Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
Consort Jia’s fever had finally broken; her condition stabilized and the palace affairs were gradually entrusted to her. The Third Prince’s wounds were healing as well. He was hardly fully recovered but—much to everyone’s surprise—he returned to the Wenya Hall to resume his studies with a single-minded diligence that made even the servants whisper.
When Xue’er told Lan Miao about it, Lan Miao only sighed. The fortunes of the Third Prince and Consort Jia rose and fell together; of course Consort Jia hoped for a brilliant son.
For the past few days Emperor Jingxiang had been receiving foreign envoys and hadn’t sought Lan Miao out. The quiet gave her a rare moment to breathe.
Princess Kaiyun’s invitation arrived on schedule.
The princess had arranged a small banquet at her summer retreat. As the young Lord Li had told them, he personally sent palace attendants to fetch Lan Miao and Xue’er. Yu Jia and Xue’er climbed into the carriage first; Lan Miao stayed behind, keeping the children entertained as the carriage rolled out through the palace roads and beyond the towering walls.
The retreat was built around streams and pavilions; water terraces and covered corridors cast the place in a perpetual spring glow. Mist rose from the pools where hot water was said to bubble to the surface year-round. The late emperor had turned this place into Princess Kaiyun’s residence; when she wasn’t at Cining Palace keeping the Empress Dowager company, she lived here.
Lan Miao had assumed the gathering would be small—the princess and her son, Lane Miao and Xue’er, Yu Jia. She had not expected to see the emperor.
Emperor Jingxiang sat in a deep indigo robe, a jade crown in his long hair. He wore a rare, elegant handsomeness. Lan Miao surprised herself with how startled she was to see him. He met her gaze with a quiet smile that made her chest tighten.
“My brother has been tired with official business lately,” Princess Kaiyun said lightly, answering a question Lan Miao hadn’t voiced. “He came to the retreat to clear his head.”
Lan Miao inclined her head and followed the others in the formal greetings. They took their seats, and she found herself placed to the emperor’s right.
Perhaps because she knew Lan Xin was still detained in the palace, she was uneasy all through the meal. Even the sweets and fruits seemed to taste suddenly flat. Emperor Jingxiang, by contrast, had a good appetite and drank freely. Princess Kaiyun pressed wine on Lan Miao several times, but after the last bout of drunkenness Lan Miao kept to a few small sips and talked quietly with the princess, careful not to glance at the emperor sitting beside her.
Kaiyun spoke of Qi’s customs and its hardships. “There was a locust plague last year; the harvests were poor. The treasury tightened this year, and the prince’s household isn’t doing as well as it used to,” she said, and sighed.
Lan Miao listened, taking a small, steady sip. She watched Yu Jia and Xue’er whispering to each other and tasting fruit; she watched Lord Li steal glances at Xue’er; she noticed it all.
“You are, after all, a princess of Jing,” Emperor Jingxiang’s voice lowered. “Would Qi dare to mistreat you?”
“Of course not,” Princess Kaiyun gave a small, embarrassed smile. “I was only complaining idly.”
Lan Miao gave the princess a glance. Perhaps Kaiyun had other reasons for making this trip.
“Let’s not dwell on state affairs.” The princess brightened and changed the subject. After another cup of wine she leaned over to Lan Miao and smiled. “There are hot springs up on the back hill. Lady Lan, you and Xue’er should bathe; it’ll do you good.”
Her eyes flicked toward the emperor, but he didn’t look back.
Princess Kaiyun’s expression turned in another direction. “Because Xue’er saved my son, I had an idea,” she said. Lord Li stopped speaking to Xue’er and stared at his mother with eager expectation. Xue’er and Yu Jia looked at each other.
“I would like to take Xue’er as my goddaughter. Then she would be A-Li’s sister. How would that be?” Princess Kaiyun’s laugh was clear and bright.
For a beat the table fell silent. Even the emperor’s face registered surprise.
Lan Miao saw the honesty in the princess’s eyes—she wasn’t joking. Her heart fluttered, but she smiled politely. “That would be a great honor, Your Highness. Xue’er is a poor, humble child, unworthy to be called Your Highness’s goddaughter—I dare not presume to call you my sister.”
Princess Kaiyun sounded resolved. “Gifts are vulgar. Let Xue’er be my goddaughter; it will raise her standing. The name alone will give her a better place.”
Lan Miao’s pulse quickened. Xue’er was, after all, the emperor’s own child—something in Lan Miao recoiled at the idea of binding the child, however informally, into the emperor’s household. If Xue’er became vermicized into the imperial family, the one secret Lan Miao had kept might never be kept again. She felt a stubborn knot of resistance she could not easily set aside.
Emperor Jingxiang had been silent, sleeves draped over his hands in a lazy repose. At Lan Miao’s words a brief smile flickered through his eyes. Then, beneath the table, he let his long leg slide gently against hers.
Lan Miao’s heart leapt. Heat rose to her face and she snapped her knees together, her head bowed so she wouldn’t have to meet anyone’s gaze. There were so many eyes in the hall—how brazen the emperor was to be so bold. Her pulse hammered as though it would burst from her chest. A strange premonition rose inside her; something was going to happen.
“Oh? Lady Lan is reluctant?” Princess Kaiyun’s laugh was soft; she accepted the refusal without ire.
Lan Miao forced a contrite smile and kept her eyes down.
Xue’er, having put down her fruit, nevertheless looked up at the emperor with bright, serious eyes. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindness,” she said, surprising them with the politeness of a child. “But Xue’er only wants Mama to be her mother.”
“You don’t want another mother?” Princess Kaiyun squeezed the child’s chubby cheek, still smiling.
Before Xue’er could reply Lord Li leapt up from his seat, small figure flushed with panic. “No—Mother, I don’t want Xue’er to be my sister! I already have sisters—I don’t want… I want Xue’er to come to our household later.”
“You would have her as a sister and she could still come to our household,” Princess Kaiyun chided in mock reproach, but Lord Li stomped his foot and turned till his face was beet-red. “No, I don’t want Xue’er to be my sister!”
“Sire, if Lord Li is unwilling, it would be improper to force Xue’er into such a position. Perhaps we should let it be,” Lan Miao said, reading the room. Though she hadn’t guessed the princess’s true motives, Xue’er was the emperor’s flesh and blood; letting the child be tied even symbolically to the emperor’s family sat uneasily with her. It felt as if it would complicate things that were better left separate.
The emperor remained silent, but when Lan Miao finished speaking his eyes showed a swift amusement. Then, again beneath the table, his leg brushed hers briefly—no more than a whisper.
Lan Miao’s face burned. Her voice was barely steady when she looked down at Xue’er and stroked the little topknot, her expression tender. “Xue’er—what do you think?”
Xue’er’s small ears twitched. “Xue’er remembers the teacher said that a princess’s daughter might be given the title of jun-zhǔ,” she recited, frowning as children do when they parrot something they barely understand. “If I become Your Highness’s goddaughter, the titles will get mixed up. How should I address Your Majesty then?” She clicked her tongue and looked solemn. “Xue’er doesn’t want to trouble Your Majesty.”
Yu Jia grasped the meaning at once and laughed in delight, already imagining the advantages. But Xue’er’s words had a delicate honesty—she was simply frightened of the emperor.
Lan Miao’s shoulders loosened a fraction. The decision was made for them by a child who wanted nothing grander than her mother’s arms. The buzz around the table resumed—relief, amusement, a little disappointment—and Lan Miao felt, for the first time that day, a measure of peace.