A cool breath stirred the silken hangings of Jian Li’s bedchamber. He rose, a tremor of apprehension easing as he surveyed his reflection. The herbal salve, compounded with meticulous care, had done its quiet work. His cheek, once a mottled landscape of swelling and violet, now presented only a faint, bruised shadow, easily dismissed as a misstep against a doorframe. A manageable indignity.
He dressed in his scholar’s robes, the weight of the silk a familiar comfort. The journey to the Imperial Academy felt different this morn, a lightness in his stride defying the lingering tension in his chest. Yet, upon entering the Grand Hall, an oppressive stillness descended. Voices, usually a lively murmur of debate and gossip, were hushed. The air thrummed with unspoken anxieties.
His gaze swept the gathering of scholars. He sought a familiar figure, a junior aide named Scholar Ren. Just as the morning’s first lecture was about to commence, Ren slipped through the main gates, his movements hesitant, eyes darting. Jian Li froze, his breath catching. He had harbored a fleeting, childish thought that Ren might suffer a similar fate for his part in Jian Li’s recent humiliation. Now, guilt, sharp and suffocating, pierced him.
Scholar Ren’s face was a wreck. A split lip wept a trace of dried crimson. One eye was swollen nearly shut, mirroring the severity Jian Li had endured just days prior, yet more pronounced, more brutal. The sight twisted Jian Li’s stomach. He felt a profound disgust for his own petty resentments.
Ren’s fearful gaze, as if drawn by an invisible thread, found Jian Li’s across the hall. A flicker of recognition, then immediate aversion. Ren’s shoulders hunched, and he shuffled to his seat, deliberately avoiding Jian Li’s vicinity. The swift retreat left Jian Li bewildered.
Then, a glance confirmed the reason. Young Master Huizhong, poised by the instructor’s rostrum, fixed Jian Li with a stare that promised retribution. His eyes, usually cool and dismissive, now burned with a silent, murderous intent. Jian Li’s relief at his own lessened injury evaporated. He wished he had feigned illness and remained within his quarters.
---
Days blurred into a pattern of strained silence. Scholar Ren, once eager to exchange pleasantries, now kept his distance, his face often a canvas of fresh bruises. During the midday repast, he vanished with Young Master Huizhong, their destination unknown.
Left to his own company, Jian Li found himself by Scholar Wei’s side. Wei, oblivious to the storm raging within Jian Li’s breast, maintained his usual carefree banter. His lighthearted disposition, once an irritant to Jian Li’s earnest nature, now offered an unexpected refuge. Wei’s levity acted as an anchor, preventing Jian Li from sinking too deep into the mire of courtly anxieties.
“The air in the calligraphy hall was thick enough to chew,” Scholar Wei declared, a smile playing on his lips as he scooped candied fruit from his bowl. “I nearly choked on my own apprehension.”
“You seemed quite at ease, devouring those honeyed dates yesterday.” Jian Li watched the sunlight catch in Wei’s dark hair.
“Give me some credit, Jian Li. I endured like a seasoned courtier.” Wei winked, a playful glint in his eye. “Indeed, honeyed dates are meant to be devoured.”
Jian Li, a faint annoyance stirring, tapped Wei’s calf with his foot. Wei rubbed his chin, a fleeting, almost sheepish expression crossing his face. Jian Li dismissed it, attributing it to the sun’s glare or his own overwrought senses.
---
Life possessed a peculiar way of binding souls. Jian Li had never intended to cultivate a closeness with Scholar Wei. He had, in truth, found Wei’s unvarnished candor and unburdened spirit somewhat vexing. Yet, here they were, Wei’s presence a singular comfort amidst the deepening currents of the Academy’s politics.
Wei’s easy laughter, his capacity for seeing humor in the mundane, served as a balm. If not for the rift that had opened between himself and Young Master Huizhong, Jian Li might never have discerned the quiet strength in Scholar Wei’s seemingly shallow nature.
After that day, Young Master Huizhong began to distance himself from the usual gathering of scholars. Sometimes, he would vanish with Scholar Ren. Other times, a select few junior aides would follow him. There were moments, too, when some, like the usually boisterous Scholar Deng, would refuse, shaking their heads with uneasy expressions, their whispers reaching Jian Li’s ears like the rustle of dry leaves.
Jian Li encountered Scholar Deng clambering over a low garden wall, clearly avoiding a senior tutor. Deng, with a mix of wry amusement and genuine discomfort, confided that Young Master Huizhong had been subtly encouraging others to 'chastise' Scholar Ren, a veiled instruction for each to deliver a single, punitive strike. Jian Li’s face contorted in disbelief. Sensing his reaction, Deng quickly added that he had, of late, found reasons to absent himself from Huizhong’s coterie. He explained he was bound for a quiet tea house with Scholar Yu and urged Jian Li not to misinterpret his earlier association. Then, he departed.
Scholar Yu, who had been a close companion to Young Master Huizhong in their first year at the Academy, had since found his own path, their camaraderie fading with separate assignments.
---
Jian Li and Scholar Wei sought solace in the Academy’s central courtyard during the midday meal. They purchased chilled sweetmeats from a vendor. The cold sweetness, melting on Jian Li’s tongue, offered a fleeting reprieve. Beneath it, however, a bitter knot of unease tightened within his breast. He swallowed, determined to betray nothing of his turmoil.
“Is that palatable?” Wei inquired, eyeing Jian Li’s treat as he munched on his own brightly colored confection.
“Would you care for a taste?” Jian Li offered, half in jest, bringing his own sweetmeat, slick with his saliva, close to Wei’s mouth. Without a moment’s hesitation, Wei grinned, a corner of his lip lifting, and took a generous bite.
“Hey! Did you truly?” Jian Li feigned outrage.
“You extended the offer.”
“That is… unrefined. And why such a large bite?”
“It was but a single morsel.” Wei shrugged a shoulder, his grin widening. A moment of tranquil absurdity. The crisp autumn air, unburdened by human complexities, carried a serene calm, a stark contrast to Jian Li’s inner turmoil.
Where might Young Master Huizhong and Scholar Ren be? Several secluded corners of the Academy grounds came to mind, but Jian Li did not seek them out. Perhaps he feared what he might witness.
He strained to banish Young Master Huizhong from his thoughts. Yet, the harder he strove, the more acutely he perceived the vast space Huizhong occupied within his mind.
How much time, how much arduous effort, would it require to unbind himself from such a profound attachment? Jian Li knew not. It felt akin to being lost within a boundless desert, not merely desolate and suffocating, but terrifying, insufferable. Sometimes, he retreated into himself. Like a scholar poring over ancient texts, struggling to discern faded characters, he stepped back, seeking clarity. When the burden became too great, he sometimes spoke to Scholar Wei. And that, for now, sufficed.
A sudden question escaped him.
“Scholar Wei.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you believe blossoms might ever grace a barren desert?” The question felt embarrassingly sentimental the moment it left his lips. He scratched his head, but Wei offered no mockery.
“They will.”
“...”
“They must. Life’s already a parched land.”
Hearing such words from Scholar Wei, a man Jian Li had never imagined capable of such a sentiment, sharpened the futility of his desperate hope. How much longer before he could relinquish these meaningless affections?
“Indeed. Life’s a barren stretch.”
Young Master Huizhong. That callous scion. Why did he seem so intent on crushing the loyal, fawning reverence Jian Li still held for him? Huizhong, who now drifted in and out of Academy attendance as he pleased, seemed to have cast aside the fundamental decorum expected of a young noble. And always, by his side, the ever-present, ever-suffering Scholar Ren.
As the situation grew increasingly suspect, a low hum of unease and intrigue pervaded the scholars’ quarters. It became clear: Huizhong’s subtle violence was escalating. And so, a quiet resentment, like a creeping mist, began to permeate the assembly. None of it sat well with Jian Li.
---
One afternoon, Jian Li halted in the hallway, observing Young Master Huizhong dragging Scholar Ren by the wrist. He watched them, his gaze alternating between their faces, before his voice, steady despite his trembling heart, broke the silence.
“Your esteemed father, the Grand Minister, has expressed concern for your recent conduct.” It was no plea, no flattery. It was a fabrication. That was the extent of Jian Li’s battered pride. Young Master Huizhong, distant from his own father, would likely not discern the falsehood. And even if he did, Jian Li could always argue that, at this rate, the Grand Minister would indeed have ample cause for worry.
He always ensured his escape routes remained open.
“If chastisement is due, let it fall upon you alone. What transgression has Scholar Ren committed?”
“Move aside.” The moment Jian Li uttered Scholar Ren’s name, Huizhong’s gaze, sharp as a blade, impaled him. Jian Li’s chest felt ready to burst under the oppressive weight. He loathed him. Yet, pitiful, pathetic Scholar Ren clung to Huizhong’s arm, his eyes, brimmed with unshed tears, pleaded with Jian Li.
“Unless you yearn for another taste of what transpired, retreat.”
“H-Huizhong, please,” Scholar Ren stammered, his voice trembling as he invoked the young master’s name. Only then did Huizhong cease his pronouncements. His gaze now fixed solely upon Ren. Jian Li saw only the back of Huizhong’s head as he turned away.
“As I said, your father, the Minister…”
“...” Scholar Ren, on the verge of weeping, clung to Young Master Huizhong, attempting to halt his progress. Witnessing that piteous scene was unbearable. The agony of it compelled Jian Li to close his eyes.
After a moment, Young Master Huizhong looked at Scholar Ren, then turned and walked back into the Grand Hall. For the remainder of the day, he remained within its confines, much as he had weeks prior.
---
The long-anticipated day of the Imperial viewing excursion arrived. A grand pavilion-carriage had been reserved to convey them to the Imperial Gardens, where newly unearthed ancient artifacts were on display. While a few senior scholars grumbled about diverting precious study time for such a frivolous outing, most of the junior aides and scholars welcomed the chance to escape the Academy’s confines, if only for a single day.
There was no need for elaborate provisions; they would return ere dusk. The supervising tutors offered only a few desultory warnings before permitting them their freedom.
They were not callow youths from rural villages. There was no giddy excitement that stole sleep. Jian Li regarded it as merely another day – depart unburdened, return unburdened. He held no inkling that this would be the day his carefully contained frustrations would finally erupt. He had anticipated its coming, certainly, but not with such sudden, brutal force.
Custom dictated that Jian Li would sit beside Young Master Huizhong whenever they ventured beyond the lecture halls. He was, after all, considered Huizhong’s closest associate. He had not even considered Scholar Wei’s seating arrangements, having never embarked on such an excursion with him.
Initially, Jian Li felt a vague apprehension regarding Scholar Wei, fearing he might seek the seat closest to Young Master Huizhong. Reflecting upon it now, the thought was pathetic. Neither he nor Wei would ultimately claim that coveted spot.
Upon their arrival, Jian Li found their pavilion-carriage awaiting in the Academy courtyard. He climbed aboard, seeking their assigned places. The five seats at the carriage’s rear were already claimed by a boisterous group of scholars, including Scholar Deng, who offered Jian Li a hesitant wave, then pointed towards Young Master Huizhong’s empty seat.
“Jian Li! There is a seat here!”
“Ah, yes.” Of course. He had always been the one by Huizhong’s side. Today, however, a tremor of hesitation stayed his hand as he approached. A faint sigh of relief escaped him when he saw the seat beside Huizhong still unoccupied. He swallowed hard, a flicker of determined pride igniting within him.
It was his place. His pride – the solitary thing he stubbornly clung to – compelled him to claim it, even after the indignity he had suffered on Scholar Ren’s behalf. He nervously touched the top of the carved seat for a moment, his gaze sweeping the carriage, before he quietly ventured,
“Young Master… this seat…”
“It is not for you. Find another.” Before Jian Li could complete his sentence, Young Master Huizhong cut him short, his gaze fixed resolutely on the carriage entrance. Following Huizhong’s line of sight, Jian Li saw Scholar Ren timidly making his way towards them. Jian Li clenched his fists, swallowing the words that had lodged in his throat.
“...Very well. As you wish.” He strove for indifference, though his heart felt as if it had been rent into countless pieces.
He swiftly departed the seat, his eyes searching the carriage. He found an empty spot near Scholar Wei’s group, directly before where Wei was settled. Relieved, Jian Li rushed over, dropping into the seat. He spoke without awaiting a response.
“Scholar Wei. Sit with me.”
No answer came. When Jian Li looked closer, he realized Wei was already in the throes of slumber. Wei always seemed to drift into sleep in the mornings, and this day was no exception. His head rested against the window lattice, bouncing gently with every slight jolt of the carriage. Shaking his head at Wei’s ungainly posture, Jian Li slipped his small, embroidered coin pouch between Wei’s head and the hard frame, then leaned back into the uncomfortable seat himself.
Across the narrow aisle, he caught a glimpse of dark, lustrous hair. It belonged to Young Master Huizhong – taller than most of their peers, he was easily discernible. Though Jian Li could not see clearly, he knew.