"The Way to Wealth" Fiction

What is a butterfly? At best

He’s but a caterpillar dressed.

The gaudy fop’s his picture just

~ Benjamin Franklin’s “The Way to Wealth”

            A waft of incense flitted through the air, slithering through the cracks of the double-doors and into the bedroom of a noblewoman. The third victim this month, the figure grimaced silently, cursing at the reality of the situation. The masked intruder flipped a knife out from within the folds of her black garb and wedged it between the doors, sinking the blade into the block of wood serving as a lock. She edged the hunk of wood out of the creaky wooden socket, an old contraption poorly suited to its purpose of locking the doors.

She almost laughed at the easiness of the job, but dared only to smirk, for if she opened her mouth, the fragrance she was burning near the paper-sealed window would knock her out cold. That was the only reason why the noblewoman, “Lady Mi Ling” as the Sixth Prince had called her, had not yet woken to find her bedroom being robbed clean. The young thief whizzed into the richly accessorized room, which had walls laced in shimmery, scarlet silks threaded with gold, and searched the polished drawers for the fully-stocked jewelry box that every wife of a Qing bureaucrat was bound to possess.

The Sixth Prince’s voice echoed through her head, urging her twitching fingers to finish the job quickly and silently. She recalled his sleek voice enlightening her of his advantageous position in the imperial court and his plan to capitalize upon this favoritism by using luxurious treasures to bribe government officials.

Hence, her mission to steal for him.

The figure’s black lashes fluttered and a soft droplet of salty tears landed on her hastily put together braid as she strived to grasp a memory, any memory, of a time when the Forbidden City had been the image of peace.

But the royal family was always at war.

Every dynasty, the princes who were eligible for the throne fought, tooth and claw, to be the next emperor. It was a tireless battle, dominating both day and night, where every move could imbalance the delicate playing field on which the contestants clung to so dearly.

Thieves and traitors blossomed during such precarious times. Eunuchs and servants turned against their masters, and kinship just became another justification for murder.

            She shook her head, clearing her wandering mind of any thoughts. The mission was of greater concern than the battle between the tyrants to seize the throne. The Sixth Prince would have her beheaded if she failed him. Picking up the pace, the young intruder pried off numerous poorly-crafted locks off of dressers before she finally discovered the jackpot. Her hand stretched to touch the snowy-white pearls that were encased by a sheet of silk dyed in the golden hue of the emperor’s robes.

Suddenly, a cold, metallic object contacted the back of her neck.

“Freeze,” rang a voice of steel, “else I’ll end you now.” Before the girl could react to the mysterious attacker, she experienced a sharp throb behind her temple and plummeted to the floor, unconscious.

***

            A bloody hand clenched the ebony hair of the figure against the wall and yanked at the disheveled braid attached to the head of the thin child. She shrieked, but the echo of her dying voice ebbed away like the sound of a tree that has fallen in an empty forest, without a soul to hear the dreadful noise.

“Tell us.” The guard’s threat scraped harshly at her stubborn mind and the girl shrunk away at his hardened eyes – no doubt from an eternity of torturing prisoners like her.

“Should you remain silent,” the venomous voice dripped on, “shame will be wrought upon your entire family. Your life can only be spared by a confession.”

The weak girl glared at him defiantly, her black irises glowering upon his stone mask, watching for any flicker of emotion.

None.

She shut her eyes tightly and prayed that this flogging would be quicker than the last.

            Suddenly, a callused hand tore at a sliver of parchment sticking out from within the folds of the garment she was wearing.

“Aha,” he mused slyly. “A message.”

He greedily ripped the worn-out note from underneath the collar of her shirt and tucked it in a small pocket under his azure robe, worn by all imperial palace servants.

Her heart dropped, nearly reaching the floor.

She barely noticed her torturer remove the shackles off her wrists and lock her prison cell, nor did she register him taking off gleefully to receive his reward. As footsteps echoed against the impenetrable stone barriers, the figure splayed against the cracked floor sobbed, the image of the Sixth Prince’s signature burning in her mind.

***

“He was well-loved,” one man whispered, his voice barely audible to the other bureaucrats crowding around him like a chaotic throng of gossiping housewives.

“He constantly gave out gifts, always so generously. Although come to think of it, the recipients always seemed to be the officials the emperor was favoring at the time.”

“This is disconcerting,” another one hissed. “His cover was flawless—there was not a single complaint anyone could ever have about him. How could someone who seemed so flawless actually be a dishonorable failure?”

A cold laugh ricocheted across the massive chamber the officials had gathered in. Every person turned to face the Fourth Prince, who had entered the room flocked with lines of eunuchs.

“My sixth brother was popular among many civil servants it seemed,” the prince calmly stated, his face betraying none of tumultuous thoughts swarming in his mind.

“He was a brave warrior and an accomplished scholar, the perfect combination to become the heir,” the Fourth Prince admitted grudgingly.

“Were it not for this unfortunate event, he may have become the Crown Prince. However, we must accept his incapability to inherit this position and move on.”

Fifty-odd braided heads bobbed up and down in agreement.

“I will inform my father of this discovery,” he continued. “Please everyone stay put until I return with my father to discuss what Sixth brother has committed.”

***

“OUTRAGEOUS,” the towering figure thundered, hatred brimming from his voice with a noticeable tint of sadness. He should have known of his son’s treachery. It ran in the family. Not a single one of his own seventeen brothers managed to keep their hands unstained the decade before their father’s death.

He stared icily at the mountainous collection of precious jewels and metals that his Sixth son was planning to use to bribe the bureaucrats. His eyes glanced at the bloody girl dressed in black and he felt slightly faint. She was only thirteen, too young to marry, but old enough to be a full-fledged member of society.

This was what the war within the imperial Court had done to his people—it had transformed them into tools and weapons the numerous princes manipulated to gain an advantage over their own brothers.

A dying part of his heart willed his mind to awake from this nightmare.

He had been perfect.

So perfect.

But too perfect to be true.

Like the monarch butterfly attempting flight before its time, his son had emerged from his chrysalis too quickly, ripping his translucent wings and leaving his caterpillar-like corpse to spiral down an abyss that would inevitably condemn him to the depths of the underworld.

The emperor closed his eyes dejectedly. A formidable weight engulfed his already burdened heart of lead as he prepared to exile his young, but foolish child.