The imperial gardens in winter were a study in stark, beautiful geometry. The vibrant greens and riotous blossoms of summer were gone, replaced by the dark, intricate latticework of bare branches against a pale grey sky. The only color came from the deep green of stubborn pines and the rich, vermillion lacquer of the covered walkways that snaked through the landscape like sleeping dragons. The air was cold and sharp, carrying the clean scent of frost and damp earth.
Ying Zheng hated it. He hated the cold, he hated the pointless meandering, and most of all, he hated the pretense. He was being taken for a "walk," an exercise supposedly prescribed for his health and well-being. He was flanked by a coterie of junior eunuchs, their faces blank and their steps silent on the stone path, but the man walking beside him was the true reason for this excursion.
Li Lianying, the Empress Dowager Cixi's head eunuch and trusted confidant, moved with a liquid grace that belied his age. His demeanor was a perfect performance of humble servility, his back slightly bowed, his hands tucked into the voluminous sleeves of his padded silk robe. But Ying Zheng felt the man's attention on him like a physical weight. It was a constant, probing presence, as subtle and as unnerving as the gaze of a spider from the corner of its web.
"Her Majesty, the Empress Dowager, was concerned the Emperor spends too much time with his books," Li Lianying began, his voice smooth and pleasant, a perfect counterpoint to the biting wind. "She believes that fresh air and a brisk walk are vital for a growing boy. It strengthens the bones and clears the mind of scholarly dust."
Ying Zheng knew this was a lie. This was not about his health. This was an interrogation on foot, an intelligence-gathering mission disguised as a leisurely stroll. The incident with the superheated chopsticks at dinner had not been forgotten, as he had hoped. It had planted a seed of suspicion in the fertile ground of Cixi's paranoia, and Li Lianying was the gardener sent to see if it would sprout.
He remained silent, playing his chosen role. He was Zaitian, the quiet, somewhat sullen child, being forced to exercise when he would rather be indoors. He pulled his fur-lined cloak tighter around his small body and kept his eyes fixed on the grey flagstones ahead, affecting a look of bored indifference. He locked his emotions down, turning his mind into a frozen sea, calm and impenetrable on the surface.
They walked on, the only sounds the crunch of their silk-shod feet on the occasional patch of frost and the mournful cry of a distant crow. Li Lianying allowed the silence to stretch, a deliberate tactic to create unease. Finally, as they passed a particularly ancient and gnarled pine tree, the eunuch made his move.
"Ah," he said, his voice light with feigned surprise, as if an idea had just occurred to him. He stopped and produced a small, beautiful object from the depths of his sleeve. "A humble trifle, Your Majesty. I came across it this morning in the imperial storehouse. A plaything."
He held it out on his pale, long-fingered hand. It was an intricate puzzle box, a cube no larger than a child's fist, fashioned from interlocking pieces of polished brass and dull, cold iron. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each piece fitting together with seamless precision, forming a complex mechanical labyrinth.
"They say it was a toy that belonged to the great Qianlong Emperor when he was a boy," Li Lianying said, his eyes watching Ying Zheng's face intently. "A gift from a Jesuit missionary at his court. It is said to be quite difficult to open. A test of patience and wisdom, they called it. A mind-sharpening tool for a future ruler."
He offered the box to Ying Zheng.
The trap was brilliant in its subtlety. A lesser mind would have seen only the object itself, a toy, a gift. But Ying Zheng saw the layers of intent with absolute clarity. Li Lianying was not interested in whether he could solve the puzzle. This had nothing to do with his intelligence. The true test was the object itself. Brass and cold iron. After the incident with the chopsticks, which had become unnaturally hot, Li Lianying wanted to observe his reaction to cold metal. Would he flinch from the cold? Would he show some strange affinity for it, perhaps warming it in his hands? Would some bizarre, latent energy manifest again under the eunuch's watchful gaze? The puzzle was a distraction, a perfect piece of misdirection to hide the true purpose of the experiment.
Ying Zheng understood it all in a fraction of a second. He had to maintain his cover as a normal, powerless child.
He reached out and took the box. The metal was shockingly cold, a deep, biting chill that seeped instantly into his skin. The cold was an unpleasant sensation, but he forced himself not to react, his face a perfect mask of childish indifference. He turned the heavy object over in his small hands, fumbling with it for a moment as any child would. He rattled it, then pushed vaguely at one of the interlocking pieces. He let a look of mild frustration cross his face. Then, feigning a complete loss of interest, he shoved the puzzle box back into Li Lianying's waiting hands with a dismissive gesture.
"It's cold," he said, his voice a childish whine. "And it's stupid. I don't want it."
It was a perfect imitation of a spoiled, petulant four-year-old's short attention span. He turned his back on the eunuch and the puzzle box without a second glance and continued walking down the path, a tiny, cloaked figure radiating childish pique.
Li Lianying was left standing by the gnarled pine, holding the cold metal box. His face was an unreadable enigma. He had expected… something. A flicker of surprise, a moment of intense focus, a strange reaction to the temperature. But the boy's response had been perfectly, disappointingly normal. In fact, upon reflection, it had been too normal. A truly curious child, especially a lonely boy-emperor, would have been fascinated by such an intricate and beautiful toy. He would have been determined to solve it, to prove himself. This boy's utter, instant lack of interest was, in itself, abnormal. It felt… rehearsed. The eunuch's suspicion, far from being allayed, deepened into a new, more complex shape. But he had no proof. He had nothing tangible to report. He had conducted his test, and the result was a frustrating, ambiguous null.
Later that day, in the warm, incense-filled chambers of the Palace of Compassion and Tranquility, Cixi received her report. She sat reclined on a heated kang bed, lazily stroking the thick fur of a white Persian cat.
"Well?" she asked, her voice soft and dangerous. "Did you observe anything of note?"
Li Lianying stood before her, his head bowed. "Majesty, he is just a child. A quiet, perhaps somewhat sullen child. He showed no interest in the puzzle box from the Qianlong era. He complained only that the metal was cold and shoved it back at me."
Cixi paused in her stroking of the cat, which purred like a tiny engine. "So your theory about the chopsticks was merely a fantasy? A hot soup bowl placed too close to the silver, perhaps? A servant's clumsiness?"
"Perhaps, Your Highness. It is the most logical explanation," Li Lianying conceded. His next words, however, were careful. "And yet… there is something else. His lessons with the Grand Tutor. I have had the junior eunuchs observing from the hallway. The boy does not just listen. When Weng Tonghe reads to him from the memorials, his focus is not that of a child listening to a boring story. He sits perfectly still. He watches the tutor's mouth. He watches as if he is starving and the words are grains of rice. He watches like a hawk watches a rabbit, even when the topic is as dry as dike maintenance or tax receipts from Yunnan. I believe he is not just listening, Your Highness. I believe he is understanding far more than he should."
Cixi stopped stroking the cat. She sat up slowly, her languid posture gone, replaced by a tense stillness. The air in the room grew heavy. "Is that so?" she whispered. She picked up a porcelain teacup, her long fingernail guards clicking softly against the fine china. "A child who feigns disinterest in a beautiful toy, but shows an unnatural focus for the driest matters of state?"
She took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, her dark eyes looking over the rim of the cup at her head eunuch.
"Continue to watch him, Lianying," she commanded, her voice dropping to a low, cold murmur. "Watch his every move. Report every unusual word, every strange appetite for knowledge. A simple puppet is a tool. A puppet that thinks for itself is a dangerous thing. Find out what it is thinking."