From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 123: An Old Friend
Trigger: brief but explicit mention of suicide, if uncomfortable, please skip to paragraph 5!
Envoy Zhang Xiu, courtesy name Zhang Qiling.
Once upon a time, or, come to think of it, not all that long ago, before Liu Yao used the corpses of his brothers as the stairs upon which he ascended to the throne, he’d been crown prince of Great Ye and he hadn’t learnt the meaning of loneliness yet. Sure, his father was a philandering wastrel albeit an imperial one and his mother didn’t love him the way she loved his little brother, but Liu Yao had company nonetheless, in the form of his two study companions.
One he fell hopelessly in love with and the other he regarded as a bosom friend, one of the few and far between.
Liu Yao would never forget the morning Ziyu was found dead in bed with both his wrists slit open. It had been the morning after his wedding to female convict Li Fang of the Li Family (1) when Liu Yao had received the news in his study, where he’d spent the night sleeping on a divan instead of the nuptial bedchambers as was customary.
Needless to say, his father hadn’t been thrilled about his absence at the traditional morning visit to the groom’s parents, especially not since they’d found him many shichen later, covered in dried blood from holding Ziyu’s cold, lifeless body in his arms. That day, the crown princess had entered the imperial palace on her own and the day after, much to the emperor’s consternation, the crown prince had attended court as per usual, despite the three days of rest granted to newlywed officials.
But Liu Yao had had good reason to show up. How else would he have made his case to remove female convict Li Fang from her brand new position on the grounds that the light of the Tian Fu star had faded along with Ziyu’s demise?
To reveal this in morning court in front of hundreds of eyes, airing the dirty laundry of the imperial family and all but pointing out that his father had made a bad judgement call, one that the heavens refused to acknowledge, was like a slap across the old man’s face. But Liu Yao hadn’t cared. What could his father have done to him at that point? Strip him of his title? Without Ziyu, he’d only had revenge left to live for and he hadn’t needed to inherit the throne for that. As the saying went, ’those who walk barefoot are unafraid of those who wore shoes’ (2). Without Ziyu, Liu Yao had felt like he had nothing to lose, was ready, even eager to burn all the bridges that he’d struggled for so long to maintain for the sake of keeping those he cared about safe.
In short, Liu Yao had wanted the world to burn. But he’d had two study companions and he’d already lost one. The only thing left for him to do before formally opposing his father had been to protect Zhang Xiu.
He hadn’t dared to take any risks with this. Zhang Xiu’s diplomatic mission to the northern front had been arranged through a long convoluted loop of officials in court, some of whom had been loyal to him and others who had been made use of by those loyal to him. To his father, Zhang Xiu’s appointment of envoy had appeared to be a result of a careful recommendation by the Ministry of Rites and Liu Yao’s string-pulling had remained undetected. In fact, his father had thought himself so wise for approving that particular memorial because of the mistaken belief that he was robbing Liu Yao of the only hand he had left. The old lunatic had sensed that he’d been rapidly losing control of his oldest son, whose reputation had started to precede even the emperor’s, especially up in the north where he had previously fought on the battlefield under Great General Pan’s command.
A trip to the north was fraught with danger, let alone for an envoy, whose role as messenger and negotiator often meant that they were the first to die when ties soured, despite honour dictating that they should be spared. But Liu Yao had weighed up the situation in the capital and determined that even the barbarians were less likely to hurt his friend than the members of his twisted family.
The night before Zhang Xiu’s departure, he’d begged Liu Yao to take care of his sister and to watch over himself.
"Now that..." Zhang Xiu had sighed without finishing that sentence but Liu Yao had known that Ziyu lived in those unspoken words. "Your Highness, please be well."
That parting had lasted until now. Liu Yao was indeed well. And perhaps, so was his Ziyu.
"Let him in," he said to Cao Mingbao, his spirits greatly improved just by reminiscing of the good old days when the three of them had spent their youth together, copying homework beneath the purple paulownia behind the schoolyard or eating candied hawthorn sticks that they’d bought from street vendors. He wondered, if Zhang Xiu were to meet Ah Yun, whether he would see the shadow of Ziyu in him just like how Liu Yao did, in the lively serenity of his expressions, in the way he carried himself, the way he wrote, his voice, his music, how his breath hitched right on the end of Liu Yao’s name when Liu Yao held him down in bed...
Not that Zhang Xiu would know about that last.
"This humble subject greets Your Majesty, may Your Majesty live for ten thousand years!" The figure following behind Cao Mingbao was a familiar one and one that warmed Liu Yao’s heart every time he saw it. Unlike his sister, who was a famous beauty in the capital, Zhang Xiu’s features were stronger and would be intimidating if not for his honest smile. He had an easy, good-natured vibe that often made him the centre of attention at banquets and Liu Yao recalled that when they’d been younger, half the girls in the city had dreamed of being able to secure the enviable position of Young Madam Liu.
"Dispense with formalities," Liu Yao said, rising to his feet and reaching out to grasp Zhang Xiu by the arm, grinning when Zhang Xiu returned the grip. Instantly, it felt like nothing had changed, the years of camaraderie returning as though Zhang Xiu had never left, as though nothing had changed...
"You’re looking well," Zhang Xiu said, dropping back to their casual form of address as Cao Mingbao left the study, giving them some space.
Liu Yao shrugged. "I’m as well as can be expected," he said. After scrutinising Zhang Xiu’s face, he added, "You’re looking well too, if a bit...charred."
Liu Yao had seen Zhang Xiu a couple of times in morning court but they had both been so busy recently that there had just been no time to catch up, let alone take a good look at this childhood companion of his.
One could know a person, recognise their face, but still fail to understand what goes on in their heart (3). The dragon throne in Weiyang Hall elevated him above all others but it also meant that he couldn’t get a good look at the faces of any of his officials, let alone figure out what they were thinking half the time.
Zhang Xiu let out a hearty laugh, slapping Liu Yao on the back. "Cut me some slack, even though this subject is but a feeble civil official, too weak to do much more than admire the strong soldiers as they go through their horrendous training routine, I still have to put on a show of solidarity and stand in the sun with them when they look my way, right?"
Liu Yao chuckled in response before sobering up a little. "You’ve worked hard," he said, a hint of solemnity creeping into his voice, as he felt the guilt of leaving Zhang Xiu stranded in the north for so long take over.
Zhang Xiu sighed. "It’s this subject’s honour to be of service," he replied. "I know Your Majesty isn’t going to stop feeling bad but it’s been hard for you as well, I’m glad to help in any way that I can."
There was a low table in the corner of the study, set up on a luohan bed, a type of formal couch bed that could seat two comfortably on its wide surface. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, made of scented rosewood, which left a light, pleasant fragrance lingering in the air. The simple carpenter square motif used to decorate the screen panels that made up the sides and backrest symbolised justice and an upright, moral life, all qualities that Ziyu had once told Liu Yao he’d been blessed with.
As they walked over, the painting on the wall caught Zhang Xiu’s eye and he brightened up.
"Is that Ziyu’s work?" he asked, walking over to study it with interest, a nostalgic smile tugging on his lips. He was so preoccupied with his admiration that he didn’t notice the intent look that flitted across Liu Yao’s face. "No wait, these plum blossoms are by your hand, it’s the calligraphy that’s Ziyu’s, isn’t it?"
"Wrong on the second count," Liu Yao murmured, losing none of his repose despite the quickening of his heartbeat. He dared to say that apart from him, no one else knew Ziyu’s writing better than Zhang Xiu did, having spent years in the schoolyard trying to mimic each other’s styles for the fun of it. If Zhang Xiu mistook Ah Yun’s words for Ziyu’s too, the similarities weren’t just a figment of Liu Yao’s imagination, driven insane by loneliness and yearning.
Zhang Xiu raised an eyebrow but this time there was a hint of amused challenge in them. "Oh? How could this be? Big Young Master, just because I’ve been away for a long time doesn’t mean I’ve lost all my memories, you know." He blinked. "Unless you got someone to imitate..."
"I didn’t," Liu Yao said. He stepped up next to Zhang Xiu and trailed a finger gently across a branch, the tip of it coming to rest on a red blossom right at the end. An image flashed through his mind, of red lips amidst a white night; Ah Yun truly was lovely. "This poem was composed and written by this sovereign’s Imperial Concubine Yue."
He didn’t miss the way something shuttered out in Zhang Xiu’s expression, like a flame extinguishing in a cold wind. This was to be expected; Zhang Xiu was as loyal to Ziyu as he was to Liu Yao, perhaps even more so, since he’d always seemed to view Ziyu as the literal manifestation of his courtesy name, which meant ’like jade’ (4). Beautiful with a warm soul but ultimately fragile.
Liu Yao privately thought that Zhang Xiu was wrong about this. The Ziyu he knew looked cold on the outside and was heartless to the point of being vicious when necessary. He was indeed beautiful and the blood that flowed through his veins burned with his passion for goodness, but there was nothing breakable about him.
"Your Majesty has moved on, I see."
Liu Yao didn’t try to justify it. How could he explain that he wasn’t sure if he had or not? That some days Ziyu and Ah Yun blurred so much into the same person he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began? That on other days he would see something new about Ah Yun that didn’t fit into the picture, and realise that even if Ziyu’s soul had somehow returned to him as Ah Yun, he was now a different person but Liu Yao had no problems falling anyway?
"Qiling," Liu Yao said quietly. "It’s been years. This sovereign is tired."
Zhang Xiu still had a smile plastered on but it was muted, a forced response that reminded Liu Yao so much of the facade that his officials would put up in front of him that he felt his chest hurt.
"No wonder my younger sister has been so jealous about Your Majesty’s new favourite," he said with a mirthless laugh. "Does he look like Ziyu too?"
This was now impoliteness bordering on disrespect towards the emperor and if it were any other official, Liu Yao would have issued a stern reprimand at this point, if he did not mete out actual punishment. But this was Zhang Xiu and Liu Yao had a pitiful number of people he held dear.
"He doesn’t have to for this sovereign to appreciate him," was Liu Yao’s simple reply.
Zhang Xiu shook his head, his disappointment evident. "You’re the one who said you would never move on."
"This sovereign is aware, but—"
He was interrupted by a sudden announcement that echoed from the entrance of Tianlu Pavilion.
"Imperial Concubine Yue arrives!"
