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The thing was. The thing was. That Mu Qing was grateful to taizi dianxia. There was no reason for the darling of the gods, the one set to inherit the entirety of Xianle, to take notice of one servant – especially one as easy to dislike as him – and decide that there was potential there. To not only raise him up from the lowest of servants at Mount Taicang to his own personal attendant, but to convince guoshi to take him on as a disciple. To allow him to learn cultivation among the young lords of the kingdom. Sure, he had to do that at the same time as he managed his chores, which had only increased since he got his new position, but still. Someone like him would never have been more than someone to scrub the floors without the prince’s decision that he was worth more than that.
Mu Qing was grateful. And he hated it.
Oh, for this he could find no fault in dianxia; sure, Mu Qing barely had time to sleep and eat anymore, but it was worth it, for the extra money to bring to his mother on his day off, for the chance to become something more. That he also had a list longer than himself of things to do every day was a price he was willing to pay.
No, he was angry that it was a price he had to pay. That he had to be grateful. He had only been training as a disciple for a year, at the same time as he balanced his duties both as a servant and as a son, and he was already better than most of the young lords. More skilled, more capable, more knowledgeable. If not for taizi dianxia, he would never have gotten the chance to become so. And if he had been born as something better than he was, maybe he would even have been at dianxia’s level. There was no way he would ever get there, he knew that. Dianxia was a prodigy of the highest level, and he lived for his fighting, his cultivation. Mu Qing lived to scrape together the coin he needed to keep his mother safe. But if. If he had been born like Feng Xin, perhaps, a noble of a family prominent enough to be named the Crown Prince’s bodyguard, then just maybe he could have stood a chance.
He certainly deserved it more than Qi Rong, that monster. To whom he had to kowtow, whom he had to allow to do whatever to himself when he was mad that Mu Qing got more of dianxia’s time and attention than he did, unless dianxia was there to stop it. Luckily, he usually was. Though Qi Rong – oh, forgive him, he thought sarcastically, dianxia Xiao Jing – usually managed to land a few hits first.
For this, he was not grateful. Dianxia had put him in this situation by making him his attendant, the least he could do was take responsibility for putting him in his cousin’s way when he was running errands around the palace on the occasions they returned from the Royal Holy Pavilion.
Those were the thoughts that ran through his head as he dragged himself out of bed in the servants’ quarters of Xianle Palace before the sun had risen above the horizon. Mu Qing dressed himself in simple black duan da made from hemp fabric. He brushed and braided his hair in a style reminiscent of, though much more simplistic than, the ways he would later do dianxia’s hair. Then he went to fetch a piece of bread from the kitchen and ate it as he hurried through the passages of the palace, which were filled only by servants at this hour of the day. No noble or royal would bother being up at this hour. They didn’t need to.
At the palace, at least, he was left alone by his fellow servants. Unlike at the Royal Holy Pavilion, where they all loathed him as much as the lords did, for daring to rise above his station. Especially since he wasn’t even friendly and effusively thankful while he did so. The palace servants barely glanced at him, and that was how he wanted it to be.
Mashing the last of the bread into his mouth, he nodded to the guards at the door as he was let into Xie Lian’s inner sanctum: his private chambers.
Just the first chamber, the parlour, was bigger than Mu Qing’s whole house. It was decorated in a way that dianxia deemed homely, with weaponry on the walls, vases worth more than Mu Qing’s life a hundred times over on tables, and tapestries that were only impressive to him because of the materials. Those, too, were worth his life many times over. The craftmanship, though, was no better than his mother’s. She could have had a comfortable life making these, if she had gotten the chance. But of course, no noble would have made himself a patron of the wife of an executed criminal.
He forced down the bitterness.
As he entered dianxia’s bedchamber, and through it the bathing chamber, he got the day’s first glance of the prince. Lying spread out on his bed, deep asleep. His hair was a mess, spread out over his pillows, and his robes and blankets had ridden up, revealing a stretch of leg. Mu Qing smiled slightly.
This, at least, was only his. Not counting the King and Queen, only him could let himself into taizi dianxia’s chambers this way. Not even Feng Xin was unlimited access to His Most Royal Highness’ rooms, especially when he was asleep.
He went into the bathroom and prepared the bathtub. Then came the hard labour of preparing the bathwater; dragging pail upon pail of hot water from the large boiling pot where the palace maids prepared it for every royal and noble in the palace. Dozens upon dozens of servants did the same work for their own masters. Once that was done, he mixed the oils and added a heating talisman to ensure the water remained at a comfortably warm temperature. He put out everything he needed to wash dianxia’s hair, and a goblet of water in case dianxia wished to cool down in the bath. There was also one for him, hidden behind the oils.
It had taken months before he had dared, but by now, he knew that dianxia would not punish him for pausing to take a drink in the steaming hot room. Dianxia didn’t punish him at all, unless you counted making him and Feng Xin do idioms after they fought, and he refused to be grateful for that.
After that, he chose robes for dianxia and carefully laid them out. Now, with no one watching, he could allow himself to stroke the fabric. The undermost layer was the finest white silk, and Mu Qing imagined wearing it would be like wearing a cloud. Not that he’d ever find out. Something like that could get him executed.
Then a pale red robe embroidered with peonies, the king of flowers. Lastly, another white robe, but this one gleaming with subtle gold. The wide sleeves had goldfish, just as subtle, only visible when the light hit right, swimming around them. Then came the jewellery; earrings made of gold and crystal and a yaopei with another peony to hang from the belt. Last, a golden guan with a mountain motif.
“Taizi dianxia, time to wake up,” he murmured softly as he approached the bed, all done with preparations. Dianxia – no, Xie Lian – huffed a breath as he unconsciously recognized he was being called, but his head just lolled to his side. His breaths were even and warm, a smile on his face. Even in his sleep, he got only the best, it seemed. Only the sweetest dreams. Then of course, what did he possibly have to fear enough to dream nightmares about it?
When that, as expected, had no results, he glanced at the door. A habit, to make sure that no one would barge in even though no one was allowed to do so. He gripped Xie Lian’s arm, and shook him. “Dianxia, it is morning.”
Xie Lian muttered in protest, clearly comfortable right where he was. Frowning, as if offended that someone would dare interrupt his dreaming.
“Dianxia, I swear to the gods themselves, if you don’t wake up-”
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Xie Lian mumbled, raising a hand to rub his eyes. Used, by now, to Mu Qing’s less than gentle methods of waking him up. Though he was never rough enough to actually bring him genuine discomfort.
Mu Qing immediately removed his hand, raising his arms in front of him and bowing. “It is time to get up, dianxia.”
“Already?” he complained, as though he hadn’t gotten to sleep a whole night, every night. “Fine, fine. Thanks, Mu Qing.” Despite his apparent annoyance, he smiled when he sat up in bed, hair hanging in his face and sleep still soft in his eyes. Just a boy, just like Mu Qing himself. Not having turned into taizi dianxia for the day, just yet. That would come after his morning bath, once the many layers of silk and priceless jewellery was in place.
Backing up, Mu Qing nodded. “Of course, dianxia. Your bath is ready.”
Xie Lian hopped up from bed, shaking the last remnants of sleep off himself. “You’re so dependable!” he said, as though that was not what Mu Qing made his whole livelihood out of.
He just nodded.
A privacy screen allowed Xie Lian to undress and climb into the bathtub, and he had already dipped his hair in the water when Mu Qing joined him, standing by the steaming tub. Mu Qing simply removed it from the tub, washing it in rice water and brushing hair oils into it as the other boy hummed in appreciation. Xie Lian loved having his hair done, that much had been obvious from the very first time Mu Qing had attended him in the evening, undoing one of the complicated hairstyles he wore every day. As he worked, he was careful, bringing the comb through the long, silky locks and undoing any knotting from the night. Not a single tug on the prince’s scalp was allowed. That was another thing he probably could get executed for, if Xie Lian had been the type. It was probably something Qi Rong’s own attendant was fearful of every day.
“What are we doing today, again?” Xie Lian asked, turning his head just enough to glance at him.
Mu Qing sighed. “You forgot? Really?”
Xie Lian shrugged; cheeks tinted pink in a way that could easily be blamed on the steam.
“You’ll attend breakfast with Their Majesties, and then you wanted to go into town. ‘Undercover’, as you called it. And then we have to get back to Mount Taicang in time for classes with guoshi.”
Immediately perking up, Xie Lian nodded eagerly. So quickly that Mu Qing had to release his hair, heart skipping a beat, to avoid tugging at it. He frowned as it slipped back into the bathwater, and pulled it out again, redoing the wash.
“Right!” Xie Lian beamed. “It’ll be so exciting. I’ve not been down there a lot, you know, and it isn’t that long since Mother and Father decided to allow me to roam without a whole troupe of guards. Thank the gods that they realized Feng Xin is enough.”
Yes, Feng Xin was enough. It wasn’t like Xie Lian didn’t go a step in town without one of the best disciples on Mount Taicang, and Mu Qing did not mean Feng Xin. But of course, no one would ever count him as a line of defence for the taizi dianxia, even though he would be expected to die to protect him if needed. After all, he was no noble, no son of a high-ranking general, and thus he would only ever share the duties of the Crown Prince’s bodyguard, never the prestige.
He rolled his eyes.
“Of course, dianxia. How much money do you wish to bring?”
A shrug. “I don’t know! Fetch however much you think is right. Better too much than too little, though!”
“…as you wish.” That had been a duty he hadn’t expected, to be honest, when he began this job. To be entrusted with Xie Lian’s finances, and basically free access to his coffers. Coffers overflowing with coin, gold and jewels, enough to feed his whole neighbourhood for the rest of their lives as well as their grandchildren’s. Just right there, for Mu Qing, the son of a thief, to touch.
Perhaps in another life, he would have been tempted to sneak just a single coin into his pocket. In this one, he knew better. He kept the books flawlessly, wanting to make sure no one could ever accuse him of helping himself to the Prince’s wealth. That was not a risk he would take.
All done, Xie Lian got out of the bath, pulling on his very innermost layer by himself behind the privacy screen before standing where directed, holding out his arms. Mu Qing dressed him efficiently, fingers doing the small buttons quickly through habit, layering and smoothing out the different part of the hanfu. Then, Xie Lian sat, allowing Mu Qing to stand behind him to do his hair, weaving braids into an elegant ponytail topped off by the guan, and the jewellery was added. With a stroke of a brush, he painted a huadian to his forehead.
When Mu Qing backed away, starting to clean up the supplies again, the other stood.
There he was. Gone was the teenage boy who just so happened to be born into an excess of wealth and privilege. As he smiled, waiting patiently for Mu Qing to be able to join him to go to breakfast, he was fully and completely the one Mu Qing loved and loathed in near equal measure.
Taizi dianxia.
Breakfast was a horrid affair, at least for Mu Qing. His only solace was that it probably wasn’t entirely pleasant for Feng Xin either. The other boy had joined them as soon as they left dianxia’s chambers, falling into step like the well-trained dog he was. But his stomach probably didn’t ache as the rich smells of freshly cooked baozi, tofu pudding, jianbing, and so much more food filled his nose. Feng Xin had undoubtedly been served a hardy breakfast by whatever servants had been assigned to him for their stay.
There was no point in dwelling on it, though, since it would only make them hungrier. They had knelt to the floor for the King and Queen as they entered the room, and upon the King’s leave they had placed themselves by the wall. Unnoticed and unimportant. Two among a dozen servants. Feng Xin could relax mentally, though he held his stiff position, but Mu Qing watched dianxia close. Ready to silently serve, should he require anything.
At least Qi Rong wasn’t here; he usually wasn’t. As he understood it, his attendant was usually too frightened to wake him up in time to join family breakfast.
But once dianxia had eaten his fill and conversed with his parents, he stood and bowed to them, the picture of filiality and elegance, before taking his leave. Mu Qing and Feng Xin bowed as deeply as they each could go to Their Majesties before following their prince outside.
Going into town in the company of the crown prince was an ordeal, at the same time as it was not. It was, because there was plenty that had to be done; Mu Qing fetched the money pouch, carrying it behind two layers of his clothing to make it as difficult as possible for thieves. He wrote out, in careful calligraphy, where they could be expected to be found if dianxia’s presence was suddenly required, and handed it to the captain of the Guard. The man barely acknowledged him as he took the scroll, held out by Mu Qing gin both his hands and with a bow of his head. He grit his teeth at the dismissive disrespect. Then, of course, there was the whole ordeal of herding dianxia, trying to keep him to the respectable part of town, without dianxia realizing that was what he was doing; or worse, Feng Xin realizing that was what he was doing. Dianxia would probably find it amusing, but Feng Xin would start yelling about him treating dianxia like a lost sheep. He’d be right, but gods, what was so wrong about that? Dianxia didn’t know shit about real life. The assistance was needed.
Not an ordeal, because it was a whole lot easier to traverse the busy streets when accompanied by two boys of obviously noble birth. People stepped out of the way, bowing or at least inclining their heads to dianxia and Feng Xin, and Mu Qing could easily follow in their footsteps instead of having to compete for space with all the commoners.
Dianxia flitted back and forth, delighted and amused by the sights of the city. “Ooh, look, so cute,” he cooed about a wooden children’s toy for sale, something Mu Qing didn’t doubt he’d never seen in his life. All his toys had probably been made from jade or something. Mu Qing had also never had a carved wooden toy, but for different reasons entirely. He nodded.
“And these. So quaint!” The quaint object in question was golden jewellery, and the shopkeeper was clearly struggling to hide his offense at his wares being labelled as such. “Oh, look, Feng Xin, Mu Qing,” dianxia crowed, pointing at a medallion with a dragon. “This one looks like the toy I dropped in one of the ponds as a child. A fish ate it. Muqin found it quite amusing, goldfish eating pure gold. She was going to let me try feeding it more, but one of her ladies pointed out that’d probably kill it, and I cried. I was so silly back then.”
Mu Qing kept his face impassive, even as he let that wash over him. The Queen would have let dianxia feed fish pure gold for their amusement.
The first time he had been shown how to clean dianxia’s jewellery by the head servant, he had in no uncertain terms been told, if a single pearl disappears, I will have your head.
He glanced at Feng Xin, trying to gauge his reaction, but he only looked fond. Of course. He was barely more of a real human being than dianxia.
Once the novelty of the shop stands was lost to dianxia, they stopped by a stand to buy food. Mu Qing ordered. A few dumplings and a tanghulu-stick each. Dianxia bounced with excitement about getting to try street food. They found a bench to sit on at the corner of a street, and dug in. The warmth and the full, spicy taste of the dumplings filled Mu Qing’s senses, and it was all he could do to not shove it all in his mouth at once, forcing himself to eat with restraint and manners. He was starving, but it wouldn’t do to show it. Especially not to Feng Xin.
At his side, dianxia hummed with appreciation about the common fare, dipping one into the sauce and then putting it in his mouth as though he was eating with jade chopsticks rather than the cheap sticks found in these stalls. People passed by, glancing at the young nobles and their servant who were lounging in the sunlight, but none bothered them. None of them had any clue that it was taizi dianxia, and just not another young lord, Mu Qing thought smugly. No commoner new what he looked like, except those who worked in the palace or the Royal Holy Pavilion. And no commoner at all, except him, got to come close enough to touch. He made use of that privilege to catch a few drops of sauce slipping off dianxia’s chopsticks by his mouth before they stained his beautiful robes. Mu Qing very much did not want to stay up all night doing laundry, thank you.
“Say, Mu Qing,” dianxia said suddenly. “Did you not say that you live nearby the palace?”
Cold washed over him. Fuck, he thought, though he’d never be so crass as to say it out loud. “Yes, dianxia,” he mumbled, because he couldn’t lie.
“You’ve met my parents! And even Feng Xin’s father!” Meeting Feng Xin’s father was perhaps a bit of an overstatement. He had knelt in a corner while Feng-jiang had spoken with dianxia about military tactics during one of Feng-jiang’s rare visits. “Won’t you let us meet your mother?”
No. Absolutely not. There was nothing Mu Qing wanted less than to show taizi dianxia to just how deep in poverty he and his mother actually were. Even his attendant’s wages didn’t really make much of a difference, since most of it went into paying off the debts stemming both from repaying the man his father had stolen from, and the people who had let them borrow money for food during a few really harsh winters.
“I don’t… think Their Majesties would like it if dianxia went into that part of the city,” he attempted, though he knew dianxia enough to realize it was likely futile.
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them!” he replied cheerfully, pretty much as expected.
He held in the urge to scream, and inclined his head ever so slightly. “As dianxia wishes, then. Just… let me speak to my mother, first. I don’t know if her heart could take it if I just threw the taizi at her without warning.”
“Oh. Oh yes, of course. That’s only polite, anyway, to let her know to expect guests.” Dianxia nodded, as though this was a normal conversation. That there was nothing strange at all about the Crown Prince going to visit a hovel in the slums just because he wanted to.
Staring at his tanghulu, Mu Qing thought treacherous thoughts. He’d like to slap him for just inviting himself into Mu Qing’s home. For asking if he could come, but not considering that Mu Qing could not deny him anything. And for the fact that a small part of Mu Qing still was pleased, happy that taizi dianxia at least considered him enough of a human being to remembered he even had a mother, much less actually being interested in knowing her, knowing him. Even if he never could, truly.
Feng Xin stared at him, eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re grateful for dianxia’s kindness,” he said, and Mu Qing opened his mouth to reply.
“Feng Xin, that’s unnecessary,” dianxia interrupted. “Mu Qing is the kind one, for inviting us into his home. Be nice.”
As always, Feng Xin obeyed. Woe be upon him if he ever said a single word in opposition of his precious charge.
After they’d all finished eating, Mu Qing glumly led them both to the side street that would take them into the Xianle slums. It was only a li from the palace, but dianxia blinked, clearly not having known this was even here. The moment they stepped onto the street, the mood changed. Gone was the sunlit, wide paths of the main street, and instead they could barely walk all three of them in a line. Especially if they wanted to avoid stumbling over beggars and the sick leaning against the walls. Dianxia’s eyes were wide as he looked around, though he didn’t seem frightened or hesitant.
He did look doubtful as Mu Qing just stepped over the beggars, though, not sparing them a glance. “Shouldn’t we give them a coin or something?” he murmured.
Mu Qing shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to be mobbed? That’s what would happen if you gave one of them one of your shiny gold coins. It’s way too much, and we don’t have any smaller ones. You look out of place enough already, at least if you ignore them, they’ll probably be too frightened that you’ll beat them up if they touch you to bother us.”
Dianxia looked horrified. Good. Let him face the truth of his kingdom outside of the gilded halls he inhabited.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Feng Xin spat. “Have you so little empathy? No concern for anyone but yourself?”
Eyes darkening, Mu Qing spun to stare at him. “You know what, no I don’t. I can’t afford to worry about them when I need to put food on my own table first. Not that you’d know what that’s like, you spoiled brat.”
“Brat? I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Am I supposed to be intimidated by that? You’re all bark and no bite. Unable to do even the smallest thing without dianxia’s approval.”
“You-”
“Enough!” Dianxia barked. “Feng Xin, this is Mu Qing’s home, he knows how things work here and we should listen to him. Mu Qing, that’s mean, and you can’t say that to him. Do you understand, both of you?”
“Yes dianxia,” they both gritted out.
As they stepped out on his home street, familiar children’s voices rang out. “Qing-gege! Qing-gege! Did you bring food?”
Children quickly surrounded them, though they didn’t come as close as they usually did, glancing in worry at dianxia’s beautiful robes and Feng Xin’s weaponry. That was good. That wariness would let them survive longer. Dianxia’s eyes lit up at the sight of children, though the brightness was quickly joined by concern at their filthy, malnourished state.
As the bravest of them, an eight-year-old girl in too short pants, padded up to Mu Qing and pulled at his duan da. “Qing-gege? Food?”
Sighing, he passed her his tanghulu, which he had not eaten. Her eyes went wide. “Share with the others,” he reminded her.
“Yes, Qing-gege! Thank you!” The children quickly left, clearly excited to get to try such a treat. For many of them, it would be the first time in their lives they’d gotten candy.
When Mu Qing turned around, he found his companions staring at him. Dianxia’s eyes shone with delight, while Feng Xin looked befuddled and almost angry. He ignored both of them, pointing at a house with a many-times repaired roof. “I live there. I will speak to a-niang. You wait here. And Feng Xin, don’t let dianxia speak with the beggars.”
Feng Xin glared. “You don’t tell dianxia what to do.” Still, Mu Qing was fairly sure he’d do as commanded. And at least dianxia couldn’t give out any money, since Mu Qing carried the pouch.
He left them behind without a second glance, gently tapping the door before he entered to warn his mother that someone was coming in. “A-niang?” he called. “It’s me.”
“A-Qing?” came a soft voice from the bed. “But it’s the middle of the week. What are you doing here, sweet boy?”
As his eyes got used to the darkness, he found her sitting on the bed, embroidering under a single lamp’s light. Her hair was in a low ponytail and her dress mended again and again, but she was beautiful. His heart lightened as he took her in. A-niang looked tired, yes, but not more so than usual. Her hair was shiny, and though her face was growing premature wrinkles, she still had an air of youthfulness. She was only thirty, after all.
The room itself was orderly and clean, if sparse. The only furniture was a low table with two pillows, the bed, and a spare bed roll by the wall, as well as his mother’s sewing table, which was full of supplies. The hearth glowed with embers, keeping the building comfortably warm, and little trinkets sat on a shelf by the wall. Mostly his own old toys and earliest sewing projects, which his mother refused to throw out despite how embarrassingly bad they were.
He took a deep breath as he imagined dianxia and Feng Xin in here, something that would soon be unavoidable.
“A-niang,” he said. “I accompanied taizi dianxia into town today. And he decided he’d like to meet you. He’s… outside. With Feng Xin.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. The moment it sank in was accompanied by a hitch of her breath. “A-Qing!” she hissed, clearly wanting to avoid anyone outside overhearing. “You left taizi dianxia outside?”
“I wanted to warn you first.”
“Thank you, love. That was kind of you. But bring him in. Before anything happens!”
Mu Qing couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Feng Xin’s got no good qualities, but nothing would happen to dianxia while he’s here, at least.” Still, he sighed. Nodded. Turning back to the door, opening it, and waving them inside.
Feng Xin came first, sharp eyes studying the interior as though he was expecting assassins. When no assassins came – obviously – he stepped aside to allow dianxia inside. In his shiny robes and with his kind, wide-eyed expression, he looked fully out of place in the dark building. Like a god in a pigsty, which was a thought Mu Qing hated that it came to mind. He looked around curiously, until the sound of rustling robes interrupted. They all turned to look, and Mu Qing’s bitterness rose to previously unseen heights as his mother, on the floor of her own home, sank to her knees and then pressed her forehead to the floor for her prince.
Dianxia blinked, before he said, “Stand up, nushi. There’s no need for that, I promise.” His voice was mild, sweet. “I am the one intruding without warning.”
A-niang obeyed, though she kept her gaze lowered respectfully. “Welcome to our home, dianxia. I hope my Qing-er serves you well.”
“Oh, very well! You can be proud of him, furen,” dianxia assured her. “Not to mention his skill as a disciple, he’s such a talented swordsman-”
Feeling his cheeks grow faintly hot, Mu Qing glanced at his mother. She glowed with pride.
“Dianxia,” Feng Xin told him. “Perhaps we should sit down first.”
Mu Qing was glad to have been spared having to be the one to suggest it. He went to prepare a pot of tea as a-niang insisted dianxia and Feng Xin took the only pillows to sit on. There was a franticness to her that those who did not know her would not notice, but he recognized as extreme nerves. Of course there was; the Crown Prince of Xianle was in her house without more than a few seconds warning. And he was looking around in curiosity, judging their home.
“This is so cosy,” dianxia finally seemed to decide. “I didn’t know a person could live alone in a house this small, but you’re two people and it’s really nice. I think I’d have liked to stay like this with Muqin when I was little, perhaps.”
“…Thank you, dianxia,” a-niang replied. “Dianxia is too gracious.”
Bringing over the teapot and four chipped mugs, Mu Qing poured for everyone. The tea was cheap, but he glared at Feng Xin as if to dare him to mention the sub-par quality. For dianxia, he had to trust the other knew not to, though it was always uncertain just how much awareness of social differences the boy actually had.
“Won’t you tell us about Mu Qing when he was little, nushi?” dianxia requested, sipping the tea politely. Thankfully, with no comments about it, or the mugs.
Oh absolutely not. No. Mu Qing ducked his head and glared at the tea as a-niang thought, and decided on a story about how when he started to learn sewing managed to sew his own project onto a client’s wedding dress. It was a careful selection, one that didn’t embarrass him too much, nor relied too much on their poor financial situation, as many other stories his mother liked to tell her friends, like how Mu Qing had learned to read and write by cleaning the house of a neighbour who knew such things every week to pay for lessons.
Dianxia seemed delighted, though. Especially as the bride had decided to keep the childish embroidery on the inside of her wedding dress, hoping it would bless her with many hard-working children of her own. It was a nice story. Especially since it could have ended much worse, if she had demanded compensation for the ruined fabrics.
Mu Qing was grateful for his mother’s intelligence and ability to judge what would please the prince without causing her son too much pain. This, at least, was an uncomplicated gratitude. There was nothing complicated at all about his feelings about her, and what she did for him, or what he did for her.
“Nushi,” dianxia said when she finished her story. “You really did teach him well. I can’t at all tell when Mu Qing has mended my robes. I really am so grateful to have him.”
The joy in his mother’s eyes made up for the uncomfortable feeling being ‘had’ brought up.
“And,” dianxia continued, “I really am thrilled to see that I was right about how much talent your son has as a disciple. I do think he’s one of the most skilled disciples at the Royal Holy Pavilion.”
Something settled deep in Mu Qing’s chest. Confirmation, once again, not only that his position was secure for now, but also the recognition. Most young lords at the mountain would kill to have the crown prince say such a thing about them, and here he was, acknowledging Mu Qing’s talents and hard work.
Bowing over the table, a-niang said, “This one truly cannot thank taizi dianxia enough for all that he has given her son.”
“Oh, no need, no need. How could I not? When I see someone with potential like that, I simply have no choice.” Dianxia’s voice was agonizingly earnest. “I couldn’t stand it if I didn’t.”
“Dianxia is truly kind,” a-niang said before straightening her back again, though she still did not quite manage to raise her eyes and look at dianxia. And of course, dianxia did not react; this is what he was used to. Although he wouldn’t mind her looking at him, Mu Qing was sure, it would also never occur to him that the etiquette forbidding her from doing so might be kind of stupid. Still, dianxia brightened at the compliment.
At some point, Feng Xin had stood up and went to look outside. As he turned back to them, he said, “Dianxia, it is getting late. We have to be back at the Royal Holy Pavilion soon.”
Dianxia blinked, visibly surprised. “Is it truly that late already? Oh. That’s too bad.” He stood up, and inclined his head to a-niang. “Thank you very much for hosting us, nushi. It was a pleasure to meet Mu Qing’s mother.”
A-niang stood as well, bowing. “This one thanks dianxia for honouring this one with his presence, and once again for taking care of my only child.”
Dianxia and Feng Xin stepped outside, granting Mu Qing a short moment to hug his mother. She kissed his forehead. “Take care, Qing-er. I love you.”
“I love you too, a-niang,” he replied.
Then he joined them outside.
The walk back to the mountain was surprisingly pleasant. As much as he still didn’t like that dianxia and Feng Xin had been allowed to see how poor he is, there was no doubt that his mother had had a special experience, and that was worth a lot. She deserved those.
Dianxia looked thoughtful as they left the slums, before going back to his regular cheerful self as they neared the path to the Royal Holy Pavilion. Feng Xin had said nothing about it, for which Mu Qing was grudgingly thankful.
The sun was starting to sink below the mountain top, and they were alone. As Feng Xin started a fight, dianxia sighing about it but letting it play out for now, Mu Qing could reply back, spit insults without fear. Dianxia would not get rid of him for his sharp tongue, and Feng Xin couldn’t do shit without the prince’s consent.
The warm sunlight washed over them. The poison in his belly settled.
“Now, now,” dianxia said, “you’re both my friends, I don’t want you to fight.”
“Then tell this idiot to shut up,” Mu Qing replied. Receiving only an exasperated look in return from dianxia, and angry sputtering from Feng Xin.
Right now, things were good. It’d surely not last, he was sure.
But for now, they were.