When Li Jianting arrived, the imperial physicians in the hall were trembling, prostrated on the ground. Aunt Liuxiang knelt at the bedside, holding the Empress Dowager’s hand, softly calling, “The Crown Prince has arrived.”
The Empress Dowager’s breathing was slightly rapid. Her eyes rolled, and she saw Li Jianting. Cold sweat would not stop; on her bare, unpowdered face, faint wrinkles had appeared—at last revealing her age. Her breath was like a hanging thread: “I… wish to speak… with Your Highness…”
Aunt Liuxiang rose and withdrew with the attendants.
Curtains hung in layers within the hall. Incense rose from the Buddhist altar; the drifting smoke veiled the statue, blurring its expression of compassion. Li Jianting bent down to pick up the string of prayer beads fallen on the carpet, catching the heavy scent of sandalwood.
“You set a banquet and killed Han Cheng,” the Empress Dowager said, hair loose, head tilted. “I knew then… you would not tolerate… me either.”
“I may have the intent, but not the power,” Li Jianting said, turning the beads. “Fuman is in such a hurry—it shows Your Majesty has already lost the people’s hearts. You’ve reached the end.”
The Empress Dowager’s chest rose and fell, yet she forced a smile. Her gaze passed through Li Jianting as she said, “You truly are… Emperor Guangcheng’s daughter… how laughable, you of the Li clan… if only you were a man…”
“If I were a man, I would not have lived to this day,” Li Jianting said, gripping the beads as she sat by the bed. “You killed off all the Li men.”
The Empress Dowager’s damp hair clung to her cheeks. From her brows and eyes one could still glimpse the peerless beauty of years past. Her lips trembled: “Who would have thought… he was that ruthless—rather die than leave me without a future calamity…” Her eyes filled with a smile. “The Prince of Qin… was driven to death… by himself…”
Li Jianting looked at her. “You killed husband and son to reach this point. You could have become an unprecedented ruler, yet you handed power to others. Trusting eunuchs, letting their faction disrupt the court; favoring your brother, fostering the arrogance of powerful ministers… the state is in peril—you cannot escape blame.”
The smile faded from the Empress Dowager’s eyes. She stared at Li Jianting. “The heights are cold… you do not understand… I was like duckweed, with nowhere to rely on…”
“Like duckweed, with nowhere to rely on,” Li Jianting repeated. Her young face held neither sorrow nor a smile. She turned her gaze, looking past the curtains to the dressing table, fixing her eyes on the pale yellow bronze mirror. “If you lacked the resolve to stake your life, why stir up such storms in the realm?”
“You are also a woman,” the Empress Dowager said. “How can you not understand me?”
“I am neither woman nor man,” Li Jianting looked back at her, eyes clear. “I am Li Jianting.”
The Empress Dowager seemed lost. After a long while, she said, “Seeing you, I understand what bearing a Li sovereign possesses… but you too are constrained by others.”
“The chessboard is not in anyone’s hands—it lies within the mountains and rivers,” Li Jianting said softly. “Those who think they are playing are merely those who entered a bit later than others.”
The Empress Dowager’s breathing grew faint, her voice even lighter: “…Poor Xue Xiuzhuo, scheming to the end…” She opened her eyes slightly wider, murmuring, “…the rivers and mountains…”
Outside, the last light faded. A few birds crossed the vast sky. An unsteady peony lost its petals; they fell onto the dressing table and, nudged by the wind, drifted away.
News from Qu Capital was urgently sent to Qidong. Hooves shattered the lonely night, arriving at the border commandery days later. Hua Xiangyi had not yet rested; seeing the courier report, she smiled and asked, “Has my aunt’s letter come as well?”
Qi Wei’s expression was strange; he hesitated at the door.
Sensing something, Hua Xiangyi slowly rose. “Is she ill?”
Qi Wei avoided her gaze, lowering his head. “Reporting to Madam… the Empress Dowager has passed away.”
Hua Xiangyi staggered back a step. Hongying hurried to support her. She stared blankly at Qi Wei; after a moment, tears were already falling. Leaning on Hongying’s arm, she walked a few steps forward and said hoarsely, “…Don’t lie to me.”
Qi Wei remained silent.
Hua Xiangyi covered her mouth hastily with a handkerchief, choking with sobs. “How… how could this be…”
Before Qi Wei could answer, Hongying cried out, “Madam!”
Hua Xiangyi’s body slanted, and she fainted.
Inside the tent, calming incense burned. When Hua Xiangyi awoke, Qi Zhuyin was seated by the bedside, peeling an apple. Noticing she was awake, she set it aside on the small table, wiped her hands, and touched her forehead. “You’re ill and didn’t even know it.”
Hua Xiangyi’s lips were pale. Without opening her eyes, she soaked the pillow beside her with tears.
Qi Zhuyin was not good at comforting others. Seeing her cry so sorrowfully, she hurriedly wiped her tears with a handkerchief, only afterward realizing it was the one she had just used to wipe her hands. Hua Xiangyi turned her back, curling up, sobbing without stop. When she cried herself exhausted, she fell asleep again; when she woke, Qi Zhuyin was still sitting there.
“The news traveled slowly,” Qi Zhuyin said. “…The new emperor will soon ascend the throne. I’ll take you back.”
“With no aunt, there is no place there for me to return to,” Hua Xiangyi blinked her swollen eyes. “When we parted, she was in good health. In just two months, she fell ill and died.”
Qi Zhuyin was silent for a moment. “…I promised you I wouldn’t let her die.”
“The Marshal is far at the frontier; it was beyond your power,” Hua Xiangyi said. “The inner palace is not the outer court—blades are invisible. Even the Grand Secretary cannot reach that far.”
Qi Zhuyin thought Hua Xiangyi would say more, but she stopped there, bracing herself to sit up.
“The Marshal is busy with military affairs,” Hua Xiangyi said. “Let me be alone.”
Her wrists were bathed in the cool moonlight; her downcast appearance was haggard. Qi Zhuyin could not stay longer. She took a small sachet from her sleeve and placed it on Hua Xiangyi’s knees.
“Hongying is waiting outside,” Qi Zhuyin said as she rose. “I’ll be in the side hall.”
Night was nearly over. At dawn, when Hongying heard Hua Xiangyi call, she sent someone to fetch food from the kitchen and went in first.
“Bring me my box,” Hua Xiangyi said.
Hongying took down Hua Xiangyi’s small chest from the cabinet. Hua Xiangyi unlocked it, told Hongying to bring in a copper basin, then burned the account books inside.
“Madam, what are you doing?” Hongying tried to stop her anxiously. “These are all the painstaking calculations you made.”
“The Crown Prince promised the Marshal not to kill my aunt,” Hua Xiangyi said, her slender fingers loosening as she watched the books be consumed by flames. “If she did not do it, then she was incompetent; if she did, then she was untrustworthy.”
A breeze flipped the pages, and with a rustling sound, they scattered into ash.
The night in Duanzhou was cool. In the courtyard, flowers and trees grew thick; mosquitoes were many. Fei Sheng lit incense in a newly built awning. Shen Zechuan stirred the ice in his bowl with a spoon, making faint clinks, watching Xiao Chiye teach Xiao Xun to draw a bow while listening to Fei Sheng report on Qu Capital.
“For Xue Da to take charge of the granaries, he must deal with palace eunuchs. The eunuchs favor seafood from Yongyi Port—have Qingqing prepare it for them.”
“Qingqing says it’s ready. Once the new emperor ascends, there will surely be a general amnesty. At that time, Xue Da will have his chance to rise,” Fei Sheng said. “Also, with the Empress Dowager’s death, the great clans are in danger. But Helian Hou is selling land to raise grain; the cabinet may show leniency.”
“For Helian Hou to think of raising grain means he’s been pushed to the brink, forced to cut flesh and start over,” Shen Zechuan said, drinking his soup. “I’ve given him grain—that’s already benevolence to the utmost.”
The grain Helian Hou sold his property to buy all came from You Tan, the prefect of Liuzhou in Juexi. Back when Yan Heru proposed building a new port, Shen Zechuan agreed, and You Tan became his insider in Juexi. True to his name, the man was especially greedy—pay him enough silver, and he’d dare any deal, even one that could cost his head. Otherwise, he would not have dealings with Yan Heru under Jiang Qingshan’s watch.
“Xue Xiuzhuo is too aggressive. If the war in Zhongbo were not over, Kong Qiu and Cen Yu might still agree. But now that my hands are free,” Shen Zechuan’s eyes reflected fireflies, “they no longer wish to fight the great clans to the death. Joining forces against external enemies is the priority. As long as the Crown Prince isn’t foolish, she will pardon Helian Hou.”
“Then we’re still giving Helian Hou grain?”
The grain Shen Zechuan had You Tan supply Helian Hou was not only fairly priced but all of good quality.
“Relief grain, of course, must be given,” Shen Zechuan said, looking at Fei Sheng. “Just have You Tan tell the truth.”
Fei Sheng immediately understood and laughed. “Master is wise!”
Over there, Xiao Chiye released the string; the arrow struck the bullseye. Chen Yang and the guards cheered.
Fei Sheng sighed with admiration. “Second Master’s strength.”
Shen Zechuan watched Xiao Chiye for a long while, then said to Fei Sheng, “Elder Yin’s funeral is done. What remains of his belongings—you are his son, you decide.”
“He didn’t have anything worth keeping… throw away the tattered mat and quilt, burn them for him—I’m afraid he’ll scold me otherwise,” Fei Sheng pressed his hand to the blade at his waist. “I’ll keep this. The blade has no name, and neither did he.”
“Elder Yin was a hero. This blade should have a name,” Shen Zechuan said.
“I followed you, as did he,” Fei Sheng gripped the hilt. “I ask Master to bestow one.”
Shen Zechuan turned the porcelain bowl, watching moonlight cut along its side, bright as snow. “Ten thousand banners slay Yama—take the last three characters.”
Fei Sheng lifted his robe and knelt, saying loudly, “This blade will not fail its name!”
With the Empress Dowager’s death, the Crown Prince’s ascension could no longer be delayed. The cabinet drafted the procedures, setting the time in early August, immediately after the funeral. The reign title chosen was “Shengyin.”
Upon hearing this, Xiao Chiye said, “The new emperor has sharpness.”
In early August, Kong Qiu led the officials in kneeling before Mingli Hall, and Li Jianting thus became the true emperor of Great Zhou.
“Guess what title the new emperor will grant the Marshal,” Shen Zechuan spent his days indoors teasing Xiao Xun; now with Xiao Chiye there, he teased Xiao Chiye as well. “Guess right and there’s a reward.”
“What reward?” Xiao Chiye looked over military reports, letting Lanzhou lean against his back. “It’d better be worth it.”
“Anything,” Shen Zechuan said, pointing with his folding fan wherever he read, finding it quite comfortable to press against Xiao Chiye.
“A marquis,” Xiao Chiye caught Shen Zechuan’s hand, turning it over to look at the scars. “With the Prince of Libei before, the capital won’t enfeoff another Prince of Qidong.”
Lu Pingyan of the frontier commanderies was a border marquis. Qi Zhuyin commanded five commanderies—if ranked equal to Lu Pingyan, it would seem unfair. But since the Yongyi era, Great Zhou had only two non-imperial princes: Xiao Fangxu of Libei and Shen Wei of Jianxing. Qi Zhuyin’s military merits did not surpass Qi Shiyu’s, and he lacked favor from the censors, making enfeoffment difficult. Weighing both sides, a marquisate was more suitable.
“Then I’ll guess a princely title,” Shen Zechuan whispered near his ear. “If I win, you owe me a reward.”
Fuman changed into new robes. As he walked toward Mingli Hall, eunuchs and palace maids along the way all saluted him. He was full of ambition but kept his composure, stepping aside when he saw court officials, appearing even more humble.
Fuman brushed his sleeves, stepped inside, took the tea from a palace maid, and personally presented it before Li Jianting. “Your Majesty.”
Li Jianting often slept poorly. Rubbing her brow, she accepted the tea and took a sip. “What does the Grand Secretary say?”
“This is the Grand Secretary’s draft. Please take a look,” Fuman said, taking the cabinet’s document from his sleeve and placing it on the imperial desk. “If Your Majesty agrees, it can be issued tonight.”
Li Jianting read the draft prepared by Kong Qiu, pondered for a moment, and said, “Lu Pingyan was also made a marquis. If we grant Qi Zhuyin the same, Qidong may feel dissatisfied.”
“You are right,” Li Jianting placed the document down. “Then let it be—”
Before she could finish, Fuman was about to grind ink when a report came from outside: Kong Qiu had arrived. Interrupted, Li Jianting set the matter aside and summoned him in first.
Kong Qiu’s face was ashen. He lifted his robe, knelt, and after bowing, said in a deep voice, “Your Majesty, there is a problem with the relief grain sent to Yong City. A memorial from Juexi has just arrived—I dared not delay!”
Fuman immediately received the memorial and passed it to the imperial desk.
Li Jianting opened it and at once grew grave.
“Rumors are spreading throughout Yong City, all saying that this relief grain is secretly provided by Shen Zechuan of Zhongbo. The claims are detailed and widespread,” Kong Qiu said. “If left unchecked, I fear…”
“If we stop distributing the grain now, it will confirm that it is connected to Shen Zechuan.”
The capital had no grain. The only supply that could relieve Yong City’s drought was this batch. Li Jianting could not let the people starve. But as Kong Qiu said, if left unchecked, repeated rumors would become truth—Shen Zechuan would take all the credit and become Yong City’s benefactor.
This move was both insidious and ruthless.
Li Jianting had finally learned her lesson.