An old man shuffled in wearing loose slippers, his robe hanging open, reeking so strongly of alcohol that the smell seemed to fill the entire room. His white hair hung in a disheveled mess, barely gathered into a topknot, and his whole body reeked of stale drink.
It was the first time the Second Prince, Feng Qiting, had ever seen someone so utterly unpresentable. Unable to hide his astonishment, he blurted out: “Who are you people?! How dare you drunkenly barge into a prince’s study!”
When the young page supporting the old man explained that this drunken wreck was none other than Ge Danian, the Grand Tutor, the princes exchanged glances, momentarily speechless.
The young Sixth Prince recovered first. He hurried forward and respectfully bowed to Ge Danian.
After all the princes had formally paid their respects to their teacher, Grand Tutor Ge waved a hand and pointed at the bamboo slips and books on the shelves.
“Take a look through them first. Later, I’ll have you draw lots and recite from memory. As for this old man… this old man needs… needs a nap first…” With that, he sprawled out across a rattan chair and immediately began snoring.
The page at his side appeared thoroughly accustomed to the sight. He fanned the old man for a while, then, before long, nodded off himself.
This was the princes’ study of the imperial household. Never in history had such an absurd scene likely occurred within its walls.
Amid the lingering smell of wine, the Second Prince struggled to maintain a proper expression as he forced himself to read.
The Third Prince, Feng Qiwu, let out a long sigh of relief. He had never liked studying. If not for their father’s orders, he would much rather wrestle and spar with ordinary soldiers in the military camp.
A Grand Tutor who loved drinking and had no time to torment students? Excellent!
The Sixth Prince, however, remained perfectly composed. Though still young, he had a tireless, almost obsessive determination to learn. Holding a book in his hands, he read with utmost seriousness.
As for the Crown Prince, he curled up at a desk in the corner, dipped a brush into ink, and began sketching tiny opera performers on paper, amusing himself as the lesson dragged on.
Thus, an unusually harmonious class ended amid a continuous chorus of snores. From beginning to end, Ge Danian never once opened his eyes, much less tested anyone’s lessons. Complaining only that the rattan chair in the study was uncomfortable, he got to his feet with a groan, supported his aching back, and, with the help of his page, went off to continue sleeping.
The Second Prince had never encountered such a negligent and outrageous teacher. He spent the entire lesson simmering with frustration. After classes ended, he found an excuse to pay his respects and made his way to the Emperor’s palace. Casually, he brought up Grand Tutor Ge’s drunken conduct.
The Emperor, who was practicing the Five-Animal Exercises, stretched his arms and legs and replied in an indifferent tone: “You came all this way because you want me to reprimand my elderly teacher, who has served me well for many years, all for the sake of a few unworthy descendants? Do you expect me to commit such an outrage against propriety?”
A single remark from the Emperor sent the Second Prince away with his tail between his legs.
Later, Noble Consort Shang also scolded him for his recklessness. “You’ve long since passed the age of basic instruction, and your learning is already the best among the princes. Whether Ge Danian applies himself or not, what concern is that of yours?”
After being chastised by his mother, the Second Prince suddenly saw the situation more clearly.
Thirty years earlier, during the Dinggeng Rebellion, the reigning emperor had been murdered by traitorous ministers, and the Great Feng Dynasty had nearly changed its dynastic name altogether.
The Late Emperor had originally belonged to a distant branch of the imperial clan, someone seemingly ten thousand miles removed from the throne. Yet in those turbulent times, he raised the banner of restoring the Great Feng royal house and, backed by several powerful local gentry families, suppressed the rebellion and ultimately inherited the imperial throne.
As for Father Emperor, in his youth he had merely been another scion of a collateral branch of the clan. Raised on a rural fief, he had been the least favored among the Late Emperor’s children.
How exceptional could the tutor of such an obscure princeling possibly have been? It was simply that Father Emperor himself had been remarkably capable and later distinguished himself among all the imperial princes, eventually succeeding to the throne.
When one man attains power, even his chickens and dogs ascend to heaven.
As a result, Ge Danian’s status rose with the tide, and he practically stumbled into the prestigious title of Grand Tutor.
Rumor had it that Ge Danian had lived in seclusion for many years. It wasn’t because he was some lofty recluse. Rather, he had always been an indifferent schoolmaster, fond of comfort and pleasure, hopelessly addicted to drink, and lacking in notable accomplishments.
Noble Consort Shang had previously heard whispers of such stories but assumed they were only rumors. Now it seemed Ge Danian truly was exactly that sort of man.
It was said that Ge Danian had managed to enter the palace this time only because his wife had fallen ill. Swallowing his pride, he had called on old connections and favors, hoping to secure treatment from the imperial physicians.
Viewed in that light, His Majesty’s decision to assign such a drunkard as the Crown Prince’s tutor was not a sign that he once again favored the Fourth Prince. Rather, it was merely a gesture to satisfy public opinion and demonstrate that he had fulfilled a father’s responsibilities.
Once she understood this, Noble Consort Shang was greatly relieved and stopped urging the Second Prince to attend lessons at the imperial study.
Within days, the Third Prince had also disappeared.
After all, the princes had never once encountered the Grand Tutor while he was sober. Attending lessons was nothing more than a waste of time.
Empress Tang likewise heard about Ge Danian’s conduct.
The Emperor’s first wife had died of illness years ago. The Tang family daughter had married the Emperor as his second wife back when he was still only a prince. By the time she entered the princely residence, Ge Danian had already resigned and departed, so Empress Tang knew little about the Grand Tutor’s actual scholarship. Now that the truth was clear, she was unwilling to let the Sixth Prince waste his time, so she hired a renowned Confucian scholar to instruct him privately.
Within a few days, the study hall’s desks and chairs sat empty once more, as if things had returned to their original state. Only the Crown Prince remained.
The Empress was deeply troubled by what she saw as the Emperor’s perfunctory arrangements and suspected that he still intended to depose the Crown Prince.
However, the Emperor had personally appointed Grand Tutor Ge to teach the Crown Prince. The other princes could stop attending, but the Crown Prince alone could not afford to miss lessons and give others grounds for criticism.
Fortunately, Yan Xiaoying was clever. When disguised as the Crown Prince, even the Empress sometimes had trouble telling the difference. She therefore decided to wait and see, enduring the situation for the time being until the real Crown Prince’s leg injury had fully healed.
A fake Crown Prince paired with a drunken, muddle-headed tutor was, in a way, a perfect match.
As a result, the Empress stopped concerning herself with the matter and let Yan Xiaoying idle away her days in the study hall.
When princes attended lessons, attendants were never allowed to accompany them, so the Empress had no eyes or ears there. With only Ge Danian’s incessant snoring for company, Yan Xiaoying enjoyed a rare measure of freedom. Whenever she had spare time, while pretending to sketch little figures, she secretly engaged in more clandestine business behind the cover of the tall stacks of books piled around her. Although she had been blindfolded when taken to see the Crown Prince that day, she had carefully memorized every turn and checkpoint along the route.
At the palace where the Crown Prince was staying, she had noticed nothing except a cluster of unusually colored orchids. Relying on her memory, she had roughly sketched a map of the route and planned to investigate when an opportunity arose.
One day, taking advantage of Grand Tutor Ge’s absence while recovering from a hangover, Yan Xiaoying glanced out into the courtyard. Amid the drone of cicadas, even the guards were leaning against the corridor, half asleep. No one was paying attention to the study hall.
Having calculated the guard rotation, she slipped out through a rear window and followed the route she had drawn, testing whether her memory was correct.
By now, she was familiar with the surrounding paths, and with her light, agile build, she crossed corridors and wound through passageways until she reached a somewhat desolate section of the outer palace wall.
Just as she began to suspect she had remembered the route incorrectly and was about to leave, a thin, bony hand suddenly shot out from behind and seized her by the collar, dragging her toward a dark alleyway.
Startled, Yan Xiaoying raised an arm in defense and flung the person away before realizing that her assailant was merely a withered old eunuch.
Staggering backward, the old eunuch lifted his wrinkled face and studied her carefully. It was as though he had found traces of an old acquaintance in her features. Tentatively, he called out: “Xiaoying…”
His speech was slurred, as though something were obstructing his mouth. Only then did she notice that half his tongue was missing at the root. No wonder he spoke with such difficulty and was hard to understand.
Yan Xiaoying cautiously replied, “Uncle Hai?”
Seeing the old man nod frantically, Yan Xiaoying breathed a sigh of relief.
In truth, she had never met Uncle Hai before. But the moment he called her by name and she noticed his mutilated tongue, she immediately guessed who he was.
The eunuch was named Sheng Hai. Years ago, he had offended a powerful figure in the palace. As punishment, his tongue had been cut, and he had nearly lost his life as well.
Yan Shan, kind-hearted by nature, had grown friendly with Sheng Hai through casual conversations. During a performance for a noble patron, Yan Shan received a reward and seized the opportunity to plead on Sheng Hai’s behalf, ultimately saving his life.
From then on, the tongue-tied Sheng Hai was demoted to the palace sanitation office. Following the night-soil carts, he traveled throughout the palace collecting and cleaning the various privies and chamber pots.
Back when Yan Shan had been lured into the imperial residence through deception and suffered the destruction of his family, he had felt not only grief and despair but also deep confusion. He could not understand why a dignified Empress would harbor such hostility toward a mere opera performer. After surviving that disaster, he wandered from place to place begging with his infant daughter in his arms. Eventually, he waited near the palace’s rear gate until he encountered Sheng Hai, who was escorting a night-soil cart out of the palace.
Sheng Hai loved opera, and he revered the famous actor couple who had saved his life as though they were gods in his heart. When he saw his former benefactor, the spirited martial-role performer Yan Shan, now gaunt and haggard beyond recognition, dressed in rags and cradling a wailing infant, and then heard the story of everything that had happened on that bloody night, Sheng Hai broke down. Choking with sobs, he embraced his benefactor and wept.
Later, Sheng Hai bought goat’s milk, finally allowing the baby girl in Yan Shan’s arms, who had been crying from hunger like a distressed kitten, to have her fill. Though he occupied the lowest rung among palace eunuchs, he interacted with sanitation workers throughout the palace and was exceptionally well informed about the rumors and news that passed through many ears.
After the Empress’s confinement period ended and the prince’s one-month celebration banquet was held, he hid outside the Empress’s palace and caught sight of the infant in the wet nurse’s arms. The child looked exactly like his benefactor’s daughter, Lou Guan’er. At once, he understood what had happened.
From then on, every few months, whenever he escorted the night-soil carts out of the palace, Sheng Hai would entrust a familiar shopkeeper with a “family letter.” Using prearranged code words, he secretly passed messages to Yan Shan, letting him know whether his abducted son was safe.
Later, when the Crown Prince’s confinement was lifted, Empress Tang eliminated all of the attendants who had served him in the deserted Yiyuan. Yet she overlooked one person: the old eunuch from the sanitation office who wandered through the Cold Palace each dawn collecting chamber pots from Yiyuan. After all, who would bother guarding against someone like Uncle Hai? A tongueless “mute,” humble and insignificant, so lowly that people hardly noticed his existence.
Hearing Yan Xiaoying explain that she was trying to find the Crown Prince’s hiding place, Uncle Hai waved his hand and struggled to speak: “I saw… the Crown Prince’s leg… suddenly recover… so I guessed… you’d already entered the palace… Security here is strict… don’t let that poisonous woman develop murderous thoughts toward you and your brother… I’ll look… You must stay safe…”
Yan Xiaoying watched him labor through each word. His speech was slurred and hard to understand, but she could grasp most of his meaning.
Knowing that Uncle Hai could move about the palace more freely than she could, she did not insist on helping. Instead, she clasped his hand and said, “When the opportunity comes, come with us. We’ll leave together.”
Uncle Hai said nothing. At his age, his battered life had already become inseparably fused with these mottled palace walls, as though flesh and blood had grown into the stone itself. The freedom he had once longed for had become something he no longer knew how to imagine.
With the calm resignation of one who had tasted all the hardships of a lifetime, the old man smiled at her, as though searching her face for traces of those he had once known.
Then he waved a hand, resumed his usual stooped posture, picked up the chamber pail, and slowly disappeared down the alley.
Yan Xiaoying watched the elderly eunuch’s retreating figure with deep gratitude. When she received news that her brother’s leg had been crippled and everyone in the Cold Palace had been silenced, she had already guessed the truth: Her brother’s position as Crown Prince had become perilously unstable. Once he ceased to be useful, he would inevitably become nothing more than a discarded piece on the Empress’s chessboard.
However, the Empress had executed every attendant and palace maid who had served the Crown Prince in Yiyuan. That was clearly an attempt to silence witnesses and prevent information from leaking out. It suggested that she was unwilling to let her chess piece be discarded so easily.
Where there is greed, there is always the willingness to take risks.
While she and her father were performing in Yicheng, they happened to see Nanny Song searching for a physician. Yan Xiaoying immediately seized the opportunity. Treating every step as a move in a chess game, she deliberately dressed as a boy and performed on the streets of Yicheng, attracting Nanny Song’s attention and ultimately achieving her goal of entering the palace. After that, she adapted as circumstances demanded. During the birthday banquet, she set a fire that not only disrupted the Empress’s plans but also forced her to have her brother’s leg treated.
To the powerful and privileged, common folk like her were probably no more significant than a firefly’s faint glow.
But what if a firefly was tiny and insignificant? Even the smallest spark could kindle a towering blaze and burn its way through the world, righting wrongs and settling old scores.
With that thought in mind, she returned to the study hall by the same route she had come. She tossed the silk cloth hidden in her robe, bearing the sketched map, into a nearby incense brazier and reduced it to ashes.
Life had been relatively peaceful lately. The people Nanny Song had assigned to watch her had grown somewhat lax, though they still shadowed her every day. Only when she entered the study hall could they not remain at her side.
The Grand Tutor might have been unreliable, but the books in the Imperial Study were the genuine article.
While waiting for news from Uncle Hai, Yan Xiaoying had little to do. Whenever boredom struck, she took advantage of the tutor’s drunken slumber and browsed whatever volumes caught her interest.
This day was no different.
The old tutor entered the study hall, kicked off his shoes, stretched out on a mat, and soon filled the room with earth-shaking snores. Even the pageboy decided to slack off and went outside to enjoy the shade beneath a tree.
After lounging in her chair for a while and confirming that no one was nearby, Yan Xiaoying casually pulled out a military-law manual. Using a pillar as cover, she settled onto the floor and began reading with great interest.
Just as she became completely absorbed in the text, a voice suddenly spoke from behind her: “I never expected Your Highness to be interested in this sort of book.”