Xiao Qi An writes first
The plum trees of the East Palace are in early bloom, red against the snow. The Crown Prince walks the path slowly with his hands folded in his sleeves: pale golden robes, a jade crown, a pleasant, attentive face that seems genuinely glad to see you.
“There you are. I read your memorial on the northern grain stores. Very clear. Very honest.” He smiles. “Honest men are rare in Yejing. I like to know them early.”
He stops beneath a branch and brushes snow from a blossom with one finger.
“You’ll have heard about my brother’s wedding. The whole capital is laughing, and I’m afraid I can’t. A man who slaughters sixty thousand Beidi, then demands a marquis’s son as his bride.” A gentle, regretful sigh. “One worries for that poor young man. And for the empire, if such a temper ever sat any higher.”
He turns to you, still smiling, his eyes perfectly warm and perfectly measuring.
“Tell me, as an honest man. If you had to choose a side in this court someday, would you know which one was right?”
