The Heart Given to Brighten the Moon - Chapter 12

Song Mingyue was sixteen, and Zhao Hui was only a year older; both were at an age when the first buds of romance typically bloom. Yet their lives were worlds apart. Song Mingyue spent her days managing the meager essentials of life and guarding against hidden daggers and open arrows; she had no luxury to spare for the moon, the wind, or the flowers of romance. Even if a man were to admire her, the exhausted and ever-vigilant young beauty would surely keep him a thousand miles away.

In contrast, scandals surrounding Zhao Hui were a dime a dozen, though most servants valued their lives too much to speak of them. Only a few days ago, Shen Danxin had heard from the young attendants at the Qingmo Academy that a group of Imperial Guards had dragged several “human-shaped sacks” out of the Luanqi Palace in the dead of night. Those fourteen or fifteen-year-old boys had described it vividly, saying how handsome and peerless those male concubines in the “Eight-Hundred-Mile Alleys” had been, standing at the peak of their glory. But once they entered the Luanqi Palace, did they not all share the same fate?

Thus, when Zhao Hui spoke with eyes as seductive as silk, saying, “Step forward,” Shen Danxin’s instinct was to take a step back.

Immediately, she stole a glance at Zhao Hui and saw the Princess’s brewing anger rising. Shen Danxin scrambled forward a few steps, presenting the sandalwood box with both hands to shield her face. She said in a low voice, “Master ordered this lowly one to deliver the Lanxi Stream Play. Please, Your Highness, grace it with your gaze.”

But Zhao Hui was not one to let matters rest so easily. She commanded, “Look up.”

Terrifyingly, Shen Danxin suddenly remembered the incident in the Imperial Garden. What if she recognizes me? What then? Oh, that old man is truly a grandmaster at setting up his disciple!

Song Mingyue stared fixedly at Shen Danxin. She could clearly see the beads of sweat sliding down Shen Danxin’s temples. Hardening her heart, she prepared to throw the wanton woman riding on her back into the mud, even if it cost her everything. But before she could exert any force, Shen Danxin abruptly looked up, offering a goofy grin to Zhao Hui.

“What are Your Highness’s instructions?”

Simple-minded and utterly stupid. A waste of a good set of features. Zhao Hui’s interest vanished instantly; such a person would have no idea how to please her in the bedchamber, and would only waste a precious spring night. Seeing her expression shift to one of cold indifference and disdain, half of the stone in Shen Danxin’s heart dropped. But before the other half could fall.

Zhao Hui looked at her and suddenly went, “Eh? Why do you look familiar to this Princess? Where have we met?”

The stone that had just dropped not only returned to its original place but brought an even larger one with it. Shen Danxin continued to play dumb, laughing foolishly. “This lowly one spends every day at the Qingmo Academy; when would I have the honor of meeting the noble Princess?”

Zhao Hui curled her lip in a smile. “Your mouth is certainly coated in honey. Very well, let us see the painting.”

As Xianzhong followed Zhao Hui toward the Feiluan Pavilion, Shen Danxin dashed to the side of Song Mingyue, who was still kneeling on the ground. She whispered urgently, “Are you alright?”

Song Mingyue turned and sat on the ground, rubbing her knees. “You’re coming here today was a grave mistake. We shall settle our accounts properly when we return.”

Shen Danxin felt as if she had stepped on a nail and jumped back several times. If Song Mingyue was going to settle accounts with her, then she was going to settle accounts with Old Man Cai. Her mind made up, she walked toward the Feiluan Pavilion, only to hear the Princess say, “We shall enjoy the painting right here, Xianzhong.”

Xianzhong acknowledged and turned to go.

Shen Danxin was stunned. She stepped forward timidly and offered a word of cautious advice: “Your Highness, pray allow this lowly one to report ancient paintings cannot endure the harsh sun. Please, Your Highness, move to the inner hall.”

Zhao Hui gave her a white-eyed glare and snorted. “This Feiluan Pavilion was personally built under my Imperial Father’s supervision for me to enjoy the flowers, the moon, and the changing seasons. A mere Lanxi Stream Play is not even worthy of my pavilion. If word got out, forget the loss of its ink-color; even if I were to spit on it, it would be worth more than it is now!”

Shen Danxin didn’t dare utter another peep. Today she had finally witnessed what a truly arrogant, tyrannical, and shameless ancestor looked like. What was the old saying? The heavens shall deal with her! To argue with someone like Zhao Hui was merely seeking trouble. Shen Danxin became exceptionally calm, watching with her own eyes as the eunuchs brought over a long rosewood table and placed it before the pavilion steps. She then presented the sandalwood box with both hands.

Xianzhong took the box and slid the lid open. A rich scent of ink wafted out. Shen Danxin’s brow furrowed. Logically, an ancient painting over a hundred years old shouldn’t have such a potent ink-scent unless a descendant had recently retouched it. Then, glancing at the box itself, Shen Danxin’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest to dance.

Sandalwood was produced in the Western Regions and was known for its preservation properties; scholars and artists loved using this wood to store their works. The patterns on the boxes were generally similar, featuring flowers, plants, birds, or beasts save for those used by the Imperial Family. Shen Danxin vaguely remembered that the original Lanxi Stream Play sent by Zhao Zongqian should have been in a box with a dragon-relief carving. Why had it turned into the small birds and insects before her?

Eunuch Xianzhong wouldn’t wait for her to figure it out. He pulled out the scroll, and another eunuch stepped forward to take the other end. The two of them slowly unfurled it.

The “fragrant and sensuous” Shen Danxin-version of Lanxi Stream Play was revealed before the crowd. Under the brilliant golden sunlight, the shimmering ripples of the stream looked even more lifelike, and the women in the painting seemed even more fresh and radiant.

Zhao Hui’s small, crimson mouth hung open. After staring for a long while, she said, “It turns out Shi Sanqian was also a profligate and wanton character!” She extended a short, plump, white finger and pointed at the man in the painting, asking Shen Danxin, “Is this a self-portrait?”

What ‘wanton character’? Shen Danxin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Have you spent too much time in the Eight-Hundred-Mile Alleys that everyone looks like a playboy to you? She only dared to grumble internally. After a moment’s thought, she bowed to the Princess, whose eyes were shining as if she had found a kindred spirit. “To answer Your Highness this painting was not made by Master Shi. It was, um a modified copy by this lowly one. Of course, without the finishing touches from my Master, the women in the painting would not have such spirit.”

It was as if Zhao Hui had taken another bite of that scallion oil pancake; her face now held a mixture of disgust and rage. “What!? You drew this?”

“And my Master, Master Cai,” Shen Danxin reminded her once more.

That dried-up old man Cai Xun was nothing in the Princess’s eyes. Outside the palace, he was the Seekless Taoist pursued by the world’s scholars; inside these towering walls, he was merely an eccentric old painter. However, the old man had the Empress behind him. Zhao Hui feared nothing under heaven, she even dared to be tyrannical before Zhao Zongqian in the Golden Throne Hall but if the Empress so much as narrowed her eyes, even the legendary “Tiger-Kuilin” reincarnate would have to be an obedient cat in her palm.

As expected, the Princess’s arrogance halved. She stole occasional glances at the painting on the table and said passive-aggressively, “No wonder it looked familiar; it seems you’ve ridden on Master Cai’s coattails. But with this lewd and depraved work of disheveled robes and exposed skin, are you not afraid this Princess will charge you with the crime of indecency?”

“I am afraid,” Shen Danxin said without hesitation. “But I presume Your Highness is not such a narrow-minded person. To a commoner, this painting is indeed sensuous and vulgar, but in the eyes of my Master and myself, it is a work of natural elegance and primal instinct. Master Shi’s original Lanxi Stream Play hid the stagnant traditionalism and pedantry of the world at that time; how could it be compared to Your Highness’s visionary perspective?”

Zhao Hui was surprised. She looked the handsome youth up and down once more and praised, “Quite the silver-tongued little painter.” She spared a glance for Song Mingyue, who was kneeling not far away. “Do you truly not know her?”

Shen Danxin looked back, gave a calm shake of her head, and said, “Mingjue once mentioned he had a twin sister with an identical appearance.”

Zhao Hui didn’t press further. She stood, walked to the table, and meticulously admired the painting again. She ordered Xianzhong, “Put it away.”

Hearing this, Shen Danxin was about to let out a sigh of relief when the wicked Princess added, “Shen Danxin, you may go. But the painting stays.”

This painting was Shen Danxin’s handiwork. Although she hadn’t had time to leave a seal on it in her haste and didn’t have one anyway a single inquiry at the Qingmo Academy would reveal its source. Currently, her silver tongue had pleased the perverse Princess Hui, but if this work were ever leaked, she would not only be charged with plagiarizing Master Shi, but the world’s moralists would surely beat her to death.

With her “pigtail” caught in the hands of the murderous Princess Hui, would she ever have another good day? Her career hadn’t even ascended yet, and it was already being strangled in the cradle? Shen Danxin instinctively stole a look at Song Mingyue kneeling behind her, only to meet the young beauty’s eyes, which were filled with a towering rage.

The usually bold Shen Danxin was terrified of that look. The last time she had misquoted a poem about “fallen nations,” the young beauty had shouted at her for an hour and denied her food for a whole day.

This “killing gaze” was a bad omen.

Shen Danxin’s body trembled as she shouted, “No!”

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She had truly backed herself into a corner; her good days were over.

As expected, Zhao Hui’s expression turned icy. She narrowed her eyes and snorted. “What? You regret it? You think this Princess is unworthy of your wretched painting?”

Shen Danxin’s mind raced. She stammered, “Your Highness mis-misunderstands.  This lowly one, meant that, this painting is not worthy of being placed in your study. For a noble of your status to even look at it is its greatest blessing, but if it were placed alongside the works of true masters, I fear it would wither from shame, lose its spirit, and not even be worth a few copper coins.”

Growing up under the poison of flattery, Princess Hui was clearly unmoved by Shen Danxin’s last-minute plea. She held onto the “pigtail” and wouldn’t let go. “Oh? So, you wanted to smuggle it out of the palace to sell? Everything in this palace belongs to the Imperial Family including you. Secretly selling such things is a beheading offense.”

Song Mingyue, kneeling on the ground, was so angry she forgot the pain in her knees. She couldn’t help but want to intervene. When arguing with her, Shen Danxin was a master of a thousand tricks; why was she so “dysfunctional” when facing this brainless, boorish Princess?

While Shen Danxin was still dazed, Zhao Hui caught a glimpse of the “Human-Horse” looking ready to speak. Her lost interest was reignited, and she smiled slightly. “Little Horse, do you have something to say?”

The person who had just been submissively serving as a horse now looked at Zhao Hui without fear, her eyes full of hatred. “As a Princess, you know no shame, indulging in carnal pleasures night after night. You keep that painting merely to satisfy your—”

“Shut up!”

Shen Danxin moved with startling speed. Without warning, she delivered a sharp slap to the “Human-Horse’s” face. Pointing at her nose, she shouted, “It is an honor that Her Highness values my painting! How dare a lowly person like you slander her!?”

She then turned to Zhao Hui and bowed. “I hope Your Highness will forgive me. This lowly one took the liberty of acting on his own; I simply could not endure it!”

Zhao Hui didn’t speak. She merely stared at Song Mingyue with a cold gaze.

“Today, this lowly one came under my Master’s orders; I must take this painting back to report. I ask Your Highness to be magnanimous.” With that, Shen Danxin nimbly packed the painting, gave Zhao Hui a deep bow, and bolted out the door moving even faster than if she were escaping for her life.

“Master,” Xianzhong called out. Zhao Hui finally withdrew her gaze. “The boy has run off.”

Princess Hui, whose life had been smooth sailing until now, didn’t care. “It is just a painting,” she said. “As long as the person is here, let him run wherever he likes under heaven, can he truly escape my palm?”

Song Mingyue sat with her head turned, clutching her face, motionless.

Zhao Hui strolled over, gave her a kick, and tilted her chin. “This Princess has looked after you for years; you are practically half a member of the Luanqi Palace. On the surface, I do not wish to make things difficult for him. In private, however… whether you seek revenge for this blow or settle your grievances, this Princess shall not interfere.”

“Get out. This Princess shall remember your words from today.”