The night’s rain had just ceased, leaving a lingering warmth and damp intimacy between the bedding.
The hot springs had been refurbished—small but complete in every detail. Xiao Chiye dressed and fed the horses and Hai Dongqing. At the third watch of the Mao hour, Maple Mountain was silent, save for the dripping from the eaves. He stood, letting the mountain wind wash over him. The early spring chill gradually subdued the excitement that had lasted through the night. His wine had sobered, but the current of desire remained thick, replaced by the mellow relaxation and tenderness that always follow indulgence.
This was the pleasure of giving in to desire.
Xiao Chiye removed the saddle from Lang Taoxuejin’s back and gave a sharp gesture. Immediately, Meng spread his wings and flew, leaping from the eaves into the forest.
He turned back into the room. The heat inside was still palpable. Shen Zechuan lay on the pillow, partially covered by the blanket, sleep uncertain. His exposed right ear still held the earring. Xiao Chiye gently removed it, rubbing the reddened ear lobe left by the clasp.
Shen Zechuan stirred, not fully asleep. After a moment, he half-opened his eyes to look at Xiao Chiye, his voice hushed: “…time to go.”
Xiao Chiye rolled onto his side next to him, locking eyes. “Today’s a rest day; it’s still early.”
Shen Zechuan murmured in acknowledgment. “The prison still has matters to attend.”
“Busy man,” Xiao Chiye said, gripping his fingers and drawing him close. “You’ve risen to Northern Commissioner, then promoted to Tongzhi. The people you now face are heirs to noble lineages. Managing them is never simple; someone is bound to try and trip you up.”
Shen Zechuan replied, “Serving the emperor’s inner circle is never easy.”
Lying there, his features radiated contentment. They shared a gaze, warm and tender, like the calm after a storm, their kisses slow and gentle. In this simple cottage, they were candid with one another; for these few hours away from the capital, they could shed their practiced solemnity and become two young men of the same age.
Xiao Chiye spoke softly: “This place is too small. The sky is blocked by walls, the mountains hemmed by the city. Lang Taoxuejin can’t run freely… Once we return to Li Bei, I’ll take you to gallop across Hongyan Mountain.”
Shen Zechuan pressed against his chest. “Does the moon in Li Bei shine as round as in Duanzhou?”
Xiao Chiye paused. “I’ve forgotten… Are the grasses in Duanzhou taller than in Li Bei?”
“I’ve forgotten too,” Shen Zechuan said.
They laughed, dispelling the faint melancholy. Shen Zechuan smelled the scent of Xiao Chiye as he pressed his chin against his hair.
“Let’s go together,” Xiao Chiye said.
“Home?” Shen Zechuan asked.
Xiao Chiye tightened his arms. “Home… we’ll take Master Ji Gang with us. Li Bei is vast; there’s plenty of room.”
Shen Zechuan laughed, lowering his gaze. “Master wants to return to Duanzhou. He probably can’t come along.”
Xiao Chiye’s eyes softened. “Once out of the capital, we can travel anywhere, to the ends of the earth.”
Meeting Xiao Chiye’s gaze, Shen Zechuan said, “The wolf cub should be in Li Bei. Otherwise, all that flesh will grow wasted—too regrettable.”
Xiao Chiye’s eyes darkened. “Li Bei has my eldest brother, Li Bei’s Iron Cavalry has my father. Only running horses suits me.”
Shen Zechuan lifted Xiao Chiye’s chin, eyes fixed on him. “A talent granted by heaven has its purpose; it’s just not time yet. Ce’an, ce’an—the hopes of Li Bei lie in these two words.”
Xiao Chiye’s lips curved in a deep smile. He suddenly rolled atop him, forehead pressed against his. “Do you want me not to?”
Shen Zechuan’s back ached; as he caught his breath, he pinched the back of Xiao Chiye’s neck, hoarse: “Give me… or not?”
Xiao Chiye bent to kiss him, lifting the blanket.
After the night rain, the capital grew warmer.
The Cabinet demanded the removal of Pan Xiangjie from his post as Minister of Works. The Censorate submitted over a dozen memorials against him, and daily court debates left Li Jianheng’s ears aching.
Previously, Wei Huaigu and other influential ministers had banded together, protecting their own. Figures like Fu Linye only faced demotion, not exile. After Hua Siqian’s downfall, the Grand Secretariat was filled by Hai Liangyi. Though he promoted some minor officials, most visibly Kong Qiu, the struggle between aristocratic and minor officials remained subtle yet fierce. But this matter was grave: if Pan Xiangjie weren’t impeached, then Wei Huaigu had to bear responsibility. There could be no scapegoat.
The Ministry of Revenue was clearly more important than the Ministry of Works. Aristocrats could afford to lose laborers but never those controlling finances. Pan Xiangjie faced removal, and even his eldest son, the Minister of Revenue’s Deputy, was suspended pending review.
Li Jianheng spoke little at court. Afterward, he called Xiao Chiye to stroll the spring gardens.
“I heard you ventured out in the rain recently,” Li Jianheng said in formal imperial robes, offering him some candied fruit. “What were you doing?”
“The training ground lies near Maple Mountain. After the rain, I worried. The canal issue just passed—so I went to check.” Xiao Chiye smiled, unaware that Li Jianheng had agents watching him. “The emperor knows the grounds. If damaged, my 20,000 men would have to join the Eight Camp drills.”
“If you brought the troops there, the Ministry of Revenue would grant funds tomorrow. I’ve realized—they’re all wary of you, wanting as little to do with you as possible.” Li Jianheng popped a candied fruit into his mouth.
Xiao Chiye laughed wryly. “It’s all official business; they shouldn’t be so scheming.”
Li Jianheng recalled the last time Xiao Chiye was cornered in court. “They are cunning. Everyone speaks nicely but sets traps. Even the emperor can be misled. This time, Pan Xiangjie nearly caused disaster. Guess what? Last night Princess Zhaoyue went to the Empress Dowager. The Empress knows the world—she claims no interest in politics, so sent the girl off. A soon-to-be-married princess, clueless. Forced by the Marquis of Helian, whose families are allied.”
Xiao Chiye descended the garden steps with him. “Has the emperor decided to punish Pan Xiangjie strictly?”
“Of course. No leniency. Cen Yu’s memorial included images of disaster-stricken districts. As emperor, confined to the palace, I can only rely on reports. Pan Xiangjie neglected canal management, harming people. He must be punished, Cen Yu agrees.”
Having tasted the rewards of praise from officials, the emperor now wanted to use Pan Xiangjie as an example.
“I disagree with Cen Yu,” Xiao Chiye said unexpectedly. “He deserves punishment, but dismissal is too harsh.”
Li Jianheng frowned. “Such negligence—if not punished, what about next time?”
Xiao Chiye glanced at the clear sky, recalled Shen Zechuan’s words, and smiled. “The emperor must act, but dismissing him cuts off his career. Pan Xiangjie has long served as Minister of Works with merit. The canal’s flooding damaged streets, but the Linghe embankment held firm. In past floods, few embankments survived—proof he worked diligently, without cutting corners.”
“But negligence remains. The Linghe embankment alone doesn’t excuse him.”
“Today’s discussion of spring irrigation funds is deadlocked. Delay risks missing the planting season.”
“How does not dismissing him help?” Li Jianheng frowned. “The Ministry of Revenue won’t release funds anyway. Wei Huaigu’s men are articulate; Cen Yu won’t waste words. Only the Censorate can keep them in check.”
“The Ministry of Revenue staff are Wei Huaigu’s disciples. But Pan Xiangjie’s son, Pan Lin, serves as Deputy Minister of Revenue. If Pan Xiangjie’s punishment is limited, the Pan family remembers the emperor’s favor. His son is like the emperor’s own. Future dealings with the Ministry will have a reliable ally. Dismissing Pan Xiangjie requires appointing someone new—loyalty is uncertain.” Xiao Chiye paused for Li Jianheng to consider.
Li Jianheng hesitated. “If not dismissed, there must still be a punishment to satisfy the public.”
“Pan and Fei are relatives; the Fei family is close to the Xi family, and silver is abundant. Punish Pan Xiangjie by having him cover the costs of the canal repairs and award him a court beating.”
“A court beating?” Li Jianheng gasped. “He’s elderly! That could kill him!”
“He must feel the sting to change and be grateful,” Xiao Chiye said with a smile. “Let the censors scold him. When the emperor summons him later, whether paying the expenses or obeying public humiliation, he will remember it deeply.”
Li Jianheng beamed. “You always have a plan!”
“This audit was also overseen by Wei Huaigu. I fear he may manipulate accounts. The emperor must require three reviews.”
Li Jianheng’s face darkened. “This is Revenue’s work; no other ministry can interfere.”
“Then let Revenue handle it. The officials above may mislead, but subordinates are truly working for the emperor.” Xiao Chiye paused, considering, then said, “I saw a capable clerk at Zhaozu Temple. He recorded the medicinal supplies accounts from the Imperial Guards flawlessly; Cen Yu praised him highly. Shall we try him?”
Li Jianheng smiled broadly. “If Cen Yu praises him, he’s trustworthy! What’s his name?”
“Liang Mishan,” Xiao Chiye said calmly.
Xi Hongxuan had been detained in the prison, expecting quick release with Li Jianheng’s backing and Xue Xiuzhuo’s influence. Days passed with no news, signaling complications.
Shen Zechuan arrived at the prison with his badge. Having shared wine with Kong Qiu and as a newly promoted noble, he persuaded the guards with just a few measures.
Xi Hongxuan rose at the sight of him, asking through the bars, “What’s happening? No news—has Pan Xiangjie been punished? If so, I should be released!”
Shen Zechuan, in dark blue attire without his official robe, his collar tightly fastened, eyes shaded in dim light, complexion pale, replied:
“Still waiting for Pan Xiangjie? Nothing has happened these past days.”
“Managing Works and letting the canal fail—how can that be ignored? The emperor couldn’t just let it slide.” Xi Hongxuan clenched his fists. “What went wrong?”
“Wei Huaigu clings to Pan Xiangjie to shirk blame. But extreme pressure provokes action—even Pan Xiangjie will bite back. To reduce punishment, he’s funding the repair work, distributing porridge to disaster victims, appearing humble, yet Cen Yu must reassess his penalty. Revenue’s delayed accounts cannot be overlooked. For everyone’s good, Wei Huaigu must admit fault. If he refuses, you become the target.” Shen Zechuan’s face remained serious.
Xi Hongxuan was silent for a moment. “Wei Huaigu values money. He resists admitting fault, fearing that filling the revenue post will expose him to Hai Liangyi. If Pan Xiangjie can’t bear the punishment, he’ll pressure me. The wily old fox!”
Previously, in attacking Xiao Chiye, each faction sought a share of the Eight Camps. Now, with Xiao Chiye unchallenged, internal strife arose first. Xi Hongxuan’s family wealth was intact, despite prior expenditures. Wei Huaigu’s demands for silver were different; the Eight Families understood each other well, their salt trade and fleets closely monitored.
“Spending to avert disaster,” Shen Zechuan said earnestly, “You are imprisoned. Those acting on your behalf outside must be trustworthy. Moving tens of thousands in silver is a major operation; someone must plan it properly. The matter is urgent—proceed quickly.”
“Find Yan Qing!” Xi Hongxuan blurted, then hesitated.
Xue Xiuzhuo knew the Xi family’s resources—others might interfere. Xi Hongxuan could produce the silver, but trust was scarce. With Xi Gu’an dead, the younger Xi household was clattering over ledgers. Xi Hongxuan might survive prison, but not family treachery.
He suddenly said, “Lanzhou, you’re now Tongzhi, managing the prison with privileges to enter and exit the capital. Yan Qing is busy at the Court of Justice; too conspicuous. Can you handle this?”
Shen Zechuan was surprised. “I’ve never handled accounts or dealt with Wei Huaigu. How could I manage your affairs?”
Exactly—ignorance is the point.
Xi Hongxuan said, “The salt fields have my appointed managers—they handle matters efficiently. Silver is no worry. But with large sums, transportation is difficult. Tens of thousands in silver stack high. Water routes fail; we must go overland. North through Di City under the Hua family, south through Hezhou under the Yan family—thirteen cities across Juoxi. Damn! This silver alone could crush Wei Huaigu! Over Juoxi, nothing else matters, but beware Jiang Qingshan—a ruthless man. If he catches wind, I’ll be skinned alive!”
Shen Zechuan didn’t rush to reply. “Better coordinate with Xue Xiuzhuo.”
“No,” Xi Hongxuan said firmly. “Yan Qing is unfit for this. You only need to tell him to advocate in court. The emperor may hesitate briefly—outside, my first target will be Wei Huaigu!”
He smiled at Shen Zechuan.
“No need to panic. I know you’ve never traded. I’ve left an accountant in the capital, Xi Dan, who has followed my elders. He will accompany you. I’ll make the arrangements when I see him.”
Xi Hongxuan’s mind worked quickly; he wouldn’t trust Shen Zechuan outright. He remembered how Ji Lei had been ruined—only upon seeing his own men would he release the funds. The Xi family’s keys were known only to him; without them, the entire treasury remained locked.
“In a few days,” Shen Zechuan said gently, “I’ll bring him to meet you.”