It was broad daylight. Xu Buling had not slept a wink all night, and the Imperial College was plainly not going to happen today.
The poem-copying was supposed to smear his own name. Then Song Yufu came charging in from nowhere and turned the whole thing around until he was nearly the most famous man in Chang'an—and after that Ning Qingye had carried him off. If Madame Lu ever heard about any of it, there was no telling how furious she'd be.
Just thinking about it made his head ache.
Back at the princely estate, the eight personal guards had gone out hunting for him and likely had not returned yet, and Old Xiao, having "failed in his duty to protect his master," was no doubt tucked away in some songhouse or brothel, nursing a little wine. The vast estate was dead silent and empty.
Xu Buling meant to catch up on his sleep, so he went straight into the inner residence and pushed open the door of his bedroom.
The room was spare: a folding screen, a table, a couch, and nothing more except two tiger-carved weapon racks, each tiger's mouth holding a blade—a saber on the left, its edge like a thread of silver; a sword on the right, its aura cold for three chi around.
The old Xu Buling had been crazy for martial arts and was fond of saying that letters are for the poor and arms are for the rich; naturally, the weapons he carried were of no common make. The saber was called Black Tide, the sword Zhaodan, and both were famous blades of the jianghu.
Xu Buling shut the door, tossed his robe aside, and swept back the bed curtain to hop in. Who would have thought that behind the lotus-pink curtain a person was lying there.
The carved wooden bed was piled with thick quilts, and Madame Lu lay curled on top of them, hairpin still in her hair, dress and skirt still on, only the quilt drawn over her waist and belly, the embroidered shoes poking out past the edge of the bed, a sheet of xuan paper clutched tight in one hand. Plainly she had come here to wait, and waiting so long, she had not been able to keep her eyes open.
Xu Buling shook his head with a soft laugh. After a moment's thought he crouched down quietly and took hold of Madame Lu's embroidered shoe, meaning to slip it off so she could sleep more comfortably and not take a chill in the cold.
But his hand had no sooner closed on her ankle—the shoe had not even moved—when Madame Lu gave a soft "Mmm—"
And then...
"Ah—!"
A scream rang out across the whole vast Prince Su estate.
Thankfully there was no one about; had a servant heard it, heaven knew what they would have imagined.
Even so it scared Xu Buling half to death, and he nearly jumped up to clap a hand over Madame Lu's mouth.
Still, no one could blame her for reacting so violently. A widow keeping house alone, half asleep, suddenly feels her foot touched, opens her eyes, and finds a man right there in front of her—any woman would be scared witless.
Madame Lu lurched upright, and once she was fully awake and saw that it was Xu Buling beside her, her scream broke off short, as though she feared outsiders might hear. Her eyes were all shock and disbelief; her lips moved, and for a long while no words came out.
Xu Buling's face was a study in embarrassment. "Aunt Lu, you're awake. I..."
"I'm your aunt!"
After a brief spell of blank shock, shame and fury flooded Madame Lu's eyes. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that the good nephew she had raised as her own would actually...
Madame Lu's heart was a churn of feelings, and she had no idea what to say; after a moment's thought she snatched up a pillow to throw at him:
"Get out. Now."
Xu Buling rose and draped his robe over his shoulders, explaining rather weakly: "This is my room. I saw you asleep just now and didn't want to disturb you... mm... so that's the situation... I'll be going out now..."
Madame Lu wrapped the quilt tight around herself and sat there a little while before it came back to her that she had come over last night and waited a long time for him to return.
She glanced this way and that; this really was Xu Buling's room. The shame on her face turned to embarrassment, and once she had calmed herself a little she hurried to speak:
"Buling, wait."
Xu Buling stopped in his tracks, then came back, sat down bolt upright on the stool by the bed, and said with a smile:
"What is it?"
Madame Lu bit her lip lightly, stealing a few glances at Xu Buling on purpose and off; seeing no trace of a guilty conscience in his eyes, she quietly relaxed. Her voice softened: "I... I did you wrong. From now on... mm... a man's head and a woman's foot are not to be touched... Though there's no blood between us, you do call me aunt, and the households of princes are muddled enough as it is. If word ever got out..."
The more Xu Buling heard, the worse it sounded. He raised a hand:
"A clear conscience needs no defense. It was rash of me."
Madame Lu sat sideways on the bed, decided that was hardly a proper posture, and swung her legs out from under the quilt, smoothing her skirt and folding her hands at her waist to sit up straight. "By the way, where did you go last night? I heard you were carried off and that the Imperial Guard searched the whole city without finding you..."
Xu Buling chuckled. "I may be poisoned, but I can still look after myself. Yesterday was a scare and nothing more. Aunt Lu needn't worry."
Madame Lu examined him carefully, front and back, and only once she had made sure he was unhurt did she let out a small breath of relief—whereupon annoyance surfaced in her eyes:
"You—you knew perfectly well your position is a special one, and still you go running out into the night. How dangerous is that..."
To that, Xu Buling naturally had an answer: "I'm not a young lady of the house. I can't stay cooped up forever behind the inner gates, and going to the Dragon's Roar Pavilion was on your instructions..."
Madame Lu's eyes narrowed slightly and her face turned stern. "And you dare bring that up? I sent you to the Dragon's Roar Pavilion to copy poems and smear your own name. What exactly did you do instead?"
Xu Buling was struck dumb for a moment, then gathered himself: "Mm... I did copy them..."
"What did you copy? One lyric flattened the whole hall, and by now it's spread halfway across Chang'an. Heaven knows how many women wept over that lyric of yours last night; the talk can't be held down. In a few days every young lady of official family will be at the gate begging for an introduction..."
Xu Buling's conscience was pricking him. "Aunt Lu, believe me, I really did copy it."
"Copied it from whom?"
Xu Buling had nothing to say to that.
Madame Lu's eyes held all the exasperation of a smith whose iron will never become steel. She spread out the xuan paper in her hand, looked it over, pressed her lips together, and let out a faint, troubled sigh:
"Buling, I know your talent runs deep, that you're a match for any scholar and any fighter. Making you hide your light is for your own good. It's only natural for the young to want to shine, but there's a time and a place..."
Xu Buling spread his hands. "Aunt Lu, do you still not believe me?"
"Believe what? I told you to copy poems, to buy poems—you had to write one yourself! And having written it, you had to go and be pointed out in open hall as the author..."
"This time was an accident. Next time there absolutely will not be a slip!"
"Next time? In a scant half month it's been 'Xu the Clear Sky' and 'Xu the Talent'—as if you were afraid people wouldn't know your name. You may as well go back to Qujiang Pool and fish, and spare me the heart palpitations..."
Madame Lu lectured on without pause, and Xu Buling nodded like a chick pecking at rice, too conscience-stricken to talk back.
A long while passed, until dawn light fell on the window paper. Only then did Madame Lu stop talking, her gaze drifting back to the xuan paper, to the line "The scene is the same, the people are gone, and all things are ended; before the words come, the tears do." She thought for a moment, and her voice grew a shade gentler:
"Buling, did you... write this lyric for me?"