Today in Qudu, sleet and snow fell in sheets, the cold cutting to the bone. Helian Hou knelt inside the hall until his legs went numb, both sleeves soaked through with tears.
“That Xue Yanqing is shameless and without integrity—he’ll stop at nothing to frame me. The grain transport commissioner of Juexi took bribes—how does that implicate our Chuancheng? That’s Jiang Qingshan’s territory. If anyone is to be held accountable, it should be Jiang Qingshan!” Helian Hou had set aside his official hat beside his knees. He wept as he spoke. “And Cen Xunyi—he’s biting down on me without letting go, clearly purging dissent, colluding with Xue Yanqing to set this trap. They’re engaging in filthy dealings, yet Kong Boran still tolerates them, corrupting the entire court!”
“Don’t try to fool me with that nonsense!” the Empress Dowager snapped in fury. “If you had truly followed the rules, would Xue Xiuzhuo have been able to trace the accounts? The Juexi grain commissioner embezzled heavily in Chuancheng—without your backing, would he have had such power?!”
The hall was brightly lit, but the palace maids and eunuchs had all withdrawn outside the doors. Only Aunt Liuxiang knelt at the side in attendance. Helian Hou had come to plead guilty, dressed lightly; now, under the Empress Dowager’s rage, he trembled uncontrollably.
Since the death of Emperor Tianchen, the Empress Dowager had been patching the cracks for the noble families from this very seat, and by now she was utterly exhausted. Behind the bead curtain, she let out a weary sigh at Helian Hou.
Sensing the shift, Helian Hou hurriedly shuffled forward on his knees. “Your Majesty, please calm your anger. At this point, sacrificing a pawn to save the king is the best course. No matter what, we must first preserve Pan Lin.”
Pan Lin was Pan Xiangjie’s legitimate son and a key official in the Ministry of Revenue. They had already lost Wei Huaigu last year; now only Pan Lin could still hold ground in the ministry. If he fell as well, the noble families would lose control of their finances.
“You might be able to save Pan Lin,” the Empress Dowager said, “but not Pan Yi.”
Pan Yi was the husband of Princess Zhaoyue. Without him, she would be widowed. Helian Hou was overcome with grief, bowing low as he choked out, “As a father, unless driven to the brink, how could I abandon such a good son-in-law? I have no choice. I would rather she be widowed than dragged into this.”
The Empress Dowager’s face behind the curtain was drawn and haggard. In the end, she only said, “Go back. Have Zhaoyue divorce Pan Yi.”
Outside, sleet and snow struck the palace eaves. White snow pressed heavily against the vermilion walls. The ancient bell of the watchtower tolled mournfully, urging the proceedings forward in the interrogation hall. Pan Lin held rank and did not need to kneel before the presiding officials.
“Since the Yongyi era, Dancheng has no longer been granted new lands, yet the acreage measured by the Ministry of Revenue now differs vastly from what Dancheng reported,” Xue Xiuzhuo sat upright, looking at Pan Lin. “Pan Yi, as prefect of Dancheng, concealed the surplus land from the ministry. You oversee taxation—yet for years you raised no objections to the discrepancies in land tax audits. I ask you: did you know Dancheng’s land taxes were falsified?”
Pan Lin had been detained for days; his official robe was wrinkled. Sitting across the table, he stared at Xue Xiuzhuo without answering.
The two faced off.
Pan Lin was difficult to interrogate. Officials of his rank were well-versed in procedure. A clever man would remain silent under questioning by the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice, because their interrogators excelled at probing—engaging with them only risked exposing weaknesses. Pan Lin was clearly such a man. He maintained silence throughout.
If the case stalled here, the other seven cities would have enough time to clean up their accounts before Xue Xiuzhuo turned his investigation toward them. After lying in wait for years to seize this opportunity, Xue Xiuzhuo could not allow Pan Lin to escape.
“Pan Xiangjie remains in his post,” Xue Xiuzhuo said, fingers interlaced. “The Empress Dowager has praised him as a pillar of the state. After this year’s spring examinations, he may be transferred from the Ministry of Works—an implicit promotion into the Grand Secretariat. If you continue to deadlock with me here, his post-examination evaluation will inevitably be affected.”
Pan Lin leaned forward and spat in disdain. “You orchestrated that bribery by the grain commissioner, using it to build ties with Kong Qiu in the Grand Secretariat. Now you target the Pan family only because I let Yao Wenyu go. A mere unruly illegitimate son—what right do you have to pretend to be a statesman?”
Xue Xiuzhuo’s expression did not change. “Before Pan Xiangjie became Minister of Works, your Pan family was already annexing farmland in Dancheng. During the Yongyi years, a commoner from Dancheng came to the capital to seek justice and was trampled to death on Shenwu Avenue by Hua Thirteen. His eighty-year-old father later dashed himself to death at the Dancheng yamen gates. You’re right—I am targeting your Pan family because of Yao Wenyu. But he only gave me the opportunity. Even without him, the Pan family would still have to repay this debt.”
Pan Lin’s limbs turned cold. He leaned back in his chair, avoiding Xue Xiuzhuo’s gaze.
“In the first year of Xiande, Grand Secretary Hai was ordered to audit Dancheng’s land taxes. The official sent was Jiang Jun, my colleague in the Ministry of Revenue. The issue had already begun to surface, but Jiang Jun died from a fall on his way back to report, and the account books he carried vanished.” Xue Xiuzhuo spoke calmly. “In the second year of Xiande, when the Grand Secretary pursued the missing funds, Hua Siqian assumed we had evidence and ordered the noble families to make up the shortfall. You refused to draw from your private coffers, so to cover the deficit, you intensified land seizures across the eight cities. That year, seven households in Dancheng took poison and died. Do you know why?”
Pan Lin knew.
That year, pressed to desperation, Hua Siqian—and with him Pan Xiangjie—shifted the original land taxes onto the common people while expanding land seizures. These ordinary people lost their farmland and were still burdened with heavy taxes. With no redress for their grievances, they chose death.
This was not unique to Dancheng—it had become the norm across the eight cities since the Xiande era.
By this point, no one else remained in the hall. Xue Xiuzhuo continued, “Later, when disaster struck Juexi, do you know why Jiang… refused to collude with Hua Siqian? Because Jiang Jun was his kinsman. There is karma in this world.”
Pan Lin’s throat tightened. He forced a laugh. “Then now that you’re framing the innocent, aren’t you afraid of karma yourself?”
“Innocent? Was the Juexi grain commissioner innocent? He was appointed through your recommendation, given favorable evaluations by the Ministry of Revenue, and sent to Juexi to balance Jiang… While in that post, he colluded with the Yan family of Hezhou, trafficking copper and iron from Chuancheng and Dicheng. The tariffs he embezzled could rebuild this entire office compound.” Xue Xiuzhuo stood, his robe dark against the hall. “If he had no connection to Helian Hou, why would he rush to deliver a heavy bribe at the slightest hint? You call this framing—but it is merely your own methods, mirrored back at you.”
Pan Lin swallowed, anxiety rising. “You go to such lengths to support the crown prince’s ascension, but in the end it may all come to nothing.”
“My crown prince is Li Jianting, not Li Jianheng.” Xue Xiuzhuo braced himself against the table, looking down at Pan Lin. “Do you know what a scorpion is?”
Pan Lin’s gaze was blank. He chose silence.
“In the fourth year of Xiande, Zhongbo’s defeat gave Hua Siqian a chance to recover. Whether it was Shen Wei avoiding battle or the Biansha invasion, it was as if heaven itself was helping the noble families escape disaster.” Xue Xiuzhuo said, “I don’t believe in coincidences like that.”
Pan Lin didn’t understand, but he sensed danger. He could evade questions about land seizures, but accusations of colluding with external enemies were another matter entirely—once raised, they meant total ruin.
“You’re trying to frame me again?” Pan Lin shouted. “You curry favor with the crown prince, secure power, purge dissent in court, and bend the law for personal ends! If you truly served the state, why did you drive Lu Guangbai into rebellion?”
“Who tampered with the frontier grain supplies?” Xue Xiuzhuo suddenly slammed the testimony in his hand. “Who embezzled nearly half of Qidong’s military funds? You repeatedly suppressed Qi Zhuyin, allowing Libei to grow unchecked. One hundred twenty thousand cavalry now dominate the northeast—without Xiao Chiye, who could restrain Xiao Fangxu and Xiao Jiming? Ask yourself how the Grand Secretary has spent years correcting your failures! The Empress Dowager controls the court, yet still refuses to abandon the noble families to make up Qidong’s military funds!”
His chest rose and fell sharply before he turned aside, steadying himself.
“I am purging dissent,” he said at last, looking back at Pan Lin. “I will uproot all of you remnants—along with that ‘scorpion.’”
Yao Wenyu had caught a chill on the long journey and collapsed on his first night in Duanzhou. Seeing Yuan Zhuo fall ill so suddenly, Shen Zechuan kept the physician waiting in the courtyard at all times.
When Shen Zechuan rose after the meal to visit, Xiao Chiye said, “Let’s go together. I’ll check on him too.”
After dinner, the two put on cloaks. Fei Sheng followed at a distance as Xiao Chiye held an umbrella, walking with Shen Zechuan to Yao Wenyu’s courtyard.
Seeing the eaves empty, Shen Zechuan asked the maid who came to receive them, “Why is no one inside attending to him?”
The maid bowed. “The gentleman does not allow attendants at night.”
Xiao Chiye took Shen Zechuan’s hand and signaled for the maid to withdraw. He gave the umbrella a small shake. “Yuan Zhuo is proud.”
“Qiao Tianya isn’t here,” Shen Zechuan glanced around before looking toward the main room. “Knock.”
Before they could, the door opened. Qiao Tianya, in casual clothes, bowed slightly and stepped aside. “Yuan Zhuo… the gentleman has not yet retired. He’s waiting for the Prefect and the Second Master.”
Yao Wenyu was already up. His freshly washed face rested against the back of the chair, a book on his knees knocked to the floor by Hu Nu. Xiao Chiye bent to pick it up, glancing at it. “An illustrated volume? There’s a set in your Mei residence in Qudu too.”
“You paid quite a price for that residence, Second Master. Leaving it in Qudu is a pity.” Yao Wenyu’s voice rang clear as jade. He had already shaken off his fatigue, turning his wheelchair to gesture for Xiao Chiye to sit.
Shen Zechuan removed his cloak, studying Yao Wenyu’s complexion. “After such a long journey, I shouldn’t have called you to the hall today.”
“The snow is melting—it was bound to happen sooner or later.” With no outsiders present, and being an old acquaintance of Xiao Chiye, Yao Wenyu was more relaxed. He poured tea for Shen Zechuan, his movements betraying none of his illness. “At this moment, the Prefect must still be thinking about Qudu.”
“Spring plowing is imminent,” Shen Zechuan said, resting a finger against the teacup, the agate bead at his ear swaying in the dim light. “If the Dancheng case continues, the other seven cities will also be affected. This concerns the granaries of the entire realm.”
“Sacrificing a pawn to save the king is a tactic the noble families often use,” Xiao Chiye said, rearranging the scattered chess pieces on a nearby table. “If Xue Xiuzhuo truly pushes them to the brink, losing a Pan Lin may be acceptable.”
“This move kills three birds with one stone,” Yao Wenyu said. “Using gold to draw Liang Cuishan into his camp, bringing Dancheng’s land taxes to light, and laying groundwork to investigate Chuancheng’s tariffs. The brilliance lies in the fact that the grain commissioner and Helian Hou are indeed implicated, leaving the Empress Dowager unable to speak out. But Kong Qiu’s support must have more than one reason.”
Shen Zechuan shifted slightly as Hu Nu padded over to his feet. Watching the cat, he said, “Qi Zhuyin’s campaign against the Qingshu tribe is urgent. The Empress Dowager is suppressing the Ministry of War because she fears scrutiny of the Ministry of Revenue’s accounts. If Xue Xiuzhuo is willing to offer the Grand Secretariat several million taels at this moment, Kong Qiu would naturally accept.”
Hu Nu stretched, placing its paws on Shen Zechuan’s boots, arching its back and lengthening itself. It meowed and rubbed against his leg, about to claw at his robe when Xiao Chiye grabbed it by the scruff.
“So that’s it,” Xiao Chiye said, eyeing the cat. “Almost forgot—Xue Yanqing is holding a sizable sum of silver.”
The cat stiffened, then was set back down, scampering to Yao Wenyu’s lap for attention.
Yao Wenyu stroked it. “By making up Qidong’s military funds this time, Xue Xiuzhuo has earned the commander’s favor. If the Empress Dowager continues to watch from the sidelines, she’ll lose the initiative.”
“There’s an easy solution,” Shen Zechuan said, looking at them both. “The Empress Dowager only needs to arrange a marriage for the commander—then Qidong’s military power can be split.”
“To marry the commander…” Xiao Chiye said. “That would require someone of noble rank. Among those in Qudu, none are suitable—or capable of restraining her.”
“Since Helian Hou is already implicated in Chuancheng, remove him entirely,” Shen Zechuan said, placing a chess piece into Xiao Chiye’s palm and setting it on the board. “Isn’t the young marquis Fei Shi still without a post? Let him marry the commander, serve as a ‘figurehead’ in Qidong. The divided military authority would then fall under the Empress Dowager. Fei Shi is also a close friend of Pan Lin—so long as Pan Lin lives, there remains a chance for a comeback.”
For nearly a hundred years, the Hua family had married off daughters. Now, at last, it was the Empress Dowager’s turn to “marry off” a man. As Xiao Chiye had said, sacrificing pawns to save the king was her habitual method—but this time, she would cast aside not only Pan Yi, but Helian Hou as well.
“So far, the Li family has lost Emperor Guangcheng, Emperor Xiande, Emperor Tianchen, and the Crown Prince of Yongyi while under the Empress Dowager’s control,” Xiao Chiye said, watching the white piece in his palm. “If they lose again this time, the Great Zhou will truly change hands.”
Amid the sleet and snow, Li Jianting stood cloaked, facing the Empress Dowager across the curtain of snow.
Looking at the young crown prince, the Empress Dowager saw in her features the shadow of Emperor Guangcheng—the husband who had bound her for half her life, the shackle that once confined her within the inner palace. Now, standing at the pinnacle, she no longer feared those eyes.
She smiled at Li Jianting with false benevolence, thinking silently:
An incest-born wretch.