The Banished Immortal of the Cold Palace: His Majesty’s Young Master Yun Has Fallen Asleep Again - Chapter 10

When Yun Biechen returned to his small cabin in the East Courtyard, the first traces of gray-blue light were already appearing on the horizon.

He took off his snow-dusted outer garment, draped it carelessly over the back of a chair, and lay back down on his bed. Turning on his side to face the wall, he closed his eyes.

He fell asleep instantly.

Wang Sheng returned at the hour of Mao.

When he pushed open the courtyard gate, the snow had stopped, but the biting cold was even more intense than the night before. He was carrying a cloth bag containing some old rice and a small piece of salt pork he had managed to get from the kitchen.

As he walked into the courtyard, he instinctively looked toward the white plum tree.

The branches were empty, and Yun Biechen was not there. Wang Sheng felt a sense of relief because he was finally sleeping soundly in his room.

He walked softly to the stove, started a fire, washed the rice, and sliced the meat. His movements were practiced, though much slower than usual.

Because today, the porridge only needed to be cooked for two.

The firewood crackled in the stove, and the firelight reflected on his young face.

Wang Sheng stared at the dancing flames and suddenly recalled the first time he had delivered food to Consort Shu.

Back then, she had frightened him so much that he could not sleep at night.

Later, as he delivered meals more often, Consort Shu would occasionally have moments of clarity and ask him about things outside: whether the snow was heavy this year, if the plum blossoms in the Imperial Garden were blooming well, or if the Peach Blossom Banquet was still being held in the palace. She would ask most often: “His Majesty, has he been well lately?”

How could Wang Sheng dare to answer? He could only lower his head and say, “This servant does not know.”

After a long time, Consort Shu stopped asking those questions. Instead, she would occasionally inquire about what Young Master Yun was doing, with a hint of light flickering in her eyes.

Wang Sheng did not know what that light meant, but he vaguely felt that there must be some other connection between the Young Master and the Consort.

The porridge in the pot began to boil, and the fragrance of rice mixed with the meat wafted out. Wang Sheng came back to his senses and stirred it gently with a spoon.

When Yan Linyuan returned to the Qian’an Hall, it was already the third quarter of the Chou hour.

The hall was brightly lit, and the warm brazier was burning brightly, dispelling the cold he had brought in from outside. He dismissed his attendants and walked alone behind the desk to sit down.

The plain white silk ribbon from his sleeve was taken out and laid flat on the sandalwood desk. Under the candlelight, the silk glowed with a warm luster, though its edges were worn, looking as if it had been used for a long time.

Yan Linyuan stared at the ribbon for a long time, his fingertips unconsciously gliding over the surface of the silk.

The touch was cool and smooth, like the ends of that person’s hair.

He closed his eyes, and the image from the plum branch resurfaced in his mind: white clothes and ink-black hair, the moon’s clear radiance, and white plum petals falling onto his forehead. The sleeping man’s brows were relaxed, and his breathing was gentle and slow.

“The most beautiful and unparalleled sight in the world.”

Yan Linyuan whispered, his lips curling into an ambiguous curve.

Just like that white plum tree, blooming in the corner of the Cold Palace, pure, desolate, and aloof, keeping everyone at a distance. Yet, the more it was like this, the more one wanted to snap it off and keep it in a jade vase to watch every day.

He opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the mountains of memorials stacked on his desk. The one on top was the funeral ceremony procedures for Consort Shu, newly drafted by the Ministry of Rites.

Yan Linyuan picked up the memorial, glanced at it twice, and set it back down.

“Wang Shunde.”

The old eunuch waiting outside the hall responded and entered, bowing respectfully: “Your Majesty.”

“The East Courtyard of the Cold Palace, is that where that Young Master Yun lives?”

Wang Shunde felt a chill in his heart, but his face remained expressionless: “Returning to Your Majesty, it is indeed the Young Master Yun Biechen who was invited into the palace during the late Emperor’s reign.”

“Yun Biechen.” Yan Linyuan recited the name, his tone flat, revealing no emotion. “How long has he lived in the Cold Palace?”

“About two years now.”

“Why was he sent to the Cold Palace?”

Wang Shunde weighed his words carefully: “During the late Emperor’s time, Young Master Yun was unrestrained in his words and actions and offended the Imperial presence. The late Emperor considered his youth and did not impose a severe punishment, only ordering him to reflect on his mistakes in the Cold Palace.”

“Offended the Imperial presence?” Yan Linyuan raised an eyebrow. “What specifically happened?”

“This,” beads of sweat seeped from Wang Shunde’s forehead. “This old slave remembers that it seems Young Master Yun was asleep when the late Emperor summoned him.”

The hall fell into a brief silence.

Yan Linyuan suddenly chuckled: “Asleep?”

“Yes. The late Emperor was in the middle of asking a question, and Young Master Yun fell asleep while standing.” Wang Shunde bit the bullet and said, “The late Emperor was furious, which is why.”

Yan Linyuan tapped his fingertips on the desk: “Was he in close contact with Consort Shu when she was alive?”

Wang Shunde’s thoughts raced, and he replied cautiously: “The Cold Palace is small, and we see each other every day. Consort Shu was sometimes confused, so she would walk to the East Courtyard. Young Master Yun never drove her away.”

Never drove her away.

Yan Linyuan captured the meaning behind those four words. It was not closeness, nor was it distance; it was merely a kind of indifferent tolerance.

“I understand,” Yan Linyuan waved his hand. “You may withdraw.”

Wang Shunde bowed and exited, and the hall doors closed once more.

Yan Linyuan sat alone under the lamp, his gaze once again falling on the plain white silk ribbon. He reached out to pick it up, wrapped it twice around his palm, and tightened his grip.

He suddenly remembered many years ago, when Consort Shu was still in the height of favor, she had once worn a plain white ribbon like this, dancing under the plum trees in the Imperial Garden. He was young then and hid behind a rockery to watch secretly, feeling that his mother looked like a fairy from a painting.

Later, the fairy went mad and was locked in the Cold Palace.

“Mother,” Yan Linyuan whispered to the emptiness. “You wanted to protect Yun Biechen. Why?”

Three days later, the Imperial decree arrived at the Cold Palace.

It was Wang Shunde himself who came to deliver the decree. He was followed by two young eunuchs holding trays covered with bright yellow silk.

Yun Biechen was still asleep.

Wang Sheng received the decree and knelt in the snow, listening to Wang Shunde read the convoluted phrases in a flat, emotionless tone.

The gist was: His Majesty, remembering Young Master Yun’s companionship during Consort Shu’s final moments, specially granted him amnesty to leave the Cold Palace and move to the West Side Hall of the Lin-hua Palace. He was to relocate that very day, with no delays.

After Wang Sheng finished listening, he was stunned for a long while before kowtowing in gratitude.

“Where is Young Master Yun?” Wang Shunde put away the decree and asked.

“The Young Master is still resting,” Wang Sheng stood up and patted the snow off his knees. “This servant will go and wake him up.”

“No need,” Wang Shunde stopped him. “His Majesty has decreed that if Young Master Yun is asleep, he is not to be awakened. You should pack your things, and when the Young Master wakes up, he can head over directly.”

Wang Sheng was stunned again.

Wang Shunde, however, said no more and gestured for the young eunuchs to set down the trays: “These are the clothes and supplies rewarded by His Majesty. The Lin-hua Palace has already been prepared, so you may go there directly.”

Having finished, he turned to leave, but then remembered something. He looked back at Wang Sheng and said: “You are to follow Young Master Yun and continue to serve him.”

Wang Sheng’s eyes brightened, and he bowed hurriedly: “Thank you, Eunuch! Thank you, Your Majesty!”

Wang Shunde waved his hand and left with his men.

The courtyard returned to silence.

The Lin-hua Palace was one of the palaces closest to the Qian’an Hall. Although it was a side hall, it was a hundred times better than the Cold Palace.

Wang Sheng was worried, but there was nothing he could do. He turned and entered the room. Seeing that Yun Biechen was still asleep, he began to pack their belongings with light steps.

In truth, there was not much to pack: a few old clothes, some odds and ends, and that earthenware jar containing the withered plum branches.

It was originally given to him by the Young Master to cook with when he first started serving him, but later he had used it to hold the plum branches.

Wang Sheng hesitated for a moment before wrapping the jar up as well.

Halfway through packing, a rustling sound came from the bed. Wang Sheng turned and saw Yun Biechen roll over and open his eyes.

“Is the Young Master awake?” Wang Sheng walked over. “Eunuch Wang came just now to deliver an imperial decree. It says His Majesty has granted the Young Master amnesty to leave the Cold Palace and move into the West Side Hall of the Lin-hua Palace. The decree states that if you were asleep, we were not to wake you, and that you may head over once you have woken up.”

Yun Biechen sat up and rubbed his eyes, his face still showing the drowsiness of just waking up. After hearing Wang Sheng’s words, he did not have any particular reaction and just uttered a soft “Um.”

“Does the Young Master not find it strange?” Wang Sheng could not help asking. “This decree came so suddenly.”

Yun Biechen got off the bed and walked to the window, pushing it open.

The cold wind blew in, dispersing the remaining warmth in the room. He gazed at the white plum tree in the courtyard for a long time before saying: “Only by moving me under his nose can he keep a watch on me.”

Yun Biechen closed the window, turned, and walked to the table, pouring a cup of cold tea and drinking it in one gulp. “Are you finished packing? If you are, let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t the Young Master express gratitude?” Wang Sheng hesitated. “According to the rules, after receiving a decree, one must go to the Yangxin Hall to offer thanks.”

Yun Biechen set down his teacup and glanced at him: “Did the decree not say that if I were asleep, there was no need to wake me?”

“Yes, but the Young Master is awake now.”

“Then pretend I am still asleep,” Yun Biechen lay back down on the bed, pulled up the quilt, and covered himself. “I will sleep for a while longer. Call me when you have finished packing.”

Wang Sheng opened his mouth, then finally sighed helplessly: “Yes.”