65 The Imperial Study (2/2)

The eunuch turned to face him, and noting his grim expression, said, ”This is the Imperial Study. I may only take you this far and no further; wait here, and after your meeting someone will take you out of the palace.”

Rather than expressing interest, Ning Que folded his hands behind his back and strolled over to look at the curious flowers and exotic trees planted just before the building. Seeing a distant flower boat behind a row of willows, he strained to catch a glimpse of any palace maidens. When he suddenly heard the call of three words ”The Imperial Study!” he could not help but freeze slightly, and turn in shock towards the unassuming building behind him.

The most private place a man had was not his bedroom, but his study.

On a winter morning, there he may read banned books. At dusk in summer, there he may peruse erotica in the nude. On a warm spring afternoon, there he may write sultry love letters. On a late autumn night, there he may take a maiden in his arms and caress her.

Here there was no nagging, sallow wife, and no noisy children at play. Here all manner of private pleasures may be procured from scrolls of paper and ink and be brought to life by the light of the written word, and no one would bother you.

The emperor may be an emperor, but he was also a man, and the Imperial Study would naturally be his most private place. Who knew how many great deeds of history, and how many secret plots and schemes had been committed in the studies of kings and emperors. If a person was not among the emperor's most trusted men, or was a man being prepared to be given that trust, that man had no reason to be in the Imperial Study.

Wu Zetian had entered the Imperial Study, so did Zhang Juzheng, Wei Zhongxian, Wei Xiaobao, etc. Ning Que stared in stunned silence at the tightly locked door. How many great women, how many great (and castrated) worthies of the past had simply found themselves walking into that tiny room and suddenly shot like a meteor to the top of the world? Not in his wildest fantasies could he have imagined that this sort of opportunity would fall into his lap.

He had guessed last night that Chao Xiaoshu's backer had to be someone in the palace, and it seemed that person was likely His Majesty himself. However, idle speculation was one thing, whereas coming face to face with it was something else entirely. The struggling, drifting, destitute young man he had been for the last 16 years suddenly had found a chance to move up in the world. He could not help but be a little shocked.

”For the next one hour, no one comes here. If anyone asks, just answer according to what I told you, and say that it was Lu Ji who took you into the palace.”

With a heart full of heated emotion, Ning Que never noticed that the young eunuch had already quietly slipped away. When he came to his senses, he realized that not a soul was in sight in any direction around the Imperial Study.

Standing in the heart of such a strange and severe palace, without a single familiar face, the cool and comfortable library before him seemed to darken suddenly. Even a man as bold as he could not help but feel some slight discomfort. Standing there in front of the hall, he waited a moment and thought, ”Am I supposed to go in first?”

He and Sangsang had entered Chang'an like a couple of hicks, and had spent a long time staring up in wonder at the city. How much more so in this palace, where he had no idea of what rules to follow, and could only rely on common sense. Therefore, he coughed gently twice, gave a ceremonial bow with an enclosed fist to the door of the Imperial Study, then pushed the door and went in.

The idea that all water that flowed into the channel became reason was nonsense, of course; Ning Que simply wanted to go inside. For years now, the most important parts of his life had been dedicated to meditation and martial arts, particularly on the cultivation of calligraphy. An opportunity to enter something as precious as the Imperial Study did not come easily, and of course, he was eager to see this fabled room where countless priceless works by innumerable great masters were held. This desire was so strong that he completely forgot those so-called rules.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The first thing that caught his eye was the very tall row of bookshelves along the wall. The shelves were flat and perpendicular, and of a simple style, but the wood was clearly of the famously expensive Dongyu scented rosewood, reserved for the emperor's use. The books were packed tightly, almost overstuffed, and placed very unevenly, but each volume was a very expensive literary treasure.

On the reading table, there were a few sheets of blank paper, an ink brush that floated on top of the inkstone. Several other brush pens were making a mess on the pen holder; the paper was the finest budpaper made in Xuanzhou, while the pens were pure brushes from Hengdian, and the ink was Chenzhou pine ink. The inkstone was of Huangzhou mud; not a single one was less than the most precious of tributes.

If he were to take this fine calligraphy stationery to Lin 47th street, what riches could he sell them for? Ning Que stared at the four corners of the room. In the time when his brain had come up with this twisted scheme, his eye suddenly caught the calligraphy hanging from the three white walls of the room.

Seeing the vast range of works that had made it here to the heart of the palace, he was shocked, and began to slow down. His eyes would fall on this choice phrase or that one, or the smoothness and beauty of an authentic masterpiece, as well as the inscriptions and etchings. His right hand traced wildly in the air as he copied it, and his face was full of joy.

Circling before the desk, he looked down at the thick, inky letters on the paper, and could not help but frown. He murmured to himself, ”His Majesty is truly a man of taste, but the writing is really pitiful.”