The Foolish crown prince

The seventeenth year of Jiancheng, Qin Kingdom, Xianyang City.

Another day, another blunder in the East Palace. A young boy with silky, jet-black hair was kneeling outside a grand building made of red walls and green tiles. Above the entrance, a huge plaque with large characters spelling "Hall of Reflection" stood boldly on display. The cold stone floor beneath his knees was all too familiar.

"This is the third time this week," a soft, youthful, feminine voice said. The familiar, subtle fragrance of the many scented sachets crept into the lowered head on the ground, announcing the scheduled arrival and departure of dirty laundry.

"Do you think he's memorized every crack on the floor?" another energetic female voice asked.

"If he hasn't, he will soon."

They both erupted into soft giggles.

"I heard that it was Concubine Ming's necklace. He apparently 'borrowed' it for a courtesan in the city."

"What a disgrace... A crown prince sneaking into courtesan houses?"

"More like the foolish prince. Here he is again like clockwork. You'd think he enjoys this routine."

"Maybe he does."

They erupted into another round of giggles that soon faded the further they got through the winding pathways of the palace.

Zhao Mingyu was used to this kind of humiliation. Every other day, he was found in a new kind of trouble, and his exploits were delivered hand in hand with dirty clothes. Most of the palace staff, including maids, eunuchs, and other attendants, thrived on the foolish prince's escapades. He was the talk of the palace, and no one, including his own staff, gave him the respect he deserved—and he didn't care for it.

Zhao Mingyu knelt in silence, letting the familiar female figure that kept him company during such moments materialize. He could see her small forehead crease, her almond-shaped eyes shrink, and her even smaller mouth turn down as her lips pressed tightly together, forming an angry face. Her moderately pitched voice rose with anger as she raised her slender arms, more often than not, to smack his behind. He could almost feel it at that moment; she was back there with him. The love he missed was back with him.

"Your Highness. Your Highness..." A young girl with youthful features rushed to the kneeling prince.

"I can almost feel..."

"Crown Prince!"

"What is it now, Xiulan?"

"Word has come from the Emperor's chamber that he is releasing you from your punishment to go and prepare for the Autumn Hunt."

"If he insists then..."

"He also commands that you write an apology letter to Concubine Ming."

"How tiresome. Xiulan, let's head back to my mansion. I want to go take a nap."

"But, Your Highness, what about the Autumn Hunt preparations?"

"No need to stress yourself, Xiulan. Let's just take it easy."

"But..."

Li Xiulan, a young maid, was the only loyal retainer that Zhao Mingyu had. Many retainers didn't respect the crown prince with the reverence and loyalty he deserved, most of them being spies sent by his rivals for the throne. But Li Xiulan was different. She had been raised together with the crown prince and had cared for him as best as she possibly could. She might have been only a year older than Zhao Mingyu, but she cared for him like an older sister would.

Xiulan knew of the prince's potential.

She hadn't forgotten how fast and skilled he was—from his awe-striking sword strikes to his political debates and diplomatic abilities. Even his military and historical knowledge was extensive. If he were to truly try, he wouldn't be seen as the "oh-so-foolish prince." But ever since that day three years ago, when he lost his mother and almost lost his younger sister, he had become the foolish prince.

Xiulan wished the prince could at least try, even if the loss had been a huge blow to him. The loss had been a huge blow to her as well; the former empress was like a mother to her. And she was trying to make her proud even from the grave.

She wished the crown prince would stop making his own mother writhe inside her grave. Or maybe he was doing all of this to make her spirit angry enough to come back from the grave and give him a good smacking on his butt and a long lecture.

Xiulan resigned herself to her hopes of pushing him and just let the prince do whatever he wanted. She would give up anything—even her own life—for the prince, as long as he was safe and happy, even if it meant watching him waste away.

That night, like many other nights before, the ghost visited him. The girl had been a constant in his life in such a way that he saw her grow up with him. At first, the nightmares were so overwhelming and scary that he needed his mother or Xiulan to lull him back to sleep. But these days, they were a comfort. Maybe, through his dreams, he might invite the ghost of his mother to come back to visit him. Maybe that was why he tended to sleep so much, hoping his mother—like this ghost claiming to be his twin sister—would also come to visit him.

He was lonely, with both his sister and mother missing from his life, so this ghost twin sister had become a place of comfort where he could go and talk out his suffering.

Morning came with rays of the sun announcing the day ahead, but even the sun couldn't wake his lazy bones up. It was Xiulan who woke him the day before and the day before that, and it was her who would wake him up today.

"Your Highness! Your highness!" Xiulan budged into Zhao Mingyu, shaking him awake.

"...Xiulan? Just give me 200 more breaths," Mingyu said, curling back into a comfortable position inside his beddings.

"Your Highness," Xiulan pressed on, pulling the beddings off him. "You need to get ready for the Autumn Hunt. The fourth prince stole the role of organizer from you, so it's best you at least try to impress the Emperor, or you will soon lose your title as crown prince."

"Who cares, Xiulan, it's just a title."

"I care, your sister cares, and... Her Majesty also cared."

"... That title has cost me a lot of things. I might as well give it up."

"Giving it up is the same as giving up your life, my prince."

"That is not that bad at least... I will be reunited with my mother."

"I miss her too, Your Highness, but we have to... move on."

Zhao Mingyu sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Fine, if you insist... I don't want Ma saying I mistreat you."

Xiulan's grey eyes lit up as soon as Mingyu finished talking. "You must also promise to try your best, Your Highness."

Mingyu looked up at Xiulan's small melon-shaped face, a grin forming on his lips. "We will see how it goes. Ok, Xiulan! Prepare my things for the hunt. Let's get this over with."

"Ok, my prince." Xiulan was not convinced that the crown prince would give it his all, but at least he was participating, she thought, and that was good enough for her.

Mingyu picked up his bow after Xiulan had helped him put on his armor. He carefully checked its core, making sure there were no cracks or faults, then tested the bow's string tension by releasing an arrow that was aimed up. Moments later, the arrow fell with a sparrow on the tip.

"Good enough," he whispered.

Xiulan gazed as the prince did all this, her hopes rising. Maybe he was going to take the Autumn Hunt seriously.