The king did not receive the delegation right upon their arrival in the capital. He likely wished to remind them of whose land they stood on and to reaffirm his own position. Special Adviser Fang, who visited Hanyang every year, assured the envoy that there was nothing unusual about this and that everything was proceeding as it always had.

  “We have informed the king of our arrival,” he said. “Now we will need to wait a few days for him to grant us an audience. Do not worry, there is still ample time before the ceremony conferring the queen’s rank.”

  “My precious adviser,” the envoy replied with an unpleasant smirk, “you do understand that we did not come for the ceremony, not for the tribute, and not even for the selection of a crown prince, do you not?”

  “As you wish, honored envoy, as you wish,” Fang waved it off lightly.

  “I came to confirm that the despicable Joseon people deceived the emperor and are laughing at him,” the envoy’s grin turned sharply predatory. “But yes, we are in no hurry. Let them enjoy their last few days of peace.”

  “I am certain this misunderstanding will be resolved satisfactorily,” Adviser Fang stammered.

  “A king who has miraculously recovered and three princes appearing out of nowhere?” The envoy leaned back against his chair and stroked the tip of his long black braid. “I hope they will be able to show me the sorcerer who managed all this. It is long past time to remind them what reverence and fear are.”

  “Please, honored envoy, do not make a scene at court,” the adviser whined in his usual cowardly manner. “Remember that the king of Joseon is hot-tempered, and he has more guards than we do…”

  The Great Qing embassy was admitted to the king only on the third day. Early in the morning they ascended the wide stone staircase to the throne hall, passed through the carved doors, strode past two ranks of ministers, and stopped a few steps from the throne raised on the platform. The Qing delegation bowed. Even the proud envoy, the eyes and ears of the emperor, bent his back, though he kept his head lifted, studying the king’s face with open curiosity. It was a blatant breach of protocol.

  The king of Joseon noticed the insolence, frowned, began to rise, and then his face seemed to collapse. His lower jaw trembled, he went pale, and sank back onto his ornamented throne. Satisfied with the effect he had produced, the regent of the Great Qing Empire, Prince Rui, spread his lips in a wide grin and, chuckling softly, finally lowered his head.

  In truth, that was precisely why he had come here under an assumed name: to remind the overbold king of Joseon of old promises and obligations.

  ***

  Yi Hyun was summoned to the royal quarters immediately after returning from the Office of Royal Entertainers. Since the arrival of the Great Qing delegation, he had not even managed to attend the ministers’ morning councils, spending his days from dawn until night listening to musicians, watching dancers, tasting dishes, and choosing the right shades of silk for the draperies. Together with the director of the Bureau of Diplomatic Protocol, who happened to be his mother’s cousin, the prince was making every possible effort to ensure that the official reception scheduled for the fifth day of the delegation’s stay in Hanyang would proceed without mishap. Perhaps the choice of gisaeng and the festive menu would pave his road to the long-awaited title.

  From the interpreters, Yi Hyun had already learned that this time the envoy was not his old acquaintance, Lord Fang, but someone named Zhao Yan. Yi Hyun had never heard of such an official before and was intrigued, but he could not meet the delegation before their formal audience with the king.

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  And now, scarcely had that audience ended, when a eunuch, breathless from running, called for him to present himself in the royal quarters at once. Yi Hyun grew alarmed, but the eunuch could tell him nothing except that everyone seemed to be alive.

  During his many years at the Great Qing court, Yi Hyun had encountered all manner of situations. The main lesson he had learned was not to hurry, to speak less, and to keep his expression composed. He hoped those simple rules would suffice this time as well.

  In the corridor, Yi Hyun saw a line of waiting maidservants and a couple of unfamiliar guests from Qing. Judging by their clothing, they were scribes or interpreters. If so, the envoy himself must have now been inside, and the fact that he had left his interpreter outside meant the matter was serious. Yi Hyun frowned for a brief moment, then promptly remembered the need to keep his face.

  “Great Prince Dojun!” the eunuch announced and opened the doors to the royal quarters.

  Yi Hyun entered and, even from the doorway, saw his father, visibly troubled, and the envoy. The envoy stood with his back to the prince, so Yi Hyun could make out only broad shoulders and a long braid falling from beneath a flat embroidered cap.

  “You summoned me, Father?” Yi Hyun greeted the king and stepped closer, intending to pay his respects to the envoy as well.

  The envoy turned around.

  To his credit, Yi Hyun barely faltered in his stride. He approached at a respectful distance and made a deep bow to the regent, extending his folded hands before him in the manner customary in Qing. The regent hummed, took two steps toward him, and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “I wondered whether they had replaced you, Li Xian, but I see you are quite well,” he laughed. “Go on, tell me what wonders are happening here. I thought I was sending you to the bedside of a dying man, but your father looks quite healthy.”

  The regent’s native tongue was the Manchu language used at the Great Qing court, and Yi Hyun knew it as well. Now, however, apparently for the king’s convenience, the regent spoke in Chinese. He used Yi Hyun’s Chinese name, and the prince could not help but relax, feeling, absurdly enough, at home. Both the language and the man were far more familiar to him than his own father and his own country.

  Moreover, Yi Hyun believed he now understood the reason for this exalted visit.

  “My father was so overjoyed at the return of children he believed dead that his illness retreated,” Yi Hyun smiled. This question would have been asked sooner or later, so it was better to address it first.

  “Yes, I heard something about your family suddenly expanding,” Yi Hyun did not like the regent’s crooked smile. He had seen what happened to people who angered Prince Rui, and he did not wish to discover what might happen to a country that angered him. “By the way, how long must we wait for them?”

  “Great Prince Seojin is in the city, I’ve sent for him,” the king replied, clearly nervous. “As for my youngest son…”

  “My youngest brother will not be able to appear,” Yi Hyun stepped in to assist his father. “It is awkward for me to speak of it, but…”

  “But?” the regent raised a thick eyebrow.

  “But he is learning to read and write,” Yi Hyun sighed heavily. “Far from the palace. If Prince Rui has time, I can explain what happened and how it all came about. But perhaps we might first ask for tea?”

  The Prince Regent tilted his head to one side like a bird and took a few steps, circling his interlocutors in a half arc.

  “Very well, bring tea,” he agreed at last. “And Li Xian, do not even think of honoring me before the servants.”

  “Of course, Envoy Zhao,” the prince nodded with understanding.

  While the maidservants arranged the low tables and cushions and carried in trays of tea, Yi Hyun frantically tried to grasp what they had become entangled in and how he ought to extricate them. His father had made it very clear that their relations with Great Qing were now in his hands, but none of them had expected the arrival of Prince Regent Rui himself, let alone incognito.

  What could he tell him, and what should remain unsaid?

  What might be hinted at, and what swept under the rug?

  What had his spies already reported?

  At last the maidservants withdrew. When Yi Hyun himself poured the tea and was the first to drink from the regent’s cup, the king’s eyebrow twitched. But this was perhaps the strongest possible assurance of their loyal intentions. Friend or foe, while the regent was on Joseon soil, not a single hair could be allowed to fall from his head. If he were wounded or killed in Joseon, the Manchus would not wait for explanations. They would raze the entire kingdom to the ground and salt the ashes.