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His name was Xiao Pingzhang.
He lifted his thumb to his mouth and almost began chewing on his nail when he remembered: he had to be extra good, now. Pa—The General had bestowed upon him two parting gifts — a name, and an instruction — and Pingzhang was going to live up to both as well as he could. Even if it was painful, or hard to remember, or even if he felt terribly alone in this large room that he had yet to get used to. He took a deep breath, sat up straight, and smoothed open the new book in front of him on the table. His name was Xiao Pingzhang, and he was going to be good.
“Hi!”
Pingzhang’s head snapped to the side, where the voice came from. “Who’s there?”
A little face peeked around the corner of the door that opened towards the courtyard, and it bobbed up and down in greeting. “Hello!” The face, followed by a body, emerged from behind the door. It belonged to a child that Pingzhang couldn’t tell the gender of, because they were wearing plain pugilistic robes. “I’m Qianxue! You’re Uncle Tingsheng’s new son, aren’t you?”
Qianxue sounded like a girl’s name, but Pingzhang didn’t want to assume. “Good afternoon,” he said politely, getting to his feet. “My name is Xiao Pingzhang. I am in fact new to the Xiao household, having arrived three weeks ago. Who would your esteemed self be?”
The child grinned. “You’re so formal! I’m Meng Qianxue of the Clan of Meng, and this—” They gestured to the empty air beside them, then realised when Pingzhang frowned that there was nobody there. They vanished behind the door again, and when they reappeared, it was with a third child in tow. “And this is Xun Feizhan also of the Clan of Meng.”
Pingzhang bowed as gracefully as he could manage to both of them, and they bowed back in the pugilistic manner. “I bet you’re wondering how we’re both of the Clan of Meng when his family name is Xun,” said Qianxue. After a pause in which Qianxue’s expectant smile didn’t dim and Feizhan’s nervous smile did, Pingzhang nodded. “Well, that’s because I’m the legendary Meng Zhi’s grandniece, and Feizhan was brought in to be his disciple, so we’re sworn siblings in the Clan and also of punching things real good.” She beamed at Pingzhang. “You’ll probably join us! Uncle Tingsheng can punch things real good too.”
Pingzhang hadn’t known that about his new—his father. But that made sense, if he stopped to think about it; Xiao Tingsheng and the General had been sworn brothers, and in the armies together. Of course they were good at punching things. “That would be enjoyable,” he said in reply to Qianxue.
“Have you been to the palace yet?” Feizhan asked Pingzhang as Qianxue began looking around the room.
Pingzhang nodded. “I was presented to His Majesty yesterday,” he said quietly, and would have stopped there, but the rest of the words fell out of him like they’d been wanting to since he thought them into being the day before: “He told me to call him Grandfather, but that’s just impossible to imagine… he’s the Emperor. I can’t call him Grandfather, it would be like playing at being a prince.” Pingzhang slapped a hand to his mouth in horror.
Qianxue burst out laughing from where she’d been inspecting a bundle of scrolls. “There we go!” she crowed, zipping over to clap Pingzhang on the shoulder. “You were all stiff and formal. This is much better.”
Feizhan smiled encouragingly at him. “If it helps, you can think of it as an imperial order? Then you don’t have to worry about the meaning of it, because you’re just following instructions.” He paused. “Aren’t you sort of a prince anyway? I mean, you won’t be in line to the throne, but you’re part of the imperial family.”
There was a thoughtful moment of silence as all three of them considered this new fact. “I guess you’re right,” Pingzhang said eventually. Then, rather belatedly, he asked them, “How did you get in here?”
“We climbed over the wall,” Qianxue told him, matter-of-fact like it was entirely normal to trespass onto imperial property. “The adults were talking about Uncle Tingsheng’s new son and we wanted to see who you were.”
“I hope you’re not disappointed,” Pingzhang said.
Qianxue clapped him on the shoulder again. “Of course not! We would have liked you even if you had been a tiny wailing baby like new sons normally are.”
“I’m glad you aren’t a tiny wailing baby,” Feizhan added. “They aren’t much fun.” This was said with the worldly knowledge of a nine year old who had very recently been in close proximity to a tiny wailing baby. Pingzhang could commiserate; he'd recently been brought to greet his father’s brother and his wife, and their brand new baby Yuanqi, who had been very small and very loud.
Before anyone else could add their opinion about babies, there was a clatter, and the main door to the room slid open. Uncle Fei Liu looked down at the trio, then laughed. “Tingsheng,” he called out into the hall, “visitors!”
“Nooo,” Qianxue wailed. “Uncle Fei Liu, haven’t you heard of not telling on people?”
“Noticed you earlier,” he said with a shrug. “Let you talk first.”
“Of course you noticed us,” she muttered, then said in a louder voice, “Hello, Uncle Tingsheng.”
Pingzhang’s father raised an eyebrow at her. “Qianxue. Feizhan. Nice to see you. Looks like you’ve introduced yourselves to my son.” When he turned to look at Pingzhang, his face softened into a smile. “I was going to bring you over to meet them anyway. Don’t worry, you can continue to talk, if these two aren’t expected home yet.”
Uncle Fei Liu had sat himself at the table and was looking at them. “Tingsheng,” he announced, “reminds me of Su-gege.”
With an unreadable expression, Xiao Tingsheng murmured, “That would be quite the honour, Fei Liu-ge.” He looked back at Pingzhang. “Did the General ever mention Scholar Su to you?”
Pingzhang shook his head. His father smiled at him again. “Well, that can be the first assignment I set you for your learning: Scholar Su Zhe’s contributions to the empire. Remember I told you I would ensure you're caught up with lessons? This would be… a sort of history lesson and research project.” He glanced at Qianxue and Feizhan. “You two can use the opportunity to introduce him to everyone as well. That way, you can knock on their front doors as part of your education instead of clambering over walls.” Which only garnered him two sheepish but unafraid looks.
The next day, as promised, the pair showed up bright and early at Changlin Manor. Pingzhang’s mother made them join her for breakfast and exchanged a few light sparring moves with Qianxue before letting the trio go off into the city.
“We’ll start off easy,” Qianxue declared. “Granduncle really wants to meet you, and loves talking about the old days.”
Pingzhang had spent the evening reading up on the current emperor’s reign (his grandfather’s, a little voice kept murmuring to him, but he ignored it because it was still too fresh and weird), but there had been no mention of any such scholar. “Who is this Scholar Su anyway?” he asked them. “When did he live?”
Feizhan made a thoughtful noise. “Now that I think about it, I'm not too sure who it is, either. Uncle Fei Liu talks about this Su-gege a lot, but I don't think we've ever met him?” He turned this last word into a question to Qianxue.
“No, I don't recall anyone named Su. Granduncle would be able to give us more information, though!”
Granduncle, also known as the former Commander General Meng Zhi, was a formidable-looking man whose snow-white hair and beard were the only signs of his advanced age. He had a booming laugh that he freely dispensed, clapping Pingzhang on the shoulder in the exact same way Qianxue had done, only with ten times the force. “It's good to meet you, little Pingzhang! I look forward to seeing you on my training field alongside these two.”
“It would be my honour to receive your instruction,” Pingzhang replied, bowing.
Meng Zhi waved a broad hand. “Ah, forget these formalities; you may call me Master like Feizhan here does.” He beamed at the children. “So! I hear Tingsheng has done his scholar-warrior thing and assigned you homework already!”
“Ah, yes,” said Pingzhang. “I am to collect research on a Scholar Su and his contributions to the empire.”
“What, that's it?” Meng Zhi tilted his head. “Did he even tell you—” He paused. “No, the kid must have his reasons for phrasing it that way. Well, boy, if you ask me, the best person to ask about this topic is your imperial grandfather,” he said with a wink that only served to confuse Pingzhang further. “Nevertheless, since you're here, feel free to ask me what questions you have!”
Pingzhang tapped his fingers together. “Um, when did Scholar Su Zhe live? That would help to narrow down the time frame in which to do my research.”
Meng Zhi’s laugh was a little odd this time. “An accurate answer would not be the correct answer,” he warned, and stated a period that corresponded with a few years before the current emperor had ascended the dragon throne. “So let that be my clue to you for further research.”
“Did you know him, Granduncle?” Qianxue piped up. “You were Commander General during that time. If this Scholar Su contributed enough to the empire that—” Her words came to an abrupt halt. “Wait, were his contributions to the previous emperor?”
Feizhan’s brow was furrowed in thought. “The years you mentioned, Master – they couldn't possibly be his entire lifespan. That would mean he passed away at thirteen. How much could he have contributed?”
Meng Zhi gave them a look that was probably meant to be wise and all-knowing. He looked more like he'd eaten something too spicy. “I did tell you that an accurate answer would not be the full answer,” was all he said. “But yes, I did know Scholar Su Zhe.”
Pingzhang was starting to think this whole thing was a riddle, rather than straightforward research. “Was…” he began, an idea coalescing, “was the name Su Zhe a pen name or alias of some kind?”
“Ha!” Meng Zhi exclaimed, a delighted grin spreading across his face. “You are truly the son of Xiao Tingsheng, aren't you? Yes, it was. But I can't go giving you all the information at once, so don't ask me what his real name was.” He slapped the table and then pointed out the door. “You should go talk to Xiao Jingrui. He’s actually in town this month, so the timing’s just right.”
“Are we conducting research or an investigation,” grumbled Qianxue as they trudged their way across the city to the manor of Chancellor Yan.
“My apologies for dragging you into this with me,” Pingzhang murmured. “You don't have to waste ti—”
Qianxue waved a hand. “No, ignore me, I'm just complaining. I'm really curious now that Granduncle’s gone and thrown us that line about not giving us all the answers; there’s something else going on about exactly who this scholar was.”
The Chancellor himself wasn't home, but the servants let them into the reception hall after they introduced themselves and the reason for their visit. An older man was sitting at the Chancellor’s desk reading a book, and he got to his feet with a smile as they entered.
“Hello,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming. “I don't believe I’ve had the honour; I'm Xiao Jingrui.”
Feizhan’s face was one of awe. “You're the master of the Tianquan Manor style,” he breathed, and bowed deeply in the pugilistic style. “May I learn a move or two from you?”
Xiao Jingrui laughed. “You certainly may! We can take this outside later. But I hear you're actually on a research mission, what's that about?”
“My name is Xiao Pingzhang,” Pingzhang began, and the others behind him introduced themselves rather belatedly as well. “My father set me a research topic and it's been proving quite the riddle.”
Xiao Jingrui’s smile broadened. “What's Tingsheng up to now?”
Pingzhang itched to know if this man was related to his father somehow. There seemed to be a lot of imperial relatives. Instead, he outlined the topic at hand and described what Meng Zhi had told them. “He said we should talk to you.”
“That's certainly one way of making sure you get introduced to the right people,” Xiao Jingrui mused, and waved for them to take a seat. “Well, you could say I was the one who brought Su-xiong into the capital to begin with, all those years ago. So in a sense, the story begins with me.”
He was in the middle of recounting the wonderfully melancholic tune that he had heard through the mists of the mountain, and the children were in the middle of trying to look like they were interested in the elder’s poetic descriptions, when the door blew open. “Jingrui! You have visitors? Oh, who's this then?”
The trio startled to alertness and leapt to their feet to greet this newcomer, who was still in his court robes. “We of the younger generation bid the Chancellor a good morning,” Qianxue and Feizhan recited, which Pingzhang echoed.
There were prominent lines radiating from Chancellor Yan’s eyes that became more pronounced when he smiled. “Please convey my best to your respective elders. You're all such good children,” he declared, and took a seat at his desk. Jingrui hadn't bothered to rise for the Chancellor’s arrival; he only shifted to the side to allow Yan Yujin his proper place at the head of the hall. “So, what's happening? Is Jingrui boring you with his grandfather tales?”
“I,” replied Xiao Jingrui with an indignant shove at the Chancellor, “was telling them about how we first met Su-xiong.”
“Seriously? That's the ultimate grandfather tale.”
“We asked,” Pingzhang offered, feeling shy and a little overwhelmed. He’d heard of Chancellor Yan over the years; his prowess in political nuance and diplomatic negotiations was famous across multiple countries, as was his surprising knack for martial arts when negotiations took a rather aggressive turn. Watching the Chancellor bicker with the master of the famed Tianquan Manor style, however, it dawned on Pingzhang that perhaps the second talent had been cultivated rather close to home.
“Trust Tingsheng to think of such a task,” said the Chancellor with a laugh. “Listen, you don't have to bother with all the poetry that Jingrui was definitely spewing about Su-xiong. Here's the short version: we brought him to town, and that was the beginning of the end of the previous emperor’s reign.”
“Yujin,” Xiao Jingrui admonished. “Have some tact.”
“I literally tact for a living, Master Xiao,” Yan Yujin scoffed. “Kids, you do know you should just go talk to Pingzhang’s grandfather about this, right?” He eyed their expressions. “Ah, come on, he's not that scary. That's just his face,” added the Chancellor about the chosen son of the heavens themselves.
Yan Yujin insisted they stay for the midday meal, so they adjourned to an inner courtyard for Xiao Jingrui to teach them all a few basic moves from the Tianquan Manor style. Later, they bowed their thanks and farewells as Yan Yujin shoved sweets at them to snack on.
“Did Tingsheng give you a specific timeline for this project?” the Chancellor called out as they began walking away. “Because it's the Emperor’s birthday soon, and everyone involved back then will be here in the capital for the festivities. You can speak with everyone at one go.”
“Why can't they just go talk to—”
“This is why I kicked you out of court,” Yan Yujin said, whirling around to poke at Xiao Jingrui’s chest. Both of them were well past their fifth decade in age, but they seemed far younger as they argued in the ornate doorway.
Feizhan looked like he was floating as they made their way back to Changlin Manor. “I'd heard of the Tianquan Manor style’s unique blocking forms, but I never expected to meet the master himself,” he gushed. “Master had made mention of bringing some of us to learn from them next year; I can't wait.”
Pingzhang let the words tumble out of him. “Is Master Xiao related to the emperor? Or to my father? His name is of the imperial lineage.”
“Oh!” Feizhan looked over at him. “You weren't brought up in the city, then?” He gave Pingzhang a summary of the odd circumstances of Xiao Jingrui’s birth, as well as the even odder circumstances in which the truth of his birthright had come to light.
“It's always seemed a bit incomplete, even as gossip,” Qianxue added. “Who found out about all that in the first place? Why reveal it then?”
They walked on in contemplative silence for a stretch. “It had to benefit someone,” Pingzhang mused aloud. “Master Xiao would only have been hurt, and the truth had nothing to do with Master Meng or His Majesty.” He looked at the other two. “Who else was there at the time?”
“From what I've heard, not many others. And most of them are gone now, so we can't ask them either.” Qianxue made a face. “Granduncle would say asking him is cheating since we’ve already been sent to talk to other people.”
“Looks like you have to request an audience with His Majesty,” Feizhan told Pingzhang, who sighed.
“I'll ask my father,” he agreed reluctantly.
When he asked after presenting his findings, however, Xiao Tingsheng shook his head. “My imperial father would be far too glad to tell you everything, so you are only to interview him last,” he said to Pingzhang. “There's no hurry, take your time with this. Chancellor Yan is right; you should wait for everyone to arrive over the next few weeks.”
The next few weeks proceeded to pass largely the same as the previous few: plenty of writing practice, disastrous attempts to learn to play the qin and flute, and lessons in everything that Pingzhang had not had a solid foundation in during his youth. He had spent all ten years of his life raised in a border camp, and while his knowledge of warfare and the logistics thereof was impeccable, it had left his education in literature rather lacking.
“It's just words that sort of rhyme,” he lamented to Feizhan one evening. That was the biggest and most welcome change to his life: Qianxue and Feizhan’s frequent visits, and Pingzhang’s own lessons with the Meng clan. It made the expanse of the city feel fuller; less like he was alone. “Why do we have to study this? I'd rather continue the cartography lessons.”
Feizhan shrugged and offered him a peeled tangerine slice. “I suppose it would help in telling your tales of glorious victory,” he suggested. “The bards wouldn't want to go around singing songs that sound like court reports.”
Pingzhang sighed. “The problem is that so many of these works are referencing other works that I don't know. So it's all just one big in-joke among all the writers.” He picked up another slice. “Like this research topic about Scholar Su Zhe. I'm pretty sure there's—” He abruptly sat up straight and almost choked on his tangerine. Feizhan pounded his back, alarmed. “Uncle Fei Liu!”
“Where?”
“No, he's not here. That’s the problem; he disappeared right after he brought up the scholar in the first place!”
Feizhan hummed his agreement. “You could come over the day after, he's supposed to spar with me. But he's not likely to give you a straight answer either.”
As it turned out, Fei Liu’s answer was the least cryptic so far. “Oh, Su-gege,” he said. “Yes, many contributions. Got rid of bad men, made good men good again. Fought war.”
Pingzhang thought back to the history of the empire that he had been studying; the timeline made sense. “Made good men good again… are you referring to the Chiyan Army case?”
Fei Liu shrugged. “Whoever. Don't know them. Only Su-gege. Oh! And Uncle Feng.”
“Who—”
“Uncle Feng. Good fighter.” Fei Liu gave Pingzhang a shrewd look. “About Su-gege… go ask Water Buffalo.”
“And who—”
“Your grandfather. Water Buffalo.” He made an expression that was a rather uncanny impression of the emperor’s stern countenance. “He knows best.”
Pingzhang decided to ignore the fact that Uncle Fei Liu apparently referred to the emperor as a farm animal, and said instead, “I've been told I can only ask him last.”
“Boring!” Fei Liu declared, and sauntered off to start a round with Qianxue. Feizhan cheered her on weakly from where he'd flopped over after losing spectacularly to Fei Liu.
That evening, Pingzhang reread the material he had on the years that Meng Zhi had mentioned; apparently it had been Xiao Jingrui’s mother who had sent the first appeal to the then-emperor to reinvestigate the Chiyan Army case. But none of the few prominent members of the army that were listed had the family name Feng (Pingzhang knew better than to check for Su). There had apparently been a commander named Nie Feng, but he'd perished along with his army, and would certainly never have had the chance to make friends with Uncle Fei Liu.
Researching further into the Chiyan’s Lin family over the next few days, however, got him somewhere. The public record of births, deaths, and marriages mentioned that Vice Marshal Lin Shu had been betrothed to first daughter Nihuang of the Mu family, years before the fateful battle that had led to the Chiyan Army’s demise. That betrothal had been officially called off almost twenty years later — Lin Shu having been dead for fifteen years or so by then — by none other than the Crown Prince of the time: the current emperor.
He continued looking, but there was no mention of Mu Nihuang’s subsequent marriage nor death; it was as if she had disappeared entirely after that final mention. And the head of the Mu family was all the way in Yunnan, so it wasn't like Pingzhang could request an audience with him.
Pingzhang’s list of questions was only getting longer, and he turned them over in his mind even as Auntie Ling helped him try on his new court robes for the emperor’s birthday feast in a week’s time. She was the maid in charge of the household’s clothing and tailoring and laundry, and had been very nice to Pingzhang since his arrival all those months ago.
“Young Master looks deep in thought,” she remarked, tucking a jade accessory into his belt. It had been given to him by the emperor on the day Pingzhang had been presented to him, with a gentle reminder that he was to guard it with his life.
“I've not been doing too well on researching a topic set by my father,” he confided. “I keep running into dead ends.”
She patted his shoulders and spun him in a circle to check the final fit. “Well, I'm but a simple servant,” she said, “but if I'm drawing a pattern on cloth and I run out of fabric, I try to rearrange the patterns to make better use of the space before cutting. Perhaps you could try the scholarly version of that.”
Pingzhang smiled at Auntie Ling as his mother entered the room to check on his robes as well. “Thank you for your advice,” he said sincerely as Auntie Ling bowed and left. Then he smoothed the rich fabric down over his chest and bit his lip; he had only been into the palace that one time, and even then they had met the emperor in private, and hadn't needed to dress up much for it. He had also naturally never had much need for finery at the border. These ornate multi-layered silks and the weight of the jade pendant at his belt had suddenly reminded him of his still-new identity and role, and the responsibility of the General’s parting words.
His mother caught the look on his face and gently drew her fingers down his cheek. “You're a very good boy, Pingzhang. The circumstances that led you to our home weren't the most favourable, but I am very glad you are here. The General would be very proud of you,” she murmured to him. “And your father and I are, too.”
The emperor’s birthday meant not just a big feast for the imperial family and officials, but celebrations across the city for over a week. Qianxue insisted that they go to as many street festivals as possible, dragging them from neighbourhood to crowded neighbourhood.
“Did you find anything new?” Feizhan asked Pingzhang as they finally spotted an empty rooftop — prime real estate during these festivals because of the fireworks, they'd informed Pingzhang — and took turns to climb up. “I asked my uncle about the army’s case but he just told me that everything I needed to know was in the official records.”
A startled yell from Qianxue, who had gone first, made them both look up and brace themselves to catch her. She wasn't in danger of falling, however, but was staring down a man who hadn't been on the roof just moments ago.
“We found this spot first!” she was insisting as Pingzhang and Feizhan joined her on the roof. When they drew closer, it became apparent even through the gloom of night that he was a very old man. “You can't just come and sit here.”
“It's not your house, is it?” retorted the old man, and pointedly sat down on the tiles with a dismissive swish of his white robes.
“The roof’s big enough to share,” Pingzhang told her peaceably. “It's really crowded out there, and we probably wouldn't be able to find another spot.”
“Listen to the kid, kid,” added the old man, wagging his folded fan at them.
Qianxue pulled a face at him but settled herself down between Pingzhang and Feizhan anyway. “Next time we’re bringing Uncle Fei Liu,” she told them. “He’s quick enough to reserve the best spots for us first.”
“That child?” scoffed the old man, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping on them. “Please. I taught Fei Liu everything he knew.”
They all turned to stare. “You know Uncle Fei Liu?”
“And you do?” He squinted at them. “What are your names?”
They introduced themselves one at a time, and the old man snapped his fan shut at Pingzhang. “Oh, so you're the baby’s new baby!” He grinned at them, surprisingly toothy for his age. “Has Tingsheng waxed lyrical about his Sir Su yet?”
Of all the people to learn more about Scholar Su Zhe from, an old man in white on a rooftop was definitely not who Pingzhang had expected. “Did you know him, elder?” he asked. “It's been really difficult finding information about this Scholar Su.”
The old man laughed. “Know him? I made him.” He looked like he was about to say more, but the first fireworks of the evening exploded into the sky, and by the time Pingzhang looked back across the roof, the old man was gone.
When Pingzhang related the incident to his father later that night, Xiao Tingsheng rubbed a hand over his beard and smiled ruefully. “I'm not even surprised you ran into him,” he said. “Master Lin has a tendency to be at the right place at the most inconvenient time.”
“What did he mean?” Pingzhang asked. “Was Su Zhe his alias?”
“No, no. That was Master Lin Chen of Langya Hall. You've met his potential successor, actually. Lin Jiu has been apprenticing with Master Meng.”
“Lin Jiu is from Langya Hall?” Pingzhang exclaimed. “But he's so—” He stopped himself. “I mean, that's really… unexpected.”
His father patted his shoulder. “Tomorrow before the feast we’ll be entering the palace early to pay our respects to your imperial grandfather, and you can finally ask him everything you need to,” he said. “I know there's little to no public information about Sir Su, but tell me what you've found over the past two months and what your theories are so far.”
Pingzhang straightened. “I know Su Zhe is an alias of some kind, and that it was used by a man within a span of thirteen years. He came to Jinling only after a decade of assuming the name, and shortly after that, there were several notable incidents both in the public record and the vernacular.” Tingsheng nodded, encouraging him to continue. “He had a close relationship with you and Uncle Fei Liu, and from the way everyone keeps saying it, he was not an unimportant person to the… to my imperial grandfather.”
He paused for a while, then went on, “I believe Su Zhe has ties to the story about Master Xiao Jingrui’s true lineage, which is not at all from official sources; based on the parallels of the individuals involved, my conclusion is that the whole story links to the old Chiyan Army case, which is a misnomer because it could also be called the Prince Qi case. That in itself is almost impossible to find out anything about, because imperial records are not for public eyes. But that doesn't apply to someone with the appropriate jade seal,” Pingzhang added.
“The imperial records also gave me an account of the various events that were intended to help Duchess Mu Nihuang find a new betrothed. But other than that, I ran into so many dead ends with regards to the individuals who were involved with that army and that late prince that I'm beginning to think these dead ends were planted deliberately, and that the dead weren't actually as dead as they pretended to be.” His father was watching him. Pingzhang drew in a deep breath, then asked, “Was Su Zhe actually Prince Qi, your real father?”
There was a ringing silence. Then Xiao Tingsheng began to laugh. Pingzhang waited, clutching the hem of his tunic, until his father gathered himself again. “I'm not laughing at you,” Xiao Tingsheng was quick to assure him, even as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “I actually have to praise your resourcefulness and the sharpness of your mind; that was extremely impressive, Pingzhang.” He took a sip of tea and cleared his throat. “Do you mind if we hold off the conclusion to this conversation until tomorrow evening? I think my imperial father and a select few would absolutely love to hear this, and give you the answer you deserve.”
Pingzhang wasn't sure about having to repeat himself to the emperor and his officials, but he agreed anyway; it was the least a good son could do.
The emperor looked just as fierce as before, but the quick smile he bestowed on Pingzhang and his father brightened his eyes considerably. “Please rise,” he told them, having listened to their best wishes for the auspicious day of his birth. “Tingsheng, how is your wife?”
“Everything is going wonderfully, and Pingzhang should expect a new brother or sister by midsummer,” Xiao Tingsheng said, settling himself onto the low seat brought over by a servant. “Father, I told you about the research topic I set Pingzhang; would you like to hear his theory?”
Pingzhang tried not to fidget in his heavy new silks as the emperor considered him. “Would you say this requires a certain audience?” he asked eventually.
“Most definitely,” was Xiao Tingsheng’s reply.
A quick word with the head eunuch whose name Pingzhang hadn't managed to find out, and soon a number of people in the finest robes Pingzhang had ever seen emerged from a connecting room. Uncle Fei Liu waved at him, and bounded over to admire his robes.
“Don't bother with the greetings,” the emperor instructed, leaning back onto a pile of cushions. He seemed much less like a monarch and more like a grandfather now, somehow. “Pingzhang, go ahead.”
And so Pingzhang had no choice but to trip through his entire theory in front of this nameless council, feeling a little like he was taking some kind of imperial examination.
When he was done, the emperor nodded. “You were almost entirely correct,” he told Pingzhang. “Everything I say next must not leave the walls of this room, but your father’s birth parents were, in fact, my late brother Prince Qi and his Princess Consort.” He gestured for Pingzhang to take a seat.
“However, he did unfortunately die during the so-called Chiyan Army case. The scholar known as Su Zhe was someone else entirely.” With hands that trembled slightly, Pingzhang accepted the cup of tea passed to him by one of the elders sitting around him. “That man was first known as Lin Shu.”
Pingzhang almost dropped the tea. “What? So the Vice Marshal didn't die? Why did he wait for over ten years to come back, then?” Suddenly he remembered where he was and who he was talking to, and brought the cup to his mouth to stop himself asking even more.
The emperor’s expression was completely inscrutable. “Why indeed,” he mused, and there was a series of muffled sounds from the gathered elders, and a badly-hidden smile on the face of the elder who had given Pingzhang the tea. “Favoured Official, why don't you enlighten my grandson?”
The tea-bestowing elder bowed from the waist but didn't get up from his seat. “Vice Marshal Lin had his reasons,” he told Pingzhang, “including very valid medical reasons. You're an incredibly intelligent boy, Pingzhang. And very good at hearing what isn't said.”
“Thank you,” said Pingzhang uncertainly.
Another elder cleared her throat and spoke up, laughter still evident in her voice. “All these men are beating about the bush,” she chided, and even the emperor smiled at that. “Allow us to introduce ourselves, child. My name is Nihuang. I was the Duchess of Yunnan once, but now I am but a simple fisherman’s wife.” She pointed at the man beside her. “He's the fisherman. His name’s Nie Duo.”
“They really aren't fishing folk,” Xiao Tingsheng murmured to Pingzhang, who had figured that much out himself despite his shock. He knew career soldiers when he saw them, even if they were well past soldiering age. “They aren't in Jinling’s records because they married on the battlefield in a disputed border area.”
“It still counts,” Mu Nihuang informed them haughtily. “You know Fei Liu, of course, and I believe you met Lin Chen recently.” The old man, who did in fact look very familiar, waved lazily. “And that irritating elder over there, who has been pouring us endless cups of tea, is Mei Changsu.”
There was a very expectant pause.
“I'm sorry,” Pingzhang said eventually, “I'm afraid I don't…”
The expression on the emperor’s face could only be described as a smirk. “Pingzhang, let's come to the end of this tale. What was your conclusion about Su Zhe’s eventual fate?”
It felt a little like a trick question, but he couldn't not answer a direct question from the emperor. “He fought in the famous war of the five armies shortly before your esteemed reign, and perished on the battlefield,” Pingzhang said slowly, his mind rearranging the facts. “What I'm not certain about is why; by all accounts, Vice Marshal Lin Shu was an extremely brilliant warrior. He shouldn't have fallen to a straightforward battle.”
Master Lin Chen had begun to wheeze alarmingly. “I want to trade Lin Jiu for this kid,” he told Xiao Tingsheng in between barks of laughter. “He actually managed to decipher every single aspect of the truth.”
“Except for the one,” Nie Duo pointed out.
The emperor waved a hand. “That's only because Su Zhe spent far too much effort hiding his tracks. Pingzhang, please allow me the pleasure of properly introducing you to Mei Changsu, also known as Su Zhe, and also known as Vice Marshal Lin Shu of the former Chiyan Army.”
Mei Changsu raised his arms in a formal bow.
“Everyone kept talking about you like you're dead,” Pingzhang blurted, then felt his entire head turn red hot.
The emperor was outright laughing now. “You deserve that,” he told a visibly indignant Mei Changsu. “You absolutely do.”
“Even Meng-dage?” Mei Changsu demanded amidst the elders’ mirth.
“Sometimes,” Lin Chen managed, “I can still hear his voice.”
Eventually, the elders got themselves back under control, and began making their way out to the main hall after the head eunuch stopped dropping hints and started outright clearing his throat and giving them significant looks about the upcoming banquet.
Much later, after the diplomatic gifts had been presented and the food had begun to be served, Pingzhang found himself gazing up at his grandfather sitting up on the dais, above them all and alone.
“He looks lonely, doesn't he?” Mei Changsu commented suddenly from beside Pingzhang, who hadn't even heard him approach.
“I didn't—”
“He has to sit on his own now,” Mei Changsu continued, and his eyes were filmy with ill-health but still looked like he could see exactly what Pingzhang was thinking. “But much later tonight, in his private chambers, there will be more wine and celebrating, and the rest of us will be with him. I came back from the dead because I didn't want him to be alone,” he added cheerfully.
“I know the loneliness of having to learn to wear a new name like a cloak, Pingzhang. We may not have much time together, but you must know that your friendly ghost Granduncle Mei will be here for as long as he can.” He poured himself more tea. “Now, since I’m too lazy to make my way back to my seat over there, go ahead and pick my brain; ask me whatever you want.”
Pingzhang looked around the hall, considering Mei Changsu’s words about loneliness and his own feelings on the matter. Qianxue and Feizhan hadn't been invited, of course, but Master Meng waved at him across the aisle, and Pingzhang could see Feizhan’s uncle sitting with the ministers. Pingzhang’s father and Uncle Fei Liu were deep in conversation, and Chancellor Yan Yujin, Master Xiao Jingrui, and Admirals Mu Nihuang and Nie Duo smiled at him when they each spotted him. The more Pingzhang looked, the more faces he recognised; his research over the past months had forced him to introduce himself to many people, and he suddenly realised he was looking forward to meeting even more.
“I do have a question,” he heard himself say. Mei Changsu sipped his tea, patient as a mountain. “Why does Uncle Fei Liu call His Majesty a water buffalo?”
The resulting sputtering laughter was loud enough that people began looking their way. As Mei Changsu dabbed at the front of his tea-soaked robes and waved away concerned officials and relatives and servants, Pingzhang found an odd sort of peace settle over him.
His name was Xiao Pingzhang, and he was going to be good.