085 Sleepless Through the Night

Inside Cuiwei Palace, Zhang Bitong gazed at the Avatamsaka Sutra before her, tossed aside her wolf-hair brush, and complained, “I am a dignified consort, yet the Empress punishes me by making me copy these useless scriptures.”

Yunqing, who had been grinding ink for Zhang Bitong, hurriedly stopped her work when she saw her mistress throwing a tantrum. She picked up the brush and handed it back, coaxing, “Your Ladyship should try to finish copying as soon as possible. If you haven’t completed it by tomorrow’s morning greeting, the Empress will surely fault you again. Wouldn’t that only bring you more grievances?”

But Zhang Bitong did not take the brush. She grumbled, “There’s just so much! You make it sound easy, but even if I neither eat, drink, nor sleep, I could never finish. If you all could help me copy some, I might have it easier.”

Yunqing replied helplessly, “This maid would gladly share your burden, but alas, my handwriting and that of Lanyan and the others differ from yours. If the Empress discovered it, she’d add to your punishment. Please endure a little, Your Ladyship; once it’s done, we’ll all keep you company.”

“We will always keep Your Ladyship company.”
“We will always stay by Your Ladyship’s side.”
The servants knelt in a circle inside the chamber.

“Enough, enough. What use is your company if you cannot help even a little? Yunqing, continue grinding ink for me. I shall rely only on myself.”

“Your Ladyship is wise. Lanyan, go and have Hongxiu prepare some nourishing soup for Her Ladyship, and if she grows sleepy, make sure to have strong tea ready.”

“Yes, at once.”

“Xiao Xiaozi, you and I will take turns massaging Her Ladyship’s legs and feet to make her more comfortable.”

“Yes, understood!”

“Xiao Yunzi, keep an eye on the brazier, and make sure Her Ladyship doesn’t get cold. Also, stay alert for any disturbances that might trouble her.”

“Yes!”

Such arrangements showed Yunqing’s meticulous care. According to her directions, everyone attended to their tasks. I stood behind Zhang Bitong, gently massaging her shoulders while Yunqing ground the ink. Zhang Bitong, after copying for a while, would stretch her arm, complaining of back pain.

By around the hour of the Dog, Jiang Xuan strode in, clad in purple. He immediately noticed the scripture copies filling the room. “Ah, it’s Xuan’er,” Zhang Bitong exclaimed upon seeing him. She put down her brush, stood, and voiced her grievances, “My dear Xuan’er, you’ve come just in time. Look at your mother—still awake at this hour, forced to copy these scriptures.”

“Your son pays his respects.” Jiang Xuan bowed and straightened. “I heard about this and came especially to help. I wish to assist you with the copying.”

“Your filial devotion touches me, but I had considered this myself. Your handwriting differs from mine; if the Empress notices, you’ll be implicated as well.”

Jiang Xuan replied, “I can imitate your script by seventy or eighty percent. If the Empress doesn’t scrutinize, she may not notice.”

Zhang Bitong was overjoyed. “Truly? My Xuan’er is so capable—what a surprise for your mother! Come, let us copy together so we may finish soon and you can rest.”

“Yes.”

“Xiao Xiaozi, attend to the Ninth Prince and don’t worry about me.”

“Yes, Your Ladyship.”

I was about to go to Jiang Xuan’s side when he interjected, “No need.”

“But Xuan’er, let Xiao Xiaozi grind ink for you—it will help you write faster.”

Jiang Xuan glanced at me, then looked away indifferently. “Very well.”

He picked up the brush, stood by the table, and laid out paper, referencing the pages Zhang Bitong had already completed. After a moment’s study, he began copying, closely imitating her script. While grinding ink, I watched him—though I couldn’t recognize every character, it was clear that despite his efforts, the difference in style was unmistakable.

Before I could say anything, Jiang Xuan realized his own shortcomings. He crumpled the page and tossed it aside.

Zhang Bitong noticed. “What’s the matter, Xuan’er?”

“It’s nothing, Mother. Don’t worry.”

“That’s good.” Zhang Bitong resumed copying, but after a few characters, she said to Yunqing, “I’m a bit sleepy. Make me some strong tea.”

“At once.”

She reclined on the soft couch, and before she’d sipped much tea, Yunqing, massaging her legs, saw she’d already fallen asleep.

“Ma’am—” Yunqing was about to wake her when Jiang Xuan whispered, “Let Mother rest a while. She’s exhausted. I will stay here. Yunqing, fetch a thick blanket to cover her.”

“Yes, immediately.”

Jiang Xuan resumed his attempts—second time, third time—yet each page was unsatisfactory and discarded. Watching him grow weary and rubbing his eyes, I felt a pang of sympathy. I poured him strong tea and offered it respectfully, “Your Highness, please have some tea and rest a bit.”

“No need.” He neither accepted the tea nor paused his writing, eyes fixed on the copied scripture before him.

I stood by, tea in hand, watching as he yawned, clearly exhausted. Noticing yellow dust on his boots, I recalled that since Jiang Yun went to practice riding and archery today, Jiang Xuan likely did as well. He must have come straight here to help Zhang Bitong without rest or even changing clothes. He had been on his feet all day; no wonder he was so worn out.

Moved by gratitude—he had saved me more than once—this was a chance to repay him. With my sharp memory, and after serving both Zhang Bitong and Jiang Xuan for a while, I already remembered much. I hesitated, not wishing to draw attention or invite trouble, but seeing Zhang Bitong asleep and Jiang Xuan so fatigued, I finally said, “If Your Highness doesn’t mind, may I give it a try?”

“You?” Jiang Xuan looked up in surprise, a drop of ink falling on the page from his brush.

“Your Highness, the ink is spreading,” I reminded in a low voice.

“Oh.” He startled slightly, set the brush on its rest.

“Why not try some tea and rest? Let me attempt it. If I can’t manage, I won’t persist.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped back and accepted the tea I offered. I approached, examined the wolf-hair brush, and Jiang Xuan gave a slight nod of assent.

I laid out a sheet, dipped the brush in ink, and studied Zhang Bitong’s script before beginning to write. The first few characters flowed well, but as I continued, Jiang Xuan’s voice sounded behind me, “Are there characters you don’t recognize?”

His sudden question startled me, especially since he spoke from behind, making my ears flush. I nodded, “Yes, Your Highness. I am dull-witted and don’t know many characters.”

“Step aside.”

“Eh?”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Your Highness, I—”

“If you don’t know the characters, no matter how well you imitate, the result will be off and may arouse suspicion.”

He had a point. Looking at those complex characters I didn’t know, I realized my imitation lacked the right spirit.

“Yes, sir.”

Jiang Xuan set aside the tea bowl and reached for my brush. As he took it, my hand met his. He suddenly tensed, flung his sleeve, and glared coldly, “Who told you to come so close? Didn’t I say you should keep your distance?”

I was stunned—so he was still holding a grudge against a certain eunuch, his anger unabated.

I bowed my head, “Your Highness wished to teach me; I—”

“Stand back and watch me write while listening.”

“Yes, sir.”

I retreated a few steps, but from that distance, I couldn’t clearly see the characters he wrote. Standing on tiptoe, I tried to observe. Jiang Xuan turned, noticed, and his gaze grew cold, so I immediately stood straight, head lowered, silent.

He sighed softly. “Come closer, but remember—do not touch me, especially not by accident.”

“Yes, sir.”

After he’d taught me twice, I committed the characters to memory. “I think I remember, Your Highness. May I try again?”

“Go ahead.”

He stepped aside, and I wrote another page. Jiang Xuan compared it to Zhang Bitong’s work, set the two sheets side by side, and said, “Placed together, even Mother would have trouble telling them apart.”

I was elated. “If Your Highness agrees, let me copy on behalf of Her Ladyship. You’re tired—why not return to your palace and rest?”

“You write, I’ll watch.”

“Yes, sir.” Not daring to delay further, I began copying at once. Whether or not I finished by dawn, it would not do to waste time, and Jiang Xuan was not one to heed my advice.

I dipped the brush and wrote. At first slow, I gradually gained speed and fluency. Deep into the night, the ink ran out. Just as I was about to grind more, Yunqing appeared to do it for me.

“Auntie—”

“Keep writing. I’ll grind the ink; the sooner you finish, the better.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

She whispered, “I knew you were clever, but I never expected you could do this. Only the Ninth Prince and I must know of this; if word spreads, you’ll be punished, and Her Ladyship implicated.”

“I understand.”

At her mention of Jiang Xuan, I glanced over and saw him asleep at the table, head propped on his hand, wrapped in a thick cloak—no doubt Yunqing had covered him. He must have been truly exhausted to fall asleep so.

Yunqing sighed, “The Ninth Prince is truly filial. Her Ladyship is fortunate to have such a son.”

I looked at Jiang Xuan one more time before returning to my task.

By the hour of the Tiger, with Zhang Bitong’s earlier work included, ten copies of the sutra were done.

Straightening up, I stretched. Noticing Yunqing watching, I quickly lowered my hands and bowed my head. “Forgive my impropriety.”

Yunqing came to inspect the work, tidying as she went. “You’ve worked hard. Luckily, Her Ladyship is still asleep, so it’s fine.”

I smiled, “Thank you, Auntie.”

As she organized the papers, I moved aside to loosen my limbs, rolling my neck, stretching arms and legs, and bending at the waist. When I straightened, I saw Jiang Xuan standing there watching me.

I froze, then, realizing my posture, immediately stood with legs together, arms at my sides, head bowed.

Jiang Xuan averted his gaze, inspected the finished scriptures, and asked, “Is it all done?”

Yunqing replied joyfully, “All done, at last.”

He turned to me, “Did you copy them all?”

“Not all—Her Ladyship completed several herself.” I answered honestly, but suddenly my eyes stung and tears welled up, rolling down my cheeks.

Jiang Xuan took a step toward me, then paused as if reconsidering, and said to Yunqing, “Let him go rest—his eyes are bloodshot. Make him something nourishing to eat.”

“Yes, I will see to it.”

“Good.”

Just then, Zhang Bitong awoke with a start. “What time is it? Yunqing, why didn’t you wake me? I still have so many scriptures to copy!”

She was about to rise when Yunqing soothed her, “No need to worry; the copying is finished.”

“Finished?” Zhang Bitong blinked, hurrying over. “Truly? But I don’t recall copying so many. How—?”

“Your Ladyship, it was—” Yunqing began, but I quickly interrupted, “Your Ladyship, the Ninth Prince helped you finish. He hasn’t closed his eyes all night!”

Jiang Xuan glanced at me in surprise. Zhang Bitong hurried over, took his hand, and said, deeply moved, “My dear Xuan’er, you’ve worked so hard, staying up all night for your mother. I’m truly touched. Look, your eyes are red—go back and rest.”

“Mother, I—”

“No more protest. Go rest at once. If you fall ill, I’ll be worried. I must also wash and prepare to pay respects at Kunning Palace.”

“Yes, I will return now.”

He retreated a few steps, and Zhang Bitong called after him, “The archery festival is near. Have you practiced diligently?”

“I wouldn’t dare neglect it.”

“Good. Rest when you must, but practice well. Xiao Xiaozi, keep an eye on him. Wake the Ninth Prince at the right time, and attend him carefully at the archery grounds.”

“Yes, Your Ladyship.”

Jiang Xuan nodded slightly and took his leave.