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Li Chengrui, unfortunately now the Emperor of Tang, walked slowly at the head of the procession, holding his wife's reins. He'd petitioned to ride her through the city, but apparently sitting atop one's Empress was wholly unprecedented and thus would not be allowed. He did not understand what was the point of being absolute sovereign, bearer of the Mandate of Heaven, and so on and so forth, if he wasn't even allowed to ride a horse through the streets of the capital? Really.
Rufeng was thankfully dealing better with being Empress than he was with being Emperor. He'd had the entire Forbidden Palace remodeled into a grassland for her to graze. She came when called, of course – but only when he was the one calling.
The lanterns that lined the streets were beautiful, he could admit, but there were so. Many. People. And they all wanted to behold him for no other reason than beholding him. How was he supposed to enjoy anything when people kept asking him his opinion on this and that?
"There are a lot of unmarried maidens strolling the streets, Your Majesty," Minister Xun suggested.
"I am perfectly happy with just my Empress, thank you," Chengrui replied.
Minister Xun was visibly taken aback. "Of- of course. This humble minister did not presume to-"
And this. Chengrui waved a hand dismissively and wished to bury his face and his upcoming headache in Rufeng's mane.
They came upon a pair of lanterns shaped like swans. They were incredibly beautiful. As Emperor, Chengrui couldn't pause to admire them and thus display excess partiality without causing himself an even greater headache from the politics of it all.
He'd had over twenty brothers. Couldn't at least one of them have outlived their father? He'd gladly have remained on the Northern frontier forever.
A variety of beautiful lanterns glowed, representing hope of a better future for everyone except him, enlightenment for everyone except his ass-kissing ministers, and a guiding light through the darkness for everyone except him. He wanted to
Finally they came to the stream. A eunuch presented Chengrui with a lantern.
It was a beautiful lantern, he had to admit. He'd done some calligraphy – a basic wish for prosperity for all his Empire – this morning, and the master artisan had turned that sheet of paper into a perfect globe, set atop a little boat.
Chengrui led Rufeng to the waterline, waited for the rest of his procession to fan around them, and said something blandly appropriate before setting the lantern on the river and letting it go. It floated away serenely, followed by the lanterns of the officials and the people who'd gathered on the opposite bank, promising to take away the old and bring light to the new year.
All the common people chattered joyously around them. His ministers had some guarded conversations between them, warily eyeing him the whole time.
Chengrui's eyes caught on the beaded fringe of his own guan. It reminded him of blinders on a carriage horse.
The highlight of his day was, as always, returning home. Eunuchs disrobed him and he then chased them out so he could put on his own casual trousers.
His little marital palace was a stable in which Rufeng slept with a small loft where Chengrui slept. The two of them were finally alone.
"Here we are," he whispered to Rufeng. "One more year to struggle through."
She snorted. He nodded.
He let himself rest his face against her mane. It was beautifully glossy and well-kempt from him grooming her twice a day. She smelled of horse, real, the one authentic thing remaining in his life.
"One day I'll tack you up and ride off to the horizon," he said.
He'd just have to appoint some cousin of some sort as Emperor. And fix the mess his late father had made of the tax system. And eliminate the graft that was preventing the repair of the anti-flooding systems. And. And.
But Rufeng was here, and he was, for the moment, free of all obligations but to his horse. He felt her mane against his nose, her warmth against his skin, and her power under his hands: tamed; perhaps caged, but still there, come what may.