Farewell My Concubine

The distant clamor from the main hall drifted in, yet the private room was silent as a tomb.

Zhao Yixiao suddenly felt a chill descend upon him. He swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Elder Brother, please don’t joke. These two are just friends I have recently made.” Zhao Qian gave him a knowing grin, his face full of mischief, as if he saw through everything: “I understand. Second Brother, you have excellent taste.”

What do you understand? You know nothing, Zhao Yixiao cursed inwardly, but then he saw Zhao Qian do something utterly reckless—Zhao Yixiao could only rub his forehead in silent exasperation as Zhao Qian used his feather fan to lift Beigong Qiyi’s chin, leering as he said, “What a handsome face, truly a rare beauty! Second Brother, would you consider letting me have him?”

Zhao Yixiao’s smile was forced, his lips barely moving as he laughed awkwardly. Elder Brother, take care of yourself…

Beigong Qiyi gazed impassively at the fan beneath his chin, a glint of cold light in his downcast eyes. He raised his head, lips curling into a faint, enigmatic smile. The youth’s face was striking, a red cinnabar mark between his brows. The dim light cast an almost otherworldly allure over his features. Zhao Qian stared, utterly entranced by that subtle yet dangerously seductive smile.

But Zhao Qian was not the only one captivated—Zhao Yixiao, too, was momentarily spellbound, though he quickly regained his senses. Beigong Qiyi’s beauty was indeed remarkable, but it was the kind that could prove fatal.

A slender, pale finger appeared before Zhao Qian’s eyes. He swallowed and tried to grasp it, but his hand closed on nothing. Beigong Qiyi brushed aside Zhao Qian’s fan and, with two fingers, aimed straight for Zhao Qian’s eyes. Zhao Qian, startled, was too shocked to dodge.

Just as those fingers were about to make contact with Zhao Qian’s wide-open eyes, a hand intervened. Beigong Qiyi shot Zhao Yixiao a cold look, his tone sharp, “What’s this? Does the Second Prince want me to show you favor again?”

Despite being unnerved by Beigong Qiyi’s gaze, Zhao Yixiao forced himself to reply, “Young Master, it was indeed my elder brother’s fault this time. I apologize on his behalf. Please, show mercy.”

Seeing Zhao Qian, still shaken, scuttle behind Zhao Yixiao, Beigong Qiyi withdrew his hand and sneered, “And what if I insist on taking his eyes today?”

Since Beigong Qiyi showed no sign of relenting, Zhao Yixiao’s expression darkened. “Young Master, though you are the heir of Lishan Manor, my elder brother is the Crown Prince. All under heaven belongs to the emperor; all subjects are his vassals. You’d do well to consider carefully.”

“Crown Prince?” Beigong Qiyi laughed coldly. “Zhao Yixiao, if I killed him today, surely you’d be the happiest—the chief competitor for the throne gone, and the crown yours for the taking. We all know this; why pretend otherwise?”

Zhao Yixiao’s face changed, and Zhao Qian, now glaring at him, said with a mocking tone, “So that’s why you came to the opera today, Second Brother? To plot against me with outsiders!”

Zhao Yixiao’s expression grew even darker. He turned his head and hissed, “Shut up.” Zhao Qian, startled, was about to retort, but seeing Zhao Yixiao’s grim look, he sulked into silence.

Beigong Qiyi’s sneer deepened. He looked at Zhao Yixiao, a smile barely touching his lips. “Judging by the Crown Prince’s reaction, I think Second Prince would make a better emperor.”

“You!” This time, Zhao Qian could not take it. He darted out from behind Zhao Yixiao and pointed at Beigong Qiyi, shouting, “I am the Crown Prince, appointed by the Emperor himself! How dare you say I am unfit for the throne—what crime is this!”

Zhao Yixiao noticed the growing amusement at the corners of Beigong Qiyi’s mouth and shook his head helplessly. Elder Brother, I’ve done all I can. If you insist on courting disaster, you have only yourself to blame…

“The Crown Prince is already thinking of usurping his father’s throne before the Emperor is even dead—what crime is that?” Beigong Qiyi’s voice was icy. At these words, Zhao Qian suddenly realized the gravity of what he’d said, panic-stricken, “Nonsense! You misled me! It’s all your fault!”

Beigong Qiyi sat beside Beigong Juechen, who had been watching the spectacle in silence. He smoothed his robes unhurriedly and said, “Perhaps you should repeat those words to the Emperor himself, Crown Prince, and see if he believes you.”

Zhao Qian’s arrogance vanished. The Pear Garden was full of spies; before long, the Emperor would surely hear what had been said. Zhao Qian grabbed Zhao Yixiao’s sleeve, pleading, “Second Brother, you have to vouch for me! He tricked me into saying those things!”

Zhao Yixiao gently pried his hand away and smiled lightly, “Elder Brother, this isn’t a matter of testimony. The Emperor is the sovereign—what he fears most is usurpation. Even if I vouch for you, once he’s suspicious, there’s no dispelling it.”

“You—you’re all colluding to trap me! My father loves me dearly; he won’t believe you!” With that, he shoved Zhao Yixiao aside and fled in a panic.

The room settled into silence once more. Zhao Yixiao turned and smiled, “Thank you, Young Master.”

A thunderous cheer rose from the main hall below. Beigong Juechen lounged comfortably in his chair and pointed at the stage, his voice low, “The main act is about to begin.”

Beigong Qiyi glanced at Zhao Yixiao, then fixed his gaze on the stage below. The view from the private room was excellent; every movement on the stage was clear. Zhao Yixiao, still unsettled, sat beside them. That last glance from Beigong Qiyi had sent chills down his spine.

He felt as though thorns pricked his back, as though he sat on pins and needles.

The actors onstage were singing their arias. Suddenly, Beigong Qiyi remembered a line from a play he had seen in his past life: “A lifetime means a lifetime—if it’s a year, a month, a day, or even an hour less, it is not a lifetime.”

Beigong Juechen turned and looked at him, the dim light carving the young man’s flawless face into sharp relief. He frowned slightly and asked in a low voice, “What did you just say?”

Beigong Qiyi, coming back to himself, smiled, “Nothing. I just remembered a play I once saw, and thinking of it now, I feel a sense of regret.”

“Regret?” Beigong Juechen arched an eyebrow. “What is there to regret?”

The light in the private room dimmed even further. Beigong Qiyi studied the man’s features and laughed softly, “Because that play was about the true Consort Yu and a false Overlord.”

Beigong Juechen looked puzzled. The young man lowered his head and gently took the man’s hand. “A smile lasts for all eternity; a single tear brings endless sorrow. This scene belongs to you alone; no one else could play this role so well.”

Beigong Juechen turned his gaze back to the stage, where Consort Yu was slowly embracing the Overlord. He said quietly, “Let’s watch the play.”

Heaven-defying strength, unmatched spirit.
But fortune is fickle; the steed will not run.
If the steed will not run, what can be done?
Yu, oh Yu, what will become of us?

“Consort! Quickly, escape through the siege with me!”

“My lord, how could I bear to burden you? So be it!”

“Ah.”

Onstage, Consort Yu drew the Overlord’s sword and placed it to her neck. “Let me use your sword, my lord, to end my life before you, in gratitude for all your kindness!”

“My beloved, you mustn’t!”

“The Han army has taken the land; we are surrounded on all sides.”

“Oh!”

“The king’s spirit is spent—”

“This—”

“What use is it for your lowly concubine to live?”

“No, no, you mustn’t! Never!”

“My lord!” Consort Yu called out passionately, then cut her own throat and fell slowly to the ground.

“Ah! My love!”

As the performance ended, applause thundered through the hall. Xiao Lian’er stood up from the Overlord’s arms and smiled slowly toward a spot on the second floor. Beigong Qiyi narrowed his eyes, then turned away in boredom to speak to the man beside him. “The singing was nothing special.”

Beigong Juechen shifted lazily and said with a half-smile, “I’m not much for opera. Why doesn’t the Second Prince offer his opinion—how was today’s performance?”

Zhao Yixiao looked at the two, then answered thoughtfully, “Since the Young Master is the one listening, if he says it was good, then it was good. If he says it was poor, then no matter how well it was sung, it was still poor. Wouldn’t you agree, Young Master?”

Beigong Juechen smiled faintly and nodded. “You’re absolutely right, Second Prince.”

At that moment, the curtain of the private room was lifted again, and a commotion reached their ears. Beigong Juechen’s brows knit together, when a clear, bell-like voice rang out, “None of you may enter.” The din subsided, and a man slowly approached the three.

His makeup was not yet completely removed, lending his face a bewitching allure. Yet his eyes were bright and proud—not the eyes of a mere actor, but of a scion from a noble family. He bowed slightly to Beigong Qiyi and said softly, “Young Master, I hope you are well.”

Beigong Qiyi’s expression was unreadable. Xiao Lian’er’s smile didn’t falter as he bowed to Zhao Yixiao and then glanced at Beigong Juechen. “And this is?”

Beigong Qiyi replied coldly, “My elder brother.”

“So, the Master of Beigong Manor.” Though the man before him held power surpassing even the emperor’s, Xiao Lian’er’s composure did not waver. Beigong Juechen nodded slightly—pride was well and good, but when one’s fate was as fragile as paper, it was of little use. He glanced at Beigong Qiyi and asked, “Do you know each other?”

Xiao Lian’er smiled faintly. “The Young Master has listened to me sing a few times…”

“It was but a fleeting acquaintance,” Beigong Qiyi interjected before he could finish. Xiao Lian’er’s smile froze at his lips. Beigong Juechen looked on with a hint of amusement. “I hadn’t thought you enjoyed opera.”

Beigong Qiyi reached out to adjust the man’s cloak, which had come loose, and chuckled, “It’s just something to pass the time now and then.”

Watching their easy interaction, Xiao Lian’er bit his lower lip. “Forgive me for interrupting today, Young Master. If you return another day, I will perform my best piece as an apology.”

Beigong Qiyi, having finished straightening the man’s collar, replied offhandedly, “What is your best piece?”

Without looking up, Xiao Lian’er’s face lost its composed coolness. He glared at the youth, his tone stiff.

At last withdrawing his hand from the man, Beigong Qiyi said indifferently, “There’s no need.”

Xiao Lian’er’s face turned ashen. “Why not?”

Beigong Qiyi looked at Beigong Juechen and sighed with a faint smile. “Because there will never be a consort more beautiful than him.”

Beigong Juechen’s expression grew cold. He shot Beigong Qiyi a frosty glance and turned away without a word.

Xiao Lian’er threw Beigong Qiyi a resentful glare, snorted, and left. Zhao Yixiao clapped Beigong Qiyi on the shoulder and teased, “The Young Master is quite lucky in love.”

Beigong Qiyi brushed his hand away and sneered, “Unfortunately, if I were the Overlord of Chu, he would not be my Consort Yu. If I were Emperor Xuanzong, he would not be my Lady Yang.”

“Then who is your Consort Yu or Lady Yang, Young Master?” Zhao Yixiao pressed, stealing a glance at Beigong Juechen. Beigong Qiyi answered coldly, “What business is it of yours?”

Zhao Yixiao scratched his nose awkwardly and fell silent.

Beigong Juechen stood and said quietly, “It’s getting late, Second Prince. You should return.”

Zhao Yixiao nodded and smiled. “Time truly flies in such company. You’re right, it’s late. I’ll take my leave.”

Author’s note: Ah, I too am very fond of elder brothers…