Chapter Six: Daily Life of the Prince at the Daoist Temple

The changing of the seasons always seems to pass in the blink of an eye. In Yan Liu’s mind, it was as if only a single night had passed before winter quietly arrived. Along with the endless snowflakes swirling outside the window, another person came to the Zixu Daoist Temple.

Yan Liu awoke early that morning, still half-dazed. He could only recall his master—who usually lazed in bed until noon—suddenly bursting in, pulling him out from under the covers, hurriedly stuffing him into several layers of clothing, and dragging him outside.

At the temple gate, his master unceremoniously dropped him to the ground. Instinctively, Yan Liu knelt. Then a shrill, genderless eunuch voice rang out: “By imperial decree, the Emperor commands that the young prince, Jun Lin Liu, from this day forth, shall become the disciple of Daoist Master Qingyu. Every winter, he is to come to Zixu Daoist Temple to cultivate until he comes of age. Thus decreed.”

Jun Lin Liu listened to the proclamation, expressionless, and bowed deeply. “Thank you for Your Majesty’s favor.”

The elderly eunuch put away the decree, handed it to Jun Lin Liu, who was kneeling beside him, then hurried over to Qingyu, ingratiating himself: “What good fortune, Master! I envy you greatly. After all, everyone knows the young prince is the heir to the throne!”

Qingyu, supported by the eunuch, smiled calmly. “Yours is the true fortune, Sir. For the Emperor to entrust the young prince to your care must mean he places utmost trust in you.”

The old eunuch covered his mouth, laughing. “Master flatters me, but I can indeed speak for you before the Emperor. If you heal the young prince, your prospects will be limitless. Now that the prince is delivered, I shall take my leave.”

After sending off the eunuch, Qingyu sighed deeply, yawned, and faced the two children: “Go play, both of you. I need to get some more sleep. Waking people up at dawn like this—is it any way to live?”

Jun Lin Liu stood frozen for a moment, watching Qingyu walk away before turning to Yan Liu. Yan Liu was still kneeling, nodding off, his head bobbing in sleep—a sight Jun Lin Liu found endearingly genuine.

Jun Lin Liu approached, squatted, and poked Yan Liu’s cheek. Yan Liu slapped at him, muttering, “Little White, stop fooling around!”

Jun Lin Liu failed to dodge and received a solid slap, his pale hand reddening in the cold wind. Jun Lin Liu quickly helped Yan Liu up, shaking him, “Wake up, wake up!”

Yan Liu struggled to open one eye, staring blankly at Jun Lin Liu’s strained face. Suddenly, he was startled: “Why are you here!” This was nearly a psychological shadow for him, as this boy was even harder to deal with than himself.

Jun Lin Liu whispered, “I’m here to become a disciple. From today, you’re my senior brother. Senior brother, where’s the guest room? It’s freezing outside!”

Senior brother? Oh, so that’s how it is. Yan Liu was impatient—his troublesome master at fault again. Watching Jun Lin Liu rub his hands and breathe warmth, Yan Liu relented, took Jun Lin Liu’s hand, and silently shared his oversized cloak. The two children, leaning on each other, returned to the house.

To ask what Qingyu thought of having another child in the temple: simply put, it meant more hands to help with chores and the need to buy another set of bowls and chopsticks. His young disciple finally had someone else to bully, sparing him from complaints; his heart was much comforted.

In the kitchen.

“How can you be so stupid! You don’t even know how to light a fire!” Yan Liu scolded, hands on hips.

Jun Lin Liu coughed, bewildered, his face smudged black like a tabby cat. He bowed his head, tearful. “Senior brother, I’ve never done this before!”

Yan Liu looked at his smudged face and burst out laughing. He stepped forward, cupped Jun Lin Liu’s cheeks, and wiped them clean. “You’ve turned into a tabby cat—such a fool.”

Jun Lin Liu’s face returned to its pale normalcy, and Yan Liu continued teaching him the tricks. Soon Jun Lin Liu learned, and the task became his. Similar incidents were endless, and by the time Jun Lin Liu was about to leave, nearly all the chores had fallen to him.

At night, as they lay down to sleep, Yan Liu said sternly, “Let me tell you—if you dare kick the covers, grind your teeth, or snore, I won’t forgive you.”

Jun Lin Liu smiled obediently. “Don’t worry, senior brother. I don’t have any of those bad habits.”

Relieved, Yan Liu soon fell into a steady sleep. Jun Lin Liu marveled at his speed, and as he closed his eyes and prepared to sleep, snoring echoed in his ears—like drums and gongs at a festival. Jun Lin Liu found it impossible to sleep. Just as he was drifting off, a chill wind swept over him, and he shivered. Opening his eyes, he found Yan Liu had stolen all the covers to his side.

Unable to bear it, Jun Lin Liu deliberated, then decided to tightly embrace Yan Liu, lest he cause further trouble.

He thought it would be easy, but the act itself troubled him. His uncle had taught him that men and women should not touch, nor men with men. Was it right to do this without his senior brother’s permission?

But soon, Jun Lin Liu didn’t hesitate. If he didn’t move over, he’d freeze solid. He hugged Yan Liu tightly, his face flaming in the night, his whole body feeling feverish and nervous. The only comfort was that once he held his senior brother, the snoring stopped. Tossed about half the night, Jun Lin Liu’s small body finally succumbed, and he fell into deep sleep.

Jun Lin Liu never expected to be kicked awake the next morning. Yan Liu gave a mighty kick, sending him out of bed. Jun Lin Liu’s mouth twitched; for the first time he tasted the bitterness of anger. Clenching his fist, he held back, sighed helplessly, dressed, washed, and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Yan Liu’s careful teaching paid off: Jun Lin Liu did all the tasks better, especially cooking.

When Jun Lin Liu finished his chores, Yan Liu and Qingyu were awake. Master and disciple, faced with the meal, wept with gratitude, then devoured it like beggars starved for days. Compared to Jun Lin Liu’s slow, careful eating, the two of them seemed famished.

A prince raised within the palace learns to read faces by necessity; Jun Lin Liu was no exception.

Over those days, he learned that Yan Liu was easy to understand. Though boisterous, he was actually quite attentive. He bullied Jun Lin Liu occasionally, but fiercely protected those within his circle, caring for them thoroughly.

The windproof cloak his master made—Jun Lin Liu had one by the second day.

Once Jun Lin Liu took over kitchen duties, the firewood and vegetables were always stocked. He thought Qingyu prepared them, until he saw Yan Liu fetching wood from the storehouse and vegetables from the cellar.

Washing dishes fell to him too, but the water was always warm.

After noticing Jun Lin Liu’s dark circles, the next night there was an extra set of bedding, an additional basin of charcoal, and fine incense already burning for calm and sleep.

When Jun Lin Liu wanted to read in the temple’s study, Yan Liu always accompanied him, quietly lighting the charcoal.

These were all small gestures, but together they formed a warm current in Jun Lin Liu’s heart, making the whole winter comfortable and cozy. So much so that when it came time to leave, he felt reluctant. Palace attendants waited outside the temple, but Jun Lin Liu dawdled as he climbed into the sedan chair.

There was a warming brazier inside, but his heart grew cold. Outside the temple, his carefree senior brother waved goodbye, shut the door, and went inside, leaving Jun Lin Liu both amused and exasperated.

Though he hadn’t gone far, Jun Lin Liu already looked forward to the next winter’s sunshine, wishing the season would hurry and return.