Chapter Eighty-Eight: Presenting the Painting to Prime Minister Yan, Chasing a Husband Across a Thousand Miles

“Bi’er, bring the silk.”

Painting was not necessarily done on paper. In the Tang, more paintings were made on silk and fine gauze. Yet for preservation, paper was best; if properly kept, it could last a thousand years. Silk, after a century, would begin to deteriorate in its very fabric. Gauze was the most expensive, but in fact the worst of the three.

But at this time, no one would trouble over such things. Whatever material was the most sumptuous was considered the finest.

It was his first time painting on silk, and the pigments were different as well. He did not begin at once, but first tested the brush, smearing a chaotic cluster of random scribbles before finally starting the real work.

When he finished, he said to Bi’er, “Roll this up and take it to Chancellor Yan’s residence.”

“Your Highness wishes to learn painting?”

“Why should I wish to learn painting?” What he needed now was not painting, but the ancient classics. Without three or four years of labor, his grounding in classical exegesis would be too poor to show anyone. Even after those three or four years, he would only just barely pass muster. In truth, whatever the case, Li Zhi hoped he would study the arts of governing. But Li Wei had never thought that far. Governing the realm? Better to keep himself alive first.

“Then why send this painting to Chancellor Yan’s house?”

“As a gift.”

“This painting?” Bi’er asked doubtfully.

It was not that Li Wei had painted badly in the crude sense. A person was clearly a person; he had not turned a man into a cat. A rock was a rock, a mountain a mountain. In fact, influenced by the realistic current of Western painting, he had rendered things with greater fidelity. But the most essential qualities of Chinese painting—its suggestiveness, its spirit, its inward resonance—could not be found here at all. And however one looked at it, the painting felt uncomfortable. Exactly what was wrong with it, Bi’er could not tell.

“Yes. It will give Chancellor Yan a very great surprise.”

Fortunately, Bi’er trusted Li Wei blindly. Had it been Wei Yuanzhong or anyone else, they would have been sickened to death. A painting like this, and Yan Liben would be delighted? It was like swaggering before Lord Guan with one’s saber, or selling a carpenter’s axe at Lu Ban’s gate—except with a saber technique pitifully crude and an axe even cruder.

Yet that was not the case. Li Wei was not so lacking in tact.

When he reached Yan Liben’s residence, he naturally did not stand maliciously at the gate waiting for Yan Liben to come out and receive him. But he walked very slowly, giving the man time to prepare. This was why ceremony could be so wearisome. Yan Liben did come out to welcome him. As Right Chancellor, he was not overwhelmed with trembling awe. They exchanged courtesies and entered the reception hall to be seated.

Li Wei took out the painting and said, “I have a close friend named Di Renjie.”

“A blessing for Your Highness,” Yan Liben said.

Others might not know clearly—His Majesty and the Empress had not truly recognized this minister—but Yan Liben knew very well what Di Renjie was capable of. Then, thinking of the miraculous recovery from Li Wei’s stubborn illness, he felt a trace of suspicion in his heart.

“It is my good fortune,” Li Wei said. “Indeed, for gaining Di Renjie, I owe my thanks to Chancellor Yan.”

“I would not dare claim it. He had been falsely accused, and at the time I was inspecting Henan. Once I learned of it, I naturally had to restore an honest minister’s innocence. That was only my duty.”

“Even so—how many officials are capable of doing even their duty?”

At these words Yan Liben felt ashamed instead. To say that his rise to Right Chancellor came from strict devotion to duty and vigorous accomplishment would not be quite true. His real path to high office had lain more in quiet inaction and sparing speech.

Yet Li Wei had not the slightest intention of mocking him.

His father was not weak in the art of employing men. Though the Left and Right Chancellors now at court—Yan Liben and Jiang Ke—were not especially competent, the other chief ministers were each outstanding men among men. And was Yan Liben truly so incompetent? How many weaklings could ever climb to such a post?

He unfolded the painting and said, “I painted this myself and have brought it as a gift to Chancellor Yan.”

A painting for their master? The maidservants standing by all froze, staring at the work. Then one after another covered their mouths and stifled laughter. Yan Liben too wanted to laugh, but the other party was the Crown Prince, and so he could not. He was just about to order a servant to put the painting away when suddenly his eyes widened. He set it before him and studied it with care.

The painting itself certainly could not be called accomplished; at best, it was a passable attempt.

But the techniques Li Wei knew had evolved over more than a thousand years. His brushwork, composition, washes, ink handling, texture strokes, and methods of breaking the surface were all vastly different from those of the Tang. The curling-cloud texture stroke, for example, came from the Song. Li Wei himself did not know precisely from which dynasty, but he was certain it did not exist in the Tang—or at least he had never seen it in the imperial palace. There was also the Mi family’s cloud-and-mountain method of layered dotted ink, the “three distances” of landscape painting, the fine-brush manner of flower-and-bird painting.

Of course, Li Wei could not necessarily employ these methods well. But their traces were there, enough to reveal something new. And because in one section he had deliberately used one method and in another section a wholly different one, the whole lacked harmony. That was why Bi’er had found it so odd.

But in Yan Liben’s eyes, the meaning of this painting was altogether different.

“A fine painting, a fine painting.”

The maidservants at his side were stunned all over again. A fine painting?

Old master, whatever else, you are still the Right Chancellor. Surely you do not need to flatter the Crown Prince so far. Yet the Crown Prince himself wore an expression as though this praise were only natural. They could not believe he was some fool who knew neither heaven nor earth. Could it truly be a fine painting? In a household steeped in art, like the Tang itself—where perhaps even a cart-driver might recite a line or two of verse—who in the Yan residence did not understand painting at least a little? So they looked again, and still could not see it.

“The painting is not truly a fine one,” Li Wei said. “It is only that I have some new ideas, and their novelty is what intrigues. But my visit to Chancellor Yan today has another purpose. The state treasury is strained. I wish to go to Shaolin Monastery on Mount Song to pray for my imperial father’s blessings, and I do not wish to burden the people. Therefore I hope Chancellor Yan can arrange some travel passes for me and conceal my identity. Only by presenting the journey to Heaven’s vast virtue in this way can the prayer be sincere.”

He was not the emperor; his travels did not require such enormous display. But as Crown Prince, his retinue would never be small. When he had gone from Chang’an to Luoyang, for instance, several hundred had accompanied him. As for praying at Mount Song, he had no such pious thoughts at all. He merely wanted to seize the chance to go out, walk, wander, and see. With too many people around, all the pleasure would be lost. And once the party became large, the expenses grew immense, making a long stay impossible.

So he intended to travel lightly.

“Your Highness, you are a son worth a thousand pieces of gold. If you travel in too simple a manner...”

“Not entirely. I will still bring one or two detachments of guards. I only ask Chancellor Yan to provide a document that makes things convenient.”

“This... I must first discuss it with several ministers.”

Such “discussion with ministers” would in the end likely require his father’s approval as well. That was Yan Liben’s habitual caution in conducting affairs. In truth, Li Wei need not have gone through Yan Liben at all. But it was always good to leave behind a thread of connection. In ordinary times one might never need help, yet at a crucial moment, a single favorable word could benefit one immensely.

It was merely the simplest human politeness and worldly dealing. In his former life he had disdained such things. Who would have thought that after becoming Crown Prince, he would have to draw them out and use them? Still, as Wei Yuanzhong had said: endure. Endure slowly. Once he endured through it all and ascended the great tripod, the rewards would be enormous.

He stepped outside. It was the latter part of the fourth month, and the weather was steadily opening into brightness. This world knew little pollution, and so the clouds were all the lighter—though it was only the fourth month, they resembled the clouds of an eighth month in later times, each drifting leisurely across the sky like a beauty at her ease.

Li Wei thought to himself: In any case, I have tried. I have done my utmost. As for whether I will succeed—man proposes, Heaven disposes. Let it be.

“Back to the palace,” he said.

* * *

“My lady... do we really have to smear it on?” the maid Chun’er asked hesitantly, holding a bit of grime in her hand.

“Do it,” Xu Li said through clenched teeth.

The grime was smeared across her face, darkening it and making her look somewhat dirty. Yet it did little to alter her pretty features. Looking into the bronze mirror, Xu Li asked uncertainly, “Will this do?”

“I... I do not know either,” said the maid.

“Never mind. Let’s go out.” Xu Li caught Chun’er by the hand and dragged her away.

The two of them went to a winehouse in Shangshan Ward. But Xu Li was disappointed. Although the winehouse stood in the northwest of the ward, and a little farther ahead lay Tianjin Bridge, to the north there was an open tract thick with flourishing trees, and they blocked the view.

“Chun’er, go down and inquire,” Xu Li said.

So the little maid was sent off as a scout.

“Yes!” She ran down eagerly, and only after a long while did she come hurrying back upstairs. “The Crown Prince really has left the Eastern Palace. He’s brought two companies of guards—no, not quite two full companies—about seventy-some guards in all. There’s also the little princess, that Jiang Bi’er at his side, another very young palace maid from the Eastern Palace, Eunuch Jin, more than a dozen serving eunuchs and palace maids. And also those two who often speak with him: Censor Wei, Attendant Xu, grandson of Junior Preceptor Xu, Compiler Wei Zhigu, Supplementer Zhu Jingze, Court Scholar Yuan Sigu, Gate Officer Xue Ne, and nearly ten officials in all. But they’re all traveling in ordinary dress.”

As the daughter of Xu Qidan, Xu Li had heard some of the news as well. Most of these officials were not old, but in talent and character they were all first-rate. Presumably the emperor had deliberately chosen them to keep the Crown Prince company. As for Gate Officer Xue Ne—because his style name was Dingshan, the common people liked to call him Xue Dingshan—he was only a little over twenty and formidable in arms. He was likely the one leading the escort and safeguarding the Crown Prince’s party.

And as for the plain clothes, presumably the Crown Prince did not wish to trouble the people.

Excited, she said, “We’ll follow them.”

“My lady, at least let your servant get a bite to eat.”

Even to follow them, one still had to eat a mouthful first. Besides, this party numbered close to a hundred; it was hardly a small procession. They were not likely to lose sight of it. Stuffing food hastily into her mouth, Chun’er said, “My lady, I’m afraid if the master finds out, he’ll scold you again.”

“If you don’t tell and I don’t tell, how would Father know? Besides, one must make an effort. Look at the Crown Prince—because he worked hard at training, his chronic illness has gradually improved.”

“But...” In her heart Chun’er wanted very much to say: My lady, he is the Crown Prince. It is not as if your own efforts can bring about any result. But seeing her young mistress’s face flushed with excitement, crimson showing through so strongly that it was even seeping past the grime smeared on top, she swallowed the words and said nothing.