Sincerely Yours

AN: Hey guys! Sorry for not updating any sooner, but I finished The Heist and took a break. As I said in my last author's note in The Heist, I am also starting my own personal project, and so I started a bit of research for that. Coming back to this story, however, I realized that I sort of lost the thread of the story and had to start over again based on the first chapter I already wrote. Not to worry, I think I still have a gist of the idea that prompted this fanfiction.

Lan Fan clutched the letter, unsure of what to make of it. At first, she was overcome with a sense of confusion and denial. A person from the border of the badlands? Writing a letter to her, simply to thank her for merely doing what she was paid to do? It was a little far-fetched. Nobody ever thanked the emperor's guards. Besides, should anyone find themselves beholden to a saviour, they should address their gratitude to the emperor himself. After all, how many emperors had instructed their own bodyguards and warriors to protect other people rather than himself? Possibly only half of the emperors to ever grace the Imperial records.

No, no. If anyone deserved thanks, it would be Emperor Ling. This person, although he meant well, was probably just a little overcome with emotions. Lan Fan knew what it felt like to owe someone her life. She could sympathize. But she also knew that the gratitude was misplaced.

She was about to head over to her small wooden desk at the corner of her room, intending to answer the person's letter, when another thought occurred to her – one that sent a new wave of overpowering emotions through her again.

Perhaps this was nothing but a prank.

A carefully crafted prank to emphasize her state of dismissal!

The thought made little sense to her, but so did the petty court intrigue that peppered the palace. All she knew was that there were people malicious enough to use her lieu as a pointed insult to her abilities at protecting the king. This letter could be a manifestation of that!

Lan Fan huffed with indignation, crumpling the letter in her hand. Well... better jokes had been performed under her watch than a seemingly innocuous letter from a secret admirer. Surely, she thought, nobody would have thought that a prank like this could get the better of her.

Instead of completing her track to her desk, she turned around towards the waste bin by her door. She casually dropped the letter in it, and only when she was about to head back to her bed did another thought stop her.

What if it was a trap? The skirmish in the badlands had been pacified only recently even though the rebels' leader had already been captured. But there was still a lingering animosity among the people. What if they were planning yet another uprising against the capital? And this was their way of trying to prod for more information? Didn't the emperor mention that the mastermind behind the last attack had supposedly mobilized it through the means of letters? And now what if they were trying to glean for important information about the emperor by targeting her, the closest one to him?

Lan Fan spun back around and lunged for the waste bin, her hand closing around the crumpled piece of paper. She may be paranoid, but if it meant saving the king's life, then she couldn't afford to be careless. Whatever this thing was, it could be a vital piece of a brewing political intrigue, and she would be a fool to just discard it. Tomorrow, she would present it to the king and ask what he thought.

She unfolded the ball of paper, trying to smooth out the creases. Strange that two paragraphs of words could make such a wide range of thoughts zip through her head. But nothing was safe anymore. The king was practically a walking-talking "Kill Me" sign these days, and she couldn't afford to be any less vigilant than she was now, especially when her lieu had sparked a new flare of rumours that she was deteriorating. She wasn't as well versed in the intricacies of politics as Emperor Ling was, so she knew that he would know more about what to do with this strange, mysterious letter.

-o-

Ling was yawning by the time the last supplicant had left, even though it wasn't noon yet. In his private meeting room, he granted audience to commoners who wanted to request something without the bustles of the courtroom where nobles were free to watch and gossip. Jung-woo, Lan Fan's cousin, stood among the shadows of the curtains, watching the coming and going of the peasants with a keen eye. As soon as the last man disappeared behind the door escorted by a steward, Ling leaned back against his chair and heaved a sigh. He took the heavy gilded crown off his head, placed it on top of his desk and rubbed his aching temples. He was about to gather his papers up to head for the dining room, when the steward knocked shyly against his door.

"Your Imperial Majesty," the old, gangly man said. "There is another supplicant who wishes to see you. Should I tell her to come back tomorrow?"

Ling hastily grabbed for the crown he'd had discarded, and settled it clumsily over his braided hair. Brushing aside the bangs that blocked his view, he straightened in his seat to answer the steward. "No, no, let her in. I might as well see to her. My food can wait, but I doubt it is the same case for everyone else."

The person who entered, however, was no peasant nor commoner. The steward had invited in Lan Fan. She was out of her uniform, and she came with her head bowed in deference. It took a while for Ling to shake off his surprise. Lan Fan's visit was unexpected. As was the strong tug of pleasure he received from it.

"What brings you here?" he asked, his lips tugging into a small smile.

She straightened from her bow, and held out a piece of envelope to him. Ling's heart almost stopped, as his eyes surveyed the familiar wrappings of the letter he'd sent her only yesterday. The lines of the calligraphy for her name were written in a forced slanted penmanship that he'd hoped would not resemble his own. His heart thudded in his chest, wondering if she had discovered it was him who wrote it.

"I received this mysterious letter last night, your Majesty," Lan Fan replied. "I believe it would be best if your Majesty reads it to ensure there is no trace of duplicity in it."

Ling almost choked. Written in that letter was his last desperate attempt to salvage their friendship, and she was suspicious of it!

Oh Lan Fan... but he supposed it was in her nature to be like that. He could only shake his head with an exasperated fondness, but stopped himself before she saw his reaction. Clearing his throat, he had no choice but to reach for the letter from her outstretched hand. He peeled the envelope away and read the contents of the letter, which he'd somehow memorized by now considering the number of times he went over it before sending it the previous night.

Slowly, he gave it back to her, trying his best to assume a nonchalant expression. "Well, it doesn't seem like it's dangerous. Poor guy simply wants to thank you for saving his life."

Lan Fan blinked owlishly at the letter. "I see... but this part here, where he admits he's from the village on the border of the badlands, do you not find that worrisome?"

Ling was taken aback. "Why would I?"

A small blush crept over her cheeks. She was clearly flustered. "Oh! See, I just thought it was odd that someone would try to contact me as soon as the rebels in the badlands have been captured. Almost as if they're trying desperately to fish for information."

"Oh... is that what you think?" he replied, trying to shield his voice from the anxiety that suddenly gripped him.

She gasped and waved her hands in front of her in defense. "I mean it's certainly plausible! Especially with the way he introduced himself! 'I am no one of great importance,' he says. But would someone not important really highlight that part? My gut feeling tells me that whoever wrote this letter truly is important in one way or another, and yet he somehow wants to appear harmless."

Ling gulped, finally realizing how sharp Lan Fan's intuition really was – the very instincts that she used to keep him safe may now also keep him from executing even the most subtle form of communication with her that he could think of.

Damn, why was Lan Fan so smart?

He had to tread carefully here. He didn't want to end up insinuating that she should answer the letter, because then she would only be doing it not of her own free will, but because she thought that he wanted her to. No, he had to pacify her doubts only enough to give her the choice to answer. He couldn't steer her one way or the other.

"The village at the border housed over two hundred people," he began cautiously. "And when the rebels decided to pounce, it was you who kept the first wave back from penetrating the village, and then you helped lead them away from it. Isn't it possible that one of the two hundred really owed their life to you and felt grateful?"

He watched as Lan Fan listened to his explanation, and the knot of worry between her brows eased as she seemed to contemplate his words. "It's possible, your Majesty. I guess it's only difficult for me to believe that someone would have thought to thank me personally, and even to solicit a response..."

Ling lifted one shoulder in a mild shrug. "Some people have the strange audacity to approach their betters."

The pink dusting on her cheeks returned. "Ah, I wouldn't call myself their better," she mumbled humbly.

Ling smiled at her. "I don't get any malicious vibes from the letter. Do with it as you please."

Lan Fan bowed once, seemingly appeased by his judgment. Ling tucked his uncharacteristically sweaty hands in his pockets, and watched as she allowed herself to be escorted out of his room. When she was gone, he let out a sigh of relief. What a close call! His plan could have been over before it even really began!

Taking a few moments to collect himself, Ling gathered up his things slowly. Yesterday when he came up with the idea of the letter, he thought it was ingenious in its simplicity! And yet now only a day later, there were already some unexpected developments. Ah well, he would wait and see how things turned out. He couldn't let this little hiccup in his plan prevent him from going through with it, especially if it actually worked. If Lan Fan began to open up to him through those letters, he would consider it a magnanimous success, worth all the stress in the world.

-o-

Lan Fan decided to wait for the person's second letter, the one he said he would write just in case the first one did not reach her. She needed to get a better sense of him. The king didn't feel anything sinister, but situations concerning people she didn't know still warranted caution, and it was her duty to exercise it.

It was not that she did not trust her lord. No, no! She trusted him with everything she had. It was this other person she couldn't trust. She just couldn't shake off the feeling that he wasn't who he seemed to be.

In any case, should the second letter reveal anything that did not align with what had already been established in the first letter, well then Lan Fan would have her answer once and for all.

Two more days passed without any incidence. Lan Fan found that waiting to get back to her duty was somehow more bearable when she was also waiting for something else. There was one more day of her lieu left, but the letter was due to come tonight.

An hour after dinner, the servant who was assigned to clean her room brought her the new letter. She waited until she was alone in the safety of her closed chambers, before opening it and reading it.

Dear High Guard,

I wrote a letter to you three days ago, but I am afraid that you might not have received it. I sincerely hope my boldness does not alarm you. I am just a simple young man whose life you have saved in the skirmishes along the badlands' border almost two weeks before. I wish to take this opportunity, in the form of a letter, to thank you with all my heart for the great service you have done me.

In my previous letter, I requested that you kindly respond to me to let me know that my letter has arrived safely in your hands. However, I do understand if you do not wish to reciprocate the correspondence – I shall merely have to trust in whatever good fortune I have that you've come to know of my deep gratitude.

Once again, thank you.

Sincerely Yours

P.S. I know I said you didn't have to write back, but it would make my day week if you did. (Pretty please?)

Alright. That did it. Lan Fan folded the letter back neatly, and headed straight to her desk, where a short stack of paper rested beside a stone inkwell. This second letter barely gave her any additional insight into this mysterious writer. For all she knew, he could still be a prankster, a rebel, or simply insane! It was clear she was not going to get answers to the questions she had, unless she specifically asked for them.

And that was what she intended to do.

Hello, she began to write. She contemplated for a second what she ought to call him, and felt a little spark of irritation when she realized that his letters weren't even signed with a name or any other form of appellation. And so, she left the salutation at that, and simply went straight to the bulk of her letter.

Who are you really and what do you want? If all you wish to do is thank me, then I assure you you have done it twice already. I don't know what good any further correspondence between us would do, and it makes me just a little wary that you are requesting it...

-o-

...If you really are just a peasant from the border of the badlands, then how can you read and write? Why are you so afraid to reveal your name? More importantly, if you live by the border, how are you able to get your letters to me quickly? Did you move to the capital? Are you sending mail by alchemy? I find this entire business highly suspect!

No kidding, Ling gulped.

How do you even have access to the garden in the East Wing of the palace? Ling continued to read. From the details of both your letters, it seems more to me that you are a young noble prone to the urges of a good joke with too much time on his hands. Either that, or you have an accomplice with access to the palace.

I will, however, give you the benefit of the doubt at the moment. Let's say you are a nice, young man from the border, and you feel indebted to me because I saved you. Well, you are very much welcome. I am relieved and humbled to hear that my service to my master and my clan has benefited others as well. Thank you for letting me know. As a token, here's my advice to you:

The atmosphere of the court is treacherous and hostile. In some ways, it is not that different from the badlands you say you are from. And while your land may be vulnerable to bandits and rebels, the court is vulnerable to intrigue and lies. So as you can see, I have every real reason to find your letters threatening to the safety and peace I work so hard to maintain around my lord.

And so, my nameless thanker, I shall leave you with the opportunity to explain yourself.

The High Guard

It took a few seconds for the numbness in Ling's mind to dissipate before he was able to feel the rush of grave disappointment. It hit him so hard all he could do was throw himself face down on his bed. Even the soft, supple sheets could not muffle entirely the haggard wail that pushed its way out of his mouth.

This was like getting hate mail! Even worse!

What happened? He thought he'd already addressed Lan Fan's concerns when she went to him the other day. Hence he was so elated when he had sneaked out into the gardens just a moment ago, and found a letter in the stone recess by the hibiscus flowers – a letter that emerged mere hours after he'd sent his own. She'd responded so quickly, that he had thought he would find her an enthusiastic and willing pen pal.

But the only enthusiasm she'd shown here was in grilling him.

Ling allowed himself the luxury of a long, pained groan. Just to get the frustration out.

It didn't mean he was going to give up.

Pushing himself from his bed, he looked at the letter again. At the very bottom, she said she wanted him to explain. She didn't say that she wanted him to stop writing to her. As long as the chance wasn't closed to him, he had to continue trying.

If an explanation was what she wanted, then that was what he was going to give her. He went to the small table he kept by his bed, and began scribbling.

Dear High Guard,

I understand that there has been a grave misunderstanding. I sincerely apologize! In my haste to deliver my message, I have been reckless in failing to provide a good impression of myself.

It is true that I met you at the border in the East. But I do not live there. I am a traveling scribe who makes his penny by assisting those who are illiterate. Sometimes I am hired to write formal requests to officials and then to read their responses back to the villagers. I travel all over Xing doing this. And yes, I am now in back in the capital for only a few days. I have returned to ensure that my ailing father and my aging mother are comfortable.

I am truly sorry that I have aggrieved you when I decided not to include my name. As someone whose standing is not so great, I had assumed my name did not matter. Many officials to whom I address the peasants' letters never wished to know who was writing, only the location of the village and perhaps the clans who are associated. But never personal names. I can see now that my assumption was wrong. And that somehow has increased my opinion of you even more! How humble and kind you are for asking my name!

Ling paused, contemplating how he should address the part of her letter that talked about the court. A traveling scribe might not know too much about the workings of the court, but he could not appear to be too ignorant either. After all, he'd already confessed that he read and wrote letters to officials, and so as a liaison between peasants and those of higher rank, he should have at least some insight about the most basic function of the court. In the end, he decided instead to just comment on the emotional baggage.

Oh dear, I did not realize how harrowing it must be to live in a place where friends are few and foes are plenty. And not to know which from which makes it even worse! I understand that no words of mine could ever pacify your doubts, and I also don't have the right to ask you to trust me completely. The safety and the well-being of the emperor rests on your vigilance, and what a lucky man he must be. Still, I'll have you know that in me, you will find a friend.

Sincerely Yours

Ling racked his brain for a name that he could use. After some deliberation, he settled for the simplest, most inconspicuous name he could think of.

Xiǎo Fángzi, the traveling scribe

P.S. I will soon begin my journey again to a village in the west. I will tell my friend who serves in the palace kitchens to look for your response in the East Garden. And she will also put my subsequent letters there where you can find them. I hope I did not endanger you by having my letters sent to you directly these past few times!

Ling exhaled, then re-read his letter several times. It was now past midnight. He entertained the thought of getting the letter delivered to Lan Fan by morning, but quickly changed his mind. He'd been quite stealthy in dropping the past letters among the things to be delivered to Lan Fan without it being traced back to him, but it was much better if he could eliminate the possibility of having a go-betweener at all. This one would be the last letter to arrive in her hands through a servant, and hopefully if Lan Fan decided she'd like to continue writing to him, he can take the letter himself from the garden.

Besides, if he sent it now, it would only add to her suspicion. For a scribe to have been able to obtain her letter and write back in a matter of hours, that would speak volumes. Not the least of which was that he was desperate enough to look so soon after sending his letter. Eh... there was no helping it. No matter how impatient he felt, Ling would just have to wait a few days.

-o-

The day Lan Fan finally resumed her post, it was like slipping back into a comfortable set of clothes that fit her perfectly. Behind her mask, she couldn't help but smile a little.

But though she was refreshed and happy to be back, sometimes she found her mind wandering to the enigmatic writer of her letters. Especially because in the meeting in which she was currently guarding the emperor, the case of the badland rebels was yet again the topic being discussed. She listened intently as they debated the whereabouts of the other rebels.

"I don't know what's with all this dilly-dallying," barked one clan representative. "We should have sacked the entire village a week ago! And yet here we are, sitting around and talking about where the rebels might be, instead of actually sniffing them out!"

"We can't just accuse the entire village of housing rebels," Emperor Ling responded calmly but firmly. "Those villagers were the victims of the rebels, not accomplices. We'd be wasting our time barking up the wrong tree."

"It doesn't matter if they were willing to cooperate or not!" the representative said. "The rebels are violent. And poor people are cowards. All the rebels have to do is threaten them, and they'd be willing to hide those dirty little upstarts!"

"There hasn't been any rebellious activity since we've captured the leader," the Master of Domestic Affairs tried to reason out. "Applying harsh measures like that would instill unnecessary fear in the population!"

"And what do you propose then? Wait until there is activity and people get hurt?"

"No, but what you are saying is akin to evacuating a perfectly intact building because you believe it might catch fire."

"No, what I'm saying is to destroy any fire hazards before they even have a chance to cause harm!"

"Alright, alright, let's take it back to square one," Ling said, waving his hands to calm down the men. "I think we all agree that we don't want fire. But I do agree with the Master of Domestic Affairs that targeting the villages at the border does not seem like the first move we should make. Perhaps, if we exhaust all the alternatives, we can reconsider. For now, we need to double our efforts combing through the northern side of the badlands where there have been reports of small camps."

"We're wasting our time!"

"This is my decision," Ling stated in a voice that didn't warrant argument. "There is no proof that the villagers have conspired with them. What we do have a lead on is the presence of armed men in the northern stretches. I can't let paranoia sway me when the proof is before my eyes."

Lan Fan watched the representative sulk in his corner of the long table. But he didn't press his arguments anymore, and the meeting finished soon enough. The emperor left the room and headed for his private apartments, where he sent for a couple of servants; one to fetch his lunch and the other to tell the court that he would be eating alone in his rooms.

When lunch was brought in and prepared on the his table, the emperor waved the servants away from the room, and settled down to begin eating. But before he started, he sent her an inviting smile.

"Lan Fan, would you like to eat with me?"

Surprised, Lan Fan couldn't think of whether she should accept or not. She couldn't sense anyone's chi nearby, but just because they were alone it didn't mean it was any less a breach in propriety, right?

The king sighed, and his smile wavered a little. "Please, come. Eat with me," he said, and she detected a hint of sadness in his voice that she couldn't quite understand. It was lunch. Why was her lord sad?

She came to sit beside him, and was about to pick out her food, when the king beat her to it. Slowly, he began to pile food up on a plate and settled it in front of her. He gave her a gentle smile. "How was your break?"

"Oh, uhm. It was alright, your Majesty," Lan Fan responded, feeling a little awkward. "I got to rest well."

"That is good to hear," the king said. He finished scooping rice on his plate, and began to eat heartily. In between mouthfuls, he managed to continue the conversation. "Did you figure out what to do with that letter you showed me?"

Lan Fan's mouth twisted into a slight grimace. Truth be told, it kind of annoyed her that she hadn't heard back from the nameless writer. She wanted answers so badly.

"I wrote to him," she answered him finally. She could feel his eyes on her, intent and searching, and it made her feel warm and shy. She looked down at her plate. "He hasn't written back yet."

"I see."

It was strange to talk to the king about an experience she didn't share with him. So much of her daily life revolved around him, and excepting the last few days when she was on her lieu, she was always with him. But she now realized that these letters have become one of the few things that was hers alone, something that she could share with the emperor as much as she wanted, but ultimately was not really an experience with him.

It felt so foreign.

"Would you like to read them?" she offered.

He coughed on the soup he was sipping. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he shook his head vigorously. "No, no. You don't have to show me! Really, those are private letters I'm sure. Whoever this guy is surely wouldn't have wanted you to flaunt his letters to other people."

"Oh," Lan Fan said. "Okay then."

They continued to eat in silence for a while. Then she asked, "Do you think I should find him?"

The king paused, chopsticks hovering over some grilled chicken. "Find who?"

"This person who writes to me."

The king's eyes were wide. "Uh, well it's up to you," he answered. He shook his head slightly as if knocking himself out of some kind of shock. "You seem pretty invested in this guy of yours. Is he a real knocker?"

"Ah, it's nothing like that!" Lan Fan denied vehemently. Why would the king even insinuate such a thing? He knew she was wary of this writer. Blushing, Lan Fan focused her attention on her food. "I just want to make sure he can be trusted."

The Emperor continued to eat quietly after that, barely talking anymore. A few times he just gave her a reassuring smile and urged her to eat more. But other than that, he didn't bring up the topic of the writer again or even talked about other things. Bothered, Lan Fan was left to wonder what it was she said that could have caused his Majesty to retreat into silence.

Hold on... did he think that she was allotting too much attention on these letters? Was he afraid that it was distracting her from her duty?

No, she couldn't let him think that. It wasn't true!

"Your Majesty, these letters are not that important to me," she blurted, turning to him. He looked back at her with the same shock expression he gave her before. "Please don't think that I'm going to let them take my attention away from you."

"Oh Lan Fan," the king said. "I wasn't thinking that at all." He seemed to search for words to say to her. Then he gave an almost sad laugh. "It's strange that we always end up with some kind of minor misunderstanding. I sincerely apologize!" He let out a long sigh. "Why don't you try treating this as if it's not going to affect me or the throne or the petty politics here at court? If you want to write to this guy, try not to worry too much. And if you don't want to write to him, then you can let it go without feeling guilty that you somehow neglected your duty by failing to find out too much about him."

Listening to him, Lan Fan realized that she never even considered the possibility that this really could be unrelated to politics. Always, the emperor's title and position influenced everything she did; her own rank and image affected the way people saw and treated her. Did there really exist a circumstance that was totally divorced from the politics that permeated every other aspect of her life?

"Anyway, just think about it on your own time, and don't rush," the king continued. "This is truly your decision to make."

The warmth and kindness in his advice were what finally convinced her. When she and the king finally finished their lunch and moved on to other meetings and tasks, her mind was less prone to wandering about the letters and what she ought to do about them.

The reply to the letter she sent came almost a week later. And when she read it, she tried not to over-think every single word written on the page. When she read it in that light, this Fángzi seemed pretty harmless. Audacious, of course – it still took some guts to do such an uncommon thing as initiate a correspondence with the emperor's High Guard, but now he appeared less duplicitous. A traveling scribe was a growing profession among young people who did not have the privileges of a high station, but were from families who could afford to have their children educated. The fact that one was in the village during the attack was not difficult to believe. She was not surprised to know that he was friends with someone who worked in the palace. For a moment, Lan Fan thought about searching for this servant who helped deliver the letters between the two of them, but on second thought, she decided it was probably better off if she involved very few people in this odd setup. After all, servants were sometimes ordered to do things they didn't know much about, so it was possible that the worker might not even know what kind of letter she was picking up from the garden.

Lan Fan decided to be much more cordial when she devised her response.

Hello Xiao Fangzi,

Thank you for your explanation. I really appreciate that. And I would like to reassure you that your gratitude is well-received. I suppose scribes like yourself don't see much action all that often, do you? Well, how are you now? I hope that the attack on the village didn't leave you too hurt. But I suppose if you are ready to travel west, then you must be doing quite all right.

Yes, you are correct that court life can be pretty fickle. His Imperial Majesty handles it much better than I do. He is intelligent and knowledgeable. I am honoured to serve him, truly.

Well, I suppose this is all I can write. I can't think of anything else to say.

Sincerely,

The High Guard

With that, Lan Fan waited until the hour before dawn – the quietest, deadest part of the night – to make the trip to the East Garden. There, she tucked the letter behind the hibiscus bushes in a small alcove on the wall.

-o-

Ling could hardly wait to open the letter. However, he barely had any time to check the garden, snatch the envelope, and return back in time for breakfast where he was joined by his mother.

"How are you, my son?" she asked, wolfing down a bean pastry.

"Doing well, mother," he answered as he took a seat across from her. He poured still steaming tea into his cup.

His mother narrowed amused eyes at him. "You are up to something."

He smiled at her, eyes wide with mock innocence. "What do you mean? I'm the emperor! I am always up to something."

She grinned wolfishly. "I like that. So," she said, as she reached for another pastry. "Who is it?"

That got Ling's attention. "Who's what?"

"Oh come on, Ling! You come waltzing here smelling like hibiscus and plum blossoms. So unless you've taken a fancy to floral-scented perfume, I'm guessing you had a rendezvous in the garden by the East Wing. So who was it?"

Ling waved his hand at her dismissively. "Please! A man doesn't need to be with someone to enjoy the garden, does he?"

His mother quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "Alright, who am I to question the king? But if you really want to continue to avoid the subject of royal marriage, I suggest you don't let any of your advisers see you frolicking like that."

Ling couldn't suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "I don't even know what the hurry is! I'm eighteen! One would think ladies of the court are above robbing the cradle!"

"Ha! Ladies of the court prefer young and virile men. Trust me, power and influence can only do so much to an old, wrinkly relic."

"They should at least wait until I'm in my twenties, when I am broader and can actually fill out an armour."

His mother rubbed pastry crumbs from her hands. She took her cup of tea, and before sipping, looked at him over the rim. "I don't want to know if you meant that literally or as a euphemism."

"Ew, mother! I'd never talk about that with you."

After they finished breakfast, his mother went off to attend to her own duties with her ladies-in-waiting trailing her. Ling was escorted to the throne room, where he was to begin a new session of hearings. He was hoping he could sneak a moment to read the letter, but before he found the opportunity, he felt the telltale signs of Lan Fan's chi permeating the energy waves around him, indicating that the guard shifts had changed. Damn it. She would see for sure if he was reading a letter, and that would end it all.

Lan Fan's shift was from 8 in the morning until midnight. And so even when he'd slipped into bed a little after 11, he still couldn't risk reading the letter. In the shadows, he wasn't entirely sure where Lan Fan was, and she moved about silently from time to time. All he could feel was the warm, familiar pleasure of her chi, which at any other time would have lulled him comfortably into a deep slumber. Not this time. Ling was racked with impatience.

Before Lan Fan's shift ended, she came close to his bed, hidden behind the canopy, and whispered in a soft voice. "You seem troubled, your Majesty. I hope you will be able to get some sleep eventually."

"Thank you, Lan Fan. I'm okay. Sleep is just being annoyingly evasive tonight."

Then she finally left, and a new guard replaced her.

Almost screaming with joy, Ling lunged for the small flashlight on his bedside table. Fishing for the letter in his pocket, he ripped the envelope open and extracted the folded paper from inside. Throwing his sheets over his head so that he was covered completely, he opened the flashlight and pointed it on the page.

He read the letter twice – no, three times, before burying his face in his pillows, overcome with feelings.

What was this? All this praise for the emperor? Was she trying to appear dutiful and loyal to Fangzi, or did she truly think he handled court intrigue with aplomb? It couldn't be; he made a large fool of himself so many times! Ling lifted his head from his pillows and ran his eyes over the sentences again.

The emperor handles it much better than I do, she said.

No, he didn't! She, on the other hand, was so graceful, sometimes he was jealous of her.

Intelligent... knowledgeable...

He tried to be. Of course, he tried. Did she really think of him like that? It was flattering. But it wasn't like she would just start complaining about the king to a stranger either anyway. Abruptly, he threw the sheets covering him, and decided to answer the letter right then and there. The new guard would just think he was taking care of some administrative stuff.

Settling himself on a table, he took a sheet of paper and a pen, and began writing the response.

Dearest High Guard,

You are quite right that a scribe like me does not often partake in the kind of fights that occurred when we met. To be completely honest, the only battle I had ever been in is a food battle! I had accepted a challenge on who could eat the most number of dumplings the fastest. You could say that ultimately I lost. I managed to get first place, but I ended up ill later that day. Have I ever told you how much I love food? I believe I made a mention of it in my first letter. How about you? What is your favourite food?

You sound like you enjoy your job then. It must be nice to work for someone you think so highly of. I wish I could say the same, but sometimes my job can be unrewarding! Many times I've narrowly escaped a situation that can only be succinctly described as "Shoot the messenger!" When people don't like to hear the news you have to deliver, sometimes they think it's your fault!

Still, to read and write for a living is a simple, honest occupation. There's also sufficient demand for my skills that I don't have to worry about going hungry. At least not any time soon. That's not to say however that I would be opposed to the education of the common people. It's true that I would lose my job, but think of how many more would open if so many people could be better engaged in administrating their own lives?

Ah, but I'm talking nonsense here. Please, don't mind my blabbering too much. It's rare that I get to read and write letters to an interesting person of my choice about any topic I wish! Thank you for providing me with such a refreshing respite!

Sincerely Yours,

Xiao Fangzi, the traveling scribe

-o-

Lan Fan suspected that the village in the west where Fangzi was currently working wasn't that far from the capital. They were able to write to each other with only a few days in between the arrival of each letter.

Hi Fangzi,

It appears that love for food is something that we have in common! I'm afraid I've never been in a food battle, but I do love to eat almost anything! I'm not picky at all. I guess it comes with my job. One can't afford to be picky when your life hangs on the balance.

Lan Fan wondered whether she should relate an incidence about the emperor, but decided that it would not be very polite if she talked about him behind his back. So in the end, she didn't mention the emperor, but told the story in vague terms.

You remind me of something that happened to a dear friend of mine. He never entered an official food contest (his strict mother does not allow him, hehe), but he often challenges himself to see how much food he can finish. One time he ate five steamed buns in less than 3 minutes! It would have been impressive if he had not come down with indigestion half-an-hour later!

I enjoy my job immensely. There's no greater honour than to serve the emperor. I wish I didn't sound like one of those pandering courtiers, but it really is difficult for me to talk about the king and my occupation. For the most part, I think it's because I can't find a way to put it into words. Maybe you won't understand. You are a writer after all. Putting things into words is your job.

I don't think it's nonsense that the common people should be better educated! If you don't mind, I will let the emperor know about your feelings. I am sure he will be delighted to hear that, since he also thinks that education will help our people prosper.

Until next letter,

The High Guard

P.S. It's getting a tad busy here at court, so my next response may be a bit delayed.

Fangzi's letter came a few days later. Lan Fan found that amidst the hubbub of politics, she was starting to look forward to the one thing where she didn't have to think about the things that were happening in the palace. And despite his slapdash schedule, the Emperor seems to be in a better mood lately, which just added to Lan Fan's own ease.

To the awesome High Guard, Lan Fan read. She indulged in an exasperated eye-roll. Nobody was here to see her anyway. It was almost three in the morning, and nobody would think of visiting the weapons storage room unless they were under attack. She really should be sleeping, but she didn't feel tired at all.

I do not envy your friend, Fangzi began. Indigestion is very uncomfortable. And his mother sounds like a wise woman. Food battles are not half as noble as real ones, and they don't give your family name nearly as much honour. I hope your friend listens often to his mother.

Please don't feel ashamed that there are things you can't describe. As a matter of fact, I'm certain that most people who work with words would agree that they can only go so far, that there are experiences for which we have not assigned a definitive label yet. And for what's it worth, I understand what you mean. Truly, I do. Even as a man trained to wield words, there are things I do not know how to say, and things that people say to me that I do not know how to interpret. And maybe it wouldn't cause me so much concern if it doesn't involve people I really care about.

Do you... do you ever wish you could tell someone something really important, but... you just can't? And it's not even just a matter of phrasing or finding the right moment. It's a matter of being physically and socially and spiritually unable to just say it? Please don't laugh! I know it may sound weird and ugly. I even gave it a weird and ugly name – verbal constipation!

Sincerely Yours,

Xiao Fangzi, the traveling and ever-hungry scribe

P.S. Good luck with matters of court! I hope you survive to write your next letter.

Lan Fan held the letter tightly at the edges, eyes roaming that third paragraph over and over again under the light of the moon. Yes! Yes, she had wished it so many times, and nobody had ever been able to describe that aching longing the same way that Fangzi had.

In a puzzling, serendipitous way, someone she barely knew had understood. She stood there by the window of the armory in stunned quietness. In an unexplainable way, she felt as if something had opened up in her, a fleeting sense of... companionship?

She shook her head. No, that couldn't be. She'd been writing to this Fangzi for only a few weeks. She hadn't even met the guy!

Still, she smoothed out the folds of the page, and re-read the letter with a small, unnoticed smile on her lips. She might not have known the traveling scribe for very long, but it didn't mean that their apparent similarity meant any less, did it? Especially when those who understood her were few and far between.

Glancing at the position of the moon, Lan Fan decided to slip back to her apartments to rest. She still didn't feel tired, especially now after reading Fangzi's latest letter. It filled her with a soft, warm buzz, a kind of energy that exuded peace and gentle giddiness. It was so unlike the usual kind of energy that filled her, one powered by a rush of adrenaline, and heightened her senses. It was too bad that she was so busy these days. For the first time, she wanted to tell him so many things.

-o-

When Ling woke up, the first thing he did was slip Lan Fan's letters from the bottom side of his pillow cover. He shrugged beneath his sheets, trying to burrow into them as comfortably as possible. He had written the night before in response to Lan Fan's most recent letter, which by far was the most interesting and expressive one she'd ever sent to him. Well, to Xiao Fangzi.

Quietly, he unfolded the letter, and read it again.

His favourite part was how many exclamation marks Lan Fan used in this letter. Exclamation marks! From Lan Fan, the girl who barely talked to him with any expression other than deference and obedience. Her first sentence had an exclamation mark! It meant, he thought, that Lan Fan was excited to find that she and Fangzi had the same attitude towards food. And look how zealously she confessed how much she loved food. Oh, he hadn't heard Lan Fan speak so eagerly about food for such a long time now.

And look! She even talked about him to Fangzi! Ling remembered clearly that time he tried to eat as many steamed buns as he could. Apparently she did too. And she referred to him as a 'dear friend of hers.' Ah. Rereading it gave him the same rush he'd felt when he first laid his eyes on this treasure of a letter. Swallowing a bubble of gleeful giggle, Ling avidly scanned the paragraph for the small laugh that Lan Fan had written. Ohh, that short 'hehe' was the closest thing he'd had to hearing her laugh in a long, long time. And the fact that it was written on paper with ink meant that it wasn't as ephemeral as an actual laugh. He could look back at it at any time, and in his imagination hear her laugh again and again.

Sighing, Ling snuggled the letter close to him. He took a real risk in the last letter he wrote. He tried to squeeze in a more personal angle in its content, a change in pace from the small talk they've exchanged so far. He was both thrilled and terrified thinking about what her reaction would be. He hoped she would not close up and distance herself again. They were making such good progress. He'd been right all along. He knew that she would be more comfortable displaying an air of camaraderie if she didn't think she was speaking to the emperor.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door of his apartments. Ling glanced at the clock stationed on top of his bedside table. It wasn't even 6 in the morning yet. He heard the muffled voice of his manservant as he answered the door. Whoever was on the other side sounded upset and out of breath. Slowly, Ling tucked the letter back beneath his pillow, and stood up from the bed.

A moment later, his manservant approached his bedroom door, and knocked quietly. Ling opened it.

"Your Majesty," the manservant said, bowing low. "A soldier from the barracks wishes to inform you that the leader of the rebellion in the badlands has escaped from prison!"

AN: Dun, dun, dun! We all know what's going to happen now, right? Heehee, thanks for reading!