Song Pu replied, “It’s nothing.” He turned his head… only to find Prince Gong standing behind him.
He paused, then greeted him respectfully. “Your Highness, Prince Gong.”
Prince Gong lowered his gaze to him and smiled faintly. “Ah-Pu, you’ve come to the lantern festival as well?”
Having been warned by Song Lingyun, Song Pu naturally kept his distance from him. Still, he did not dare show any displeasure and merely aimed to avoid giving offence. He offered a polite, measured smile. “I’m accompanying my younger cousin. He’s just ahead at a stall, trying his hand at riddles.”
Prince Gong followed his line of sight and indeed saw a lively cluster of youths gathered at a stall. “In that case,” he said gently, “would Ah-Pu care to walk with me for a while?”
Song Pu was just about to find an excuse to decline when Prince Gong added smoothly, “Zhiyun has been busy these past few days. I’ve sent him several invitations, yet all were declined. Since you are alone, why not keep me company in his stead?”
Song Pu: “……”
At this point, Song Lingyun and Prince Gong should not have been so close. Yet he invoked his brother so readily.
Still, with matters phrased thus, refusal became difficult. Song Pu forced a faint smile. “Then I shall comply.”
Prince Gong lifted a hand and gestured ahead. “Shall we walk over there?”
He pointed towards the riverbank. It was dimly lit, yet the surface of the water shimmered with drifting lotus lanterns. Candlelight flickered against the pink paper petals, casting a soft, luminous glow.
Seeing women and children releasing lanterns, Song Pu did not think Prince Gong meant any harm and agreed.
At the riverbank, a guard brought several lotus lanterns. Prince Gong took one and handed it to Song Pu. “It is said that if one writes a wish upon a lantern and lets it drift upon the river, the River Goddess will hear it and grant it.”
Song Pu accepted it, glancing down, somewhat at a loss as to Prince Gong’s intentions.
Prince Gong then took up a brush already dipped in ink. “If you have a wish, you may try. Perhaps it will be granted.”
Song Pu came back to himself. “I fear my wish is not one the River Goddess can fulfil.”
Even so, he lifted the brush and began to write, making no effort to conceal it.
Prince Gong cast a glance and saw nothing but crooked, shapeless characters, utterly devoid of form or strength. To be charitable, they were merely clumsy. Less charitably, a writhing mess of worms.
He closed his eyes briefly and turned away.
On the slip, Song Pu had written six bold characters: no work, no overtime, followed by his name.
He knew his brushwork was dreadful. His penmanship, however, was excellent. Unfortunately, this era afforded him no opportunity to prove it. Truly, he had been born in the wrong time.
He lit the lantern and, imitating the others, set it upon the water, nudging it gently away with a bamboo pole.
When he turned back, Prince Gong had also finished writing. He handed over his lantern with a mild smile. “Would Ah-Pu release this for me?”
Song Pu hesitated, then accepted it. Without looking at what was written, he placed it upon the water and pushed it away.
Prince Gong smiled. “Why not take a look?”
“Wishes only work if they are known to oneself,” Song Pu replied. “If others see them, they lose their effect.”
“I have never heard such a notion.”
“That is only natural, Your Highness. Perhaps many do not know it eithe. That is why their wishes go unfulfilled.”
“I see.”
“Since the lanterns are set afloat,” Song Pu continued, “perhaps Your Highness would care to view the displays? My cousins may grow anxious if they cannot find me.”
Prince Gong inclined his head. “Very well.”
Song Pu had barely taken a step when his footing slipped. He lurched backwards towards the river with a short cry. But Prince Gong reacted swiftly, catching him by the waist and pulling him back.
Song Pu’s face turned pale.
“Are you unharmed?” Prince Gong asked softly.
Song Pu swallowed, only then realising he was still held fast. Through the thin fabric of their summer garments, he could feel the heat of the other man’s body. Goosebumps rose instantly. He cleared his throat. “I am quite well. Thank you, Your Highness, for saving me.”
His tone was strained, the meaning obvious.
Prince Gong paused, then released him and stepped back with a smile. “Ah-Pu is rather careless. I ought to keep a closer eye on you. Otherwise, if Zhiyun hears of it, he may take issue with me.”
He kept invoking Song Lingyun, as though to emphasise their closeness. Someone unaware might have believed it.
But Song Pu knew better.
At most, it was a calculated move to lower his guard. Yet why approach him at all?
Though puzzled, Song Pu showed nothing. “It was indeed my carelessness. Had Your Highness not intervened, I would have fallen into the water and earned a scolding at home. I shall be sure to repay this kindness.”
He had no intention of owing him anything.
Prince Gong laughed lightly. “There is no need. My elder brother and I are close friends, and I regard you as a younger brother. I merely wish to grow closer. If you are grateful, then keep me company over the next few days.”
Song Pu: “…”
He could only lament his own loose tongue.
Given the disparity in status, refusal was impossible. He could only agree reluctantly. Seeing his hesitation, Prince Gong spoke with studied gentleness. “If you have pressing matters, there is no need to force yourself.”
Pressing matters? Anyone with the slightest information would know he had spent his days gambling and playing mahjong. Refusal would only embarrass himself.
“…I have nothing urgent to attend to,” Song Pu said.
And only then did it dawn on him.
This blasted Prince Gong had effectively taken the Emperor’s place and put him back to work. Unpaid.
His opinion of Prince Gong plummeted instantly.
After a few more exchanges, Song Pu spotted Song Qianyuan approaching and seized the chance to slip away with him.
Prince Gong watched him leave until he disappeared into the crowd. Then he extended his hand.
A guard promptly handed him a damp cloth.
Prince Gong methodically wiped each finger of the hand that had held Song Pu. The gentle smile on his face vanished, leaving only indifference.
“A man with neither talent nor virtue, valued only for his looks. And yet my imperial brother is taken with him. Laughable.”
*
At the same time, within the summer retreat, Tantai Yi received a report from the Black Dragon Guard.
Since returning to Yanjing, Song Pu had devised several novel games, gaining widespread fame and even setting the fashion of the capital’s amusements. He spent his days immersed in revelry with the young nobles, thoroughly enjoying himself, without the slightest trace of dejection.
“Outrageous! Utterly outrageous!”
Tantai Yi was livid.
The guard presented a letter. “A message from the Commander, Your Majesty.”
Tantai Yi steadied himself somewhat and took it. It was from Qin Shu… nothing more than the usual report on court affairs. He read it and set it aside without interest.
Suppressing his irritation, he asked, “Has Lord Song shed tears?”
The guard paused. “No, Your Majesty.”
“…And his appetite?”
Surely he had grown thinner.
“On the contrary, it has been excellent. Madam Song mentioned that he has even put on weight.”
“Impossible!”
Tantai Yi struck the table so hard that part of it caved in. His gaze turned sharp. “Twelve. Are you certain?”
“Absolutely certain. He eats well, sleeps well, plays well, and has made many companions. His spirits are high.”
Tantai Yi’s breathing grew uneven, a flush rising to his face. “Outrageous! Without me, he dares be so content?”
Impossible. He must be forcing it.
He steadied himself. “Has he read my edict?”
“He did so today.”
Tantai Yi leaned forward slightly, eyes bright. “And his reaction?”
“Both he and the Duke read it together. They appeared… most pleased.”
Tantai Yi leaned back slowly.
The Duke was a meticulous man. He would certainly have noticed the flaw. Yet they had smiled.
His lips curved faintly. In a tone of feigned composure, he murmured, “My duties lie with the court. I have been away too long. We depart tomorrow. I shall return to the palace.”
This early return was for the sake of the realm. Certainly not for Lord Song.
