In the eighth year of Emperor Xiande’s reign, it was the height of summer.
Wang Xian, the head clerk of the Ministry of Revenue, sat on his chair in a soaked official tunic, shifting uncomfortably as if on pins and needles. More than once, he turned away to wipe the sweat from beneath his black hat.
“Lord Xiao…” Wang Xian stammered, “i-it’s not that the Ministry refuses to allocate funds to you. It’s just that the treasury accounts haven’t been fully settled, and Grand Eunuch Pan hasn’t approved the disbursement yet. We truly have no way to release the money!”
“Accounting takes time,” Xiao Chiye said calmly, sipping from his tea cup. “I am waiting. No rush.”
Wang Xian swallowed hard, glancing at the unflinching Xiao Chiye and then at the motionless Imperial Guards stationed along the corridor outside.
“Sir,” Wang Xian almost pleaded, “it’s hot. Having the soldiers stand outside like this… it’s uncomfortable. I have some cold drinks here, preserved ice…”
“No reward for no merit,” Xiao Chiye said with a smile. “Our Imperial Guards have thick skins and strong bodies; standing for a few hours is nothing. Sir, focus on your accounting.”
Wang Xian held the ledger, his pen hovering midair for a long while.
Earlier that spring, the emperor had fallen gravely ill. To add merit and blessings for His Majesty, the Empress Dowager had ordered the construction of a Buddhist temple, requiring timber to be brought from Duanzhou. To save costs, the Imperial Guards were called upon to transport it. The timber had arrived in Qu Du, but due to a memorial by Elder Haige, the Empress Dowager canceled the project. As a result, the Ministry of Revenue was left with a shortfall and had delayed payments to the Imperial Guards for two months.
Normally, when the treasury is flush, such matters are trivial—who would want to offend Second Young Master Xiao over a small sum? But now, the Ministry genuinely had its difficulties. Last year, for the Empress Dowager’s birthday alone, nearly one million taels of silver had been spent on feasts and gifts.
Wang Xian put down his pen and said bluntly, craning his neck: “Sir, the money cannot be released at present. I’ll be honest: according to current accounts, year-end expenditures don’t match the budget, and even our salaries may not be paid. Truly, even if you were to… order my head, I could do nothing!”
Xiao Chiye slammed his tea cup down onto the table. “The Eight Battalions receive their salaries on time, yet our Imperial Guards—our turn—are left penniless. All of us serve the emperor, and yet the Ministry forces us to wait for their internal transfers. Year after year, they cry poverty. That has nothing to do with me. We perform the work, the payment is due in black and white. Don’t speak to me of anything else; it is not my responsibility. If the Ministry’s problems require others’ sympathy, then why should anyone work at all? Make room for someone else.”
Wang Xian’s face turned ashen. He stood. “If all this is for the emperor, why must you drive so hard? Who would refuse payment if they could? The Imperial Guards are capable; why labor them like this?!”
Just then, a man entered, lifting his robe slightly as he stepped in.
“Lord Wang, there’s no need for anger. Second Young Master is straightforward,” he said, removing his sun hat and wiping his hands with a cloth. “I am Xue Xiuzhuo, Supervising Officer of the Revenue Department, here regarding these accounts.”
Though a seventh-rank post would normally carry little weight in Qu Du, this position was exceptional. The officer could supervise the progress of all departments’ work, participate in assessments of officials’ virtue and performance every six years, and report directly to the emperor, bypassing the Six Ministries.
Wang Xian, unable to offend him, muttered compliance. “Of course, I dare not show anger. The Imperial Guards have done great work. But come, Xue Xiuzhuo, see these accounts—Revenue simply cannot release the funds.”
Xue Xiuzhuo, styled Yanching, looked elegant. He did not examine the ledgers, speaking instead to both men: “I understand the Ministry’s difficulty. Second Young Master, if we convert the silk supplied by Quancheng recently into silver, and hand it over in full, will that suffice?”
The moment Xiao Chiye left, Wang Xian scowled and said to Xue Xiuzhuo: “He isn’t doing this for the Imperial Guards’ sake. Most likely, he is simply squandering the money. Since taking office as Governor of the Imperial Guards, he has been a wild spender, leaving us no room to maneuver, never showing any understanding!”
Xue Xiuzhuo smiled without answering.
Xiao Chiye left the Ministry of Revenue office and mounted his horse, heading toward East Long Street. He had grown taller since five years ago, and the old recklessness seemed to have softened.
King Li Jianheng had been waiting for him all morning. Seeing him arrive, he exclaimed, “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”
“Gallivanting,” Xiao Chiye said, finishing his iced drink. Seeing the ice bowls set up in the room, he stretched and reclined on the carved bed. “It’s comfortable here; outside is a sweltering heat. I’ll take a short nap.”
“That won’t do!” Li Jianheng waved his bamboo fan vigorously, flinging his robe open. “You must wait for me to finish talking before sleeping!”
Xiao Chiye, half-asleep, responded lazily.
Li Jianheng sipped from his delicate glass of ice wine, then continued: “Remember that girl I told you about five years ago? The one I was raising at my estate, intending to take for myself, but that little bastard Wang Fuzi gave to that eunuch Pan Rugui!”
“Oh?” Xiao Chiye murmured.
Li Jianheng grew animated: “I recently went to the estate again—she’s matured beautifully, more charming than before. Seeing her drives me mad with desire. That eunuch ruined my good match. Can such a thing go unpunished? It cannot!”
Xiao Chiye yawned.
“You are brothers, yes? You must think of a way to deal with him! Pan Rugui must not be touched, but Wang Fuzi must get his punishment!”
Xiao Chiye, utterly tired, said, “How? Drag them from the palace?”
“Dragon Boat Festival is coming. The emperor will watch the races at the Western Gardens. Pan Rugui must follow, and so will Wang Fuzi. When the imperial horse races begin, we’ll snatch him out and give him a beating!”
Seeming asleep, Xiao Chiye murmured, “Killing is impossible. If Pan Rugui holds a grudge, troubles will follow.”
Li Jianheng pouted. “Then just a beating. I need to vent this anger, or I cannot eat. But tell me—why are you always so fatigued? Where do you go at night? The girl I picked for you… why did you dismiss her?”
Xiao Chiye fell silent, signaling he had heard. His thumb bore the scar where the ring had been, and a bite mark on the webbing remained. Li Jianheng continued to speak, but Xiao Chiye ignored it entirely.
A few days later, on Dragon Boat Festival, the long-absent Emperor Xiande, frail and ill, visited the Western Gardens. Palace ladies and attendants wore gauze robes; Ji Lei and Captain Xi Gu’an of the Eight Battalions were assigned to protect him. With the Imperial Guards idle, Xiao Chiye also arrived.
The garden was crowded. The emperor had planted the willow, preparing for the start of the horse races. Li Jianheng waved at Xiao Chiye from the prince’s seat.
Xiao Chiye tossed the reins to Chen Yang and loosened his arm bindings before taking his place.
Li Jianheng still held his bamboo fan. “Why are you so late? You had me worried sick!”
“I’ve been busy,” Xiao Chiye said.
Li Jianheng fanned himself. “See? Wang Fuzi is serving over there.”
Xiao Chiye glanced and saw Wang Fuzi laughing near Pan Rugui. “Don’t make a scene. Just give him a beating.”
Half an hour later, as Wang Fuzi approached a privy to release water, darkness fell over him—a sack covered him completely.
“Eh!” Wang Fuzi screamed, but a punch knocked him unconscious.
Li Jianheng, seeing the sack, lifted his robe and kicked. Wang Fuzi struggled, muffled inside the sack, writhing painfully.
The horse race was in full swing; no one heard a sound.
Wang Fuzi was beaten for half an hour. Li Jianheng was still unsatisfied until Chen Yang intervened. Chen Yang signaled the prince’s guards, who lifted the sack and carried it away.
“Your Highness,” Chen Yang said, “if you continue, he could die. Leave it for next time.”
Li Jianheng straightened his robe, glancing at Xiao Chiye: “Where should we leave him?”
“The Governor ordered: leave him near the lake woods. During the banquet, palace eunuchs passing by will release him.”
Li Jianheng returned to his seat, ignoring Wang Fuzi.
At the banquet, Li Jianheng soon forgot the incident. Xiao Chiye watched Pan Rugui’s side but saw no sign of Wang Fuzi.
Li Jianheng, picking at food, said: “He probably felt embarrassed and ran to change. Palace eunuchs must be clean, or they’ll anger their masters. Shall we visit my estate soon? I’ll introduce you to that girl.”
“I’m busy,” Xiao Chiye said, drinking cold tea. “Autumn comes, it’s time for the Du Cha examinations. I must entertain to keep my position.”
“Life,” Li Jianheng said, “is meant to be spent in luxury. Waiting for death while eating and drinking. Pan’s faction, the Empress Dowager’s kin… fighting to the death. Tiring, isn’t it? Where’s the fun?”
“Indeed,” Xiao Chiye smiled mischievously, “it only brings trouble for oneself. Playing is the most satisfying.”
Li Jianheng laughed at his gaze. “What about Du Cha? Who dares touch my brother’s office? You’ve been appointed personally by the emperor; we serve under imperial edict. I’ll host a flower-viewing banquet before autumn—invite everyone.”
“No rush,” Xiao Chiye said, scanning the Western Gardens. From the tiers of eaves, he glimpsed the Baodian of Zhaozui Temple. He frowned.
“Still thinking about it,” Li Jianheng said. “That thumb ring has been gone so long.”
Xiao Chiye habitually rubbed his thumb.
“The remnants of the Shen family have been imprisoned for five years, without news. Is the person dead or insane? The emperor has never asked,” Li Jianheng said.
Xiao Chiye’s palm hurt; he did not wish to discuss it.
Just then, the drums by the lake sounded. Li Jianheng dropped his chopsticks, exclaiming: “Let’s go! The dragon boat races—surely someone will bet!”
Xiao Chiye was about to rise when Ji Lei dashed through the crowd, leaning toward Pan Rugui and whispering. Pan Rugui suddenly turned and slapped the table once.
Xiao Chiye immediately looked to Chen Yang.
Chen Yang froze. “Governor…”
“The Emperor!” Ji Lei knelt before His Majesty, loudly proclaiming, “The dragon boat races cannot proceed. While inspecting, I discovered the palace attendant Wang Fuzi in the water!”
Emperor Xiande coughed violently. Pan Rugui rushed to support him. The emperor eased slightly before asking: “What was he doing in the water?”
Ji Lei looked toward the emperor or perhaps the Empress Dowager, voice grave: “He has drowned.”
The court ladies murmured, covering their mouths with silk handkerchiefs.
Li Jianheng overturned a tea cup in shock. “I was only speaking hypothetically…”