49 To the Palace

The few stains of crimson blood stood out in grim contrast to the rest of the otherwise dull room. As a medic, against my better judgment, I rushed to him to examine his injuries. Without asking, I rolled up his sleeve, careful to not let the fabric brush against the fresh wound.

No, blood was not gushing out of the cut like a river bursting from a dam. Instead, the gash wasn't very deep nor wide, instead being a diagonal laceration across his forearm with sizeable beads of oozing blood. It was far less dramatic, but it certainly must have still hurt.

I tried grabbing for the nearest piece of bedding to tie a simple bandage for him, but he stopped me, flinching a bit as he moved his arm. Other than that, his face was emotionless, almost as if he had no feelings of pain nor actual human emotion.

I thought back to the wound on my hand that had barely scabbed. Perhaps this was somehow predestined. No, we were both acting. All accidents should have been preplanned.

"Remember, the blood was yours." With those words, he yanked a small strip from the innermost layer of his robes and handed it to me, nodding slowly. "Use this instead. Don't clean it. The maids will see that the bowl turned bloody, and it will arouse unnecessary suspicion."

It would have been best to clean the area first, but following his instructions, I watched as the beads of blood spread and dyed the white fabric into vibrant hues. I've seen patients who cried over a cut and ones who screamed from injury. Even I flinched the other day. Yet never before have I ever seen someone be almost removed from his own suffering and acting as if his mind was detached from his body.

"Apply ointment as needed and wash as needed when bathing." I couldn't help but nag a bit, the years of practice coming through. "Be careful not to rub it against other sensitive perfumes as it could run the risk of infection." I tried to explain as thoroughly as possible.

Instead, he turned to me and replied with, "You'll be there to treat it, wouldn't you?" From the way his tone sounded, it sounded more like a statement than a question. "Let's head out."

He pulled his sleeves back into place, the fabric hiding the fresh wound.

With his uninjured right arm, he lifted the cover of the tent with a faint smile. The act thus began.

Not many words were needed, and from the start, it was clear what his intentions were. In the time we were at the capital and before we went to his assigned feudal lands, we must be the perfect couple in front of his parents. After all, who would possibly want more trouble and a tangle of avoidable explanations? It was much easier to pretend to be a loving couple.

As I stepped onto a nondescript carriage, as he had done the day before, he extended his hand outwards in a gentleman-like fashion. I willingly gave my hand in return, hiding my uneasiness as best as I could.

As the carriage made its way to the palace, winding through streets and passing by storefronts, somehow everything became hyper focused. Gulping, I could only hope that I would leave a good impression on the royal couple.

Tuning to the rhythmic tapping of the hoofsteps, I mentally checked through a list of their likes and dislikes.

They despised luxuries, thinking that leisure would corrode morals and responsibilities. I glanced down at the plain fabric of my gown and checked that my hairdo was presentable. Check.

The emperor demanded ritualistic respect. Mentally running through the rituals I had trained so hard for, I ran through a reenactment in my mind.

Lastly, the empress championed mutual respect and fidelity between couples. As the Prince of Jin had no, or at least I suppose no, concubines, if we played this act well, this part should also be covered.

I took a deep breath, realizing that the carriage had momentarily stopped before the palace walls. The palace must have been stunning, I thought, considering that this had been the residence of countless dynasties before.

Nothing could prepare me for the sight.

Layers of moss covered the worn stone, weathered from a millennium of usage. Austere and seriousness radiated from its very being, a sturdy feel to the structure despite the cracking walls. But if anything, Princess Leping's manor resembled the royalty more than this somewhat shabby and patched structure.

Or perhaps this was only the walls? But why did even the palace walls of Jiangling seem to hold more weight? Barbarians could ruin even the most spectacular architecture. I quickly shook the thought out of myself. Liang is this kingdom's vassal, I reminded myself.

We made our journey on foot, the Prince of Jin casually casting a few glances at my reaction once in a while.

As we walked, I couldn't help but notice some dark brown spots along the crevices of the halls and the walls, their patterns resembling that of dried splattered blood from centuries past. Perhaps it was just my nerves, I pretended to have seen nothing.

A plain wooden structure stood in front of us, elevated on a platform. As we began our way up the stairs leading its entrance, the Prince of Jin suddenly reached for my hand once more. Obligingly, I took it, feeling the roughness of his palms once more.

"Second Brother! New sister in law!" A'Wu was the first to greet us, dashing out and waving an enthusiastic hello as if we had parted for years.

The Prince of Jin cordially waved with one hand, making sure that our linked ones were in no way separated.

"Now, now. A'Wu, they have to go greet Father Emperor and Mother Empress before it is too late." One of the boys from last night came over and exchanged a knowing look with the Prince of Jin. If I recalled correctly, he was the one holding a bit back and staying behind the other two.

There wasn't much time to process the information, though, because we were soon on our ways again. After a long flight of stairs, before we knew it, we were at the doors of the Sui Empress's bedchambers.

Bold words on the plaque marked a place of special heritage and austerity dating back to the Han dynasty. Standing here, even without a draft, a chill ran down my spine as the traditions of more than a millennium weighed upon my back.

"Announcing the Prince of Jin and the Princess Consort of Jin!" A eunuch called out, his crisp voice echoing in the seemingly endless hallway before us. Perhaps it was my imagination, but he squeezed my hand lightly as if to comfort me. Surely they couldn't see such a small action to make a difference. Was there a reason for our acts to become so refined? In all honesty, these excess details seemed a bit like a waste of energy. Or perhaps he was just trying to stay in character, I thought back to the plays I had seen before and the work the actors put into maintaining their roles.

Though countless thoughts raced across my mind, the sincere and shy smile on my face never wavered. It was almost like I put on a new mask of permanent friendliness to match his impeccable one.

"Take a deep breath, darling. They're sure to like you as much as I adore you." His voice was low but calculated so that it would carry through the hallway, and his words were a bit sappy but not overdone to the point of disbelief.

I stepped past the wooden bar.