Wei Bin walked nervously, her steps hesitant. The surrounding palace walls were unfamiliar, and fear pricked at her. “Eunuch, why haven’t we arrived yet? Where is the Empress Dowager?”
The eunuch leading the way ignored her.
A shiver ran through Wei Bin in the eerie silence. She paused, pretending to have a stomachache, threatening to turn back.
The eunuch guiding her was unknown to her—young-faced and unfamiliar. He glanced back, speaking gently: “Almost there. Carry Lady Wei carefully; do not let her fall.”
The eunuchs on either side lifted her. Wei Bin struggled, raised her voice to scream, only to have her mouth covered. Their movements were swift and practiced, and soon she was being carried forward.
In the desolate courtyard was a well, its basin still holding some water.
The eunuch peered in. “Here, then. Let’s put her in.”
Wei Bin fought fiercely, her pampered nails scratching the lead eunuch’s arm. Her hair was disheveled, hands clinging to the well’s edge as she shook her head and whimpered.
The eunuch, touching her delicate hand, called out in pity for someone to lift a stone.
A splash echoed, startling the birds perched on the crimson walls.
Emperor Xian De lay inside the carriage, Li Jianheng kneeling beside him, holding a bowl of medicine.
The emperor’s breaths were faint, barely enough to cough. He waved weakly to Li Jianheng, who hastily set down the bowl and crawled forward. “Your Majesty, do you feel any better?”
The emperor gripped Li Jianheng’s hand weakly. “Jianheng…”
“I am here,” Li Jianheng cried again, tears streaming. “I am here with you.”
“In the late years of the previous emperor, he was constrained by others. At that time, the Eastern Palace Crown Prince was your elder brother… I…” Emperor Xian De gazed at him. “I, like you, was a mere idle prince. The world is unpredictable; in the end, the empire fell to me. Yet since my ascension, I’ve been restrained. Every action, as if a puppet on display. The Empress Dowager orders me to smile, I smile. She orders me to die, and now… I must die.”
Li Jianheng sobbed uncontrollably.
“You shall inherit the throne alone,” the emperor said weakly.
Li Jianheng clutched his brother’s hand, wailing: “How can I bear this? I am merely a worm beneath the Li dynasty, how could I manage this pinnacle of power? Brother, I am afraid—I am terrified.”
“Do not be afraid,” Emperor Xian De said, drawing strength from somewhere, gripping Li Jianheng’s hand tightly, eyes wide. “You are not like me… the relatives are defeated! Hua Siqian is doomed, Pan Rugui also doomed. You kill them, and the Empress Dowager will have no aid! The power falls to you… you shall… become the ruler of this realm! What I cannot do… you can… I…”
The emperor coughed violently, shaking all over, still holding Li Jianheng’s hand, blood in his mouth.
“Eliminate the relatives, oversee the ministers. The Hua family defeated… remember… the throne permits no one else to rest! Today… those who saved you… tomorrow… may kill you! Military power is a tiger… Xiao…”
He spat blood. Li Jianheng panicked.
“…Never… never… let… let… Ah… Ah Ye…”
Never let Xiao Chiye return to the northern border!
Whether prodigal or genius, the Xiao family remained subordinate only while the relatives held sway. With the Hua family gone, who else could restrain them? Xiao Chiye, patient and silent for five years, had already turned the palace troops from rot into excellence. Give him another five years in the north… he would become a grave threat.
Li Jianheng murmured, “Brother… how can this be… Brother…”
“Reduce the border garrisons. When necessary… kill… kill…”
Kill him.
Seeing his brother close his eyes, Li Jianheng broke into a howl. The emperor’s last grip did not loosen, the wrath and gloom etched in his brow unyielding.
For nine years, he had never made a single decision in front of the Empress Dowager. His food, his attire, his choice of consorts—everything dictated by her. His boldest act had been secretly liaising with Eastern Command, enlisting Xi Guan’an, paving what seemed like a smooth path for Li Jianheng.
The returning procession halted, echoing with cries. Ministers knelt en masse, Hai Liangyi leading, tears choking him as he cried “Your Majesty!”—the last honor of Emperor Xian De.
The capital’s mourning bell tolled, the nation in grief.
Empress Dowager Hua sat on her couch, feeding the emperor’s parrot.
The bird, hearing the bell, called: “Jianyun! Jianyun! Jianyun is back!”
The Eastern Pearl by her ear trembled slightly. She nodded. “Jianyun has returned.”
The parrot continued: “Mother! Mother!”
The Empress Dowager clutched her wooden spoon, motionless. Her white hair could no longer hide the fine lines at her eyes, like cracks in precious porcelain.
The parrot called several more times, then suddenly collapsed in the cage, motionless.
The Empress Dowager set down the spoon, sitting silently until the bells ceased. “Wei Bin… where is she? Why is she so late?”
Back in the capital, thanks to Emperor Xian De, Xiao Chiye had been busy without a moment to rest. He knelt with officials for days, and when finally able to lie down, he was utterly exhausted.
Yet even in exhaustion, he washed. Seeing the scratches on his shoulders had already scabbed, he donned a fresh robe and asked Chen Yang, “Where is he?”
Chen Yang knew this time. “The Embroidered Guards are reorganizing. He’s to be re-enlisted these days. Hasn’t returned home much.”
“I ask…” Xiao Chiye said, “what about Ji Lei? Who answered for him?”
Chen Yang scratched his head, slightly embarrassed. “Ji Lei… detained. After the new emperor’s ascension, he’ll be executed. Weren’t you the one who brought him in?”
Xiao Chiye draped his coat over his shoulders, serious. “I forgot.”
Shen Zechuan, Ge Qingqing, and Little Wu sat at a noodle stall, eating. Halfway through, Little Wu suddenly straightened his eyes.
Shen Zechuan looked back, seeing Xiao Chiye toss silver to the shopkeeper and sit beside him. “Two bowls,” he said.
Little Wu slurped the noodles, moved like a quail to another table, Ge Qingqing carrying her bowl along.
Shen Zechuan picked up his noodles. “I’m full.”
“Finish your meal,” Xiao Chiye grabbed chopsticks, nudging Shen Zechuan. “Afraid of me? In such a rush to run?”
“Afraid.” Shen Zechuan slowly ate the last bite. “Anyone pressed like that would be.”
“You ran fast during the palace escort too,” Xiao Chiye said, annoyed. “Such a chance for promotion, and you ran?”
“I wasn’t escorting anyone,” Shen Zechuan replied, sipping soup, blowing gently. “Why join the fuss?”
Xiao Chiye began eating. Near the end, he said abruptly: “Thinking back, that night you crouched behind me for a long while, right? Choosing whom to act on… best to play it by ear. If Xi Guan’an seized the capital, you strike me. If not, pull me up. Wait for the perfect moment—it was only after I fell that night you could act.”
“You were lucky.” Shen Zechuan tilted his head, smiling. “Still alive.”
Xiao Chiye said, “The arrow shot at me… wasn’t yours, was it? If I hadn’t risked myself, how would your favor appear so significant?”
“I’ve already done great deeds without expecting repayment,” Shen Zechuan said. “Why do you still think I’m scheming?”
“Not expecting repayment is the real problem,” Xiao Chiye said, seemingly unsated, putting down his chopsticks. “That day you didn’t dare appear before the prince—afraid of Ji Lei, or afraid Hua Siqian would shout something?”
Shen Zechuan stacked his coins neatly, then leaned close to Xiao Chiye, whispering: “No. I was afraid of you.”
“Afraid of me?” Xiao Chiye asked.
“Hard,” came the single word.
The surrounding voices seemed distant. For Xiao Chiye, the only sound was that warm exhaled word: “hard.” He realized that today Shen Zechuan wore a high collar, half-covering his neck, denying him any further glance.
His expression shifted slightly. “Rest assured,” he said, forcing out the words.
“You’re of age now, Second Young Master,” Shen Zechuan said, turning straight. “Time to marry.”
“You, Second Young Master, play more games than anyone.” Xiao Chiye, seeing him try to leave, grabbed his wrist, forbidding him to stand. “Leaving before finishing your words is improper.”
“Always touching me,” Shen Zechuan said. “What rule is that?”
Xiao Chiye released him. “Then consider this friendship returned.”
“Call me Master and it’s returned,” Shen Zechuan said.
“But the item must be returned,” Xiao Chiye said. “You wouldn’t want me chasing you for the finger ring, would you?”
Without a word, Shen Zechuan tossed the bone ring to him.
Xiao Chiye took it, suspicious. “What scheme is this? Returned just like that?”
“An honest man does things properly,” Shen Zechuan said. “Just that simple.”
With that, there was nothing more to say.
Watching Shen Zechuan rise, fingertips playing with the ring, Xiao Chiye felt it had all come too easily.
“Heading home?” he asked.
“Duty tomorrow.”
“The Embroidered Guards have been reorganized. What duty do you have?” Xiao Chiye said. “Winter is harsh—take care.”
“I am but a small fish drifting with the current,” Shen Zechuan replied. “Those who need protection are not me.”
Xiao Chiye tapped his knuckles. “Say hello to Master Ji Gang for me.”
Shen Zechuan’s step paused, suddenly staring at him.
Xiao Chiye adjusted the ring, teasing: “Lan Zhou, off to play?”