Volume Six Double Gate Towers Connected by a Ridge
Afterwards, Feng Jing expressed to her brother her wish to return to the Gathering Fragrance Garden the next day. Though Feng Jun found it difficult, he had witnessed the exchange between the Crown Prince and his sister and understood that the Crown Prince held a favorable impression of her. Holding onto a sliver of hope to foster a good match, he made arrangements and ensured Feng Jing appeared in the Gathering Fragrance Garden as agreed the following day.
In the afternoon, Zhao Xi met her by the lakeside in the garden.
"Fifty-three," he said, giving the answer he hadn’t been able to calculate immediately the day before. Feng Jing nodded, confirming it was correct. Zhao Xi then sought her guidance: "I arrived at this answer by step-by-step calculation using multiples of seven. Do you have a better method, Miss? Could you enlighten me?"
Feng Jing agreed and accepted his invitation to enter the Qingsheng Pavilion by the lake to explain.
The Qingsheng Pavilion served as a study, fully equipped with writing tools. Feng Jing picked up a brush and carefully explained the problem-solving method. Zhao Xi listened attentively, then posed several mathematical questions for her to solve. After a long discussion, Feng Jing suddenly realized: "The Eastern Palace has many tutors and lecturers. If Your Highness has questions, it would be easy to find experts to answer them. Is my attempt not like showing off in front of a master?"
Zhao Xi replied, "The imperial examination does not test mathematics, so scholars often neglect it. I, too, have been somewhat lax in my study of mathematics, learning only poetry, prose, and the classics from the Eastern Palace tutors. After witnessing the incident with the winding stream yesterday, I realized that a small error can lead to a great mistake. Mathematics is closely tied to the livelihoods of the people and is no less important than poetry and the classics. Therefore, I wish to master it, and your explanations are both profound and accessible—I greatly enjoy listening to them."
Feng Jing then asked about the poem he had sung while playing the qin. He patiently explained: "That was 'Ode to the Autumn Wind' by Emperor Wu of Han, Liu Che. It begins with the scenery and shifts to longing for someone. There are a few more lines expressing lament, but I didn’t sing them because their sorrowful tone didn’t suit yesterday’s atmosphere. If you’re interested, I can recite them for you."
Naturally, Feng Jing was interested. Thus, they developed a unique way of interacting: Feng Jing explained mathematics, while Zhao Xi discussed poetry and prose. Both listened with great enthusiasm, and the initial restraint caused by their differing status and unfamiliarity gradually faded. Their conversations were often filled with laughter.
These meetings continued. Zhao Xi would come to the Gathering Fragrance Garden every two or three days in the afternoon to read, and Feng Jing, with her brother’s arrangements, would meet him in the Qingsheng Pavilion. Each time, Feng Jing still wore the attire of a palace attendant. When the Crown Prince asked for her name, she hesitated before replying that her surname was Meng and her given name was Jing—"Meng" being her maternal grandmother’s surname. She had considered telling Zhao Xi the truth about her background, but she held back after hearing from her family that The Emperor intended to install Consort Li as empress, a move opposed by the Crown Prince.
If the Crown Prince, who so despised Consort Li, were to learn her true identity, he would surely turn away immediately... she thought gloomily. She had also considered that concealing the truth might lead to even greater resentment from him in the future, but she still hoped this sweet period of learning could last as long as possible. Once he understood her better, might there be a chance for things to change?
As they grew closer, their study sessions evolved to include a penalty system. They agreed that Feng Jing would pose mathematical problems for Zhao Xi to solve, while Zhao Xi would ask Feng Jing to identify the origins of poems. If either failed to solve or answer correctly, they would be punished. The ruler on the table, originally used for measurement, became the tool for striking each other’s palms.One day, Feng Jing gave Zhao Xi a problem to solve: "A craftsman was tasked with painting the vermilion lacquer on the railings and long windows of the Brocade Rouge Corridor. On the first day, he painted five bays, but from then on, he slacked off every day, painting less than the previous day by the same amount each time. He painted for thirty days in total, and on the last day, he only painted one bay. How many bays did he paint in total over these thirty days?"
A "bay" refers to the distance between two pillars.
Upon hearing this, Zhao Xi laughed and said, "What use is such a lazy craftsman? He shouldn’t be allowed back the next day. Why bother calculating?"
Feng Jing replied seriously, "This is just a hypothetical scenario. However, when constructing buildings, it’s possible to encounter situations where craftsmen reduce their workload due to unforeseen circumstances. Such calculations might still be necessary."
Zhao Xi pondered, "The Brocade Rouge Corridor..." After a brief calculation, he asked, "Is it one hundred and eighty bays?"
"At most, the craftsman painted only five bays a day. Even without slacking off, he could only paint one hundred and fifty bays in thirty days. How could it be one hundred and eighty?" Feng Jing first had him extend his hand so she could give it a light tap, then picked up a brush to show him the calculation. "For this kind of problem, first add the first and last numbers, take half of the sum, and then multiply by the number of days... So, the result is ninety bays."
Seeing that he seemed to understand, Feng Jing wrote another problem on paper and pushed it toward him: "Now, suppose there is a reed growing in a pond, with three feet above the water and one zhang from the shore. When the reed is pulled toward the shore, it falls short by one chi. How long is the reed, and how deep is the water?"
"This seems even more difficult..." Zhao Xi glanced at it, smiled, and shook his head. "No, if the problems get harder, our punishment method must also change. The difficulty must increase; otherwise, you’ll always easily get to hit me."
Feng Jing asked, "How does Your Highness plan to change it?"
Zhao Xi said, "Next time, the winner cannot use hands, feet, rulers, or any objects to hit the loser directly. Throwing objects to hit is also not allowed."
Feng Jing had no objections. She lowered her gaze, thought for a moment, and readily agreed, "Let’s change it as Your Highness says... Now, quickly solve the problem."
Zhao Xi used a rope ruler to draw a diagram and calculate on paper. After a while, he showed it to Feng Jing, who immediately judged, "Wrong."
Zhao Xi set down the brush, leaned back in his chair, and smiled leisurely at Feng Jing. "Well, you may punish me now."
Feng Jing smiled in return, immediately stood up, and went out. She returned shortly, holding a bamboo tube-like object with a long wooden rod inserted through it, its end protruding from the tube.
Zhao Xi thought to himself, "This is bad," and quickly raised his sleeve to shield his face. But Feng Jing had already aimed the bamboo tube at him, forcefully pushed the wooden rod into the tube, and a stream of water shot out, striking Zhao Xi’s sleeve and body.
This was a "squirt gun" used for firefighting. The lower end of the bamboo tube was open, and a wooden rod wrapped in cotton was inserted to draw water. It could be used as a water gun during fires, and some were stored in every pavilion of the Gathering Fragrance Garden.
Seeing that Zhao Xi had already been hit by the water, Feng Jing didn’t shoot out all the water. She tossed the squirt gun to the ground and couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
Zhao Xi showed no anger. He wiped away the few water droplets that had splashed onto his face and clasped his hands toward Feng Jing. "You are clever, and I admire you!"
Looking at her bright, cloudless smile, he laughed along with her.
Time slipped away quietly amidst their laughter. When she remembered to check the sky, a streak of evening glow had already appeared on the horizon.
"We should go back," she said, lowering her gaze, not without a hint of regret in her heart.“No rush, you haven’t finished today’s questions yet.” Zhao Xi immediately picked up his brush again, writing in swift cursive a verse:
One loom’s thread, weaving mysteries in nine chapters’ art.
A thousand strands tied as a heart-linked knot,
In the long vermilion halls, reeds grow by southern shores,
Unwilling to let you depart.
Feng Jing gazed at those lines, elegant as startled swans yet clear and graceful, savoring the meaning of each word. Finally, she silently repeated “unwilling to let you depart,” her heart sinking into a warm spring, buoyed and gently swaying in the water.
“May I ask, young lady, who composed this verse?” Zhao Xi bowed slightly toward her, posing the question with utmost humility.
She stared at the verse, listening to his voice, which sounded captivating no matter how she heard it, and felt her cheeks involuntarily begin to burn. As if weakened, her hand resting on the table trembled slightly. Finally, under his gentle yet insistent gaze, she lowered her head and whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Then, young lady, you have lost.” His voice was incredibly soft, his demeanor still courteous, yet he seemed unwilling to let go of the chance to punish her.
She remained silent, tacitly accepting her punishment, and glanced at the syringe she had tossed on the ground, estimating how much water remained inside.
He appeared unprepared to use the syringe, not even glancing at it, but stood up and took two steps closer to her.
She couldn’t help but feel nervous and somewhat puzzled. Suddenly, it occurred to her: if he wasn’t using his hands, feet, or any object, would he perhaps bump her with his head?
The thought frightened her, and she closed her eyes in fear.
Yet he merely leaned in, letting a gentle kiss descend like a butterfly upon her cherry lips.
——————————
Inside the Brocade Rouge Corridor, Feng Jing looked back at Zhenzhen, who was now clutching her chest, speechless with shock, and smiled sadly. “And that… was our most intimate, and also our last, private moment… Before we parted that day, he arranged to meet me again two days later. On that day, I waited from morning until sunset, but he never came… He never came again after that, nor did he ever send me a single word in a letter.”
Zhenzhen sighed. “Could it be because he heard from others about your true identity?”
Feng Jing said, “I can only think so… There’s another thought that pains me every time it comes to mind, yet I can’t help but dwell on it… He never liked Consort Li. Could it be that he was using me to get back at her?”
“That’s not possible,” Zhenzhen immediately dismissed her speculation. “The Crown Prince is noble in character and would not stoop to such pettiness for revenge.”
Feng Jing said gloomily, “But I still can’t understand why he was so heartless. Even if he didn’t want to see me again because of my aunt, couldn’t he have explained it clearly and said a proper goodbye?”
“Perhaps the Crown Prince had some difficulty?” Zhenzhen tried to explain on his behalf, though she couldn’t think of a reasonable reason at the moment.
Feng Jing sighed again and added, “We met many times in the Gathering Fragrance Garden. In fact, because my brother often brought me there, most people in the garden knew my identity. My private meetings with the Crown Prince gradually became a scandal known throughout the palace, especially after he refused to choose me as the Crown Princess… My parents actively sought matchmakers for me, but no one wanted to marry me. No one believed that I had spent so much time alone with the Crown Prince without any physical intimacy.”
Unable to think of an effective way to comfort her, Zhenzhen finally reached out and took Feng Jing’s cold right hand, trying to pass the warmth from her own palm to her.Feng Jing also turned her palm and clasped hands with Zhenzhen. Holding hands, they gazed for a while at the distant pavilions gradually tinted crimson by the evening glow. Feng Jing then spoke slowly again, "For a time, I lay in bed every day, doing nothing—either sleeping deeply or simply staring blankly. I had no appetite for anything... Later, it was my mother who personally made the pastries I loved as a child that I began to eat again... I love the warm, sweet fragrance of cakes and pastries, and how they remind me of my carefree childhood. So, when my aunt suggested to my parents that I enter the palace, I said, let me join the Bureau of Palace Provisions..."
Still looking ahead toward the pavilions veiled in mist, the tears welling in her eyes caused the scenery before her to ripple and tremble: "After going through all this, how can I possibly face mathematics and anything related to it? The moment I see these things, memories—both sweet and painful—come crashing over me like a tidal wave... Tell me, how can I let go?"
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