“Do they curse?”
The Flower and Bird House was located behind the side of Cining Palace, and the shortcut required passing through the Western Six Palaces.
The Western Six Palaces were where the Emperor’s consorts resided. Anning and the Third Prince were of the younger generation, so it would not be proper for them to pass through there.
Gu Wenxing led the two around the western route, walking along the long palace corridors.
The corridor was long and desolate.
Snow covered the golden tiles and red walls, with a sliver of golden light peeking through the eaves, casting a straight beam that illuminated the palace complex, serene and beautiful as a painting.
Seeing the gates of Yanqing Hall meant the Western Six Palaces had been passed. Raising their heads, sure enough, Yinghua Hall was right before them.
Anning couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Instinctively moving closer to the Third Prince, she said with utmost seriousness, “Third Brother, if we encounter any of the consorts, we’ll have to stop and pay our respects.”
Talu covered her mouth to stifle a laugh—
This was what Lady Tongjia had repeatedly urged and instructed when sending the young lady into the palace, except ‘Anning’ had been replaced with ‘Third Brother,’ and not a single word otherwise differed.
The young lady was still young; whenever she learned something, she liked to bring it up to show off how much she knew.
The Third Prince caught on, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly: “Do you recognize any of them?”
“Not a single one.” She sat very far away. “Though at last year’s New Year’s banquet, I followed Father and Mother into the palace and saw the Imperial Noble Consort from afar, but I couldn’t make out her features.”
She asked curiously: “What does the Imperial Noble Consort look like?”
The Third Prince actually thought about it. “Slender brows and delicate eyes.”
Anning imagined it briefly. “She sounds kind and gentle.”
“How can you tell?”
“The way you describe her sounds like Guanyin Bodhisattva.”
“…”
The Third Prince was cold-faced and taciturn, but he was a very practical person, and many times he preferred direct action.
Aside from attending his studies at Maoqin Hall on ordinary days, half of his words were spoken to Anning. Even though he was already quite accommodating to her, there were still many times he couldn’t keep up with her.
Truly, she talked too much, and her thoughts were strange.
Not only did she talk a lot, she had even more questions.
Just as they finished discussing appearances, her next question came: “Third Brother, there’s something I don’t understand.”
“What is it?”
Anning asked in confusion: “Why is the First Prince the First Prince? My mother said there was an earlier prince who died young. If the deceased prince isn’t counted, then why are you called the Third Prince instead of the Second Prince?”
He answered, “The First Prince’s title follows the order of seniority among the living. He is the current eldest imperial son, so he naturally must be addressed as First Prince—that title refers to his status. Mine, however, follows birth order, which includes all princes who died young.”
Anning let out an “oh,” as if she understood.
Seeing that she was about to ask more, he couldn’t be bothered to speak again: “Don’t talk. Swallowing cold wind will make you hiccup.”
She immediately covered her mouth, obediently holding his hand and staying quiet.
They passed by Yinghua Hall, its vermilion walls towering, corner towers majestic, and the Flower and Bird House was now right before them.
Anning’s face lit up with delight. “We’re here!”
She wanted to admire the scenery first before going to listen to the opera. The Third Prince had no objections, so they came to the Flower and Bird House first.
Since the Third Prince was coming to view the birds, everything had been arranged early in the morning. The head eunuch greeted them warmly with a bow and welcomed the two inside.
The Flower and Bird House was filled with an array of birdcages. The head eunuch led the way and introduced them: “These are larks, thrushes, and siskins. These birds have crisp, pleasant calls, and many of the masters in the palace keep them.”
Anning followed along, looking around curiously, and noticed some with gorgeous plumage. “Those ones are prettier.”
The eunuch followed the direction she pointed, his smiling face deepening as he nodded and said, “The young lady has a good eye. Those with various colors are parrots.” He tapped the cage, and the birds fluttered about inside. “These are rose finches, also called canaries, and the ones next to them are white jade birds.”
“These few cages of birds are beautiful in appearance and would be excellent for decorating a room.”
“Would you like to pick one?” He brought over a green parrot. “This one matches the cloak you’re wearing today—they’re quite alike, a rather fitting coincidence.”
Anning did indeed have a fondness for green—a deep, rich green full of vibrant life. Even Talu’s name had been chosen by her.
However, having everything in green also felt monotonous to her. “I don’t want it.”
“—Don’t want it, don’t want it, don’t want it.”
Suddenly, a strange, hoarse cry came from behind and to the side.
Anning turned her head toward the sound and spotted larger birds—about four or five of them—hung very high up. She hadn’t noticed them just now.
The head eunuch looked embarrassed and quickly explained, “Young lady, these few are accustomed to mimicking speech. They were taught badly by those lowly servants below, and I haven’t yet retrained them. Please forgive the spectacle.”
“Taught badly?” Anning tilted her head to look. “Do these birds curse?”
“This…” The head eunuch’s face showed difficulty, and he stammered a few times without knowing how to answer.
“That indigo-blue one looks so majestic!” Anning thought that was the one mimicking just now.
The Third Prince instructed, “Take it down for the young lady to see.”
The head eunuch bowed and acknowledged with an “aye,” then raised a long bamboo pole to bring down the iron cage. “This one is a Moon-Wheel Parrot, with sapphire-blue head feathers, long tail feathers, and a beak like dark red wood.”
Anning reached her finger through the cage bars, utterly fascinated. “So beautiful, like it’s carved from wood.” Like a fake bird, yet it was real.
Third Prince squeezed her fingers. “Be careful, it might peck you.”
The head eunuch, catching sight of Third Prince’s gesture, smiled appeasingly at Anning. “It won’t be easy for the young lady to keep it, I’m afraid. This parrot is noisy at night, and during the day it needs to be let out to climb and walk about. Raising it takes considerable effort.”
Third Prince glanced at him, frowning slightly.
Anning wanted it, and cared nothing for such concerns. She tugged at Third Prince’s sleeve, wheedling, “I want it, I want it, Third Brother!”
Since she wanted it, Third Prince would deny her nothing. He ordered the eunuch to exchange for a new cage and deliver it to Cining Palace.
The head eunuch acknowledged the order, smiling and promising repeatedly, “This servant will see to it that everything is properly prepared—bird feed, climbing perches, cage, and all other supplies—and have them sent over.”
With the bird in hand, Anning was delighted for a long while, hopping and skipping all the way to the opera stage, chattering without pause.
The opera stage faced Suiyu Pavilion directly, with Chonghua Palace on the left.
Both places stood vacant, with no one about save for the attending maids and eunuchs on duty.
As the year’s end approached, the musicians were rehearsing.
Anning requested The Peony Pavilion, a Kunqu opera—the very essence of refined music.
“I’ve heard Magua Offers Birthday Blessings and The Heavenly Official Bestows Fortune at home. Mother enjoys listening to A Dream in the Garden, but I’ve grown tired of them all.”
Servants had already brought food from the imperial kitchen, laying out dish after dish. “No need to serve us—you may withdraw.” Anning waved her hand.
The eunuch glanced at Third Prince, and only upon seeing his nod did they retreat.
“Magua Offers Birthday Blessings and The Heavenly Official Bestows Fortune are auspicious plays, performed every year at the New Year’s banquet,” Third Prince said. “Have you heard The Peony Pavilion before?”
“No,” Anning said. “I’ll hear something new!”
“…” Then she probably wouldn’t understand it, would she?
Third Prince raised a hand to mask his expression, then picked up some dishes and placed them in her bowl—all her favorites.
As the play began, Anning could hardly contain herself. She hastily picked some food for Third Prince as well, then bit into a slice of beef and turned her head toward the stage.
Third Prince noticed—what she’d given him was what she liked to eat herself, and what she’d given him was also what she liked to eat herself.
At the opening, Anning was still full of enthusiasm, but before long, she indeed turned back to ask Third Prince, “What does this line mean?”
Third Prince patiently explained it to her.
She then asked about the next line.
Talu stood to the side, so vexed she wanted to tear her hair out.
In the palace, there were strict rules: no talking while eating, no speaking while resting. And the regulations for watching opera were rigorous—men and women had to watch separately. On either side of the stage stood viewing pavilions, with curtains draped on the right side, reserved for imperial consorts and princesses.
Yet here, neither of the two observed a single one of these rules. The young lady was making mischief without any decorum… How could one eat while watching a play?
And the prince didn’t stop her either—he was thoroughly indulgent, not mentioning a single breach of propriety, silently adding food to her bowl.
The Peony Pavilion was not especially long, but even so, an entire afternoon passed by the time it ended.
The ending was happy, with the whole family rejoicing.
Gu Wenxing paced over to distribute some rewards, and Talu likewise deftly slipped pouches stuffed with silver to the musicians. When she returned, she heard her young lady propping her chin on her hand, looking wistful. “Is there really such a thing as coming back from the dead in this world?”
The Peony Pavilion told the love story of Du Liniang, daughter of a prefect, and the scholar Liu Mengmei. Du Liniang fell in love with Liu Mengmei in a dream; upon waking, she was overcome with melancholy, pined away from lovesickness, and died of grief.
Liu Mengmei, traveling to the capital for the imperial examinations, lodged in the abandoned rear garden of the Du family estate. He was captivated at first sight by Du Liniang’s self-portrait, calling out to her day and night. Du Liniang’s spirit was moved, and thus she was restored to life.
“No.” Third Prince cut off her fantasy without mercy. “All of that is empty fabrication.”
Anning felt he was spoiling her fun and pouted. “If The Peony Pavilion has survived to this day, it must be to celebrate the greatness of love. Whether it’s real or not, no one cares.”
Third Prince was not angered. His brows and eyes were earnest. “The Peony Pavilion was written in the previous dynasty. At that time, Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism was in vogue. This play was precisely a revolt against Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism—it has little to do with romantic love. It’s all metaphor.”
“What is Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism?”
If he explained too thoroughly, she probably wouldn’t understand, so Third Prince simplified it. “Preserve heavenly principle, extinguish human desire. Though it rebuilt the Confucian orthodoxy, it was overly dogmatic, divorced from reality, hollow and useless—above all, it suppressed human nature.”
Anning had never imagined such things existed and clicked her tongue in amazement. “From this, it’s clear that this Confucian Neo-Confucianism stuff is no good at all.”
Third Prince deeply agreed.
“Love and romance—what do you two young ones know? You certainly had a lively discussion, though.”
It was a woman’s voice.
Anning and Third Prince looked toward the source.
A palace consort stepped in, lightly supporting herself on a maid’s hand. Her appearance was simple and elegant, dressed in lotus-pink rain-silk brocade, her hair done up in the two-knot style, adorned with a few velvet flowers and a phoenix-tail gold hairpin slanting from her coiffure.
Upon her pale oval face were drawn a pair of slender brows and delicate eyes.
It was not a face beautiful enough to steal one’s heart, yet it was impossible to look away from.
The servants around immediately bowed in greeting. “Greetings to Your Noble Grace.”
Talu hastily helped Anning down from her chair, lowering her voice to a barely audible whisper, “It’s the Imperial Noble Consort.”
Author’s note:
It’s New Year’s Day today, and I see many familiar IDs in the comments section. Happy New Year to everyone! Here’s a red envelope for you all [kiss]