“Xue Yanqing, when he welcomed the Crown Prince back into the palace, once presented to the Inner Cabinet the former emperor’s vermilion annotations and the Qin Prince’s private seal,” Yao Wenyu said, lightly brushing his pale lips with his fingers. “But these two objects have nothing to do with each other. The Qin Prince’s private seal was never actually stamped onto the vermilion annotations. If such an item alone can prove that Li Jingtian is the Qin Prince’s legitimate daughter, then every nobleman’s relic in my Yao clan’s study could serve as imperial proof.”
Cen Yu, even as his hands and feet turned cold, could not allow his momentum to weaken further. Today’s discussion beneath the city gates was watched by thousands. One wrong word would mean catastrophe for Qu Du. He steadied himself and said, “When the Emperor entered the palace, the Inner Cabinet verified her in open court. At that time the Empress Dowager also nodded in agreement, confirming that the Emperor was of Li bloodline!”
The wind and rain roared, striking the oil-paper umbrella like bursting beans.
Yao Wenyu said, “After the former emperor’s death, the Li clan declined. Your so-called public verification was nothing more than Xue Yanqing’s one-sided claim. The Empress Dowager lived alone in the deep palace, with corrupt eunuchs controlling the inside and treacherous ministers threatening from outside. How could she speak the truth?”
Cen Yu’s chest shook violently. He retreated in panic and said, “Treacherous… how dare you call me a treacherous minister… On the day of public verification, all civil and military officials were present. Who would dare coerce the Empress Dowager? I would be the first to kill him myself!”
“Good. Sir, your loyalty is admirable.” Yao Wenyu took a letter from his sleeve and said to Cen Yu, “I happen to have a confidential letter from the Third Miss here. It clearly records how Han Cheng used the accounts of Di City to threaten the Empress Dowager, and also includes family correspondence between the Empress Dowager and the Third Miss, all bearing the Empress Dowager’s private seal.”
The moment the letter was revealed, there was an uproar in the rain.
Cen Yu never expected Yao Wenyu truly had proof. A chill shot up his spine—today’s danger was not Zhongbo, but Qu Du itself. He gripped the edge of the table and said, “The Third Miss has been away from the capital for a long time and no longer serves beside the Empress Dowager. Her words…”
“The Third Miss is the Lady of Qiandong,” Yao Wenyu pressed on step by step. “If her words are not credible, why has Qiandong’s three hundred thousand troops still not moved?”
A muffled thunder rolled through the rain.
Yao Wenyu loosened his fingers, letting the confidential letter fall into a puddle. “The reason the Ji clan is willing to sacrifice a hundred years of reputation and still refuses to send troops to aid the throne is precisely because the one sitting on the throne is not a legitimate Li ruler. Xue Yanqing is turning a deer into a horse, not only deceiving the sovereign, but even using a woman from a pleasure house to pose as imperial offspring!”
A woman from a pleasure house!
“You are spreading lies…” a student pointed at Yao Wenyu and shouted sharply, “The Emperor is the daughter of a common farming family in Qu Du. She has long been known for her benevolence among neighbors…”
“Confused,” Yao Wenyu said coldly. “After ascending the throne, Li Jingtian never once summoned her adoptive parents. If she were truly filial and righteous, she would not have ignored them entirely.”
At these words, not only Cen Yu but even the students beside him collapsed to the ground in shock. The Qu Du garrison officers began whispering in alarm. Dark clouds pressed down upon the palace roofs; lightning illuminated the jagged eaves. The confidential letter was rapidly passed through the southwest regions. Hidden imperial guards in Qu Du moved through the streets, while Ge Qingqing occupied a teahouse, watching rain strike violently against the paper windows.
Li Jingtian lifted her head, listening to the thunder, already aware of the war drums beating toward her. She asked the empty Mingli Hall, “Has Donglie Prince sent troops?”
Feng Quan lit a stick of incense and replied, “Soon.”
Inside the screen, the rustling sound of fabric moved. Jiang Qingshan sat across the small table, separated by a handkerchief as he took Madam Liu’s pulse.
“The Ji clan has always been loyal and righteous. The old marshal’s achievements are illustrious and deeply favored by the former emperor,” Jiang Qingshan said. “Now the realm is in danger, internal strife everywhere. This is precisely when the Ji clan should become the nation’s pillar again. I advise the Marshal not to ruin great righteousness for private friendship. To honor the sovereign is to receive respect from all directions—the Ji clan’s future glory is right before you.”
“You are an able minister in governance, more familiar with civil administration than I am,” Ji Zhuyin said while sipping tea. “Since things have already reached a point where the realm is in crisis, there is no need for such empty rhetoric.”
The tea pavilion was filled with warm mist. Jiang Qingshan gave a bitter smile. “These words about persuasion and merit are all commonplace. I came only to speak honestly with the Marshal.” He set down his cup and looked at Ji Zhuyin. “Marshal, if the current ruler were truly incompetent, I would not have come. But now the restoration of Great Zhou is within sight. As long as internal troubles are removed, prosperity is not an empty talk.”
He paused briefly.
“When the former emperor ruled, he neglected governance, and the court was divided by factional struggle for years. During the great drought in Juesi, I could not gather relief grain and had no choice but to borrow grain at great cost, incurring enormous debt. It was Xue Yanqing who went to Qu Du at night, pleading with the Inner Cabinet for leniency. At that time Hua Siqian wanted to kill me, and it was Xue Yanqing who knelt before the Grand Secretary’s hall to save my life. In all these years, he has served in the Ministry of Revenue, traveling everywhere to support capable officials and help local administrators secure their positions, forming what is now called the pragmatic faction, allowing Great Zhou to barely survive after Tianchen. Marshal, we dare not claim credit, but we have staked our lives to carve out a path for Great Zhou!”
Jiang Wanxiao had not lied. The corruption of the late Yongyi years originated in Qu Du, but the local regions still struggled to hold on. The stability of Juesi today was not achieved overnight—it was built over more than a decade by people like them.
“Since Xiande years, Xue Yanqing has urged the court to send personnel to Zhongbo to clean up the chaos. The Grand Secretary, constrained by Hua Siqian’s influence, could not act rashly. Only after Hua Siqian’s downfall in Xiande Year Eight did the Inner Cabinet consider transferring me to Zhongbo as Provincial Governor. But it was already too late—the opportunity had been lost. The six prefectures were overrun by bandits and entangled with aristocratic powers,” Jiang Wanxiao struck the table in frustration and sighed, “We had neither troops nor authority—how were we supposed to act? Even transferring me took half a year of debate in the Inner Cabinet!”
He steadied himself and continued, “I had already given up, but Xue Yanqing supported the Emperor and pushed for land tax reform in Dan City. Marshal, if the Emperor were another incompetent fool like the former emperor, then let Shen Zechuan rebel if he wishes! But now there is clearly hope.” He looked urgently at Ji Zhuyin. “The first year of Shengyin has only just begun. If the Marshal wishes to send troops to assist Libei, there is already an external enemy. We have agreed, and military pay has been provided. This is no longer like the Xiande years when marshals had to kneel in the capital to beg for salaries. The grain corruption case in Bianguan forced Lu Guangbai into rebellion, yet the Inner Cabinet still has not followed the censors’ advice to strip the Lu clan of its title. This is precisely because they wish to give both the court and Lu Guangbai another chance—to start over. There is no more aristocratic interference this time, only civil and military officials facing each other honestly. The revival of Great Zhou is right here!”
Everything Jiang Wanxiao said came from the heart—truths others could not, or would not, understand. They were the gears of Great Zhou’s machinery, kept moving through successive capable men when rust threatened to stop it. This person was not one man; he might have been early Qi Huilian, later Hai Liangyi, or now Xue Xiuzhuo. Unlike aristocratic clans, though their ideas might clash, they had all contributed real strength in governance—they were the last vitality of this decaying old tree.
“Shen Zechuan’s implementation of household registers in Zhongbo has already been carried out in Juesi. Since I governed thirteen cities, all local offices have conducted annual inspections. No land has been lost, no fields abandoned, and port trade is flourishing. If not for Shen Zechuan’s interference, Yongyi Port would not have been shut this year!” Jiang Wanxiao said. “The suspension of grain tax in eight cities was precisely because Shen Zechuan pushed too far. In Zhongbo he calls himself a lord; across the three regions they call him a warlord. The aristocratic clans are cornered into desperation—suspension of inspections is unavoidable—”
From behind the screen, Madam Liu suddenly let out a soft sound of pain. Jiang Qingshan’s voice stopped abruptly. Red tassels parted the screen as Hua Xiangyi leaned in and whispered something to her.
Hua Xiangyi turned to Jiang Qingshan and said, “Madam’s health is weak. The journey has been exhausting, and the fetus is unstable. She needs several days of rest here.”
Madam Liu’s body had been damaged during the Xiande years. Jiang Qingshan knew Hua Xiangyi was not lying. Half of his speech remained fervent persuasion, while the other half was tied tightly to his wife. For a moment he was speechless, unable to sit or stand comfortably.
Ji Zhuyin murmured, “Amitabha. The Madam should take medicine.”
Jiang Qingshan asked, “What medicine? Her body is weak; the physicians have always been careful.”
“You have been married for years, yet your mother still makes your wife stand on ceremony every day,” Hua Xiangyi said with a hint of reproach. “That was one thing before, but now that she is pregnant, she is still made to stand on ceremony. What kind of rule is that?”
Ji Zhuyin had not intended to speak, but she gently kicked him under the table. Taking the hint, she set down her cup and said, “You should set aside official matters for now. There is still no news from Qu Du. First settle your wife.”
Jiang Qingshan had already sensed something was wrong and said cautiously, “As for sending troops…”
“I will consider it for two more days,” Ji Zhuyin said solemnly. “After two days, I will give you an answer.”
Fei Shi ran through the rain holding his head. Everywhere he went, people were talking—traitor, empress, forgery. Qu Du, a city of a hundred years, was on the brink of collapse in this storm.
He slipped on wet shoes and was nearly knocked over.
The former young marquis wore plain clothes. After Helian Hou became incapacitated, his old friends stopped associating with him. The family could no longer afford servants and dismissed most of them. Fei Shi had once tried to continue his old ways, but seeing his sister Zhaoyue working late into the night while raising a child, he realized the household was truly broke. Now he survived by writing letters for others.
He picked up scattered letters and cursed, “Blind dog, running into your grandpa—your grandpa used to rule around…” He wiped rain from his face and noticed the fallen man looked familiar, so he kicked him. “Hey?”
The man suddenly lifted his head—disheveled, unrecognizable—and clapped his hands foolishly at Fei Shi. “Young Marquis! Young Marquis!”
Fei Shi gathered his letters and said, “Well, at least you’ve got eyes. I am indeed the young marquis.”
The man was filthy, wearing only one shoe. He shook his head and said, “Young Marquis… find, find my big brother!”
“I’m not your damn big brother!” Fei Shi pulled his clothes back, disgusted by the smell. “Get lost!”
The man grinned and really walked away, hopping through the rain while shouting, “Big brother! My big brother is an official! A sword-carrying official!”
“Bad omen,” Fei Shi muttered. After a few steps, the voice sounded familiar. He walked a few more steps, and through the rain he saw the ruined Han residence—then froze.
“Military passage! Make way!”
Armored boots splashed through the streets of Qu Du. The entire city was under full alert. Siege weapons had been moved onto the walls. News of Shen Zechuan’s impending attack spread even faster than the rumors of the Empress’s identity.
Fei Shi was shoved aside by soldiers. He stood dazed, turning slowly like a clay figure.
“Han… Han Jin!”
Yao Wenyu had spoken his way through the crowd and withdrew unscathed. His donkey turned, the oil-paper umbrella tilting slightly, soaking the side of his blue robe.
Cen Yu was still in shock, gripping the table as if to call Yuan Jue again.
Behind him, soldiers silently raised their bows. The drawn strings were taut, fingers steady on the shafts. Rain beads formed chains along the umbrella edge. Yao Wenyu’s breathing grew uneven; the handkerchief in his grip was already soaked red.
The student, unwilling to accept defeat, chased forward a few steps. “Shen Zechuan seeks to seize the world and worship Shen Wei’s spirit tablet—this is neither righteous nor moral! Even if I die, I will not kneel to him!”
The heavy rain drowned Yao Wenyu’s coughing. When he turned back, the faint curve at his lips was sharp and unwavering. His oil-paper umbrella fell to the ground; his hair was soaked through, yet he said with absolute certainty, “From the very beginning, Zhongbo has only judged Shen Wei’s military defeat. Our lord pacifies the realm for the people—he does not take wives, does not leave descendants, and seeks to reopen the old Yongyi case to clear the names of loyal ministers. You do not need to kneel. When the state is stabilized, when the people resume livelihoods, when the granaries of the world are full—our lord—”
The arrow suddenly loosed.
A sharp “hum” cut through the rain as it flew straight toward Yao Wenyu’s face. In the blink of an eye, a swift blade struck down from among the bamboo, colliding with a heavy “clang.” Qiao Tianya landed.
Shen Zechuan stood on the watchtower, looking toward Qu Du. Wind lifted his cloak, and within the storm there seemed to be faint specks of snow.
“No killing envoys during talks between armies,” the lord said. “Qu Du is treating Zhongbo as if we have no one.”
Qiao Tianya straightened slowly, standing before Yao Wenyu. Rain soaked his hair, covering his eyes. His thumb pushed open the sword sheath.
“Draw your blades.”
The armored troops were drenched in rain. Cold light flashed through the bamboo grove.
The incense had burned out.