Chapter 23: The Grand Ceremony of the Five Nations’ Alliance (Part 3)

After the palace attendants had cleared away the dishes and chopsticks, the five of them sat upright in silent composure once more. Only Zhangsun Chengjue and Shen Xinan leaned back slightly in their seats.

“Drink,” announced the Minister of Rites.

At his command, seven eunuchs approached in order, placing green wine vessels upon the tables before them.

The wine had been served alongside the food, but to drink without a cup was a grave breach of etiquette.

“Pour the wine,” said the woman at the table, who had until now remained silent, addressing the seven eunuchs.

Each of their cups was filled to the brim, but not overflowing.

The old man hunched over, supporting himself with a cane as he left his seat and raised his cup. The other six rose as well, stepping aside from their seats.

After bowing to the old man, they followed his example, pouring a little wine onto the ground as a libation, giving thanks to Heaven and Earth for nurturing life.

Then, each covered their mouth with their sleeve and took a small sip. Seeing that the old man had not yet finished his wine, Shen Xinan, Fu Chen, and the others dared not drink more than a taste.

Wan Qi Shu, who had always been fond of wine, thought to himself: Surely I don’t have to eke out this small cup over two or three rounds? That would seem terribly stingy. Besides, the green vessel is small to begin with; it would be difficult not to drain it. With this in mind, he boldly downed the wine in one draught.

Just as he was savoring the aftertaste, he heard the old man say, “Drink again.”

He waited, but the eunuchs did not come to pour more wine. Now he was in trouble; his cup was empty—how was he supposed to drink? He felt like a condemned man on the brink of execution, and cold sweat broke out across his back.

At that moment, he realized he was not alone—Gu Nanyuan was in the same predicament.

Wan Qi Shu noticed the uneasy look on Gu Nanyuan’s face, and saw that he, too, hesitated to raise his cup. A closer look revealed that his cup was empty as well—he must have drained it earlier.

Though Gu Nanyuan was not fond of wine, he had poured most of it as libation, and what little remained was gone with a sip.

He turned his head and met Wan Qi Shu’s gaze. Seeing the empty cup in his hand, he understood at once. Their eyes met, and in that instant, they shared a silent camaraderie born of mutual misfortune.

Truly, man makes plans, but Heaven decides the outcome. Who could have guessed the little green cup would be used for round after round?

The woman’s face betrayed no emotion as she spoke in a clear voice, “Pour wine for the Third Prince of Eastern Ling and the Second Prince of Baixi.”

The eunuchs poured a little more wine into their cups.

This time, Wan Qi Shu watched carefully, and only after the old man had finished his drink did he, with lingering apprehension, drain his own.

“When drinking with others, it is proper to sip slowly and savor the taste,” the old man said as he took his seat.

“Yes, sir.”

Wan Qi Shu and Gu Nanyuan both felt keenly embarrassed. Previously at odds, they now found themselves united in shared adversity.

The Minister of Rites then announced, “Speak.”

After the five had straightened their posture, the woman drew a yellow folded slip from her sleeve and took her place at the center.

“Today, it is our good fortune to observe this rite alongside the princes present, a blessing from the Five Emperors. Here are three questions written on this slip. I ask that each of you offer your thoughts in turn.”

“Yes, madam.”

“The first question: It is a hot, dry day. A newlywed woman sits alone in her chamber, her attire disheveled. Her husband returns home and, peering quietly through the door, sees her thus. Enraged, he leaves without speaking to her, and reports to his father: ‘My wife is without propriety; please send her away.’ Should the father consent?”

Gu Nanyuan, without much thought, replied, “He should consent. A woman is held to four virtues: virtue, speech, appearance, and work. Her disarray is a failure of proper appearance.”

He was feeling quite pleased with his answer when Fu Chen spoke up: “No. First, in such heat, strict attire is not conducive to relief. Second, she is alone in her chamber; to sit as she pleases is no great offense. There is no need to make much of a small thing.”

“Hmph, what nonsense,” retorted Gu Nanyuan, arrogance and scorn in his voice. “It is fortunate her husband saw her, for had an outsider glimpsed her, it would have invited gossip and brought shame upon the family, making one think her no better than a common harlot.”

Fu Chen refused to let him have the last word. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I cannot agree. If a woman must be so restrained even in her own room, it makes the master of the house seem heartless and inhuman.”

Gu Nanyuan was about to retort further when the old man rapped his cane on the floor twice, and he fell silent.

“What did the Sixth Prince of Nan Sheng mean by that?” a young man in the audience tugged the sleeve of another to ask.

“How do you not know? It’s like speaking in riddles to the living.”

“Oh, I see,” said the first, nodding as if half-understanding.

“Today is not for debate,” the woman said stiffly. “You are only to state your own views.”

She then looked to the three who had yet to speak.

Seeing that Zhangsun Chengjue and Shen Xinan showed no intention of replying, Wan Qi Shu spoke first: “In my humble opinion, the father should consent. Not because the woman's posture and appearance violate ritual, but because her husband already bears resentment. Even if she stays today, who can say what excuse he will find tomorrow to send her away?”

“And how do you know the husband bears her ill-will?” the woman asked, her interest piqued.

“From the day they were married, husband and wife should respect one another as guests. He did not enter by the front door, but peered quietly through the window, his heart already suspicious. Finding her seated and disheveled, he did not remonstrate, but left in anger. Clearly, he has lost affection and his heart has turned.”

“Even if the husband is at fault, for a woman to be dismissed from her husband’s house is a grave humiliation. To find another to depend on thereafter is nigh impossible. After such an ordeal, how is she to survive in this world?”

“Well…” This question left Wan Qi Shu momentarily at a loss.

The woman smiled gently and looked to Zhangsun Chengjue and Shen Xinan.

Shen Xinan rose, bowed to her, and answered respectfully, “No. It is the husband who was in the wrong, not the wife. ‘Before entering, announce yourself; before ascending the hall, make your approach heard; before entering a chamber, lower your gaze—do not catch others unprepared.’ A true man should act with integrity and not act without propriety. It was the man’s conduct that was improper, not the woman’s.”

Zhangsun Chengjue added, “A man who enters without sound and catches his wife unawares is himself at fault and should reflect. Thus, my answer is the same as that of the Second Prince of Bei Xiao.”

The woman nodded, glanced at the slip, and asked, “Second question: It is said, ‘Beyond the bedchamber, do not run; in the hall, do not run; if holding jade, do not run.’ Now, one holds a piece of jade, and is summoned by his father and must proceed with the jade in hand. What should he do?”

All knew that when summoned by one’s elders, one must approach quickly, not slowly. Yet, holding jade, one ought not to run—truly a dilemma.

On stage and off, all whispered among themselves, pondering the question.

Meanwhile, outside the Nan Sheng palace, Zhangsun Luoxue lay in bed, coughing relentlessly, her cheeks pale and bloodless. The household was filled with anxiety and dread, both because she had always treated them kindly, and because of Zhangsun Chenmin’s deep affection for her.

If anything were to happen to this frail princess, they might all pay with their lives.

Though Zhangsun Chenmin was not a cruel man, he had said: “If she comes to any harm, none of you will find peace.”

“Mammy, Young Master Gu has arrived!” a young maid ran into the room, excitedly announcing to the elderly nurse caring for Zhangsun Luoxue.

The anxious old nurse’s face lit up with joy at the sight of the masked man behind the maid. She hastily put down the handkerchief she’d been using to wipe the princess’s hands and bowed. “Young Master Gu, please look at the princess. She…”

“You may all go,” he interrupted, dismissing them to their duties.

The household relaxed at his arrival. For the past two or three years, it was thanks to him that Zhangsun Luoxue had remained safe.

The servants did not know where this masked man lived or whence he came, but seeing how Zhangsun Chenmin treated him as a brother, they naturally showed him the utmost respect.

Zhangsun Luoxue tried to sit up as he entered, but he gently pressed her back down. “Lie still.”

“Yes,” she replied weakly.

He took a pill from the sachet at his waist and fetched a cup of warm water to help her swallow it.

“If you don’t take care of yourself, when your royal brother returns, he’ll hold all the nurses and maids in this room responsible.”

Whenever she took his medicine, the pain always faded quickly, and she found it easier to speak.

“Are you not attending the Alliance Ceremony?” she asked, regretting the words as soon as they left her lips. In his current position, how could he go?

“Even if it takes thirty years, we can go together, you, me, and your royal brother.”

“Thirty years…” she murmured, her eyes filling with tears at the thought of her fate. “By then, I fear I will have passed into the next life.”

“Don’t say that. I have a way to keep you alive until your hair turns white.”

His words always made her believe, in spite of herself.

Zhangsun Luoxue managed a faint smile. “Very well.”

“Rest now. I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”

Watching him leave, she silently pleaded, “Don’t lose yourself, sir, don’t let grief for what’s lost consume you any longer.”

But the burdens he carried were too many, and the debts the world owed him were too great.

What kind of end could ever be worthy of all the suffering and pain he had endured?

…

Unknowingly, the sun had already sunk in the west. At the training grounds on Kun Mountain, the twilight cast a greenish hue over the scenery, serene and beautiful.

“That is enough for today. The final question will wait until tomorrow,” the old man said wearily.

“Yes, sir.”