Tale of the Winter Orchid
Tale of the Winter Orchid
Summary: He was a royal prince, and everything that term implied. Powerful, arrogant, and devastatingly handsome, he had not expected to fall in love as he did. Yet the innocent, half-witted woman-child he encountered during a pretense set ablaze tender emotions in his icy heart. But in an age where dynasties crumble as swiftly as they rise, where brutal kings struggle for power, the hope for a bright future might be more than he could give.
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Chapter 1
The scent of peonies in their early bloom drifted across the gold-trimmed pavilion, followed by echoes of hasty footsteps. Haggard servants hastened to sweep away the last of the fallen leaves from the earlier storm. A dozen young maids, clad in fine silk and dainty shoes, scurried across the courtyard with trays of delectable sweetmeats and imported wine.
A lone note from a zither hovered in the air, and then died away, followed by a harmonious ensemble of tuned instruments. Soon after, the well-known, melodious voice of Jiangnan’s most beloved entertainer rose in a song. The throaty, feminine voice carried across the main hall and into the corner of a desolate garden.
In the midst of shaded trees and butterflies, a teenage girl stood enthralled by the music.
“Who is she?” She turned to her nurse, pointing in the direction of the song.
The older woman wrinkled her nose. “That’s He Yuanyu. She’s quite famous along the Qinhuai River for her music. Your father must have invited her for his birthday.”
The girl nodded gravely. It never occurred to her that she wasn’t present for her father’s birthday feast. She had never once been invited to attend such formal events.
“Can’t Ruoli attend this once?” Her mother had once pleaded with the old master. “It’s her half-sister’s wedding after all, and the child wants to witness the ceremony.”
Lan, the master’s first wife, had frowned with disapproval—it was her daughter who was to be married.
“Ruoli? It would take one sentence from her for people to notice she’s a dim-wit. We can’t jeopardize Ah Sha’s whole future. What if her fiancé’s family discovered she has a fool for a sister? They might think it’s hereditary!”
Ruoli’s mother bit her quivering lip. “It was the fever. Had old master not given the medicine to Ah Sha in time, she might also be—”
“That’s enough,” Lan interrupted, as though she could not bear hearing more. “I won’t have Ruoli at the ceremony and that’s final.”
“Old Master!”
The women’s husband turned with a dazed expression. “What is it?”
Lan said, “Ah Jiao is being purposely difficult.”
Old master sighed with impatience—he was eager to reengage himself in his account book—and eyed his fourth wife with a pointed stare. “Ah Jiao. Lan is your elder sister. You should learn to respect and honor her, not be a hindrance.”
Lan made little attempt to disguise her satisfied smirk.
Defeated, Ruoli’s mother had taken her leave. Later, she enfolded a ten-year-old Ruoli in her arms and held her against her bosom, weeping.
“My poor, unfortunate child. Heaven destined you for a rough life.”
Ruoli obediently glanced up at the overhead skies.
Ah Jiao wept harder and stroked her daughter’s face. “You had such a bright future, Li’er, and the fever robbed you of your wits.”
“Mother, don’t cry.” Ruoli tugged her sleeve insistently. “It’s very bright here already. Li’er doesn’t like it too bright anyway. Li’er likes the dark better.”
Her mother continued to sob, shaking her head.
“I’m such a turtle. Stupid, stupid Li’er,” Ruoli thought sadly. It seemed that she always said the wrong things and her mother always cried because of them.
Dim-witted Li’er—it was what everyone in the Shangguan manor whispered in private. She heard them say so when they didn’t know she was hiding under tables. It pleased her that she had a unique nickname while no other miss in the household did, but she knew it upset her mother. She wondered why.
“Li’er,” her nurse was calling her name.
Ruoli smiled sunnily, a dimple dancing in her right cheek. “Do you think I can peek at the woman singer?”
“Don’t be absurd, miss,” her nurse chided. “She works in a Nanjing brothel. Hardly a respectable place.”
“A brothel?”
“Aye. She’s a prostitute.”
“I want to be a prostitute!” Ruoli announced excitedly. “Nurse, will you tell me how to be a prostitute?”
Every trace of blood drained away from her companion’s face. “Hush, hush, miss. ‘Tis not a seemly thing to say.”
“Why not?”
“Miss.” A soft voice interrupted them.
Ruoli whipped around and found herself staring into a stranger’s face. She shrank back. “Who are you? I—I don’t know you.”
“Who are you?” The nurse demanded. She stood in front of Ruoli like a protective mother hen. Then she noticed the stranger was dressed in a servant’s attire.
She relaxed and inquired, “Why are you not at the feast? And why don’t I know you? I could have sworn I knew every servant in this household.”
“I’m new, m’am. The old master sent me here especially to take care of Miss Ruoli’s needs.”
The nurse studied the newcomer speculatively. After a few moments, she was tempted to request that he be replaced.
The man—or boy, rather—was roughly in his early twenties and well-built. From what she could gather from his bowed countenance, the boy was extraordinarily handsome for a servant of no class or breeding. A set of aristocratic cheekbones, complimented by an upright nose that dropped down to a firm mouth and stubborn chin. From his lean muscles and rate of breathing, he was either used to hard work or practiced martial arts.
When he raised his eyes, she was startled by the deep, penetrating gaze. She was in her late thirties—an age well past infatuation, but Miss Ruoli was barely sixteen. Given her weakness of mind, she was certainly susceptible to any improper advances made by this youth.
“Your name?”
“Ah Qi, m’am.” He spoke with neither infliction nor a base-born accent.
“Qi, as in seven?”
“Yes, m’am,” he said. “I’m the seventh in my family.”
She squinted. “Did your family sell you out of destitution?”
He seemed to realize the reason behind her inquiry. “Yes m’am. My father entered an unwise business decision a few months ago and my family was bankrupt as a result.”
“That explains the accent.” She frowned. Perhaps it wouldn’t be fair to the boy if she sent him away without reason. She would try him for some time, she decided, and observe his behavior towards Miss Ruoli.
“Miss,” she said to Ruoli, who was eying him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “This is Ah Qi. Your father sent him to take care of your needs.”
At that, Ruoli’s wariness slipped away. She approached him and clasped his hand. “I’m Ruoli. My mother calls me Li’er. My sisters call me Dim-wit. You can call me anything you want. Is your name truly Ah Qi?”
If Ah Qi was taken aback, he didn’t display it on his marble features. “Yes m’am. You can also call me whatever you want in the future.”
“Ah Qi.” She giggled. “That’s queer. I think I named an earthworm that once, but only because the first six earthworms I had all died.”
“I’m honored to be a namesake for your earthworm, miss.”
The nurse couldn’t decipher whether he was being sarcastic or not.
“That’s wonderful,” Ruoli exclaimed happily. “You see, my Ah Qi—the earthworm—was devoured by a bird last month. So having you here will be like Ah Qi being alive again!”
“I’ll try to rise to your Ah Qi’s standards, miss.”
“Ah Qi always kissed my hand when I held him,” she said wistfully.
The nurse shot him a warning look.
“I’m afraid that’s a service I can’t replace, miss,” he told her smoothly.
She sighed, “It’s alright. No one can really replace something else you know. It’s not possible. And besides, silly, you’re a human. You can’t be an earthworm no matter how hard you try.”
“It’s true, miss. No one will ever be able to replace Ah Qi.”
“No,” Ruoli agreed readily, then brightened as she remembered. “Ah Qi, will you teach me to be a prostitute?”
“Miss!” Her nurse cried, alarmed. “I already told you it’s improper to say such things.”
“Ah Qi? Do you know how?” She insisted.
“You will attempt to forget what miss had just said, Ah Qi.”
He nodded subserviently. “I have a very flexible memory m’am.”
“Come along, miss. It’s not good for you to spend so much time out of doors. You’ll catch a chill.”
“Will I see you again?”
“Of course, miss. I’m here to serve you.”
Ruoli rewarded him with a dimpled smile. “Nurse, now I’m very happy,” she declared cheerily. “I like Ah Qi very much.”
“That’s good. Come along, miss. As for you, you should go to the accountant to make sure your family receives their due.”
“Goodbye,” she called out to him. “Remember to come find me later.”
A few moments after Ruoli was led away, a wiry man, attired entirely in black, leapt down from the stone wall hidden behind the leaves of a poplar tree.
“Seventh highness,” he acknowledged respectfully.
Duan Junhan, seventh prince of the royal court, turned to his vassal. “Any news?”
“Shangguan Fu has a secret vault in his bedroom, Mi’lord, but I couldn’t find any mechanisms to activate it.”
“Then keep looking.”
“Yes, sire. But I don’t understand…” He trailed off.
“The Ancients once said mere mortals are not meant to understand all things.”
“But sire, I simply don’t understand why you have to be here yourself. In the past—in the past you would have sent someone to be adopt the guise of a servant, but this time, mi’lord, you choose to do it yourself. Is there a reason for this?”
“Yes, as you so astutely pointed out, there is a reason for this.”
His vassal waited for an explanation, but none came. He tried again.
“But—but sire…you’re a servant…to a dim-witted girl. It doesn’t sit well with your position.”
“I wasn’t planning on advertising this little exploit by posting narratives of it all across the capital.”
“The girl, sire, she’s a dim-wit. Her wits are scrambled.”
“Is that what a dim-wit is? I do feel enlightened.” Having reached the end of his patience, Han said icily, “I brought you with me because of your expertise with hidden mechanisms, not for you to hover about me like a nursemaid.”
“Yes s-sire.”
“Now be gone.”
The man bowed, and then disappeared.
Ah Qi straightened the collar of his servant robes and headed for the servants’ living quarters.
“Ah Qi!” Ruoli cried joyfully the next day. “Ah Qi!”
“Morning miss.” He extended a hand to help her into the carriage. Her hand was frigidly cold. He frowned. “Shall I fetch a cloak, miss?”
She met his inquiry with a blank look. “Why?”
“Are you cold?”
She nodded rapidly. “Yes. Very very cold,” she emphasized with a shiver.
He looked around. “Where’s your nurse?”
“She’s sick,” Ruoli explained quite tragically. “And they won’t let me see her.”
That explained why she was without warm clothing. “I’ll bring a cloak, miss.”
As he said so, he felt a wave of impatience. Because of the old woman’s illness, he was trapped in the role of nursemaid for this foolish woman-child. And he was in no mood to be such.
Hua’er, Ruoli’s personal maid, perked up her ears. “A cloak? I’ll go fetch one for miss.” She ran off, eager to be of service.
“Ah Qi…”
“Yes miss?”
“You don’t think—nurse—nurse is going to become a bird, do you?”
He arched his brow in confusion. “A bird?”
Her eyes watered. “My mother became a bird two years ago, you see. T-they told me she w-w-was ill, and the next day, they said she became a bird and flew far away.” She choked suddenly, and then burst into tears. “I s-s-still don’t know why—why she became a b-b-bird…d-didn’t she w-want me a-a-anymore?”
Han watched her as she wailed at the entrance of the manor, attracting the attention of half the household.
“The nurse won’t become a bird,” he assured her. It was the first time he tried to assuage a girl, and he found the fact mildly amusing.
“Are you s-sure?”
“I’m sure. It’s most likely a cold, nothing serious.”
“Ah Qi.”
“Yes?”
“W-where is your mother?”
He tensed at the question.
His birth mother, Concubine Wen, had been fatally poisoned by her own sister in the rivalry for the emperor’s attention. Her body was shipped out of the palace overnight and hauled overboard on a cargo ship. The nearby sharks had nearly ripped apart her remains before they were found by nearby fishermen.
“She’s dead,” he told her.
He had not anticipated her reaction. Her lower lip quivered. He was startled when her small hand slipped into his.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she was fighting against a fresh bout of tears. “Stupid, stupid Li’er,” she chided herself aloud. To him: “My mother’s a bird, but that’s not as bad as being dead. I’m sorry, Ah Qi.” The grip on his hand tightened.
Had he not been in the pretense of a servant, he would most likely have stated coldly that her mother was dead, not a bird, just like his. But servitude elicited from him a saintly good-nature he would not have credited himself with otherwise.
“It’s alright.” He changed the topic. “Where are we going?”
She frowned. “Lan—my oldest mother—told me to go to Xiantian Teahouse in the city.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “She said there’s a young gentleman there who would not mind my dim-wittedness, as long as I behave prettily. She said perhaps if I hover around the teahouse long enough, he would recognize my beauty and want to marry me.”
Being raised in the palace with three thousand concubines—each of them famed beauties from their own provinces—and having had his fair share of lovely, desirable bedmates, Han knew that Ruoli’s childlike, dark-eyed beauty rather faded by comparison. Observing her hopeful expression, he had to chuckle inwardly at her naïve innocence.
Hua’er sprinted back with a heavy winter cloak and draped it around Ruoli’s shoulders.
“Shall we go?” Han asked.
Ruoli nodded, and they set off.
