Work Text:
1
In the moment the doors are thrown open by a gust of wind, Yan Que wakes from a languid afternoon nap. The day has gone dull, and the whispering of inclement weather seeps in through the doorway. It must be snowing, he guesses.
The temple, concealed within dense mountainous woods, seems to inhale the damp and chill. However, by the grace of the throw Yan Que is enfolded in, he does not feel the cold. This throw was once given to him by Lin Xie- a careless bequeathment, not precisely a gift. Though obviously wooly to the touch, Lin Xie insisted that it was woven silk, which had naturally led to an extended debate.
As it takes two hands to clap, Yan Que assumed that he’d won the argument in the end.
2
Yan Que, Lin Xie, and Xiao Xuan met as children. They were tutored together, reading and training in each other’s company.
Yan Que remembers his first encounter with Xiao Xuan, in a garden. A child not much older than himself sitting alone by a large rock, flipping through a book and gnawing at a peach. There was not a single attendant in sight.
Grand Tutor Yan had been a principled educator, and Yan Que was, even at that tender age, a discerning child. At once he walked up to the boy, made a formal bow, and greeted in a voice clear as thunder on a summer’s day, “Your Highness."
Xiao Xuan dropped his peach.
Being, after all, a prince, he soon gathered up the shreds of his dignity. Furtively kicking the fallen half-peach into a crevice in the rock, he lifted his chin slightly and, with a gravity betrayed by the voice of a child, asked, “Are you the son of the Grand Tutor?"
Yan Que bowed again, his shoulders shaking, not daring to look up.
“Do refrain from laughing."
“Hey, will you stop laughing?"
“Don’t laugh!"
“A’Que, that was ten years ago, you can’t keep bringing it up."
Xiao Xuan reached over Yan Que’s shoulder with the wine and filled his cup. Lin Xie was right by them, amused spectator to their banter.
Xiao Xuan’s chopsticks were tapping out a rhythm on the flagon, the good spirits shining from behind his lowered lids. “A’Que, you’re so fond of pulling my leg, but I’m not going to hold it against you."
“I will never hold it against you."
Upon the shifting sands of time and under the dizzying rotation of constellations, they walked as glorious youth. The three of them rode shoulder to shoulder, racing under wide falcon wings, and the fine dust raised by their horses’ fleeting hooves glazed the eyes of countless maidens.
They had walked, too, on the knife’s edge of desperation, bathed in hot blood and the stink of death on the wind, tearing out a path where there was none. Fortune allowed them to walk from it unscathed. Blood had dripped from their fingertips to spatter the ground, creeping into the deep crevices between those high stone steps. Down where the sun will never reach, they found only a still silence, a shared wordlessness.
Yan Que knelt before Xiao Xuan, hard ground under his knees and in the corner of his eye the prostrate profile of Lin Xie.
As close as they had ever been to Xiao Xuan, they had always upheld decorum and addressed him as ‘Your Highness’. Just once, buoyant on drunken insouciance they had softly called out, “A’Xuan.” Xiao Xuan, sprawled on the table and half his face buried behind an arm, sleepily answered, “Hm?"
Yan Que had shifted closer for a better look at Xiao Xuan’s expression. Though supposedly inebriated, the corners of his lips were curled upwards, as if they held a smile.
Before them now, Xiao Xuan sat on the distant throne, his silhouette indistinct and unfamiliar, still smiling at them as he had.
Yan Que and Lin Xie paid obeisance to that distant figure, calling out in chorus: “Your Majesty."
3
When Lin Yueyao entered the palace, Yan Que sought Lin Xie out in the middle of the night with a flagon of wine.
In a pool of clear, cold moonlight, two men sat mutely. Yan Que closed his palm around a cup and hid his other fist under the table, knuckles creaking.
Once upon a time, he had strode through an enemy camp with nothing but the thin cloth on his back, unflinching against the threat of cold steel held under his ribs. Does he remember the thoughts running through his mind then? Under a moon as bright as the one tonight, he had raised his cup with Lin Xie and Xiao Xuan and in their rapidly fading sobriety sang out, “Our souls are bared, bristling with rage. In a moment shared, we bind our fates. Our solemn words are good as gold."*
Xiao Xuan had risen to hold his cup to the glowing moon.
“Our fates are bound. Our solemn words are good as gold."
The clang of blades reverberated in his ears as clearly as those three cups had, and in that moment he was afraid of nothing. Later, as men lauded his silver tongue, recounting how he had stood alone on the steps to the palace and matched wits with an assembled court, he smiled their words aside. In truth no man, of himself, is without fear or weakness.
Lin Xie gripped Yan Que’s hand firmly. “You have to swallow this."
Yan Que raised his head abruptly, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights, his voice dry and hoarse despite the wine. “I don’t understand."
Lin Xie opened his mouth, trying, “His Majesty is…"
Yan Que gave a bitter laugh. “I just hope he’s true to her."
Just in sight, the Grand Princess Jinyang was approaching with a lamp. Her abdomen held a faint swell, but her steps were light and graceful yet.
Yan Que returned his gaze to Lin Xie and gave a long, soft sigh. “I know, it takes enormous good fortune to get to grow old with someone you love."
“Lin-dage, I don’t have your good fortune."
Neither did Lin Xie- but Yan Que did not know that. He had learnt to swallow his grief, but Lin Xie never learnt to mask his flaws.
4
Some days before setting off, Lin Xie sent off an invitation to the Yan household, and Yan Que turned up with little Yujin.
As the adults drank, baby Yujin dove busily between the many pairs of legs under their table, a bun gripped in each hand. Yan Que reached a hand in and plucked him out, waving carelessly, “Shoo, away with you, go rob some nests with your Shu-gege."
Lin Xie chuckled along, mindless of the fact that those were bird nests on his own property that were about to be annihilated.
The night chill was settling in, the wine warmed and warmed again. As the spirits rose to their heads, Yan Que and Lin Xie drifted in the space between cogent thought and inebriation, speaking of “that time when…”. Steeped in moonlight and beheld from a distance, the deeds of their youth maintained their gentle charm. In the blink of an eye how the world was changed. In those fine times friends have come and gone, and their children, of a sudden, eager fledglings.
Grand Princess Jinyang was sitting by Lin Xie’s side. She quietly nudged aside the wine cup by Lin Xie’s hand, and when he felt for it, shifted it a little farther still. Lin Xie stretched his hand a little more, and at last found his cup. Grand Princess Jinyang looked to Yan Que and laughed, equal parts complaint and resignation, “Oh, this man of mine…"
Little Yujin trotted over and swung from Yan Que’s hand. “Daddy, daddy, ask Uncle Lin to tell me the story about the little yellow dog."
Yan Que put down his cup, mystified. What yellow dog?
In the next moment it dawned on him. Lin Xie had spoken before of coming across a little yellow dog several times as he passed that slate bridge in the outskirts. The dog had straggly fur but wasn’t too manky, and its dark eyes were bright and lively. He wondered if it belonged to anyone. Every time it saw Lin Xie ride by, it would prance up to him barking, dancing in circles before his horse’s feet. He found it endearing and quite a few times brought it a bone. The puppy, delighted, would frisk at Lin Xie's feet, tumbling over itself for his amusement. Eventually, when Lin Xie was out, he would on occasion take a detour by the slate bridge, where even from afar he would spot the little yellow dog crouching there. Lin Xie took it as karma.
But what would a dog know of the passage of time? There was no remarkable coincidence or marvel of fate, only waiting.
Yan Que thought his quaint little tale heartwarming, and had told it to young Yujin as a bedtime story. He had only heard the beginning of the tale, but not yet the conclusion. The avid curiosity of a child demanded a start and an end to all things.
Little Yujin’s eyes shone with anticipation as they met Yan Que’s. He bent and coaxed, “Be good now, Uncle Lin has important work to attend to. When he comes back from his big trip, I’ll get him to tell you the latest story."
As the conversation went on, Yan Que’s eyes began to droop. The babble of music and laughter seemed to come from a faraway land. When he woke again, there was only silence. Above him, the cold light of stars shone in a deep velvet night. Far off under the eave of a roof, a lantern swayed gently. Everyone was gone. Only Lin Xie remained, still sitting by the table, smiling at him.
“Awake at last? You still can’t hold your liquor as well as I do."
Yan Que pushed away from the table to stand, but a throw slipped from his shoulders.
Lin Xie said, “Don’t worry, I’ve had Yujin sent back to bed at home."
Yan Que picked up the throw and ran it between his fingers. “Wool?"
Lin Xie replied, “Silk."
Yan Que stood his ground. “It’s wool."
“And it’s mine now.” He grabbed the throw and headed for the door. Then turned, laughing, “You’ll have to bring me a better gift when you return. Don’t be cheap."
“A’Que,” Lin Xie stopped him.
“Why haven’t you wed again?"
Yan Que halted, meeting Lin Xie’s eyes from across the yard. A gust of wind swept across some fallen leaves. They hadn’t finished their drinks tonight, but dawn was already approaching.
Yan Que gave a small smile, turned, and left. They had never been in the habit of saying things like ‘may the winds of victory fly with your banner’ or ‘come back alive’. Farewells were a redundancy- after all, they always saw each other again, and each of them had their own lives to live.
Every time he returns to this moment, Yan Que wishes a little that he could have done something different. So much for his silver tongue, when the words he wanted most badly to say can only fester in his heart.
5
Yan Que was drinking tea when the report came from Meiling. In the proper scheme of things, he should have let a cup fall and shatter, but he did not. He put the teacup down steadily and at once set foot for the Lin Manor. It wasn’t until he was halfway there that he realised he could have got there faster by carriage.
Nothing at Lin Manor was out of the ordinary. Servants came and went soundlessly, with nothing but the susurrus of bead curtains on the wind. Grand Princess Jinyang poured his tea by her own hands, her left holding back a sleeve and the right closed around the handle. There seemed to be a faint smile on her face as she placidly murmured, “Oh, this man of mine…”. The last syllables elongated on a sigh, lending an airiness to her remonstrative tone.
Yan Que pretended that he could not see the splashes of tea around the cup or her shaking wrists, just as he had passed the battalion of guards enclosing Lin Manor as if they were not there.
Upon returning to his estate, he shut his doors and drank alone to the moon- all the fine wine and delicacies as ashes on his tongue, all the fire in his veins chilled to frost. In that time two servants came running with news, one after the other, from the Lin Manor, then from the palace. Yan Que lifted his gaze to them, asked- what did you say..?- then before they could repeat themselves waved them away.
In a dim haze he saw Lin Xie, only sixteen or seventeen and clad in armour, handsome laughter on his face. He was saying, “A’Que, a’Que, under a moon as bright as the one tonight, you shouldn't let your tears fall."
6
Blood ran in the streets of Jinling City. Yan Que got on his carriage and headed for an abbey in the outskirts. As they passed the slate bridge he lifted the curtain and looked out. Amongst the madding crowd, between trundling wheels, he seemed to catch a glimpse of a small figure crouched at the foot of the bridge. In the next moment it was gone.
Perhaps that canny little yellow dog will never again greet the man he is waiting for, and thence the story grinds to a halt.
Yan Que felt a visceral disgust for himself rise in him. What he owed Lin Xie was far more than a farewell.
7
The Emperess had issued a summons. Yan Que came as he was bid, cloaked in the dense aroma of censer ash.
Yan Que made obeisance to the Emperess. She dismissed her attendants and said, smiling, “There is no need for that between us siblings."
Yan Que enquired as to Her Majesty’s instructions. With consternation on her face, the Empress spoke of Prince Yu, the Crown Prince, and Prince Jing.
Yan Que demurred, “Your Majesty has such noble aspirations. Your subject truly has not the aptitude to lend aid to them."
The Empress furrowed her manicured brows and her words turned cold. “When Father passed abruptly all those years ago, his disciples scattered and with them the Yan family name. I have no trueborn son and fought bitterly all these years to maintain my position, but even today I am mocked and harassed in this manner. Have you, my elder brother, ever done a single praiseworthy thing for our family?"
Yan Que was silent for a time, then said, “Your Majesty has done far too many praiseworthy things. As for why our father succumbed to a conniption and left us so suddenly back then, Your Majesty knows better than I."
The Empress slammed her hand on the table, sending her elaborate hairpieces aquiver. She gritted out, “I acted only in the name of our family."
“Besides, His Majesty has always treated you with generosity. During the Chiyan case, when someone tried to cast aspersions upon your name, His Majesty immediately ordered that the snitch be dragged out and clubbed to death. He even said to me…"
“His Majesty said to me, he knows Yan Que, he knows the way you are, and he’ll never hold it against you."
Yan Que gave a short laugh. Treated him with generosity? In the name of the Yan family? What an excellent expression, "I will never hold it against him."
He rose to his feet and said mildly, “In that case, I am indeed indebted to the maganimity of my lord."
He bowed again. “Your subject has suddenly been overcome with nausea, he begs that Your Majesty allows him to withdraw."
“Que-ge!"
A few steps away, Yan Que looked back. The Emperess stood, looking to him with eyes that held disappointment, sorrow, and a tinge of expectancy. That hint of expectation called to his mind the little sister who had so fervently implored him to bring some delightful trinket home from his travels.
She was, despite everything, his little sister.
Yan Que broke off his gaze and before turning to leave, said, “To attend a king is to attend a tiger. Your Majesty would do well to be prudent."
8
Yan Que stands under the roof of the temple, the throw draped over his shoulders, watching the fine drift of snow. In his life he has lived and laughed with many people, drunk a considerable amount of wine under some fine moons, and spoken plenty from his heart. As time passed, they eventually grew into the men they had to become. Old age came to them like a long-expected guest, and laughter left their company.
Some decades ago there was a summer’s day when he and Lin Xie waited in his estate for Xiao Xuan to sneak out of the palace and come ride with them in the countryside. As they idled, Lin Xie said he’d teach him to handle a bow. His feeble efforts were no match for Lin Xie’s strongbow, and he couldn’t manage a full draw. Lin Xie took pity and lent him a hand, asking him how he planned to repay him. So Yan Que said, he can teach Lin Xie the art of conversation. He was great at talking. He could talk circles around him and convince him they were squares.
As Lin Xie accused him of being unhinged, Xiao Xuan jumped over the wall. Lin Xie, rushing to steady Xiao Xuan, let go of the bow, catching Yan Que offguard and nearly spraining his elbow.
The three of them pressed together, cracking up, sincere in their belief that friendship forged in the springtime of their youth will persist into senility, just had they had sung. Their fates were bound, their words unbreakable. The days before them were infinite and brilliant, and shoulder to shoulder they would walk the wide earth and call it home.
Springtime approaches. A new year. He can almost hear the burst of firecrackers in the air. Yan Que senses, indistinctly, the tumultuous change on the horizon. A new life for him. A Lingnan provincial cargo ship is sailing down the waterway, bearing a load of clementines. By its gentle course, the river will dissolve every woe.
He has waited a long time for this day.
Fin.
/easter egg:
“Jingrui, come come.” Yan Yujin beckoned gleefully.
“What is it.” Xiao Jingrui jogged towards the foot of a slate bridge.
“Look, it’s a yellow puppy.” Yan Yujin crouched down to play with the dog.
Xiao Jingrui laughed, “How is that a puppy, it’s probably even older than you are."
Yan Yujin reached out and ran a hand through the fur on the dog’s head. It pawed the ground once or twice.
He caught the paw and squished it gently, looking as if a memory was coming back to him. “I've got a feeling...like it’s waiting for someone."
Xiao Jingrui watched him, smiling quietly, then spoke. “Let’s go, we’ll get some bones for it together."