armour adding a sense of foreboding to the mix of feelings in Hao’s belly. He’d grown up believing that those colours belonged to the enemy.
But he told himself that the war was over, so there was no need to worry.
The captain of the Sung soldiers conversed with the captain of Hao’s convoy before they continued on their journey all the way to the gates of the capital. Upon notice from the captain of the Sung soldiers, they were let through.
Hao peered out the window with interest now that they were passing through the capital. He could see an abundance of people on the cobblestone streets, merchants shouting and children laughing and the never ending hustle and bustle of the city.
“Look,” one of his guards called out and Hao inched forward, pressing his face to the frame of the carriage window to see. His mouth dropped open as he saw what his guard was pointing at.
He had seen Sung Keep in paintings before, but nothing compared to the sight of the real thing. The castle was massive, looking like it could house Hao’s entire court three times over.
It filled Hao with a sense of wonder, and a sense of nervousness
It wasn’t like Zhang Palace with its thousand rooms and ten thousand windows that allowed an uninhibited view of the sun and sea at all times. This castle was a massive stronghold and if Hao wouldn’t be allowed to leave its walls throughout his summer here, he might have to say goodbye to the sun for a long time.
A sense of yearning filled his chest, for his home and his brother and mother.
But he pulled himself together and moved backwards to sit in the centre of the carriage like he was supposed to. He was the crown prince of his kingdom and he had to play his part.
*
His carriage stopped in the centre of the courtyard. His arrival was announced by one of the Sung soldiers and the door of his carriage was opened.
The Captain of his guard caught his gaze as he helped Hao descend from the carriage. “Farewell, Your Highness.”
Hao smiled at him. “Don’t look so glum, Captain. You can come and pick me up by the end of the summer!”
The Captain didn’t smile back. He inclined his head like he was supposed to and Hao let go of his arm to turn towards their surroundings. Servants and soldiers alike were moving around the courtyard, but they were clearly keeping out of the way of Hao and his convoy.
His attention fell to the one person that was hurrying right towards them. Even though he was followed by a group of guards, the young man didn’t seem to be a soldier himself. Instead of armour, he was dressed in fine grey linen and silk. His elegant features reminded Hao of a cat. More than anything, it was his light hair that set him apart from all the other people running around the courtyard.
Instinctively, Hao smiled. Kuanjui had hair like that too. The people of the Zhang kingdom believed that children born with white hair had been blessed by the gods, who had sucked the colour out of their hair in return for their favour.
“Greetings, Your Highness.” The young man bowed deeply. “I’m here to welcome you to the Sung court. My name is Shen Quanrui, but you can call me Ricky. Everybody does that.”
“Ricky,” Hao echoed and smiled. He didn’t know whether it was the hair or the name, but Hao immediately felt comfortable around him.
“Let me help you, Your Highness.” Ricky offered him an arm and Hao took it, thankful to have some support as he tried to move gracefully in his ceremonial robes. “Her Majesty thought you might be most comfortable if I approach you first, seeing as we share the same home.”
Hao raised an eyebrow. “You’re from the Zhang kingdom?”
“My parents were and I was born there, too. My father was ambassador to the Sung kingdom for ten years before the war started, so I’ve lived here since I was a toddler. After my parents’ death, the Queen was gracious enough to grant me her patronage and I was able to take over my father’s position.”
Hao wanted to ask whether Ricky’s parents had died because of the war, but Ricky didn’t offer any such information himself and so Hao didn’t ask. He didn’t want to offend the possible first friend he had made within these castle walls.
“So, you’re here to babysit me?” Hao asked goodnaturedly.
“The Queen has entrusted me to take care of you for now,” Ricky confirmed. “It is my honour, Your Highness.”
Hao squeezed the arm he was holding onto. He didn’t know how to tell Ricky how glad he was that he was here.
*
Hao wasn’t oblivious to the looks they received as they entered the castle. Eyes seemed to follow them everywhere and many hands rose to muffle the whispers that arose. It was to be expected. The war had only ended a little over a month ago. Nonehteless, Hao didn’t pay any attention to the whispers. He was used to the presence of courtiers around him. Even if they wore different clothes and spoke a different language, their behaviour was much like what Hao was used to from home. It was not something Hao would concern himself with. He was here because the King had invited him to study, and so that was what he would focus on.
“What are they like?” he dared to ask as they rounded another corner.
“Who?” Ricky asked.
“The royal family.” Hao knew their names and relations just like he knew those of every royal family of every kingdom in the land, but apart from names and pictures, he didn’t have much else to go off of.
“They’re certainly different from what you’ve probably heard.”
“What do you mean?”
Ricky smiled at him. “You’ll see in a second.”
A large set of iron-enforced wooden doors opened and Ricky fell back a step behind him as they entered the great hall of the keep.
Hao’s eyes immediately went to the far end of the room.
He recognised the Queen from paintings he’d seen. She was sitting on her throne, looking just as beautiful and regal as she had looked on paper. By her feet sat a small boy with messy dark hair and shy eyes. He looked to be only a couple of years older than Kuanjui and that made Hao’s heart soften for him.
Behind them both, partially hidden by the Queen’s throne, Hao noticed a third person. The boy looked older than the princeling, but not as old as Hao, even if he was taller than them both. Hao might have mistaken him for the crown prince, but the boy behind the throne was dressed like a soldier and he did not pay any attention to Hao. His sole focus was on the prince by the queen’s feet. Hao didn’t miss the giant claymore strapped to his back, the first weapon he’d seen inside the throne room.
“Her Majesty, the Queen, and sitting with her is Yujin, the King and Queen’s second son,” Ricky whispered into his ear.
Hao bowed like he had been taught to do. He greeted both the Queen and the Second Prince and accepted their greetings in return. As Ricky had not introduced the older boy with them, Hao didn’t acknowledge him.
“Zhang Hao,” the Queen called to him and Hao stepped forward. “Come closer, sit here.”
Hao’s eyes widened, but he hurried to oblige. Customs in the North were different and Hao had to do as he was invited to do, his mother had taught him as much.
Struggling a little with his extensive robes, he ascended the wooden dais. He hesitated on the last step, but then the Queen waved him further forward and he sat down by her feet much like her son was doing.
The Queen smiled at him and took his painted hands into her clean ones. “I welcome you to the Sung court, Zhang Hao. My husband may have his reasons, but I hope you and my son can become great friends.”
Hao looked towards Yujin, but Yujin wasn’t looking at him anymore. He had turned away and was now busy tracing the patterns embossed into the shin plate of his guard, smiling when the older boy placed a hand on his head.
Hao had a feeling that the Queen wasn’t talking about her younger son.
Nonetheless, he dutifully responded, “I hope so too. I hope to study a lot, too,” he tagged on, because he thought it might be good if she thought that he was eager to be here.
The Queen tilted her head to the side, looking confused for a moment before the smile returned to her features. “Of course, you’re free to use the library any time you wish. Just tell Ricky and he will show you the way.”
“Your Majesty.” Ricky’s voice sounded in acknowledgement of his new order.
Hao quickly inclined his head to show gratitude himself. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindess and hospitality.”
“As long as you are here, you shall never feel like this castle can not be a home to you.”
Hao looked up, a little confused by her words, but grateful for her goodwill all the same.
The Queen smiled. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your travels. You may be dismissed. Ricky will show you to your rooms.”
Hao could barely hide his relief. He gathered his robes and got up, bowing to her before he descended the dais. Ricky was there to offer him an arm again on his way out the hall and Hao was happy to take it.
The last thing he saw before the great doors closed behind him was the sight of Yujin laughing, running circles around his mother’s throne with a silver-embellished shin plate clutched to his chest.
*
Hao let out a deep breath the moment he was out of the throne room.
Ricky watched him with laughter hidden in the corner of his mouth. “That bad?”
“Her Majesty is very kind,” Hao said diplomatically.
“So you didn’t piss yourself? I’m glad. The maids will be glad too.”
Hao huffed, squaring his shoulders. “I’m a future king. I don’t piss myself in front of anyone. For an ambassador, you have a really bad mouth.”
Ricky grinned. “My bad mouth is a sign of friendship. When I start talking smoothly, that’s when you’ll have to start worrying. Also, gods, you sound like him.”
Hao’s question of, “Like who?” got swallowed by the sound of thunder filling the air. Instinctively, Hao turned his head towards the source of the noise, just in time to see a grey mare emerge from the hallway to their left. It was galloping towards them at full speed.
“Hanbin!” A booming voice called out. “I’ve told you a million times! No horseback inside the halls!”
“I’ll get him, Your Majesty!”
Another horse emerged from the hallway. The black mare looked like it was her sister’s shadow giving chase. Before Hao could comprehend what was happening, he was already being pushed backwards, Ricky’s body moving in front of his own.
Right before the grey mare could run them both over, the black horse cut in its way. The grey mare baulked and Hao watched in horror as its rider was thrown off the horse’s back.
Meanwhile, the rider of the black horse brought his horse to a halt a lot more smoothly, if still a little too close to them for Hao’s taste. If he had reached out his hand, he would have been able to touch the horse’s back side.
“Jiwoong!” Ricky called out. “What are you doing?!”
The rider of the black horse, apparently named Jiwoong, turned his head towards them with a rueful grin. “I apologise for the commotion, Ambassador.”
Now that the imminent danger of getting trampled was banned, Hao allowed himself a shaky breath. It caught Ricky’s attention.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Ricky asked him.
“Are you hurt?” Jiwoong asked at the same time, patting his horse’s neck.
“Aren’t you supposed to be asking me that?” A petulant voice sounded from the ground near the grey mare.
Jiwoong smoothly dismounted his horse and walked over. “You’re an idiot, Your Highness, who doesn’t deserve to be asked.”
“Ugh, not the Your-Highness treatment. I should have you beheaded.”
Hao held his breath. He had trouble seeing the boy on the ground through the legs of the grey mare, but the silver circlet he saw glistening around the boy’s head told him all he needed to know. If he was right, those words were not an empty thread.
Hao’s eyes grew wide when Jiwoong laughed. Outright laughed in his prince’s face. “Please, you wouldn’t last a day without me, Your Highness.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” The rider of the grey mare got to his feet and Hao’s breath got stuck in his throat.
Sung Hanbin, Crown Prince of the Sung family and kingdom, had the brightest smile Hao had ever seen. Even as he was covered in mud from head to toe, his smile lit up his face. The sight made his eyes sparkle and Hao’s heart race. He didn’t think he’d ever seen so much joy emanate from a person.
“That was a foul maneuver, cutting me off like that.”
“You should have listened to His Majesty,” Jiwoong said without sympathy, but Hao could see fondness shining in his eyes.
Jiwoong didn’t bother being gentle as he patted down his prince, removing some of the dirt from Hanbin’s face with the elbow of his sleeve. It revealed more of the prince’s face, more of that dazzling smile.
The paintings Hao had seen once upon a time really didn’t do Hanbin or his face any justice.
“Hanbin-ah!” that same booming voice from earlier called out and Hao felt his heart race for a different reason.
Hao immediately lowered his head when he saw the King enter. Much like his own father, the King struck an imposing figure. The King was on foot, but wearing the same riding leathers as his son and Jiwoong. Half a dozen servants followed him, two of them rushing forward to rein in the horses Jiwoong and the prince had left.
This was the man that had defeated his father. This was the man that had ended the six-year war.
The King was also the one who had invited him here, offering a gesture of friendship when he could have brought annihilation to Hao’s kingdom and all of its people. Hao had to do his best here, if only for his mother.
“You spooked our guest,” the King scolded and it took Hao a moment to realise that he was the guest in question.
He wanted to raise his hands to assure the King that he was just fine, but Hanbin cut in before he could. He pushed Jiwoong aside and walked up so close to Hao, Hao could smell the horse on him.
“So that’s really him?” Hanbin grinned. “Why is he painted like a duck?”
“Brave words coming from someone covered in mud like a pig.”
Hanbin’s eyes widened in shock and Hao slapped a hand over his mouth. His throat constricted as he realised what he had said, or rather who he had said it in front of.
His eyes flickered to the King, who looked at him with a blank face before his mouth split apart and then he was laughing, full-on laughing as a pout formed on Hanbin’s face.
“Look here, Hanbin, someone who can hold their own against your insolent tongue.” The King clutched his stomach, he was laughing so hard.
Even Jiwoong, now behind the King, cracked a tiny smile.
Hao was too shocked to say anything. He could feel his own cheeks redden in embarrassment, so he quickly bowed. To the King, not to Hanbin. Hanbin could choke on mud, for all that Hao cared.
“Crown Prince Hao, of the Zhang family and kingdom,” he introduced himself. “It’s an honour to meet you, Your Majesty.”
The King watched him with amusement, inclining his head when Hao came back up.
“Welcome to the North, Zhang Hao. I trust the Ambassador has already shown you around?”
Ricky perked up at that. “I was just about to show him to his rooms, Your Majesty.”
The King nodded, waving one hand and that was all the dismissal Hao needed. He turned away from the king and his own embarrassment and walked away as fast as his ceremonial robes allowed him to.
When Ricky offered him an arm again, Hao declined. He already looked like a painted duck, he didn’t want to come off as one without feet either.
*
“You’ll be housed in the same wing as the royal family, as is appropriate for a guest of your standing,” Ricky explained as he led Hao down another hallway.
Hao felt like they’d been walking for half an hour by now. Or maybe it were just the silken slippers he was wearing, which offered no protection from the hard stone floors.
“As soon as you’re in your rooms, you’re welcome to freshen up and unpack. All your luggage has already been brought up for you.”
“That sounds good. Thank you, Ricky.”
Ricky shrugged, but Hao could tell that he was pleased. “Just doing my duty.”
They walked for another ten minutes before they finally reached Hao’s quarters.
“I hope you the room is to your liking.”
Hao nodded. Like everything else, it looked different than what he was used to from home, but there was a bed and a bath and so he would be fine. The sight of the small writing desk beneath one of the windows made him perk up. “When do classes start?”
“Classes?”
“My classes with the great masters.” Hao thought of all the codices he had brought. He wondered whether he’d be behind in class.
“Oh, right! Well, I can take you to the library tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
“Hao.”
“Huh?”
“Please, call me Hao.” If they had been at home, Hao would have never offered such a thing. Not calling someone by their title would have been considered more than impertinent at Zhang palace. But Hao had already seen that things were different here and he had to make an effort to fit in. More importantly, he didn’t want Ricky as his ambassador. He wanted a friend.
“I couldn’t possibly…”
“Please, I know we are about the same age.”
“Well, I guess…”
Hao held his gaze.
Ricky sighed. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Your H--Hao.”
Hao smiled and briefly squeezed Ricky’s arm before he turned away. It was about time he began to take of all the layers of clothing weighing him down.
“Do you want me to send in some maids to help you bathe?”
“No, I’ll be fine on my own. You’re free to go.”
“I’ll fetch you for dinner, then.”
“Fine, thank you.”
As soon as the door to Hao’s rooms had fallen close behind Ricky, Hao let out a deep breath. He lost no time shedding the rest of his clothes before he went into the bathing chamber.
He could have cried with joy when he found a hot bath already waiting for him. Hao took his time scrubbing the paint off his underarms and hands, the dirt off his body. Afterwards, he took another half an hour to just float in the large, lithic tub. Seven days of travelling had left him weary, and the hot water did wonders to relax his muscles.
When he left the bathing chamber, he found a fresh set of clothes set out for him on the bed. Plain grey trousers and richer, celestial blue robes. Stroking the thick, embroidered fabric, Hao thought for a moment.
Then he turned towards all the luggage stacked neatly against the wall by his bed. He rummaged through trunk after trunk before he found what he was looking for.
He needed a little water to wet the brassen paint, but then he could take the brush to his own skin. He repainted the blessings onto his under arms and added some symbols to his hands as well. Chances were that the paint would rub off during dinner, but Hao didn’t care. It was the principle of it that counted.
Prince Hanbin could call him a painted duck all he wanted. Hao was a crown prince just the same. He would not be shaken by anything he was going to encounter during his stay, especially not the words of an insolent princeling.