From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 203: Extra: Jade and Plum (1/2)

The lotuses had never before bloomed as vibrantly as they did that summer.

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At the tender age of ten, Liu Yao had already learnt one of the most precious lessons of his life; in the dog-eat-dog world that was the upper echelons of Great Ye, only those with power deserved to get what they wanted.

Consequently, to desire something precious without the means to protect it from the greedy hands and the prying eyes of others, was to paint a target on its back. Was to make it known to others that to rob it from him would give them the satisfaction of hurting him.

Favourite foods, favourite toys, favourite martial arts training weapons. At some time or another, he’d been asked to sacrifice them up to another, be it his father’s newly minted ’favourite’ concubine of the month or their sons, his younger brothers, each with lips sweeter than his own, much more well-versed in the art of flattering their liege than he ever could be. The excuse he’d been given each time had always been "be a good royal brother" or "set a good example as a role model" but no one had deigned to explain to him just why he never seemed to be able to keep what he loved around him.

He didn’t have to have his coming-of-age ceremony to know that there were those out there who would stop at nothing to cause him pain. Just because he’d been born as crown prince—no, not just that. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t have the love of his father or the attention of his mother. Without that, the imperial palace was a treacherous place for a child to grow up.

Why did they love him less? What had he done to deserve such treatment? Liu Yao had never received an answer and he was a fast learner. He gathered early on that there was no point in asking, just as there was little use in rationalising madness. Power fed such madness and even as a young child, he quickly picked up that he had to do his best to steer clear of it, stay out from underfoot, unseen and unheard, unremembered...until he amassed enough power himself that he could turn it against his enemies.

In the meantime, to minimise the damage, he could only train himself not to love, not to care, not to want. If he only had nothing, they could only take nothing away.

So, that fateful afternoon in the summer palace, when all the world was celebrating his little brother, Liu Wei’s birthday, he had seen Ziyu climbing over the pavilion bannister (and into his heart) and it was like the warning beacons in his mind, set high upon the mountainous barricade he’d erected around himself, were lit by the fire of the setting sun.

Like that soft white cat he never saw again after his third brother laid eyes upon it. Like the exquisite sword with the teng snake (1) motif that his martial arts training master had given to him after being satisfied with his progress, found broken into innumerable shards one morning in the Eastern Palace’s armoury.

He’d never lost a person before, so he supposed this could count as a novel experience.

(His father and mother were never his to begin with so Liu Yao had long since stopped counting them.)

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Ziyu was from the south. What was the south like, Liu Yao often wondered after meeting this beautiful older boy. At twelve summers, Ziyu hovered on the cusp between childlike naivety and that elegant, exciting phase where prettiness started to unfold its delicate petals to coyly reveal hints of a future profound beauty.

Liu Yao was young but not too young to understand why after first sight, he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from his newfound friend. Despite the pristine exterior of the imperial city, Liu Yao had long since swum in the bog that was the inner palace, seen the filthiest dalliances from behind pillars and heard the foulest rumours spread through gauzy curtains of the gold-gilded boudoirs.

Was the south like this? How could the south be like this if it gave birth to someone who was like flawless jade?

If Your Highness wishes to keep him flawless, Nine Thousand Years had said to him once, shortly after Liu Yao had successfully obtained Ziyu as a study companion, then you’re going about it all wrong.

I will grow strong enough to protect him, Liu Yao had retorted, because back then, he’d been the biggest fool of all.

You won’t, had been the cool, confident response he’d received. But it seems like you’ll have to learn this the hard way.

Liu Suzhi had been right. Back then, Liu Yao hadn’t listened. Call it misplaced confidence, or even the same fatal arrogance that was bred into his bloodline by generations of noble intermarriage. He was only the crown prince, that was true. He had always been on the losing end, that was also true. But he’d firmly believed that he could play the game as good as any other, had done so as a child just for the sake of survival. Even if he couldn’t protect Ziyu openly now, there were ways and means around that that he could use to keep him safe. All he had to do was bide his time until he came of age, until he started to attend court, had the means to support from the officials for himself.

(Naive, wasn’t he?)

Ziyu wanted to be his study companion—or rather, Ziyu wanted to do his homework so Liu Yao would guard his secret of indecorous behaviour from his father. It was Liu Yao who wanted to keep him by his side, wanted to attend the school courtyard together with him.

It was Liu Yao who wanted him.

And yet during the selection process for a study companion, it had also been Liu Yao who had made a show of turning his nose up at Ziyu, made it evident to all that he found a southern official’s son, with no support in the capital to be beneath his status as crown prince. It was only natural that he should have first pick of one of the Ren family’s sons given that he was distantly related through his maternal side. Or perhaps, the protege of one of the few remaining military households. What use was this southern boy to him in his quest for the throne?

Knowing that this was how Liu Yao ’felt’, it was only natural that his beloved younger brothers would go all out to push Ziyu in his direction, why, even delight in the misery and disappointment Liu Yao must have felt after their sabotage.

Liu Yao didn’t care who the Ren family’s support went to. All he knew was that when Ziyu sat next to him during his lessons in the Eastern Palace, clad in the simple but elegant white Confucian robes that was the designated attire to all imperial study companions, he’d won a fight for the first time in his life.

He reached out with trembling fingers to grasp the corner of Ziyu’s sleeve, worry making his moveents, usually so effortlessly graceful during sparring, stiff and uncertain like a toddler taking its first steps. He feared that Ziyu would be reluctant, offended even, at his callous display of disdain. It was all a show, he wanted to shout, all a farce, I’m sorry I’m so weak for now but this is the only way I can be your friend.

But Ziyu didn’t need any explanations. He smiled a smile that was warmer than the finest coal in winter and gave Liu Yao a carefree bow.

"Well played, Your Highness," he praised, and Liu Yao felt his heart soar above the clouds.

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Zhang Xiu was from the north. The capital, to be precise. He was also not Liu Yao’s choice.

Liu Yao hadn’t been made aware that he was to have another study companion until an unfamiliar face, terse with trepidation but unable to contain an undercurrent of excitement nonetheless, greeted him at the entrance to his study. Zhang Xiu’s father had performed a service to the emperor—Liu Yao didn’t know what—and this position in the crown prince’s palace had been the reward.

Quite the lackluster reward, Liu Yao had thought uncharitably, given how little thought his dear royal father gave to him, but still, he didn’t take it out on poor Zhang Xiu, even though it meant his quiet afternoons sharing whimsical thoughts with Ziyu whilst they revised the morning’s lessons before martial arts training were no longer kept between the both of them.

This was not to say that Liu Yao didn’t grow to appreciate Zhang Xiu’s friendship. The boy had started out overly eager to please, a trait that Liu Yao had noticed in the sons of the lower-ranking officials, feelings of inferiority ingrained in them through years of being put in place by social hierarchy. But after realising that Liu Yao was fair and Ziyu was gracious, it didn’t take Zhang Xiu long at all to adjust to their pace.

It was nice to have friends. If ever there was anything Liu Yao had to thank his father for, it was that the emperor’s complete lack of concern over broadening his heir’s social horizons. Otherwise, he might have found himself in the unfavourable position of only being allowed to acquaint himself with the sons of the old noble clans.

Instead, while some of his other siblings—the children of pampered consorts, whose positions in the inner palace all but overshadowed the rightful heir—attended elite gatherings and banquets where aristocrats mingled with each other in a locus of self-satisfied superiority, Liu Yao spent peaceful evenings revising his studies in lakeside pavilions or honing his skill with the bow and arrow in the hunting grounds, his companions ever-present by his side.

As crown prince and, if all went well, perhaps the future emperor, he had tried his best to be impartial, recognised the need to treat his subjects fairly. But Zhang Xiu’s addition to their little duo had only helped to solidify Liu Yao’s understanding of his feelings for Ziyu.

If ever he had harboured any doubts about why his heart raced whenever Ziyu so much as glanced at him, why he was inexplicably drawn to this older boy, they were fiercely eradicated by the first of his spring dreams, the fleeting glimpses of creamy white skin flush pink with his ministrations as he paid homage to every inch of that slender body, those piercing phoenix eyes dazed and unfocused for once, addled with a desire that he hadn’t dared to imagine before that fateful night...

Suffice it to say, impartiality was not an option. But at least, Liu Yao had expected that they were all be together for a long time to come, until they became old enough to attend court together. Ziyu was about to complete the last of the imperial examinations and was widely touted to be the youngest principal graduate in Great Ye’s history. Liu Yao had another two years to go before his coming of age ceremony. He would be expected to take his first wife, would be allowed into court (2).

If he wanted to protect Ziyu, that would be his first big step closer to his goal.

The prospect ought to bring him joy but instead, it left him with a profound sadness, one he didn’t allow himself to examine more thoroughly because it didn’t matter; there were no other solutions.

...until there was.

On the eve of his fourteenth birthday, the barbarians of the north invaded the borders and razed five border towns to the ground. Suddenly, Great General Pan, whom the emperor had spent so many years being wary of, was the hot topic in court again.

Nine Thousand Years had scoffed when Liu Yao had discussed this with him. As typical of our liege, he goes to Zhong Wuyan when there’s trouble, returns to Xia Yingchun when there’s none (3), Nine Thousand Years had said, the scorn in his voice evident, uncaring that he was badmouthing the most powerful man in the kingdom in front of his son.

Liu Yao didn’t care to weigh in on his father’s incompetence. What he saw instead was opportunity.

Ziyu’s eyes were sad but his smile was gentle when he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Liu Yao’s ears.

"Your Highness should do what you think needs to be done," was all he said when Liu Yao hesitantly told him of his plans to go to the front. "Ziyu will stand behind you and guard your place in the capital until you return home."

Will you wait for me to return though? Liu Yao didn’t dare to bring himself to ask. Will you take a wife in my absence once you achieve your goal of becoming principal graduate? Will you forget the long hours spent in each other’s company, that you once blushed whenever my gaze lingered on you for too long?

More so than facing countless enemies on the battlefield, Liu Yao feared an answer that would dash his hopes for good.

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The north was brutal in a way that the capital couldn’t fathom. The harsh dry winds weathered Liu Yao’s soft skin and chapped at his lips. Despite being an unloved prince, he did enjoy live in relative comfort in comparison to the soldiers suffering in the encampments on the border. It took a while for him to acclimatise to his new environment but under his mentor’s careful watch, no man was offered an undeserved prestige over another. General or Crown Prince, foot soldier or cavalry, they shared the same food and slept in the same tents. At best, the military leaders had their own quarters to allow for private discussions of battle plans.

It hadn’t taken much to convince the emperor to let Liu Yao represent the imperial family on the front. In fact, his beloved brothers and their scheming mothers had done most of the hard work for him. With Liu Yao ’out of the way’ in the distant north, it would technically be impossible for him to secure political foothold within the capital. Certainly, it was a risk to allow him to make contact with Great General Pan and possibly secure such a strong military connection for himself if he earned the respect of the army, but at this point, no one had believed that a greenhorn fourteen year old, and one with no support within the palace at that, would be able to make any waves in the north.

Little did they know, Nine Thousand Years himself was Liu Yao’s reach in the inner palace. Little did they know, the new principal graduate, who took the world by storm and who effortlessly became the most eligible bachelor in Great Ye overnight, was the one pulling strings and keeping the crown prince’s faction alive. Despite being the crown prince’s study companion, everyone had expected Ziyu to do the smart thing and change camps once his master was physically distanced from the political scene. Liu Yao knew that Ziyu received no short of offers from his brothers, from tantalising promises of power and riches to open insinuations that Ziyu was more than welcome to share their bed, Liu Yao’s network back in the capital did not miss a report.

Out here on the northern plains, under the vast heavens with its cold stars, Liu Yao had nothing to comfort him but letters from the capital, still carrying with them the faintest trace of the scent of plum blossoms.

(This wasn’t possible; the capital so far that any parchment would have soon lost the fragrance they were sealed with and plum blossoms weren’t even in season. But still he could imagine.)

"Your Highness grows reckless," Great General Pan admonished him once, after a particularly dangerous raid that had Liu Yao nearly caught between a scout party and the enemy’s main forces. If Great General Pan hadn’t been keeping an eye out for him on the flanks, he might have died there and then. "If your heart cannot remain still enough to make the right decisions, you do not deserve to be entrusted with the lives of your men."

"This prince stands corrected," was Liu Yao’s repentant answer. He knew that Great General Pan was right. He had let his impatience get the better of him. The ambiguous poems of longing he traded with Ziyu were all he had to comfort his soul, when everything he deemed precious was left back home and he was stuck here with the duty to win the war or lose his right to compete against his brothers.

Great General Pan gave him a long look before sighing. "Sometimes..." he started hesitantly, before trailing off, clearly uncomfortable with discussing personal matters. Liu Yao waited with earnestness for his advice but the solemn man just shook his head. "This subject has no right to lecture Your Highness," he said at last.

Liu Yao gazed out at the southern horizon, in the direction of the capital. The great general’s story was no secret. He knew that when Great General Pan stood next to him to admire the setting sun, it wasn’t the princess or his son that weighed heavily on his mind.

At least, when victorious, Liu Yao could go home.

In triumph. In glory. And he and Ziyu would never be parted again.