Shen Zechuan felt darkness sweep before his eyes as he was pressed closer to Xiao Chiye. He heard Xiao Chiye muttering, “So it really is my own scent… too pungent.”
Shen Zechuan shifted the topic. “Did you add firearms to the Forbidden Army?”
“Bronze firearms,” Xiao Chiye said, bringing his finger close to Shen Zechuan’s nose for him to smell. “Mixed with your scent, I couldn’t tell at first.”
“I don’t have a scent,” Shen Zechuan’s nose twitched. “Did you raid the arsenals of the Eight Camps?”
Firearms were restricted by the court. After evolving from bamboo tubes to bronze barrels, they became equipment of the Chunquan Camp of the Eight Camps. Deadly, yet difficult to handle, their projectiles had a limited range and required time to reload. But since the Eight Camps mostly defended Qu Dou, often engaging in alley skirmishes, firearms were more of a burden than a help. They were rarely used, only taken out for annual drills.
While unsuitable for the Eight Camps, firearms were perfect for the Northern Cavalry. The Northern Cavalry was heavy cavalry; infantry and light cavalry were fewer, favoring massive straight-line charges. Years ago, the Great Zhou established cavalry garrisons at Luoxia Pass, spending lavishly on horses to counter the speed of Biansha riders and create their own cavalry grounds. Yet horses sent from Biansha were often substandard—crossbred with wild wolves from the Hongyan Mountains. Paired with curved blades and strong warriors, these horses were unmatched on the battlefield.
It was Xiao Fangxu who created the Iron-hoofed Northern Cavalry, forming a living iron wall in the northwest, making the Biansha cavalry’s storm-like charges utterly futile.
The northwest was vast grasslands. Equipping the Northern Cavalry with firearms turned the Biansha riders’ long-range attacks into an advantage for the Northern Cavalry. The extra time needed to reload firearms matched the distance of the charging cavalry. By the time the enemy reached them, they were within firearm range—a perfect synergy.
For the Northern Cavalry, it was like adding wings to a tiger.
“The Eight Camps may have taken Xigu’an, but it’s still the Eight Camps,” Xiao Chiye stepped closer, pressing Shen Zechuan forward with his chest. “No one calls it ‘raiding the arsenal.’ Just a change of masters. Don’t take it to heart—I just wanted to play with it.”
Shen Zechuan walked a few steps, feigning indifference. “Can you walk without lifting the blanket?”
“[1] Short days and long nights—why not stroll by candlelight?” Xiao Chiye laughed. “Want to come play with me too?”
“Since it’s not officially mine, better keep it hidden.” Shen Zechuan lifted the blanket and slipped out. “Carrying gunpowder scent across Qu Dou… lucky it’s late at night.”
“No harm in daytime either,” Xiao Chiye said, carrying the pillow and holding up the blanket as he walked, glancing along the corridor. “Who doesn’t know Xiao Ce’an loves to play? A firearm is just for shooting birds.”
He emphasized “birds,” making Ding Tao and Gu Jin atop the roof shiver simultaneously.
Back inside, Xiao Chiye threw the blanket and pillow onto his bed, kicked off his boots in a few motions, and stepped onto the rug to bathe. Half-undressed, he poked his upper body from behind the curtain.
“Did you bathe?”
Shen Zechuan rinsed his mouth. “Already did.”
Xiao Chiye bathed quickly. Coming out, drying his neck, he saw Shen Zechuan lying on his stomach, back shielded. Xiao Chiye hastily dried his hair and blew out the lamp.
Shen Zechuan heard him open a box on the bed.
“Lanzhou,” Xiao Chiye said, closing the box. “Sleeping?”
“I am,” Shen Zechuan replied flatly.
“The Dali Court summoned several physicians today, but dared not disturb the Imperial Hospital,” Xiao Chiye said. “What did you do to Ji Lei?”
Shen Zechuan asked calmly, “Want to hear a ghost story in the dead of night?”
“We need to interrogate the guards in Xing Prison tomorrow morning,” Xiao Chiye replied.
Just theatrics.
Shen Zechuan didn’t know whether Hai Liangyi could tolerate such things, but he knew Xue Xiuzhuo certainly could. Xue Xiuzhuo had obtained the confession he wanted; Ji Lei was now useless. Shen Zechuan had shattered the situation but had no intention of cleaning it up—the work would fall to Xue Xiuzhuo and Xi Hongxuan.
Thinking of this, Shen Zechuan said, “If I behave properly, they—”
Xiao Chiye lay down, then suddenly sat up. “Brush my hair.”
Shen Zechuan closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.
“Don’t pretend—hurry.”
“Lanzhou.”
“Shen Lanzhou.”
The bed suddenly sank. Shen Zechuan opened his eyes in shock; the blanket had been lifted, and Xiao Chiye pressed his wet head against Shen Zechuan’s back, soaking him.
Shen Zechuan tugged at the blanket. “Xiao Er, you’re three years old!”
“About that,” Xiao Chiye said lazily. “Aren’t you asleep? Keep sleeping.”
Shen Zechuan grew wetter as the cool dampness stuck to him, accompanied by Xiao Chiye’s scent from last night.
Shen Zechuan opened his eyes. “My clothes are wet.”
No reply.
“Stop pretending.”
“Xiao Er.”
Shen Zechuan propped himself up in the dim light. “Xiao Ce’an, you’re a rogue.”
The rogue obligingly handed him a dry handkerchief, turned his back, and waited.
On the roof, Ding Tao hugged himself. “Snowy nights like this… winter will be harsh.”
Gu Jin handed him a wine pouch, rubbing his hands. “We’ve guarded for two nights; someone should relieve us in the morning.”
Ding Tao sipped, warming up, folded his arms, and lay down, gazing at the night sky. “Nothing happened tonight either.”
“A long road ahead,” Gu Jin murmured, covering himself with the wine pouch. Suddenly, his ears twitched. He flipped down, eyes sharp as a hawk, scanning the darkness.
Footsteps in snow reached him. Quick as lightning, he threw a flying blade. “Northwest corner!”
Ding Tao leapt, swooping across the roof, swinging toward the darkness.
The black-cloaked figure evaded him like a shadow, disappearing into the night. Three steel needles came toward him; Ding Tao’s pen snapped them aside, and when he looked again, the figure had gone.
Landing silently, Ding Tao left no footprints in the thin snow.
Gu Jin scanned from the roof. “Excellent skill… can escape my eyes. Taozi, recognize who it is?”
Ding Tao picked up a needle from the corridor, inspecting it. Within moments, he deduced much. “Thin as hair, poisoned with serpent venom—definitely not from Qu Dou. Imported from Yongquan Port in the Thirteen Cities of Juexi. Great agility, excellent stealth. No blade, but most likely Jinyiwei.”
He carefully stored the needle in his bamboo tube and climbed back to the roof.
“The Jinyiwei withdrew many officials. Few capable warriors remain,” Gu Jin said. “Who would dare spy on our prince’s mansion now?”
“Hard to say,” Ding Tao murmured, still shaken, patting his chest. “Nearly poked through my notebook.”
Gu Jin drank thoughtfully.
Ding Tao sat cross-legged, whispering. “This notebook has followed me many years. Granted by the heir’s wife, it survived even our campaigns against the Biansha. Nearly stolen during a throat-cutting incident… my father’s book, you know? Full of important records. I almost died chasing the thief. Jin Ge, one should keep records—old age forgets. Like you, drinking daily, under forty, would forget where you hid silver. Writing it down prevents that. You tell me, I’ll record it…”
Gu Jin stuffed cotton in his ears, entering meditation.
The next day, Shen Zechuan awoke first.
He hadn’t slept; Xiao Chiye was pressed against him all night, both tugging at the blanket relentlessly. With someone so large beside him, Shen Zechuan couldn’t sleep.
Xiao Chiye slept soundly, clutching his pillow, unmoving.
Shen Zechuan waited, but received something else.
The erect length pressed against his hip, hot and unmistakable. Bed warmth surged. Xiao Chiye, awakened by heat or by hardness, cursed hoarsely and sat up abruptly.
He tossed aside the pillow, glanced at Shen Zechuan, grabbed some hair, and covered him with the blanket, forbidding him from looking. Then he went straight to the bath, bare-footed.
Chen Yang waited outside, hearing the commotion. Seeing Shen Zechuan exit, the two passed each other in silence. Shen Zechuan walked naturally toward the bathhouse.
By the time Xiao Chiye emerged, Shen Zechuan was already alert, having eaten a light breakfast. Listening to Chen Yang, he learned someone had come last night.
“Jinyiwei?” Xiao Chiye pondered. “Not looking for me, but keeping watch on Shen Lanzhou.”
“Then it must be the Empress Dowager’s people,” Chen Yang said. “But with few men left, the Jinyiwei hardly have such masters.”
“The Jinyiwei are deep waters,” Xiao Chiye said, standing. “I’ll attend court—then we’ll talk.”
After the court session, Li Jianheng warmed his hands, sitting in the Mingli Hall. Nervously, he asked, “…So it’s been judged?”
Xue Xiuzhuo knelt. “Your Majesty, Ji Lei confessed to the rebellion plot at Nanlin Hunting Grounds. Evidence is complete. Last night, the Dali Court compiled the confessions through the night, and the Grand Ministers presented them to you. For the Hua faction, over half a month, the three judicial offices repeatedly examined. Ji Lei as leader, with two deputy Jinyiwei commanders and four assistant marshals, were all executed. Subordinates, including town magistrates and Nanlin Hunting Grounds lieutenants, were also executed or imprisoned pending execution.”
“Good. Good,” Li Jianheng said. “The ministers worked hard; they should sit. Bring them seats.”
Once Hai Liangyi was seated, Li Jianheng continued. “The Hua faction colluded with eunuchs and the Jinyiwei to plot rebellion. Despicable! Pan Rugui, as Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial, abused power, greedy and unrepentant. Such a person should be executed immediately! Your words last time kept me tossing and turning, but now I am resolved to strive forward.”
Hai Liangyi rose to bow.
Li Jianheng quickly gestured. “Sit, sit. I need your guidance on many matters. Calling you ‘Sir’ is proper. I hope you all advise me boldly.”
Xue Xiuzhuo looked up, expression unreadable. He and the ministers knelt, praising the emperor.
Li Jianheng, excited, signaled them to rise. After brief remarks, they were dismissed, except for Hai Liangyi, invited to dine.
Xiao Chiye emerged, accompanying Xue Xiuzhuo.
Xue Xiuzhuo said, “Not sure what the governor said to the emperor, but he is so respectful.”
“The emperor is young and vigorous. Even without my word, he would act so. The Dali Court has been busy; Minister Yanqing has worked hard,” Xiao Chiye said.
“In office, one must govern. Proper,” Xue Xiuzhuo said, smiling at him. “I heard you’ve visited Fengshan often. Anything interesting?”
Xiao Chiye smiled. “First snow on Fengshan is unparalleled. Several deer appeared; I intend to hunt. If free, you may come.”
Xue Xiuzhuo waved gently. “I’m a scholar, not a hunter. Wouldn’t spoil your fun.”
They parted at the palace gate; Xiao Chiye’s smile faded as he watched him leave.
Chen Yang waited at the carriage, lifting the curtain. “Governor, Master has already set out for Qu Dou.”
Xiao Chiye nodded.
Chen Yang hesitated, then said, “Reports from the Dali Court: Ji Lei is dead.”
“How did he die?”
Chen Yang gestured. “Mutilated—neither fully man nor ghost. Last night he could not survive. Xue Xiuzhuo had him kept alive long enough for his confession to be presented before the emperor, then allowed him to die.”
Xiao Chiye sat silently, turning the bone amulet on his thumb.
Chen Yang said, “Five years ago, Ji Lei judged Shen Zechuan in Zhaoyù Prison, humiliating him publicly. Now revenge was served. His vindictive nature is clear. Governor, having him nearby is dangerous.”
Xiao Chiye said nothing, fingers still turning the bone amulet.