Chapter 13: Rather Interesting

First Attendant Qian had made a clever calculation. Shen Zhiyi had been summoned to attend the emperor; if Qian followed her, she would have a natural excuse to see him. Appearing before him was better than wandering aimlessly around the Imperial Garden. And if Zhiyi knew what was good for her, she ought to take them along.

Looking at Qian’s smile, Zhiyi could guess most of what she was thinking. She returned a courteous but distant smile. “First Attendant Qian, Attendant Liu, please enjoy yourselves. I must attend His Majesty, so I won’t keep you company.”

With that, she turned and left, cleanly and without hesitation.

Liu stood rooted to the spot, mouth hanging open. Qian was stunned too. She had imagined Zhiyi politely refusing, then allowing herself to be persuaded and reluctantly taking them along. She hadn’t expected such a decisive departure, without leaving any room for discussion.

Surely First Attendant Shen ought to invite them, showing His Majesty how generous, gracious, and considerate she was? Qian’s face went red, then pale. Her lips trembled, but no words came out.

Liu recovered and stamped her foot. “Sister Qian, look at her! Look how arrogant she is!”

Qian took a deep breath and composed her expression. “Stop talking. Follow her.”

“Follow her?”

“Did you really come to admire flowers?” Qian pulled Liu along, walking twice as fast as before. “His Majesty is in the Crabapple Garden. Can you bear to miss such a chance?”

Liu saw her point and hurried after her.

From the high ground in the Crabapple Garden, Li Xuandu had watched the whole exchange. He could faintly hear what they said, and he saw both Zhiyi’s brisk departure and the other two standing there dumbfounded. He smiled. What a little wildcat, unwilling to yield an inch.

When Zhiyi entered the garden, the crabapples were in full bloom. Pink and white petals covered the branches, drifting down in the breeze like silent snow. She followed a petal-strewn path and saw Li Xuandu in the distance, standing beneath an old crabapple tree with his hands behind his back. His bright yellow everyday robe stood out among the shifting flower shadows.

She approached and curtsied. “Your Majesty.”

Li Xuandu said nothing, his gaze resting on her. The lilac dress set off her pale skin; the vermilion mark between her brows appeared and disappeared beneath the shadows. A breeze scattered petals into her hair and over her shoulders. Standing there with her head slightly bowed amid the falling blossoms, she looked almost too beautiful to be real.

“You may rise.” His voice was softer than usual.

Zhiyi straightened and met his eyes. Half a month apart, and the man was still so handsome. With his striking features and upright bearing, he looked like a painting beneath the flowering tree. She gave herself a mental pat on the back. Sleeping with a man that gorgeous had been a fine bargain.

Before they could exchange another word, rustling sounded behind them. Without looking back, Zhiyi knew who it was. In the whole garden, no one but Qian and Liu could have caught up so quickly.

Sure enough, they emerged from behind the flowers. Petals and bits of grass clung to their skirts, and their hair was somewhat loose. Clearly they had rushed. Qian caught her breath, quickly arranged her expression into one of delighted surprise, and curtsied. “Your Majesty.”

Liu followed suit, her eyes darting upward as if she wished she could glue them to Li Xuandu. He glanced at them, his expression changing from the softness he had shown Zhiyi to his usual unreadable coolness.

Qian was plainly prepared. She straightened and said gently, “Your Majesty, the spring day is lovely. I’ve just learned a song and would like to offer it for your entertainment.” Without waiting for his agreement, she began.

Her voice was indeed lovely, clear and lilting. She sang the popular *Butterflies in Love with Flowers*, its lingering melody suited to the crabapples all around. Unwilling to be outdone, Liu immediately moved aside and assumed a dancer’s pose. She performed a waist-bending dance, her movements fluid, her waist supple as water. But on the flower-strewn ground her skirt swept up petals, making her look a little disheveled.

Li Xuandu frowned slightly. Zhiyi noticed and gave his sleeve a gentle tug. He looked down at her.

She smiled. “Your Majesty, my legs are getting tired from standing. Let’s sit in the pavilion and listen. A song, a dance, and crabapple blossoms to admire—how lovely.”

He looked at her without speaking, but his feet followed as she led the way. Qian’s song faltered, almost going off-key. She stared at Zhiyi’s back. She dared pull the emperor’s sleeve? She dared interrupt his enjoyment? And His Majesty had actually gone with her?

Liu’s dance missed half a beat too, her expression shifting through a whole palette of colors.

Tea and snacks had already been laid out in the pavilion. Zhiyi led Li Xuandu to a seat and sat beside him. By rights, a consort should not sit on equal terms with the emperor, but Zhiyi didn’t understand the rules very well, and Li Xuandu didn’t correct her. Half reclining against the railing, he watched her pick up an osmanthus cake and offer it to him.

“Try one, Your Majesty. I had the Imperial Kitchen’s osmanthus cakes once before, and I haven’t stopped thinking about them.”

He didn’t take it. “You eat it.”

She didn’t stand on ceremony. She popped it into her mouth, and after a couple of bites her eyes curved into crescents. Chewing, she watched Qian sing and Liu dance, as relaxed as if she were enjoying a free show.

Li Xuandu turned to look at her. Petals drifted into the pavilion and settled in her hair, on her shoulders, and in her lap, but she was intent on her cake, occasionally reaching for the teapot to pour herself a cup. Her gaze moved between Qian and Liu as if she were watching something amusing, the faintest smile lingering at her lips.

When Qian finished singing and Liu finished dancing, both stood outside the pavilion, breathless and looking expectantly at the emperor for his verdict. He didn’t look at them. His eyes remained on Zhiyi, a faint smile spreading in them.

“Lovely!” Zhiyi clapped and offered sincere praise. “Sister Qian sings beautifully, and Attendant Liu dances beautifully too. Don’t you agree, Your Majesty?”

At last Li Xuandu turned toward the two women. “Mm.”

Just that one sound. No praise, no reward, not another word. Qian’s smile froze; Liu looked even more disgusted than if she had swallowed a fly. Zhiyi lifted her teacup, using it to hide the smile at her lips.

Li Xuandu turned back to her and watched her longer this time. A crabapple petal had landed between her brows, resting against the vermilion mark like a little flower that had grown there. Oblivious, she continued drinking, her lowered lashes casting fan-shaped shadows beneath her eyes.

The girl wasn’t jealous at all. Watching his women sing and dance, she seemed even more at leisure than the emperor himself. Rather interesting.