Chapter 8 – Snow Blossoms

Chapter 8 – Snow Blossoms

Front Courtyard of Weiyang Palace

A cold light flashed, and a snowflake split cleanly in two, its halves drifting in a light, graceful dance as they scattered and fell.

The young girl wore dark robes, her hair bound with a silver band. The blade reflected her sharp brows and keen eyes. With a flick of her wrist, the blade turned outward — the small, lazy snowflakes, which had yet to touch her body, suddenly plummeted, swept into a wild, whistling frenzy that followed the momentum of the sword.

For a moment, sword-light descended upon the world, stirring the wind and snow to dance in its wake.

Li Chonghua stared, transfixed, and it took two tugs from the head steward before he snapped out of his daze and walked around the front courtyard and under the eaves of the corridor.

Beneath the corridor stood a long-bearded elderly Daoist. He wore a robe washed so many times it had turned a stark white, his features lean and spare, his eyes sharp and bright. A single glance from him seemed to pierce through a person’s heart, leaving nothing hidden.

Li Chonghua was both nervous and curious. When he was still about thirty feet away from the old man, his steps began to slow.

“National Preceptor, this is His Highness’s Study Companion — Young Master Chonghua of the Li family,” the head steward said respectfully by way of introduction.

No one knew the long-bearded Daoist’s name, nor did anyone know where he had come from.

That year, Zhan Changfeng had been three years old, unconscious and unresponsive. Every renowned physician in and around the Imperial City had been at a loss. He had appeared after seeing the imperial proclamation posted publicly, awakened the Crown Prince, and been honored by the old Emperor as the National Preceptor. However, he often wandered the world on his travels and had only recently returned to the capital.

The head steward then said to Li Chonghua, “This is the National Preceptor, and also the teacher who instructs His Highness in the martial arts.”

Li Chonghua’s eyes lit up. “Could I learn from you as well?”

The long-bearded Daoist merely smiled without saying a word. Li Chonghua was a little disappointed, but still persisted: “I will definitely work hard. Can you give me a chance?”

“You and I share no karmic connection,” the long-bearded Daoist said, folding his sleeves and standing with a smile as he refused.

Li Chonghua looked toward the head steward as if searching for rescue. His mother had said that whatever the matter, he could find the head steward to help solve it.

The head steward shook his head and said nothing.

Zhan Changfeng concluded her stance, sheathed her sword, and walked over to stand before the long-bearded Daoist.

The long-bearded Daoist gave an approving nod. “Good.”

She gave him a bow, then returned to her sleeping quarters to bathe and change clothes. When she came back out, she saw the long-bearded Daoist seated cross-legged before a Go board, and she waved her hand to dismiss the palace attendants.

“Where did Master go?” she asked, placing a white stone on the board.

“Beyond the bounds of a small place.”

“How were the sights?”

“Still the human world.”

“Then did Master happen to see a mountain?” Zhan Changfeng asked.

“There are many mountains. Which one do you mean?”

“The one that only I can see.”

The long-bearded Daoist closed his eyes. His two flowing white eyebrows were like a second pair of eyes — profound and penetrating.

He did not answer Zhan Changfeng, and she did not press him.

“Your Highness,” the long-bearded Daoist called out to her when the game was halfway through.

“Mm?”

“Once you come of age, how would you like me to teach you the other half of the Daoist scripture?”

“That will do.”

Zhan Changfeng respected the long-bearded Daoist — not because he had once saved her from the puppet arts of a treacherous villain, nor because he had taught her peerless martial skills, but because he held within himself a thousand ravines and contained a whole universe. Half a Daoist scripture had taught her to understand fate and life.

This kind of world-broadening thought stood above any power or wealth, and it let her examine her own existence with an entirely new perspective, unshackled from the confines of her identity and station.

But ideals and reality are always a world apart.

Clack — a stone was placed.

Zhan Changfeng asked, “The Dao teaches that all living beings are equal, yet there is rarely fairness in this world. Should I simply go with the flow, or strive to change it?”

“Following your heart is following the flow.”

The old man and the young girl finished their game. The one who wandered continued to wander at leisure; the one who was Crown Prince continued to carry her burdens in silence.

As night descended, Li Chonghua returned to Yongxiu Palace, utterly drained of energy.

On that day, after the Crown Prince and Li Yunqiu had parted on bad terms, she had left only a single sentence behind: “If you want to come, then come.”

And so, every day since, Li Yunqiu would wake Li Chonghua before the third hour of the morning, have palace attendants support him under the arms to wash up and dress, and then carry him all the way to Weiyang Palace.

From the fifth watch onward, he would stand guard outside Grand Purity Hall with the guards and attendants, waiting for the morning court session to end.

Sometimes it was over in less than half an hour; other times they would have to wait until noon. If the morning session could not conclude, they would have to continue after lunch.

Once court was dismissed, great masters of military affairs and statecraft would come to teach the Crown Prince their subjects, and the old Emperor would also drop by from time to time to offer his guidance.

Li Chonghua understood none of it, and as a mere Study Companion, he was not permitted to ask questions.

If he were only a subject, standing in attendance would have been enough. But now he knew he was an imperial grandson, and Li Yunqiu continually urged him to learn, to keep pace with Zhan Changfeng.

And so, not being able to understand anything became all the more pitiful. The anxiety gnawing at his heart had almost entirely erased his smile.

“I want to learn martial arts!” The first thing Li Chonghua said when he saw Li Yunqiu was precisely this — and there was a sullen, defiant edge to it.

But underneath that was something deeper: envy.

When the Crown Prince danced with her sword, the aura of supreme command and total mastery she exuded was more vivid and direct than at any other time. He too wanted to navigate all kinds of problems with that same ease and skill. He too wanted to be that self-assured and powerful.

“You must be steady and grounded in all things. You can’t even finish your lessons yet — what do you want to go off and learn all sorts of other things for?” Li Yunqiu said.

Those words must have struck a raw nerve in Li Chonghua. The emotions that had built up over the past several days erupted in that moment. “I don’t want to be a Study Companion! I don’t want to study! Why do you always compare me to the heir? Is it not enough that I simply can’t measure up to him?!”

Li Chonghua’s tears and sobs spilled forth. “Why is it that we’re both imperial grandchildren, yet he gets to be Crown Prince fair and square while I have to toil like an ox and a horse? Why can he stand at our imperial grandfather’s side while I’m not even allowed to acknowledge who I am?!”

After several days of relentless hardship and blows, he had finally reached his limit.

Li Yunqiu had not expected him to be suffering this much. She had intended to temper him, but had achieved the opposite effect.

Her heart ached for him. “It is I who did not think things through carefully enough.”

She had hoped that Li Chonghua would earn Zhan Changfeng’s trust and support, so that the two of them could naturally exchange roles in due time without any major complications arising.

But now it seemed that, out of consideration for Zhan Changfeng’s circumstances, her plan had been somewhat indecisive.

Zhan Changfeng’s brilliance was too overwhelming. If Li Chonghua did not develop a firm sense of self, he would likely docilely become her subordinate and never find the will to resist.

Moreover, without the Emperor’s personal instruction, even if he were to become the Son of Heaven, he would still fall far short of Zhan Changfeng.

The best choice at this moment was to reveal the truth to the Emperor as soon as possible and restore Li Chonghua’s rightful identity.

As Li Yunqiu arrived at this decision, a flicker of guilt toward her daughter rose in her heart. Truly, fate was a cruel trickster.

Weiyang Palace

The head steward refilled Zhan Changfeng’s tea. “Your Highness, I noticed that Young Master Chonghua looked rather pale today. I’m afraid he may be ill — perhaps it would be best to let him rest for a few days?”

Zhan Changfeng continued reading her official documents without lifting her head. “Foolish. A person who has not even worked his way through the Four Books and Five Classics — what is he doing following me around all day instead of studying properly? It is simply as if he is not destroying himself fast enough.”

“But it isn’t as though he chose to do this himself.”

“I am not saying he is the foolish one.”

If not him, then who? The head steward wiped a cold sweat on behalf of the Lady, though inwardly he did agree with Zhan Changfeng’s assessment.

If the two of them were at comparable levels it would be one thing, but the gap between Li Chonghua and Zhan Changfeng was simply too vast. To ask someone who had only just begun to compose a few verses of poetry to leap several levels and discuss military strategy and statecraft — was that not absurd?

“Does Your Highness telling Young Master Chonghua he need not come in the mornings mean that you are giving him free time to study?” the head steward suddenly understood, but then felt it was unfair on her behalf. “Why does Your Highness not explain this clearly to the Lady?”

The candlelight flickered against her cheek, yet could not reach into her eyes. There, it was all abysses and perilous cliffs — a place where one could lose their way.

“When a person’s heart has already turned, what good is an explanation?”

The head steward heard the sound of something sinking in his chest. His fingers trembled. The words “Your Highness” caught in his throat. It was truly not worth it.

(End of Chapter)