Chapter 22

 

Chapter 22: Exchange

 

From the moment the twin sisters were born, they were regarded as children blessed by their ancestors. Still swaddled, they were treated as living talismans of good fortune. The elders of the Lan household loved nothing more than to cradle them in their arms, pacing the courtyard with smiles.

When they grew old enough to walk and babble within the boudoir, the New Year would see Madam Yang dressing their hair into butterfly knots and clothing them in crimson plum-colored robes for the season. Hand in hand, the girls would go to greet uncles, aunts, and cousins, offering auspicious words for the year ahead.

Mix-ups were frequent. In fact, the elders found the mistakes delightful; as if only by confusing the pair could the room be filled with laughter and warmth.

Lan Yunjin soon learned that elders delighted in being surrounded by sweet-voiced little girls wishing them health, prosperity, and official success.

She would tug her sister along, moving from one relative to another, wishing them safety and bright futures and then holding out her small hand for lucky coins.

But the carefree days were brief. When they reached the age to enter the school hall, their childhood was over.

The tutor taught the classics, but once lessons ended, Yunjin refused to read another word.

Her elder sister, more reserved, would sit dutifully before her desk, turning page after page. Gradually, their elders mistook them less and less often.

At today’s banquet, few present had never seen the Lan sisters. Only one or two young noblewomen, who had moved to Chang’an with their mothers, might have recognized them.

But with Noble Consort Lan taking the lead, everyone quickly learned who was who: the sister in pale bamboo-green was the elder; the one in amber, the younger.

One by one, the palace consorts entered with their maids.

Noble Consort Lan’s seat was placed beside the dais.

“Your Highness, my sister and I should return to our places,” Yunjin whispered.

The hall was hushed; for the two of them to remain at the consort’s side was not proper.

Noble Consort Lan smiled. “Very well. Once His Majesty arrives, we’ll find another chance to talk and drink together. And not just drink—let me also have a closer look at my two new cousins-in-law. Today, I must enjoy myself to the fullest.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” the sisters replied, bowing before withdrawing.

Yunjin returned to her seat. She met Yunying’s eyes briefly, then lifted her porcelain cup with composure and sipped.

A eunuch’s shrill voice rang out: Emperor Sukang and the Empress had entered the hall.

The nobles rose to bow; the young men and women bent low in greeting.

The emperor ascended the dais and seated himself on the dragon throne. His sleeve of imperial yellow lifted as he spoke with easy warmth, “Consider this no different from gathering in your courtyards to drink and compose poetry. There is no need to be stiff or constrained.”

At his words, Empress Yao nodded to the eunuchs, signaling for the feast to begin.

Yunjin’s eyes drifted to the table before her: two small dishes of grapes and apricots, a platter of roasted meat slices these were the dishes suited to the tastes of Chang’an’s younger gentry.

A maid leaned forward to pour wine into her cup.

“If you’d rather not drink, have this instead.”

It was Wei Xiao’s voice, murmuring at her ear.

She glimpsed his hand as he placed a clean teacup by her side; broad, rough, scarred with two or three deep sword marks. At some point he had asked a maid for a pot of tea, and now he quietly set it before her.

“Thank you, husband,” Yunjin said softly.

Wei Xiao gave no reply.

The emperor had said there was no need for formality, but this was still the palace. Except for the imperial clan itself, who here dared forget to watch the sovereign’s mood?

Emperor Sukang was known as a diligent, people-minded ruler. Since moving the capital to Chang’an, he had risen before dawn and worked late into the night, memorials to the throne piling high upon his desk.

The world praised him for not succumbing to indulgence. With Empress Yao managing the inner palace, dragon and phoenix ruled side by side, and Beizhao flourished.

If the southern tribes could one day be subdued and the Xianbei of the northwest pushed back, the people of Beizhao would truly stand tall among nations.

Empress Yao, ever gracious, turned her gaze upon the young ladies. Her voice was as gentle as a Bodhisattva’s.

“Lu Zhi, did you bring the painting you made at the Princess’s residence the other day?”

Lu Zhi answered with a quiet smile, “I did, Your Majesty.”

A maid came forward, carrying a scroll with both hands, presenting it to the emperor’s attendant, Cao Liang.

Lu Zhi’s father was a renowned scholar in Chang’an, with more than a hundred disciples under him. The Lu family’s daughter had shown some talent in painting, particularly landscapes and natural subjects.

At the Princess’s residence that day, she had produced a piece titled Spring Pond Willows.

The imperial court could not dismiss the power of the great clans. Emperor Sukang valued the younger generation of these families highly.

Thus Empress Yao had used the excuse of viewing a painting to bring Lu Zhi forward, allowing her to shine at today’s banquet.

The work was indeed vivid and lifelike. It pleased the emperor, who laughed heartily after viewing it.
“I must admire your father’s skill, not only in teaching his students, but also in raising such a daughter.”

“Unlike me,” he continued with candor, “who manages ministers well enough, but when it comes to my own sons, I cannot read their hearts. They fear me, and as for poetry and painting, I lack the spirit of you and Master Lu’s pupils.”

Tall and graceful, Lu Zhi bowed with a smile. “This painting owes everything to the Princess’s guidance. Had she not invited me into her gardens to enjoy the blossoms, I would never have seen such beauty, nor set my hand to capture it.”

Though her words were in truth meant to flatter the emperor, her tone was so earnest it seemed without guile.

Empress Yao’s smile deepened. “As though His Majesty does not know how skilled the Princess is?”

Lu Zhi said no more. The empress had already given her the spotlight; to speak further would only breed envy in the other girls.

Knowing the Lu family’s daughter was not one to seek empty glory, the empress let the matter rest. Instead, she turned to Emperor Sukang.

“Your Majesty wished this year for Princess Jinyang to learn fine brushwork. I think Lu Zhi is perfectly suited to teach her. They are of the same age. With Lu Zhi, there is no need to worry about whom to entrust with Jinyang’s teachings.”

The emperor’s brows eased. “Indeed. With Master Lu’s daughter guiding her, I need not fear my princess’s talents will shame the royal family.”

Empress Yao smiled softly. “A pity Jinyang is not here today. Had she heard this, she would be clamoring to thank you.”

The exchange between sovereign and consort was warm and harmonious.

And so, Lu Zhi naturally accepted the honor of teaching the princess.

Emperor Sukang wished to reward Miss Lu with ten bolts of fine silk, but, remarking that extravagance was unbecoming, he reduced the gift to five.

The serving maids then brought forth the final dish: a platter of crab stuffed into citrus fruit.

Moments later, eunuchs entered bearing pipa, zheng, and konghou, setting the instruments in the center of the hall.

To display their artistry, a few confident young ladies stepped forward, joined by the second son of Prince Qi’s household, to perform a joint piece.

Lan Yunjin observed with quiet composure. This banquet was clearly set to last until dusk.

In truth, she had seen the granddaughters of these very performers in her previous life and she had almost become their grandmother-in-law.

Unbidden, her gaze lingered on the young women: hair pinned with jade, sleeves of crimson silk, faces like spring blossoms. They were still ten thousand miles away from the withering of age.

At the thought, she turned toward her elder sister.

Yunying was calmly lifting her chopsticks. Sensing her sister’s anxious glance, she shaped silent words with her lips: Don’t worry.

Yunjin gave a small laugh and nodded.

The music wound gracefully through the hall. Every guest harbored thoughts of their own.

In Chang’an, customs were more liberal; daughters of good families were not bound to the boudoir each day.

Empress Yao, considering that the emperor would take new consorts the following year, had summoned three or five unmarried girls into the palace today to observe their bearing.

Those maidens sat behind a painted screen.

For them, the emperor was old enough to be their father. If they must spend the rest of their lives gazing upon that face many would rather quickly find a young gentleman to marry.

The young men strained to compose clever verses to please the emperor, hoping to return home with praise to display before their parents.

As for married men like Wei Xiao, they ate steadily, sharing wine with their neighbors, undistracted.

When the performance ended, Emperor Sukang narrowed his eyes in pleasure, a smile spreading like spring sunlight across his face.

Empress Yao praised the performers one by one. “Such a sweet music! I cannot recall the last time I heard anything so fine.”

Her gaze softened as she turned to the emperor. “Was it not when we first moved the capital that you last heard such songs, Your Majesty?”

The emperor answered, “Indeed. Thanks to your labors in arranging this feast, I have at last the leisure to enjoy them.”

“This is only my duty,” Empress Yao replied, then waved to her attendants. “Bring forth the musk from the Western Regions for these young ladies.”

At the mention of the capital’s relocation, Consort Han, who had given birth to Princess Chunxi the previous year, laughed lightly.

“Your Majesty, if we were still in Luoyang at this season, the peonies would be in bloom. One could gather endless petals at the foot of the imperial city. Was not Princess Jinyang born the very year of the move? Do you still recall?”

Consort Han was Jinyang’s mother, though she had yet to bear a son.

The emperor’s smile was indulgent. “Of course I recall. How could I forget Luoyang’s peonies? Were it not for the need to expand our borders, I would never have moved the capital.”

“I still long for Luoyang’s peony cakes,” Consort Han sighed.

The empress’s smile thinned.

Consort Han’s gaze flicked around the hall, then fell upon Noble Consort Lan. She said pointedly, “The Noble Consort Lan’s family hails from Luoyang. Aren’t some of them here today?”

The emperor’s attention was caught. Looking down, he saw Wei Xiao and a frail-looking scholar seated together, beside them sat a pair of twin sisters; one bright and vivid, the other serene and cool.

Fearing Consort Han would stir trouble, Noble Consort Lan quickly interjected, “Your Majesty, my cousins have only recently come to Chang’an. Now that they are at this banquet, may they sit with me a while longer, so we might speak?”

The emperor nodded. “Let them come forward.”

Empress Yao smiled. “Last year, Your Majesty asked Cao Liang whether the Lan family of Luoyang had a pair of twin daughters of marriageable age. It’s a coincidence that General Wei who had rarely asked Your Majesty anything had requested, a bride from among them for his third son and that too the elder sister, no less.”

Yunjin’s heart tightened.

Noble Consort Lan had already warned her that the emperor wished to see them.

But in Empress Yao’s words, there was far less kindness than she had shown to Lu Zhi.

As Yunjin shifted to rise, a warm weight covered her hand; it was Wei Xiao’s. His voice was low and steady. “Do not be afraid. His Majesty is not harsh.”

“…Mm.” Yunjin breathed. “Thank you, husband.”

Together, the sisters walked gracefully to the place indicated by Cao Liang, and bowed before the emperor.

“Raise your heads,” Emperor Sukang commanded.

The emperor believed firmly in destiny.

Twins, especially the rare boy-and-girl twins, were seen as auspicious omens. He had long wished for a consort to bear such children, to bring fortune to Beizhao. Thus he had inquired of Cao Liang about the Lan sisters.

Yunjin lifted her gaze toward the dais, meeting the emperor’s penetrating eyes.

Yunying, however, accepted his scrutiny with perfect composure.

Though they were daughters, though they must bow before the Son of Heaven, they must not simper or smile foolishly.

“Let me look closely,” the emperor said with interest. “Do not speak yet.”

Yunjin’s hand, hidden in her sleeve, went rigid.

The hall was oppressively silent, countless eyes upon their backs.

Wei Xiao studied the quiet poise of his wife.

What questions would the emperor ask her? How long would she be made to stand there?

And what would his brother-in-law think?

Wei Xiao’s gaze cut toward Pei Ye.

Pei Ye’s brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed upon the sisters, as unyielding as Wei Xiao’s own.

At last the emperor leaned forward, pointing toward the girl in amber robes. “You must be the elder.”

Yunying’s fingers dug into her palm, nearly drawing blood. Yet she could not lose composure.

How was she to correct the emperor himself?

Panic surged in Yunjin’s heart. She would rather Pei Ye or Wei Xiao exposes them than to let the emperor discover the truth.

The consorts stared unblinking, marveling at how the emperor could tell the sisters apart.

None of the other nobles dared speak. When Noble Consort Lan had spoken to them earlier, the emperor had not yet arrived.

Even if he was wrong, who could contradict him?

And besides, this banquet was meant to delight the emperor. To quibble over such a thing would only spoil the mood.

Empress Yao’s lips curved. “I was short-sighted and thought the other girl to be the elder. On what grounds does Your Majesty judge otherwise?”

The emperor replied slowly, “I heard that Lan Yunying is famed in Luoyang as a talented lady. I thought her scholarly air would be stronger.”

Yet even as he spoke, his gaze shifted toward the girl in bamboo-green robes—gentle as jade, like white tea steeped with time.

Noble Consort Lan, bound to protect her kin, longed to speak out and set matters straight.

But Empress Yao suggested smoothly, “Since she bears the title of Luoyang’s talented lady, why not have the sisters paint a piece each? By their brushwork, who is the elder will be clear.”

Noble Consort Lan forced a thin smile. “Though Yunjin lacks that title, in painting she is the equal of her sister.”

“Then let it be so,” said the emperor. He disliked being told outright whether he was right or wrong; he would decide for himself. “Cao Liang, bring my brushes, ink, silk, and easels.”

Noble Consort Lan was helpless. She could not gainsay the emperor’s wish. She was now his favored consort and no longer merely the sisters’ cousin.

Yunjin’s fingers trembled; so subtly only she herself could feel it.

She was no longer an aged grandmother.

Had it been calligraphy, she might have muddled through.

But painting—before so many eyes—what could she possibly draw? Her sister’s posture with the brush, her way of composing and laying down strokes… if Yunjin slipped even a little, it would tarnish Yunying’s reputation, something no excuse could mend.

“Your Majesty,” Yunying said with serene poise, “this humble woman’s hands were just now stained with the grease of meat. I fear I might soil the silk. May I beg permission to wash first?”

Emperor Sukang granted it without hesitation, then turned to the younger sister. “Do you also wish to go?”

Yunjin was already wavering. She seized the chance to breathe.

With a modest smile, she replied, “Your Majesty, one must indeed wash before painting.”

Even their voices were hard to tell apart.

Consort Lan stepped in smoothly. “Your Majesty, allow my maids to escort them.”

----

In the side hall, two basins of clear water were set out. The maids moved to help the sisters wash their hands.

Yunjin tried to dismiss them. “I’m sorry, my rouge has smudged. Could you fetch some to touch it up?”

Noticing the faint blur of powder at her temple, the maid nodded at once. “Please wait here a moment, young madam. I’ll fetch the cosmetics. The consort’s chambers are not far.”

“Thank you.”

The doors shut.

Moving quickly but calmly, Yunying loosened the sash at her waist. “Sister—we’ll change clothes.”

In an instant Yunjin understood. She hesitated. “Sister will this work?”

“Do you see any better way?” Yunying urged, her voice tight. “Fortunately, Yuchan and Guiyuan dressed our hair alike today. Once we’ve made one exchange, a second makes no difference. The important thing is to get through this moment.”

“So long as we change back after, no one can fault us.”

Yunjin bit her lip and slipped off the bamboo-green robe.

By the time 30 minutes had passed, the maid returned and quickly refreshed their makeup.

Outside, the sun sank westward, sky painted in layers of blue and gray, dazzling bright.

The eunuchs carried the instruments away from the center of the hall.

Yunjin seated herself before the easel. No need now to imitate her sister’s manner; she simply sketched the outline of rock and garden.

Yunying, once again in her true place, set brush to silk with some lingering guilt, though her strokes were brisk and sure.

All people around them waited expectantly for portraits.

Neither sister had the heart to glance toward Wei Xiao or Pei Ye.

Wei Xiao turned the teacup his wife had sipped from, staring at the faint cinnabar tint her lips had left.

To him, the emperor’s command that she paint was no honor.

But as a subject, he could not protest it.

His wife was not sitting before him now.

Her sister was, turned slightly to the side, struggling with her brush.

And at that sight, Wei Xiao remembered the day Pei Ye had drunk too much and mistaken the sisters for one another.

How could anyone confuse them, when to him they were so clearly distinct?

 

← Next Chapter Previous Chapter →