July, the fourth year of Yuanyou.
The case was closed—not by Zhao Xu, but by the Empress Dowager.The Grand Councilor was dismissed from office and sent to govern a distant prefecture. Consort Liu was moved to a separate palace, forbidden to enter court without edict. The Vice Minister of Revenue and the Hanlin Academician were suspended pending investigation.
The name that had been scraped away remained unknown.
Zhao Xu sat in his Imperial City Guard study all day, reading every letter in the bundle one by one. When he finished, he tied them back up and set them on his desk. He did not ask why. He only sat there, his fingers pressed lightly on the bundle for a long time.
"Aheng."
"Mm."
"The Empress Dowager said: stop here."
"Mm."
"She said some things are better left unsolved. If you uncover everything, people must be moved. If people are moved, the court shifts. If the court shifts, the borders fall into chaos. She said she will hold on a few more years. Until I take charge. Until I can bear this weight."
He fell silent. Sunlight slanted through the window onto his hands. His knuckles were faintly white where he pressed the bundle.
"She is right," he said softly, as if convincing himself.
"What do you think?"
He was quiet for a long time, then pulled his hand back to his knees.
"I think she is right. But I—" He paused. "I thought if I solved it, I could act. I could arrest them, I could—" He did not finish, staring at his hands—no longer a child's hands, long and defined, faintly calloused, yet lying still on his knees.
"Could what?"
"Lighten her load."
That night, the Empress Dowager sent a plate of osmanthus cake, made by the imperial kitchens, neatly cut, evenly sprinkled, every piece identical.Zhao Xu picked one up and took a small bite, chewing slowly.
"Is it good?" I asked.
"It is." He set the rest down. "Too sweet."
He pulled a note from his sleeve and tucked it under the plate:Empress Dowager, today's osmanthus cake is too sweet. Less sugar next time.
He stood, brushing dust from his robes.
"Come. To the garden."
The osmanthus in the Imperial Garden had bloomed—not in full clusters, but scattered sprays of gold hidden among green leaves.He stood beneath the tree, looking up. Moonlight filtered through the branches, dappling his face.
"Aheng."
"Mm."
"Look at that one." He pointed to the highest bloom on the branch, perfectly open, golden and almost translucent in the moon. "The biggest."
"You can't reach it."
"I can." He reached up and plucked it easily, holding the tiny golden flower in his palm like a scrap of moon. "I couldn't before. Now I can."
He placed it in my hand. Thin petals, faint sweet scent.
"Before was before. Now is now." He looked at me. "From now on, I can reach any flower."
I held the osmanthus and looked at him. His eyes were bright, holding moonlight, the tree, and me. A thought suddenly came to me.
"Zhao Xu."
"Mm?"
"Do you want to play a game?"
"What game?"
"One I played often with classmates in America. It's called Uno."
"Uno?" He frowned. "Strange name."
"It's Spanish for 'one.' Simple, but fun." I pulled out a deck of cards I had made myself over months, cut from stiff paper, colored with plant juices: red from madder, yellow from gardenia, green from wormwood, blue from isatis. The backs were painted with osmanthus.
Eunuch Li had seen me mixing dyes and asked if I was making alchemy.
"What is this?" Zhao Xu turned the cards over.
"Uno cards. Four colors: red, yellow, green, blue. Numbers 0 to 9. And action cards: skip, reverse, draw two, wild draw four."
I explained the rules under the moon, the natural dyes glowing softly. He listened intently, like he was studying a dossier.
Soon enough, he called Eunuch Li, the food-box eunuch Maocai, and the young garden boy Shunzi to join. Five of us sat around the stone table, playing by moonlight.
Shunzi was nervous, Maocai reckless, Eunuch Li quick to learn.Zhao Xu caught on fastest. He played steadily, strategically, like shooting arrows on the training ground. When Shunzi accidentally hit him with a +2, he laughed and played one right back, then took pity and skipped the boy.
As we played, I told him about late-night Uno marathons in my Columbia dorm, my roommate Emily yelling when she got hit with a +4, neighbors banging on the door.
"You memorize the cards?" he asked.
"I do."
"Guess what I have."
I looked at his play, his small tells. "Green nine, green reverse, green +2."
He flipped his hand—exactly right.
"I'll let you win," I said. "You weren't happy today."
"I'm happy now," he said.
He played green reverse, then green +2, then green nine.
"Uno."
He won. The others cheered. He laughed—a real, unrestrained laugh, light and warm, shaking the branches and startling birds. His eyes curved like osmanthus petals.
We played until Shunzi won and cried happy tears. Zhao Xu gave him silver.Maocai vowed to win tomorrow. Eunuch Li shook his head but smiled.
When they left, only the two of us remained under the tree.He stacked the cards neatly, tying them with the red string from last Dragon Boat Festival.
"Aheng. Which time were you happiest playing this in America?"
I told him about the all-nighter after finals, when I trapped Emily with a +4 until she held a dozen cards and chased me down the hall.
"Were you happy?"
"Very."
"Now?"
"Now too."
He fell quiet, then asked softly:
"Do you want to go back?"
Back to New York. To Columbia. To Emily. To a life without palace walls, without secrets, without danger.But a life without him.
"I don't know," I said.
"Do you want me to let you go?"
He looked at me, eyes glistening.
"I don't want you to. But if you do… I will let you."
He laced his fingers through mine.
"You said you walked past big trees in America and never stopped to look. Now you have osmanthus. You have me. Li Gonggong, Maocai, Shunzi. Uno."
He swallowed.
"But if those trees are waiting. If Emily is waiting. If you want to see your graduation… you can go. I can wait."
"Four years. Eight. Twelve. A lifetime."
He placed another osmanthus flower in my palm.
I looked at him, at the moonlight, at the tiny golden bloom.
"I'm not going back."
His eyes widened.
"The trees I didn't stop for before? I don't need to now. Emily will find new friends. The ramen shop can wait."
I squeezed his hand.
"I'm here. The osmanthus is here. Uno is here. You are here."
Tears finally fell down his cheeks. He buried his face in my shoulder, shoulders shaking softly.
"Don't leave."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
We hooked pinkies.
"Pull the hook, hang the tie. A hundred years, not broken."
"A hundred years," he echoed, steady and firm.
He tucked the Uno deck into his sleeve and stood before me, backlit by the moon.
"Tomorrow, we play Uno again."
"Okay."
"The day after too."
"Okay."
"Every day. Until you teach me all your American tricks. Until I can beat you."
"That might take a long time."
"I have time."
He ran off, robe fluttering like a flag. Halfway, he turned and shouted:
"Aheng! Uno!"
That night, I wrote on a slip of paper:
He asked if I wanted to go back. To America. To Columbia. To Emily.He said he could wait. Four years. Eight. Twelve. A lifetime.I said I'm not leaving.Osmanthus is here. Uno is here. He is here.
I tucked the dried osmanthus petal between the pages, with all the old notes, the jade, the wheat stalk.
Four years.He grew from nine to thirteen.From too short to reach osmanthus, to a head taller than me.From messy notes to saying: I will wait for you.
I will wait too.Wait for him to turn eighteen.Wait for him to reach not just flowers, but the whole world.Wait for him to stand in court and say: enough.Wait for him to stand before me and say: I marry you.
The moon was round and bright outside.Osmanthus bloomed.He plucked one and placed it in my hand.I will keep it.Until osmanthus blooms again.Until he takes the throne.Until he solves every unsolved thing.
By then, he will be taller still.He will reach the highest flower without jumping.He will place it in my hand.I will say: too sweet.He will say: less sugar.I will smile.And write one more line in my heart:Today, His Majesty won at Uno.
End of Chapter 33