Consort Li resided in the Phoenix Arrival Pavilion. Though holding the esteemed rank of Consort, second only to the Empress in status, she preferred simplicity and frugality. The pavilion’s expenditures were minimal, with few eunuchs or maids in service. Before Zhenzhen arrived, only two or three attendants were dedicated to her daily meals. Consort Li was gentle in temperament but often appeared listless, and it was said she had a poor appetite. As a newcomer, Zhenzhen was not yet permitted to serve her directly, instead assisting the Head Chef Hu in the consort’s small kitchen by chopping vegetables or cleaning utensils. Chef Hu, in her thirties, was likely the long-serving chef for Consort Li. Her dishes looked delicious, yet after each meal, the maids returned substantial leftovers to the kitchen, some even untouched, suggesting the consort had barely eaten.
The Mid-Autumn Festival arrived swiftly. That evening, the palace hosted a “Cassia Banquet” at the Cassia Pavilion, where the noble ladies gathered to taste mooncakes, admire osmanthus blossoms, and gaze at the full moon, much like common folk. The pavilion glowed with brilliant lanterns and candles, illuminating faces radiant with festive joy. Performers danced and sang in succession, their celestial melodies drifting through the imperial grounds.
Consort Li attended the banquet with several palace attendants from her pavilion, while Chef Hu led her subordinates to assist in the kitchen. Due to her junior status, Chef Hu did not assign Zhenzhen to go, and Zhenzhen was content with the leisure. Sitting alone in the courtyard of the small kitchen, she stared at the full moon for a long while, then sighed deeply and returned to her room. She retrieved the Blooming Wintersweet Tea she had prepared at the Woodcutter Inquiry Post during winter, selected a few pieces to brew a cup of fragrant honeyed water, and raised it toward the moon, murmuring softly, “Teacher Lin, there is still no news of my mother. I must break our Mid-Autumn appointment. Tonight, I offer plum tea in place of wine, wishing you from afar a joyful birthday, peace, and health. May everything you hope to accomplish be as perfect as the moon tonight.”
After drinking alone under the moon for some time, she heard her stomach rumble and realized she had not yet eaten dinner. Heading to the small kitchen in search of food, she found many exquisite mooncakes but had no appetite for them. Her thoughts lingering on Lin Hong, her eyes fell upon a pile of taro in the corner. She quickly decided, washing two taro roots, warming a pot of yellow wine, and fetching paper and wine lees. She soaked the paper to wrap the taro, preparing to roast the “Earthly Elixir Taro” that Lin Hong had taught her.
After wrapping the taro and lighting a fire of rice husks in the hearth, she was about to bury the taro in the ashes when someone entered leisurely with a lantern. Observing her and the items in her hands, the visitor chuckled, “On such a festive day with a grand banquet, how pitiful you look here, roasting taro.”
Without looking up, Zhenzhen recognized the voice as Zhao Ai’s. Continuing to bury the taro, she retorted irritably, “I am a rustic person, unworthy of grand banquets. Having taro to eat is contentment enough.”
Zhao Ai set the palace lantern on the ground and sat down with a smile, taking the fire tongs to help her clear the ashes for burying the taro. He remained silent for a moment, yet his movements coordinated seamlessly with hers.
Noticing he wore lavish robes with wide sleeves, clearly having come from the banquet, Zhenzhen asked, “The Cassia Banquet lasts late into the night. Why has Your Highness left?”“I had a few cups of wine at the banquet and felt stifled, so I came out for a stroll. When I reached your courtyard gate, I saw lights in the kitchen and caught the scent of fermented grains. On a whim, I came in to take a look, never expecting to run into you,” Zhao Ai replied. Then, speaking gently to Zhenzhen, he added, “When we’re alone, you don’t need to address me as ‘Your Highness’—it feels distant. I’d much rather you speak to me directly, using ‘you’ and ‘I’—it feels more natural.”
“Then… what should I call you?” Zhenzhen asked.
Zhao Ai thought for a moment. “Second Brother? That’s what my family calls me.”
How could that be? I’m not part of your family, Zhenzhen thought to herself. But remembering his kindness in helping her during the Eastern Palace birthday banquet, she didn’t want to speak to him too sharply. Instead, she turned her gaze to his left arm and asked a question she had been curious about since he entered: “How is your injury now?”
“Not good,” Zhao Ai said, his smile fading as he grew serious. “I lost a lot of blood that day. Even after several days, it’s still red and swollen. The wound is deep and seems to be festering.”
But his left arm moved freely as he gestured, showing no sign of a serious injury. Frowning slightly, Zhenzhen suddenly grabbed his left wrist with one hand and pushed up his wide sleeve with the other, quickly exposing the wound to her scrutiny.
Contrary to his description, the wound was not deep—it seemed the porcelain shard had only broken the skin without damaging the muscle. It was also not long, and by now it had already scabbed over, with no sign of festering.
Zhenzhen breathed a slight sigh of relief and withdrew her hand.
Zhao Ai pulled down his sleeve and chuckled. “Are you really a young lady? Don’t you know that men and women should avoid physical contact? Yet you openly pushed up my sleeve to look at my arm.”
“Right now, in my eyes, you’re not a man,” Zhenzhen replied calmly. “Pushing up your sleeve to examine your injury is no different from lifting a cloth cover to check if newly sprouted bean shoots have turned red. I’m looking at you with the same eyes I use to inspect vegetables.”
Zhao Ai pressed a hand to his forehead. “When I first came in, I thought you’d be crying, thanking me profusely and asking about my injury with concern. I even prepared a whole speech about how it was nothing. But I never expected you to show no sign of guilt, so I had to exaggerate the injury. Otherwise, how could I bring it up later if I ever need you to repay me?”
“I do feel guilty…” Zhenzhen lowered her head and poked at the taro in the ash pile. “But you always have a way of turning someone’s gratitude into annoyance.”
Zhao Ai only smiled without replying. Sitting opposite Zhenzhen, he stirred the ash pile for a moment before asking her, “Did you admire the moon tonight?”
“I looked at it in the courtyard earlier,” Zhenzhen said. “It didn’t feel particularly special—just like the usual full moon on the fifteenth.”
“Then let me show you a special one,” Zhao Ai said, taking her hand to help her up. “On Phoenix Mountain, you can go up from the Rear Garden. The taro won’t be roasted for a while yet, so we can go up the mountain to admire the moon. By the time we return, the taro should be ready.”
Zhenzhen pulled her hand away, reluctant to go. But Zhao Ai insisted repeatedly, saying it was a wondrous sight he had discovered in the mountains, dreamlike and enchanting. Finally, unable to contain her curiosity, Zhenzhen agreed to accompany him. Zhao Ai picked up the palace lantern again and reached for Zhenzhen’s hand to lead her out. After a moment’s thought, Zhenzhen took a bamboo-woven basket, placed a few mooncakes, a pot of boiled water, and the necessary utensils inside, and then carried it as she followed Zhao Ai out.The imperial city of Lin'an was nestled against Phoenix Mountain, with the Rear Garden extending into the hillside. Pavilions, terraces, and towers were built along the undulating terrain, resulting in numerous steps. Zhenzhen followed behind Zhao Ai, carrying a bamboo basket and deliberately maintaining a distance of about ten feet. Zhao Ai walked ahead with a palace lantern in hand. Glancing back and seeing Zhenzhen struggling with the basket while climbing the steps, he stopped, turned, and reached out to her. "Give me the basket."
Zhenzhen shook her head. When Zhao Ai insisted, she finally explained, "I'm not being polite. This basket is actually my prop. After all, I'm not your maid. If someone sees us together tonight, it might give rise to gossip. But with this basket of food, anyone who sees us will assume that the Second Great King wishes to admire the moon and has ordered me, a Palace Food Attendant, to bring mooncakes along to serve. If you take the basket and I walk empty-handed, they'll start speculating again."
Zhao Ai smiled and asked, "Since when have you become so concerned about our reputations?"
Zhenzhen replied, "I'm just a little palace attendant who has never been particular about etiquette. Let them talk. But you, after all, are a prince. Every move you make is watched by many. If your character is questioned because of this, and people say you're frivolous or indulging in feminine charms, it wouldn't be good."
Upon hearing the last phrase, Zhao Ai suddenly laughed aloud. Zhenzhen recalled how Lin Hong had once teased her about her lack of beauty through a light-ink painting of a court lady, and she instantly felt that Zhao Ai was likely laughing at her in the same way. Her face flushed with embarrassment.
In truth, this phrase had been mentioned by Pei Shangshi during a lesson, warning them to be cautious in their words and actions around princes, to avoid frivolous play or intimate gestures that might tarnish the prince's reputation and lead to accusations of indulging in feminine charms.
"Indulging in feminine charms..." Zhao Ai repeated, then asked Zhenzhen, "Do I seem like that kind of person?"
Annoyed by his earlier laughter, Zhenzhen answered bluntly, "Yes."
"Alright, then such suspicions wouldn't be entirely wrong." His gaze swept over Zhenzhen's eyes like a gentle breeze and soft rain. "I am indeed indulging in your beauty."
Taking advantage of Zhenzhen's stunned silence, he decisively took the bamboo basket from her hands.
Fortunately, most of the palace attendants in the Rear Garden that night were gathered around the Yigui Pavilion, so few witnessed their journey. The occasional night-watch eunuchs they encountered along the way merely bowed respectfully to Zhao Ai without uttering a word.
Zhao Ai led Zhenzhen to a moon-viewing spot halfway up the mountain. Passing through a picturesque stone forest, they came upon a towering rock that rose abruptly from the ground, several zhang in height. The stone wall had smooth, cloud-like contours, standing steeply beside a clear pool of water, its posture elegant and majestic. Near the top of the rock was an aperture about a foot in diameter, shaped like a full moon. Through this circular opening, the sky was visible.
"This stone wall is called Moon Rock," Zhao Ai introduced.
Zhenzhen looked up, searching for the moon, but it seemed blocked by the stone wall or the mountain trees, temporarily out of sight.
"Where is the moon?" Zhenzhen asked Zhao Ai.
Zhao Ai replied, "No rush." He then pulled Zhenzhen to sit by the pool, took out the mooncakes from the basket, cut them into pieces, and shared them with her.
The fragrance of osmanthus mingled with the cool mountain breeze, and they did not feel cold. Trees swayed in the wind, occasionally shedding petals and leaves. The scenery, illuminated by moonlight and lantern light, was exceptionally serene and beautiful. Looking back at the palace buildings below, they saw the towers and halls brilliantly lit, as radiant as flowing clouds and rosy mist. Zhenzhen felt somewhat dazed, uncertain whether this was the present night or a dream, whether she was in heaven or on earth."Look!" Zhao Ai suddenly called to her, directing her gaze toward the stone wall's rock aperture. Zhenzhen then noticed that the full moon in the sky had moved to the center of the aperture, the two circles overlapping, their sizes nearly identical, their light merging as one. The moonlight passed through the wall, projecting onto the clear pool before them, forming a circular patch of light upon the water's surface—like a jade mirror or an illusory moon.
Zhenzhen looked up at the merged bright moon above, then glanced at the jade mirror's reflection in the pool, feeling that one was real, the other illusory, both indescribably beautiful.
"The sight of the full moon aligning with the rock aperture can only be seen on the fifteenth day of the eighth month. If you are fortunate enough to witness it, you might as well make a wish to the moon. It is said the Moon Goddess will help you fulfill it," Zhao Ai told Zhenzhen, gently suggesting, "Make a wish."
"Only one wish?" Zhenzhen asked.
Zhao Ai smiled slightly. "I believe so. If we ask for too many, the Moon Goddess might think us greedy."
Zhenzhen lowered her head in thought, then clasped her hands together and made a wish to the merged full moon: to reunite with her mother as soon as possible.
A moment later, the moon shifted away from the rock aperture, and Zhao Ai signaled to Zhenzhen that it was time to return. Zhenzhen nodded and said to him, "Thank you for showing me the sight of 'a pool of autumn water, a single wheel of moon.'"
A glimmer of light appeared in Zhao Ai's eyes. "You actually know this poem?"
Zhenzhen was taken aback, remembering that Lin Hong had mentioned this line when explaining the origin of his name, but she did not know the entire poem. Humbly, she asked Zhao Ai for guidance, and he promptly told her, "This is a quatrain by a Tang dynasty scholar named Yu Fu: 'On silver ground, no dust, golden chrysanthemums bloom; purple pears and red dates fall upon mossy gloom. A pool of autumn water, a single wheel of moon—will the old friend come tonight, or will he not?'"
Zhenzhen suddenly understood. On that farewell night, Lin Hong had subtly mentioned the golden chrysanthemums, purple pears, and red dates in the garden during the Mid-Autumn Festival. Yet what truly occupied his thoughts at that moment was likely the final line: "Will the old friend come tonight, or will he not?"
And tonight, would he still be pondering this question? Zhenzhen turned away, taking a few steps forward, her back to Zhao Ai, letting her tears flow freely in the dense shadows cast by the intertwined pines and cypresses.
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