A Perfect Match

As the breathing beside him grew slow and even, Jing Shao leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Mu Hanzhang's forehead. He wanted to gather him into his arms, but feared waking him and had to abandon the idea. Lying in bed, he wondered how he had suddenly been reborn at nineteen. He distinctly remembered leaping off the cliff with Junqing in his arms, followed by darkness... After puzzling over it for a long time without finding an answer, he turned instead to recalling what had happened in the thirteenth year of Hongzheng.

In the winter of the twelfth year of Hongzheng, he had returned victorious after driving back the Xiongnu. His imperial father had been so delighted that, despite neither of Jing Shao's two older brothers having received a fief, he broke precedent and made him Prince Cheng. For a time, the court buzzed with speculation that the emperor meant to name him, the Third Prince, crown prince. Yet scarcely had the new year begun when his stepmother informed him that their ancestors had never bestowed a princely title on anyone who had not yet married. She had therefore hastened to arrange a match for him: the second son of Marquis Beiwei.

Jing Shao and the second prince were both sons of the First Empress, their legitimacy beyond question. Yet the Successor Empress meant to cut off his prospects by making him take a male wife. Naturally, he refused. He overturned the table on the spot and stormed out, intending to report the Successor Empress's sinister motives to his imperial father. At morning court the very next day, however, his father publicly decreed that the wedding would take place on the eighth day of the third month, leaving him no chance to resist.

From then on, Prince Cheng went from the hottest contender for the succession to a discarded son, unloved by father or mother.

In the darkness, he gave a self-mocking smile. A "discarded piece" that had already been captured was suddenly back on the board, a hidden killing move. Who would win and who would lose was no longer so certain.

The next morning, although they could wait until after morning court to pay their respects to the emperor and empress, there was still a whole series of formalities to observe. They could not sleep for long.

"Prince, Prince's Consort, it is time to rise." Zhixi knocked on the bedchamber door.

"Wait outside." A light sleeper, Mu Hanzhang woke at once. After calling out the instruction, he gently nudged Jing Shao. "Prince, wake up."

"Hmm?" Jing Shao opened his eyes blearily to a familiar face—the handsome face he had seen every morning when he woke in prison. "What is it?"

"It is time to rise. Your subject... needs to get out of bed and put on his drawers first." Mu Hanzhang pressed his lips together. Last night, this man had insisted on applying the medicine, then insisted on sleeping on the outer side of the bed, leaving him no chance to get down and fetch his drawers.

"..." Jing Shao stared blankly for a moment before realizing that this was not the prison, but his bridal chamber. "Oh. I overlooked that." Once it dawned on him that his newlywed wife was asking him for his trousers, he promptly sat up, took the fresh drawers from the clothes rack, and offered them to him ingratiatingly.

Mu Hanzhang accepted them, only to find the man still staring straight at him. He had no choice but to put them on beneath the covers.

Instead of earning any praise, he had been taken for a lecher. After years at war, Jing Shao had no idea how to arrange his face into an expression that said "praise me." He could only rub his nose awkwardly.

"Congratulations, Prince and Prince's Consort. This slave, Duofu, pays his respects to the Prince's Consort." The first to enter was Duofu, a plump, round-faced eunuch who also served as chief eunuch of Prince Cheng's residence. Smiling, he knelt to salute Mu Hanzhang. Mu Hanzhang accepted his obeisance and rewarded him with a purse prepared in advance. "Please rise, Eunuch Duo." Duofu was an old eunuch who had cared for Jing Shao since childhood; Mu Hanzhang could not put on too many airs with him.

Duofu accepted it with a beaming smile. Next came Zhixi, the senior maid in these rooms, and Mengxi and Miaoxi, the two maids who attended Jing Shao personally. This time, Mu Hanzhang dispensed with the courtesies, accepting their full obeisances in turn and rewarding each with a plain gold ingot.

Watching, Jing Shao nodded inwardly. Though born of a concubine, Junqing had grown up in a noble household and was no less adept at handling servants. He decided there was no need to say anything.

The two maids who had accompanied Mu Hanzhang as part of his dowry also came forward to salute Jing Shao. Lanxuan was tongue-tied and got no further than a stiff "Greetings, Prince." Timid Lanting kept her head bowed, stammering out a few words of congratulation, her body trembling slightly.

At the sight of the two maids, Mengxi secretly pursed her lips at Miaoxi. A concubine's son through and through, she thought. Even his maids were so provincial. She glanced at Zhixi as well, only to receive a glare. At that, she lowered her head and stopped making trouble.

Mu Hanzhang merely gave his two maids an impassive glance, his calm eyes betraying neither pleasure nor displeasure. Before the wedding, the Marchioness Beiwei had said that the maids who attended him were all too old; keeping them at his side would only invite needless suspicion. She had therefore allowed him to bring only two young maids.

Jing Shao frowned inwardly. These two maids did not look at all like people who had served Mu Hanzhang for years. It seemed he would have to find him some capable attendants. "Duofu, find the Prince's Consort a manservant and assign him two guards."

"This slave was remiss. I shall see to it today," Duofu hastily apologized. Since the Prince's Consort was a man, he could be assigned a manservant and guards, but most husbands' families would overlook the matter. For the Prince to give such instructions showed that he truly cared about his Prince's Consort.

At these words, Mu Hanzhang's composed expression softened slightly. He rose and bowed. "Thank you, Prince." Being assigned a manservant and guards meant he would be allowed to leave the residence in his daily life. In his present circumstances, it truly was like receiving charcoal in the snow.

The surprised delight in his eyes made Jing Shao's heart ache. He hurriedly reached out to support him. "It is only what I ought to do. What is there to thank me for?"

When paying their respects to the emperor and empress the day after their wedding, an imperial prince and his consort were required to wear court robes. Having already been made a prince of the first rank, Jing Shao naturally wore robes a grade above the others. In the Chen dynasty, officials of the upper third rank and above wore purple court robes; imperial princes wore dark yellow, the crown prince apricot yellow, and princes of the first rank pale moon-white. Mu Hanzhang's status as the consort of a prince of the first rank had now been formally reported at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, and he held the title of a lady of the upper first rank. But as a man, he could not wear a woman's robes of investiture, so his court robes were also purple, though their cut resembled those of an imperial prince.

Mu Hanzhang was twenty this year and had already undergone his coming-of-age ceremony, so Lanting fitted him with the purple-gold crown that went with his court robes. Jing Shao, though not yet twenty, had been granted a princely title and was therefore entitled to wear a silver crown bearing a five-clawed dragon. The purple-gold crown differed from ordinary headpieces. Lanxuan had never seen one like it and could not fasten it no matter what she tried. She was sweating with anxiety, yet unwilling to ask Zhixi or the others for help, afraid of making them look provincial and embarrassing her young master.

Jing Shao glanced at the young maid, stepped forward, and gestured for her to hand him the crown. Deftly opening its purple-gold clasp, he said, "On our wedding day, it falls to your husband to crown you." In the previous dynasty, a husband would adorn his bride's forehead with a yellow floral ornament on the morning after their wedding, to soothe her anxiety about meeting her parents-in-law. Such ornaments had long since fallen out of fashion, however; Jing Shao had invented this excuse entirely on his own.

"Prince?" Mu Hanzhang, who had been seated, had no choice but to stand. "How could I allow that?"

Jing Shao said nothing. He simply fastened the crown carefully over Mu Hanzhang's topknot, then smoothed the two trailing gold ribbons among his soft black hair.

The two exceptionally handsome men stood together, one refined and elegant, the other cool and stern. From every angle, they were a perfect match. As she fastened Jing Shao's jade belt, Miaoxi could not help praising them. "Standing together, the Prince and Prince's Consort truly are a golden boy and a jade youth. There could be no finer match."

She had long since grasped the situation this morning: not only did the Prince not dislike his Prince's Consort, he was exceedingly fond of him. Ever quick-witted, Miaoxi naturally would not let an opportunity to please the Prince slip by.

"Is that so?" At this, Jing Shao slipped an arm around Mu Hanzhang's waist and pulled him over to the full-length mirror. The man at his side was tall and slender, yet still half a head shorter than he was, a fact that left Jing Shao rather pleased with himself. "Mm. A perfect match indeed."

Mu Hanzhang gazed absently at their reflection. The wound on his lower lip really had almost healed; even the scab had fallen away, leaving only a pink mark that was barely visible unless one looked closely. Only when he heard the maids giggling did he come to his senses. He hastily pulled down what rested at his waist. "Come along. We shall be late." Without waiting for Jing Shao, he walked straight out.

"Please do not take offense, Prince. The Prince's Consort is only embarrassed." Realizing that her young master had been discourteous, Lanting hurriedly offered Jing Shao a quiet explanation.

"Hmph. Do you think this prince cannot see that?" Jing Shao followed with a largely expressionless face, but the sight of Junqing's faintly reddened ears made his heart blossom with joy.

"Sister Zhixi, is the Prince angry?" Lanxuan had shrunk back at that cold snort and hastily turned to ask Zhixi, who stood beside her.

Zhixi covered her lips with her handkerchief. "That is simply how the Prince is. Years of warfare have given him that imposing air. You will understand in time."

They traveled to the palace together in an eight-bearer sedan chair with red curtains and an ornate canopy. Mu Hanzhang shifted uncomfortably. The ache in his lower back and buttocks was truly difficult to bear.

"Does your back hurt? Lean against me. I'll rub it for you." Naturally, Jing Shao noticed the movement. He drew Mu Hanzhang into his arms and, without waiting for permission, set his broad hand against his lower back and began to massage it. Feeling the body in his arms stiffen, then slowly relax, he could not help curving his lips. "Whatever the empress says in a little while, simply listen. Whatever she gives you, accept it."

He remembered that the empress had bestowed something very valuable on Mu Hanzhang back then. It had led him to believe that Mu Hanzhang was much to her liking, making him dislike his consort all the more. Looking back, he really had been childish. How could anyone refuse a gift from the empress? And regardless of who his consort was, so long as he was male, he would surely suit her perfectly.

Mu Hanzhang looked up at him, then nodded. "Your subject understands." He had heard something of the imperial family's affairs. As a son of the First Empress, Jing Shao was naturally at odds with the Successor Empress. But was he saying this to reassure him? The thought brought a faint sweetness to his heart. Apart from that dreadful night, this man truly had been very gentle since regaining his senses.

"You needn't call yourself 'your subject' when we are alone. It sounds so distant." As he kneaded, Jing Shao thought how good that slim, taut waist felt beneath his hands. It was not like a woman's, so delicate it seemed it might snap with a pinch, but like a leopard's: sleekly contoured and full of coiled strength.

The pressure against his lower back was just right. Though Mu Hanzhang knew this was improper, he could hardly move away. He could only pretend not to notice as he spoke. "Propriety must be observed. And you should be more careful with your words even in private, Prince. It would be better to refer to her as 'Imperial Mother.' Should someone with ill intentions overhear you, it would be enough for a memorial of impeachment."

"Junqing, are you worried about me?" Jing Shao could not keep the corners of his mouth from lifting as he looked down at him.

Mu Hanzhang shot him a glare. "Your subject is merely offering counsel." He had heard that Prince Cheng was irascible and quick to anger, but had never imagined he would also be so frivolous.

"Hahaha..." Jing Shao found the look on his face so endearing that he could not help laughing.

Hearing the laughter, the young eunuch walking alongside the sedan chair could not help pinching himself. Good heavens! Everyone in the capital knew that Prince Cheng could no longer inherit the throne now that he had married a male consort, yet the Prince could still laugh so happily. Had the empress driven him mad?

When Jing Shao kept laughing, Mu Hanzhang turned his head away, refusing to pay him any attention. Unexpectedly, he turned straight into Jing Shao's firm, warm chest. He flushed. This made it look as though he had thrown himself into the man's arms! He hurriedly struggled to sit up.

"All right, all right. I won't laugh anymore." Jing Shao hastily held him in place and whispered, "Stop moving, or the sedan bearers will notice."

"You..." Sure enough, Mu Hanzhang no longer dared move. He could only glare at him indignantly.

Author's note: First Empress: the emperor's original empress. An empress he marries after her death is called the Successor Empress. Forms of self-address: only eunuchs of the Qing dynasty called themselves "nucai," or "slave." Before that, they used "nubi," also meaning "slave." Young eunuchs of low status used "xiaoren" or "xiaode," meaning "this lowly one."