Extras (1): Ke Mu

In the seventh year of Yuanxing, a young prince was born in the imperial palace of Dayu.

He was born beneath the shadow of the Empress’s legitimate son and named Fuze, which bore the meaning to support and assist, to bear the grace of the gentleman, and to nurture the livelihood of all. His life’s purpose, it seemed, was to aid his xiong zhang in accomplishing great deeds.

By the age of three, Sheng Fuze could recognise a thousand characters. At five, he composed verse. At seven, he had already mastered the brush and ink of classical painting.

By eight, His Third Highness had taken to commerce within the palace walls, instructing his companions to carry his poems and paintings beyond the gates, compile them into volumes, and sell them in the markets. With the silver he earned, he cultivated friendships and extended ties among nobles and commoners alike.

For a time, many scholars and tutors throughout the capital puzzled over the identity of this dazzling new literary genius. This mysterious “Mr. Ze” whose brilliance seemed to appear from nowhere.

At ten, during a small examination at the National Academy, the students were asked to write freely. Sheng Fuze’s essay happened to anticipate the very topic of that year’s imperial exam. Its eloquence was dazzling, astounding both teachers and peers.

That same year, Emperor Yuanxing gifted him a private garden and named it Song.

Thus the Third Prince turned his attention to architecture and craftsmanship.

After three years, Song Garden was transformed inside and out into something wholly unique, marked by exquisite design and thoughtful ingenuity. The Emperor, delighted, showered his son with gold and silver, granted him the rare privilege of unrestricted passage through the palace gates, and elevated his mother’s rank.

With his mother’s status secured, the Third Prince’s reputation soared. Rumours swirled through the capital like leaves in a storm. Some whispered that he bore the aura of a future sage, others calling him a ruler destined for greatness. Officials scrambled, their schemes weaving intricate webs behind closed doors.

Yet while the capital buzzed with political speculation, Sheng Fuze spent his days in Song Garden, exhausting all his wits trying to coax a smile from Ke Xuebo’s “little miss.”

He had a loose tongue. Upon first laying eyes on Ke Hongxue who appeared soft and porcelain-fair, so tenderly timid… he instinctively assumed the child must be a girl.

He had read widely and written endlessly, versed in history, literature, and the tropes of romantic tales. And there, under a flurry of snow at Song Garden’s gate, stood Ke Hongxue in a pink winter jacket, with two little tufts tied up on his head. Newly arrived in the capital, the child clung nervously to his mother’s sleeve, his eyes darting in wonder and apprehension.

Sheng Fuze, long practised in the art of diplomacy within the imperial court, saw the child’s bashfulness and could not resist teasing gently: “Uncle Ke, your little miss is truly beautiful. Prettier even than my si jie”

He meant well. It was just a bit of flattery to ease the child’s nerves. Yet before he could say more, his si jie had smacked him, and the pretty “miss” was glaring at him through tear-bright eyes, blurting in a soft Wu dialect like falling pearls: “You’re the pretty one! You’re the prettiest! Your whole family’s the prettiest!”

Stunned, Sheng Fuze stood frozen for a long moment, before hurriedly bowing in apology: “Ah. So it’s Young Master Ke. Forgive me. You’re so fine of feature, I mistook you for an immortal descended from the Ninth Heaven. I feared some celestial fairy had arrived… only to find that this fairy resembles Guanyin herself. I was blind, utterly blind. I deserve punishment.”

The adults around them were stunned into silence, then burst out laughing, saying such things were mere childish nonsense, not to be taken to heart. But Ke Hongxue himself was dumbfounded. He had no idea what this “young master” and “fairy Guanyin” talk was all about.

Only when his mother took his hand and led him to make peace did little Ke Hongxue recall he was still cross. He cast a haughty glance at the bookish Third Prince, turned on his heel, and hid behind his mother’s skirts, refusing even to look his way.

That lovely and endearing first impression was soon followed by a flash of spirit. In his pink coat, hiding like a fledgling behind his mother, Ke Hongxue was nothing like the sycophantic heirs of noble families outside the palace, nor the unruly, unloved palace children within. Red-eyed like a rabbit, he glared at Sheng Fuze…

And in that moment, a stray thought crept into Fuze’s mind: Da ge is of age now. Perhaps it’s time he takes a wife. And when he does… may I too find one?

The notion was fleeting, quickly tucked away.

For the offence at the garden gates, the Emperor instructed him to take proper care of Ke Hongxue.

It was exactly what the Third Prince had hoped for. Every morning before dawn, he dashed to the little courtyard where Ke Hongxue stayed. The pale winter light filtered in as the still-sleepy child yawned and obeyed his coaxing hands.

And before he even fully awoke, Ke Hongxue would find himself draped in a brilliant red cloak.

His Third Highness was the most radiant soul in the entire palace. Even the palace’s most pampered princesses couldn’t rival the splendour of his wardrobe. And yet he wore those flamboyant colours with effortless grace. Crimson and violet were but flourishes to the brilliance of his character and intellect.

So it came to pass that whenever new fabrics or furs arrived at the palace, they were sent first to Tonghuai Palace. Yet this winter’s newly made fire-fox cloak ended up on Ke Hongxue’s shoulders.

In a dim room, wax dripping from a stub of candle, Sheng Fuze stepped back, looked him over, and smiled:

“Ah Xue, you look lovely in red.”

Then he asked, gently, “It’s snowing. Would you like to go out and see it?”

Had he not been born into royalty, Sheng Fuze would surely have become some wandering libertine. Even as a child, he knew how to wield his devastatingly pretty face like a weapon. He smiled just so, murmuring: “Ah Xue, you truly are beautiful. More so than this snow by far.”

He spoke of immortals and Guanyin, yet his tone was all mischief and charm.

Years passed. On the upper floors of Fengyue House, red sleeves danced in the candlelight. The young prince leaned lazily against the railing, listening to music. Below, the golden river shimmered. Doors opened and shut. His peach-blossom eyes flitted across the room, unreadable yet coldly amused.

“I told you this place wasn’t for you,” he said, gaze slipping toward the door. “So why chase after it? You’ve come all this way and neither drink nor sing. What, trying to imitate Grand Tutor Ke already, at the ripe old age of sixteen?”

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to the door. Even the music ceased.

In the threshold stood a young man, tall and still as pine, pale as snow.

After a long pause, Sheng Fuze gave a languid tsk and tossed aside his wine cup. “Pardon me, gentlemen. I must see this little Bodhisattva home… else he tattles to the Grand Tutor and I’ll be on my knees in Qinzheng Hall come morning.”

The gathering dispersed in frustration. Hostility sparked in a few eyes, none more than in a drunken official who rose to make a cutting remark.

But he hadn’t got past the “Ke—” before Sheng Fuze turned his gaze on him, light as a feather and cold as winter. The man fell instantly silent, frozen to the bone.

Then Sheng Fuze turned again. The petulant look on his face was unmistakable, entirely genuine. He strode over, glanced down at Ke Hongxue and drawled:

“Still standing there? Want me to carry you?”

He seemed thoroughly put out, as if burdened by obligation.

One ahead, one behind, they left that den of indulgence, crossing the glittering Jinfen River. Only then did the curious stares above finally fade.

Yu capital remained resplendent. The Lantern Festival had just passed. The night air was crisp, yet lanterns bloomed one by one across the city, lighting the darkness in riotous colour.

Amidst the throng, the two former “enemies” of Fengyue House drew ever closer. Sheng Fuze casually undid the cloak he’d worn all night, still warm from his body, and fastened it carefully around Ke Hongxue’s neck.

The snowman did not smile, clearly still sulking.

Sheng Fuze, a year older and already taller by half a head, bent slightly as he finished tying the knot. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slung an arm around Hongxue’s shoulder and rested his head on the other.

His whole bearing softened, indolent and loose, laced with the scent of wine. He murmured into his ear,

“Ah Xue, I told you not to come…”

There was the faintest trace of a pout beneath his words, laced with an unspoken delight. The taunts and jeers from earlier faded like shadow puppets on a temple stage, insubstantial and hollow.

“The court’s in chaos. I’ve said again and again I don’t want to vie with da ge, but they won’t let it go. Mother too…” He trailed off, eyes dimming.

He slumped further, voice barely audible, just enough for the two of them. The lingering scent of osmanthus wine wrapped around them, as though drawing the drifting spring wind into a dream of drunken tenderness.

Sheng Fuze hesitated for a moment before saying, “In any case, don’t come looking for me here again. It’s not the sort of place one ought to be. What are you playing at, running over here like this? What if the Grand Tutor finds out and punishes you? And those people… don’t get involved with them. They’re nothing but a nest of vipers. Vile to the core. They’ll swallow you whole and not even spit out the bones.”

His Highness the Third Prince rambled on, utterly unbothered by the impropriety of badmouthing others behind their backs. In fact, the longer he spoke, the more animated he became. He looked ready to grab Ke Hongxue by the ear and forbid him outright from ever coming again.

But no matter how long he went on, Ke Hongxue continued walking in silence. Something in Sheng Fuze’s heart gave a sudden, uncertain flutter.

He reached out with his free hand to tug gently at the sleeve of the little snowman and murmured, “Ah Xue…”

Perhaps it was the posture. It was just a touch too humble. Or perhaps it was that barely-concealed note of entreaty threading through his voice, but at long last, Ke Hongxue turned and asked, “How much did you drink?”

His tone was cold… frigid, really. So much so that at his tender age, he already seemed a perfect replica of the Grand Tutor himself: aloof and severe, with no trace of the charming boy he used to be.

Sheng Fuze silently cursed, but still answered meekly, “Only two or three taels worth.”

Ke Hongxue shot him a sidelong glance. Sheng Fuze’s heart gave a jolt. He quickly amended, “Three… maybe four…”

Ke Hongxue’s gaze swept over him inch by inch. The flushed corners of his eyes, the pink tinge warming the tips of his ears, the vein pulsing faintly at his neck… and then he gave a quiet nod. “Four and a half.”

Sheng Fuze blinked, momentarily stunned. He gave a dramatic gasp but didn’t panic. Instead, he clicked his tongue in mock admiration. “Ah Xue, you’re amazing. I’ve never managed to fool you, not even once! If you don’t join the civil service, it’ll be a crying shame. Honestly, go join the Supreme Court. Dayu would be rid of corruption in a fortnight!”

Ke Hongxue rolled his eyes and kept walking. Sheng Fuze slung an arm around his shoulders, spouting nonsense all the while as he half-joked, half-placated. As they turned down another street, he caught sight of a hawker at the far end selling candied hawthorn skewers, the sticks propped up in a bundle of straw. His eyes lit up. He clapped Ke Hongxue on the shoulder, exclaiming, “Ah Xue, Ah Xue! I want some candied haws. Two sticks! No, three! I’ll take one back for qi di.”

But he made no move to go.

Ke Hongxue glanced at him, met his eyes a few times, but stayed put.

At once, the delighted boy swapped cheer for pitiful charm, lowering his voice to a plaintive whimper. “Ah Xue, you know how little I get each month. I’ve long spent it all. Please, good Ah Xue, beautiful Ah Xue. Won’t you take pity on me, just this once?”

The tips of Ke Hongxue’s ears flushed a deep red. After a long pause, he spat, “If you’re broke, why on earth are you spending it on courtesans and wine?”

Sheng Fuze grinned as he caught the money pouch Ke Hongxue tossed over. “No choice, is there? I’m about to start attending court. I’ve got to get in their good books somehow.”

As he theatrically selected the three largest sticks of candied hawthorn, he turned back and asked, “By the way, Ah Xue, are you really not going to sit for the imperial exams?”

Ke Hongxue nodded and muttered, “I’m not.”

“Ah… what a pity.” Sheng Fuze sighed dramatically, then grinned again and draped himself over the boy’s shoulder. “The palace gates are shut. Be a darling, Ah Xue. Let me stay over just one more night?”