After this audience, first of all Yi Hyun intended to double the guard at the envoy’s residence. But before that he had to convince the regent that he and his father had not deceived him.

  “Prince Rui has surely heard that I was attacked on the road to Hanyang,” Yi Hyun decided to test the ground. He had always been curious how far the Great Qing intelligence network extended.

  “I advised you to take soldiers,” the regent replied calmly, narrowing his eyes as he sipped tea scented with chrysanthemums.

  “The Prince Regent proved farsighted, and this prince did not. I offer my apologies,” Yi Hyun once more extended his hands before his chest and bowed toward the guest.

  The most difficult part of speaking with the regent was balancing on the thin line between his official status and his fondness for appearing informal. His military commanders and even common soldiers enjoyed the privilege of speaking to Prince Rui familiarly, but courtiers had to guess his mercurial mood at every moment. The safest course was to follow protocol strictly, prostrate oneself, and speak only when addressed. Yet those who clung to protocol rarely rose high.

  That, Yi Hyun suspected, rather than any dislike of Han people, was why the highest posts at court year after year went to the regent’s own people.

  The Manchus, and with them the rougher Mongols, had not absorbed etiquette and court manners with their mother’s milk. As a result, minor breaches in forms of address, posture, or gaze did not seem to them equally scandalous as, for example, appearing at court without undergarments or a head covering.

  Yi Hyun had, of course, received an excellent upbringing, but when the situation called for it, he knew how to disregard the rules. He had known Prince Regent Rui since early childhood and therefore often sensed which manner of address would be appropriate at any given moment. Still, now he hesitated. The regent had clearly arrived in Joseon in a foul mood and intended to punish rather than show mercy. In such a case, it would have been wiser to prostrate and beg for clemency, kissing the toes of his boots. And yet Prince Rui had addressed Yi Hyun by name, which was usually an invitation to informal, almost “family” conversation. The prince decided to take the risk.

  “You have lost many friends, Xian,” the regent said, nodding to him and saluting with his cup. “But at least my sword lessons were not wasted. I am glad that you survived.”

  “This prince owes much to Prince Rui,” Yi Hyun inclined his head. It seemed the regent did not know the details of the attack. “Unfortunately, I was careless and was wounded. I had to hide and make my way to the capital on foot.”

  “So how did you manage to get out of that unpleasant situation?” the regent leaned forward with interest and held out his empty cup.

  The king remained silent and appeared to be trying not to move at all, blending into the surroundings. Yi Hyun hoped that his father would allow him to finish the story without breaking the fragile web of trust that started to take shape.

  “Thanks to unexpected friends and new acquaintances,” Yi Hyun said, pouring him tea, careful not to spill a drop on his fingers. “At a roadside inn I met the commander of the royal guard, who ultimately helped me reach the palace. But I found more than just him there.”

  “If this is what I think it is, then I am already interested,” Prince Rui encouraged him, settling into a more relaxed posture.

  “I will jump ahead a little and tell you what I only learned later,” Yi Hyun said, thoughtfully biting his lip. “You have surely heard of the fall of Chief State Councilor Choi. For many years he had been preparing treason, but the king lacked proof. The fire in which my mother died was his doing.”

  “And you found this proof so many years later?” the regent asked in surprise.

  “We gathered new proof,” Yi Hyun replied, pressing his lips together and letting his smile fade. “During the fire, the traitor abducted two of my brothers and kept them with him. Yi Yun was old enough to remember who he was, but Yi Hwan had barely begun to walk back then. The elder brother was blackmailed through the younger and forced to remain silent all these years. The younger one was raised on a farm as a slave. That is why he is now learning everything anew and does not dare appear before Prince Rui.”

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  “A fine story,” the regent snorted, rolling his shoulders. “How did you learn that they were your brothers? Why did you believe them? How did you meet?”

  Fortunately, they had invented and discussed this story long ago, when Yi Yun had first appeared in the palace. The official version differed from the truth just a little — by one name and a few arrows.

  “Traitor Choi believed that his cutthroats had succeeded in killing me at the port,” Yi Hyun replied, taking a sip of tea as well. His throat suddenly went dry at the memory. “He intended to destroy the entire royal family, wait for the king’s death, and take the throne. Therefore, on the very day I landed in Incheon, assassins were sent after my brothers as well. Like me, they managed to escape, and like me, my elder brother was seeking a safe way to reach the palace.”

  “But you did not know one another,” the regent observed.

  “It was Yi Yun who recognized me,” Yi Hyun exhaled, pushing away unnecessary memories. “It turned out that I resemble Hwan rather strongly, so he asked a question and was able to provide proof of his own origin.”

  “You do understand that all of this could be fabricated?” Prince Rui raised an eyebrow, never ceasing to smirk. At present he seemed not angry, but rather mocking Yi Hyun’s supposed dumbness and naivety. That was already a good sign, so the prince continued.

  “He was later examined at the palace, and I believe it not to be a forgery,” Yi Hyun replied. “Father recognized him, and he, in turn, remembered many servants.”

  “Is that so?” the regent turned to the king for the first time during the conversation.

  “Yes, Yun is without doubt my son,” the king confirmed, and fell silent again.

  “Let us assume that,” the regent turned his gaze back to Yi Hyun. “But you could not have known this, Xian.”

  “Prince Regent is, as always, correct,” Yi Hyun agreed, lifting the teapot again to refill the cups. “I could not know this, nor could I verify it. Therefore, I went to the palace with the commander, while my possible brothers remained at the inn to await the assassins sent by the councilor. They agreed to serve as bait to draw out the traitor, and the royal guard closed the trap.”

  “You should have taken them with you and verified their claims,” the regent remarked, shaking his head.

  “Then we would not have been able to catch the traitor. For many years he had evaded justice,” Yi Hyun said, rubbing his chin. “Besides, I must admit that I did not believe the story until my elder brother himself offered to act as bait. A liar would not have dared to take such a risk, I thought.”

  “And now you trust him, this Yi Yun?” Prince Regent Rui asked, frowning slightly.

  Yi Hyun hesitated for a brief moment. He was not sure whether sincerity would be appropriate here. Fortunately, at that moment a voice cried out from behind the doors, “Great Prince Seojin!”

  The elder brother arrived before the king wearing a pink city hanbok, without troubling himself to change into court robes embroidered with dragons, Yi Hyun noted with disapproval. Still, his appearance could not have been more timely. The elder prince crossed the room with quick steps and bowed to their father.

  “You ordered me to come as quickly as possible, Your Majesty,” he said and froze, clearly expecting a royal rebuke.

  “This is my elder son, Yun,” the king said in Chinese. “Offer your greetings.”

  A cold sweat broke out on Yi Hyun’s back. He did not know whether his brother spoke this language. Yi Yun was certainly literate, but he had not had royal tutors since the age of eight! Could he speak fluently, as Hyun himself could, or were they about to be disgraced?

  Yi Yun straightened and surveyed the room. He must have noticed both the absence of servants and the teapot on the small table before Yi Hyun. He cast a quick, questioning glance at his brother, and Yi Hyun blinked, confirming the seriousness of the situation. Then Yi Yun turned to the regent, narrowed his eyes as if appraising him, and finally bowed politely, folding his palms before him.

  “Welcome to Joseon… Commander?” he said, with a slight accent.

  Yi Hyun stared at his brother in astonishment. Had he confused the words “commander” and “chancellor,” guessing at the guest’s status?

  “Yun, this is—” the king began in an indignant voice, but he was interrupted by Prince Rui’s sudden loud laughter.

  “Now I as well have no doubt that this truly is Yun!” he declared. “We were acquainted, but you have grown so much that I would not have recognized you, eldest son of the king.”

  “I fear that my clearest memory from that meeting is your helmet,” Yi Yun replied with a matching smile, once again surprising his brother. “How should I address you today?”

  “Yun, this is Prince Regent Rui of the Great Qing Empire. Show proper respect,” the king finally finished. His voice sounded hoarse and not particularly pleased, but Yi Hyun hoped the regent would attribute this to displeasure with his son rather than with the regent himself.

  “Oh! I did not realize at once,” Yi Yun said hastily and dropped to his knees, performing a ceremonial bow in full accordance with protocol. “This prince greets the Prince Regent of the Great Qing. Ten thousand blessings!”

  Yi Hyun bit his lip.

  He himself had been spared the need to abase himself before Prince Rui today, and even their father did not seem to have prostrated himself this time. Why had he forced his elder son to do so? It looked awkward.

  “But today I am here incognito, and you are to address me as Envoy Zhao,” the regent said. “Have the servants bring another table for the prince, and let us continue our pleasant conversation.”