Pan Rugui strode swiftly toward the Endcheng Gate, with the imperial guards lined up on either side, silent as the grave. When he stopped, after reading aloud the imperial edict from Emperor Xiande, the guards immediately sprang into action.
Shen Zechuan’s mouth was gagged, and the guards efficiently wrapped him in thick cotton clothing, forcing him to lie face down.
Pan Rugui bent slightly in the cold wind, examining Shen Zechuan. He coughed lightly, covering his mouth with a finger, and said softly, “For one so young, you have incredible courage, daring to posture in front of the emperor. If you had confessed Shen Wei’s treason, there might have been a sliver of hope for you.”
Shen Zechuan clenched his eyes shut, cold sweat soaking his clothing.
Pan Rugui straightened. “Position the rods.”
At his command, the guards shouted in unison: “Position the rods!” Then came the roar: “Strike!”
Before the words had even faded, the iron-wrapped, hooked court rods came down with the force of the wind, striking Shen Zechuan’s body.
After three strikes, a voice barked, “Make it count!”
The agony of the blows burned through Shen Zechuan like fire. He could no longer move, biting down on the gag. Blood mingled with saliva in his mouth, bitter and metallic. His remaining breaths were ragged, and the sweat stinging his eyes made them water painfully.
The sky was dark, snow drifting like feathers.
The task of administering the court rod was not for just anyone. The saying “twenty knocks for unconsciousness, fifty for death” carried real weight. The technique required expertise passed down through families—it was no less demanding than learning a martial art. The enforcer had to have not only skill but also judgment: who should be struck heavy outside, light inside; who should be struck fast, slow. With experience, one could read the subtle cues from the supervising eunuchs’ faces.
Today, the emperor’s order was execution by the rod, and Pan Rugui had no intention of sparing him. There would be no escape; this boy was marked to die. The guards unleashed their mastery, and within fifty strikes, Shen Zechuan was expected to perish.
Pan Rugui glanced at the time. Shen Zechuan’s head had dropped, still and unresponsive. Just as he reached for the warming pan, ready to issue further orders, a parasol floated down from above, beneath it a woman in palace attire.
The shadow of gloom on Pan Rugui’s face instantly dissipated into a smile. Though he did not move to greet her personally, the nearby eunuchs quickly went to assist her.
“Your humble servant greets Third Miss,” Pan Rugui said, stepping forward. “On a day this cold, anything the Empress Dowager wishes, you only need to send a messenger.”
Hua Xiangyi lifted her hand slightly, signaling the guards to pause. She was strikingly beautiful, long raised in the Empress Dowager’s inner court. Her youthful features bore a resemblance to the Empress Dowager herself. Though known in the capital as Miss Hua of Di City, all recognized her as a high-ranking palace noble, even the emperor treated her as a younger sister.
“Eunuch,” she spoke softly, “is the boy lying on the ground truly Shen Zechuan of the Zhongbo Shen clan?”
Pan Rugui followed her movement and replied, “It is him. The emperor has just ordered his execution by the rod.”
Hua Xiangyi said, “Earlier, the emperor was furious. If Shen Zechuan had died, Shen Wei’s treason would have remained unresolved. The Empress Dowager arrived at the Mingli Hall shortly before; the emperor has calmed somewhat after her counsel.”
Pan Rugui exclaimed, “Ah! So the emperor listened to the Empress Dowager. Earlier, even if we wanted to speak, we dared not!”
Hua Xiangyi smiled at him. “The emperor ordered the rod. Eunuch, you carried it out.”
Pan Rugui took a few steps and laughed, “Yes, we heard the command ‘rod’ and struck the boy. What should be done with him now?”
Hua Xiangyi glanced at Shen Zechuan. “Return him to the prison for now. His life is of utmost importance. Please inform Judge Ji and ensure he is well cared for.”
“Of course,” Pan Rugui replied. “Third Miss’s orders—Judge Ji would never ignore them. Child, help me steady Third Miss.”
Once she departed, Pan Rugui turned to the guards. “The emperor ordered the rod, and the boy has been beaten enough. Take him back. You heard what Third Miss said—this reflects the Empress Dowager’s will. When back, tell Judge Ji that this case involves celestial beings—any mistake could be fatal.”
He coughed softly. “Even if the Heavenly King himself descended, he could not save that boy’s head.”
The guards guided Shen Zechuan along the snowy road. A low voice asked, “Master, if we release him like this, will the emperor truly not hold us accountable?”
Pan Rugui stamped in the snow. “The emperor knows. This will not fall on us. A promise from a noblewoman is binding. The emperor, recently ill and anxious over the invasion by the Twelve Bian Tribes, is considering granting Third Miss a princess title to please the Empress Dowager. If she speaks, the emperor must comply. So if she wishes to spare him, no one can argue.”
Pan Rugui glanced at his companion. “When have you ever seen the Empress Dowager change an edict? A true master’s words are final.”
Shen Zechuan, burning with fever and delirium, saw the face of Ji Mu as he died, then the streets of Endcheng where he had lived.
The wind lifted banners. His master’s wife carried a porcelain bowl full of dumplings.
“Tell your brother to come back!” she called. “Stop dawdling—come eat!”
Shen Zechuan ran to her, grabbed a dumpling, and ran toward his master Ji Gang sitting on the steps. He crouched beside him.
Ji Gang polished stones in his hands and said, “Silly boy, what’s so special about dumplings? You’re so obsessed! Tell your brother to come—let the three of us go eat at Yuanyang Tower.”
Shen Zechuan said nothing. His master’s wife tugged Ji Gang’s ear. “Don’t want the dumplings? Fine, go marry a rich girl then, take the two fools with you!”
Shen Zechuan laughed, jumped off the steps, waved to them, and ran into the alley calling for Ji Mu.
Snow covered the streets. He could not find him. The farther he ran, the colder he became.
“Brother!”
“Ji Mu! Come home for dinner!”
Hooves surrounded him. Snow blurred his vision. He fell under a force too strong to resist.
Once again, he saw the dead, arrows whistling, warm sticky blood running down his neck and face.
This time he knew what it was.
Shen Zechuan shivered awake, drenched in sweat, trembling from the cold. He collapsed on the bed, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.
A servant, noticing his thirst, poured a bowl of water beside him. Shen Zechuan carefully nudged it closer, spilling half.
The prison was silent. The servant left, leaving him alone. Night stretched endlessly.
Later, when the servant returned to change his bandages, Shen Zechuan was more lucid. Judge Ji watched him coldly from the bars.
“This time you are lucky,” he said. “The Empress Dowager spared your life. You still do not know why?”
Shen Zechuan bowed his head, silent.
Judge Ji continued, “Your master is Ji Gang, the exiled wanderer. Twenty years ago, we were sworn brothers in the imperial guards. I know the Ji family fist, I trained in it too. Later he committed crimes punishable by death, but the late emperor spared him, exiling him beyond the horse trail.”
He leaned closer, voice low. “Your master had no skill, just luck. Guess how he survived? By your master’s wife’s favor—Hua Pingting. Today, the Empress Dowager spared you for her sake.”
He paused. “But your master’s wife is dead in the chaos. Ji Gang lost his father twenty years ago, now his wife and son. The one responsible—you know it in your heart—is Shen Wei.”
Shen Zechuan’s breath caught.
“Shen Wei opened the Tea Stone River defenses. The Bian cavalry rampaged. Hua Pingting’s throat was cut; before she breathed her last, what happened made Ji Gang’s life hell.”
“Endcheng fell. You say your brother saved you? Ji Mu—your elder brother, Ji Gang’s only son, the last Ji bloodline—he too died because of Shen Wei. A thousand arrows pierced him; his corpse left in the pit to be trampled. If Ji Gang survived, what would he think upon retrieving his son’s body?”
Shen Zechuan suddenly surged up. Judge Ji, practiced, pressed him back down.
“Shen Wei betrayed his country. This debt is yours to bear. You slept through the night, sorting the dead—your master, your wife! You live, but life now is more painful than death. Can you forgive Shen Wei? If you defend him, you betray your master’s family. You were raised by Ji Gang—do not be unfilial!”
“Even if you cling to life, the world will not forgive. In the capital, you are Shen Wei. People’s hatred runs deep. You will die, and it is better to tell the emperor the truth, confess Shen Wei’s crimes, and honor your master’s spirit.”
Judge Ji stopped. Shen Zechuan, pressed to the bed, smiled—a cold, deadly smile across his pale face.
“Shen Wei did not betray the country.”
Shen Zechuan spoke each word with deliberate clarity.
“Shen Wei did not betray the country!”
Judge Ji lifted him, slammed him against the wall with a resounding bang, sending up dust. Shen Zechuan coughed violently.
“There are too many ways they want to kill you,” Judge Ji said. “You little fool, surviving by chance today, do you think you will live through this?”
He dragged Shen Zechuan to the gate.
“I act on the Empress Dowager’s orders. Yet in this capital, there are those who act recklessly. You are stubborn, so I will grant your wish. The one who came to kill you… has already arrived!”
The city gates of Qu City flung open. A line of black-clad heavy cavalry thundered in, clearing the streets before them.
Horns of war filled the sky. Shen Zechuan, chained and dragged, looked up. The lead rider surged forward.
Beneath the armor, the mount was a savage beast. Breathing fire-hot air, the horse ran within feet of him before rearing. The rider leaped off as the horse landed.
Judge Ji stepped forward, calling, “Xiao—”
The newcomer ignored him and came straight to Shen Zechuan. As Shen Zechuan tried to move, the rider’s boot slammed into his chest with the force of a thunderclap.
The blow was so brutal that Shen Zechuan could not brace himself. Blood spewed from his mouth; his body rolled violently. His organs felt ready to spill from within.