Pan Lin sat by the window, his mood heavy, after changing his clothes. Fei Shi, feeling guilty, took a seat nearby but hesitated to speak.
“You needn’t say anything,” Pan Lin said, gazing at the brightly lit courtyards and brothels outside. “It’s just my bad luck that I ran into such a despicable man.”
Fei Shi replied, “You know he’s despicable and narrow-minded—so why bother getting angry at him? Chengzhi, it’s not worth it.”
Pan Lin gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Has the Pan family fallen to such a state? To bow just to earn a meal, to let someone mock us… I’d rather die.”
Seeing his sorrowful expression, Fei Shi realized how deeply the recent betrayals had hurt him. With a shrug, he comforted him: “As long as the green mountains remain, there will always be firewood. The emperor hasn’t decreed yet. Besides, didn’t the Marquis say Pan Da-ren is a minister of three reigns? He still carries weight in the emperor’s eyes.”
At that moment, Gu Jin drew back the curtain, and Xiao Chiye leaned inside. Fei Shi and Pan Lin both stood and bowed.
Xiao Chiye raised a hand. “No need for formalities. Censor Pan, please sit.”
Pan Lin sat and said, “Tonight I not only ruined Your Grace’s enjoyment but also interrupted your wine. I deserve a beating.”
Xiao Chiye waved it off. Taking a sip of tea, he said, “I’ve long heard of your talents, Censor Pan, but never had the chance to speak with you—tonight is our opportunity.”
Fei Shi chuckled and gave Pan Lin a discreet signal. Pan Lin quickly bowed again. Xiao Chiye gestured for him to sit.
“I handled the matter of the blocked canals,” Xiao Chiye said. “I know the situation better than anyone. Those old canals along East Dragon Street were dug haphazardly before your father became Minister of Works. Many were poorly designed. With this flood, it’s unfair to put all the blame on your father.”
Pan Lin’s heart warmed. “A few years ago, my father had the maps drawn, but at that time, Zhongbo had fallen in war, the treasury was tight, and the Ministry of Revenue wouldn’t allocate funds. So the matter was left aside—who knew… sigh!”
“Yet there’s more,” Xiao Chiye said, covering his tea, “and Wei Huaigu never mentioned a word before the emperor. Aren’t your families on good terms?”
Pan Lin stayed silent. Fei Shi jumped in: “Your Grace, Wei Huaigu is purely self-serving, aiming for high office. He’s waited years, has the seniority, and now waits for this year’s Censorate assessment to be promoted. But when the canal problem arose, he naturally sought to distance himself entirely, avoiding any responsibility.”
“I never expected him to be such a man,” Xiao Chiye said with faint surprise. “I had thought the Ministry of Revenue’s accounts were tidy, and that this year might be his turn. But he’s just a petty opportunist. A pity for Pan Da-ren.”
Hearing the concern in Xiao Chiye’s tone, Fei Shi nervously said, “Recently, news is tightly sealed. Your Grace, we asked around but do not know the emperor’s intent with the Ministry of Justice. If Pan Da-ren is sentenced… will troops be dispatched?”
Pan Lin also grew anxious.
Xiao Chiye sat steadily, spinning his bone finger counter, holding their attention before saying, “It’s hard to say. I believe the emperor is hesitating as well.”
Fei Shi brightened. “If the edict hasn’t been issued, there’s room to maneuver. Your Grace is truly a close minister of the emperor—perhaps you could speak on Pan Da-ren’s behalf?”
“I will not plead for him,” Xiao Chiye said slowly, noting their change in expression. “I will speak plainly. A man of talent and merit, even with minor errors, is not worthy of death or exile. Tomorrow I will speak to the emperor—if all goes well, a pardon should reach the household within four days.”
Pan Lin’s joy overflowed. He rose, eyes watering, but too respectful to touch Xiao Chiye—he knelt, clutching his sleeve, and said, “Thank you… thank you, Your Grace, for saving my life!”
“Gu Jin, help the Censor to his feet,” Xiao Chiye laughed. “It is my duty. Do not take it to heart. Once home, instruct Pan Da-ren to rest; there will be plenty of state affairs needing his skill.”
Fei Shi, ever outspoken, said, “From now on, Your Grace, give any order—Chengzhi and I will follow!”
Pan Lin, repeatedly bowing, said sincerely, “From now on, Your Grace, whatever you command—I Pan Chengzhi will give my utmost. Far to the north, I may be limited, but within the capital, just say the word.”
Xiao Chiye said, “No need for formality. I heard Pan Da-ren drew maps of the canals. I’m dealing with repairs myself—please ask him if the maps can be lent for reference.”
“Consider it done. I will send them immediately,” Pan Lin promised.
Xiao Chiye reassured him further, watching Gu Jin lead him off the boat. He listened to the music for a moment, then turned to Ding Tao. “Eat whatever you like—have the cooks prepare freely. Once done, make some sweet and spicy dishes, then cook a few fish carefully to send to Shen Gongzi. Do not disturb anyone else.”
Ding Tao grabbed his notebook and dashed off. Chen Yang came from behind. “Master, Xue Xiuyi won’t be long inside. He’s still waiting for Yao Wenyu. Shall we go?”
“Yes, of course,” Xiao Chiye replied, glancing back, his eyes icy. “Xue Xiuzhuo betrayed me in Quancheng. He deserves a proper return gift. Bring a few more jars of good wine—this Xue Xiuyi will prove useful.”
The criminal prison was strictly overseen by Kong Qiu. Xi Hongxuan could not send messages, feeling cut off from the world. Each day worsened his anxiety. One night, he awoke to find himself isolated in a windowless cell.
“Why move me here?” Xi Hongxuan, too fat to squat comfortably, bent slightly to speak through the gap to the guard delivering food. “Brother! Sir! Could you at least say something?”
The guard ignored him, sliding in spoiled food and leaving.
Xi Hongxuan, embarrassed, refused the food, sitting silently on the straw mat. He hadn’t slept well in days, turning over the situation again and again without knowing what had gone wrong. The longer it dragged on, the more helpless he felt.
The room was damp, with no ventilation or sunlight. Used to sleeping on bamboo mats, he now felt utterly miserable, his eczema flaring on his back beyond reach.
Later, he heard movement at the door. With a creak, Shen Zechuan entered, followed by Qiao Tianya, disguised as a young man, lighting a lamp.
Xi Hongxuan struggled to get his legs down. “What is this? Why put me here? Was this Kong Qiu’s doing? I’ve never heard of such a chamber in the prison!”
“You’re not a regular inmate,” Shen Zechuan said, removing his cloak and handing it to Qiao Tianya. “This is where you should be. The food here is inedible; I brought dishes for you. Eat, and we can talk slowly.”
Qiao Tianya displayed the chicken, duck, and fish he had bought on the way. Xi Hongxuan watched silently, smiled briefly, then grew serious. “Looks like a farewell meal.”
“This case isn’t worthy of death—no need to frighten yourself,” Shen Zechuan said, sitting on the bench. Seeing Xi Hongxuan hesitate, he had Qiao Tianya provide chopsticks; Xi picked a few bites and sipped wine.
Only then did Xi Hongxuan begin eating.
Shen Zechuan put down his chopsticks and smiled. “Even with your own brother, are you so guarded?”
Xi Hongxuan wolfed down the steamed rolls, finally calming his hunger. “Times are unusual. Wouldn’t you act the same? Has the matter been handled? Have you seen Xi Dan?”
Shen Zechuan finished his wine, nodded to Qiao Tianya, who opened the door to bring Xi Dan inside.
“Second Master!” Xi Dan rushed in, crying upon seeing Xi Hongxuan. “You’ve suffered so!”
Xi Hongxuan steadied his hand, finishing the last sip of wine. “Stand up. Let them laugh if they will. I’m not dead yet.”
Xi Dan wiped her tears. “While you’ve been away, I instructed the stewards everywhere to keep accounts diligently. But you are the backbone—only your presence can ensure everything.”
Xi Hongxuan ate in silence, finally asking, “What’s happening outside?”
Xi Dan reported, “The emperor seeks accountability, but the Ministries of Revenue and Works refuse responsibility. Pan Xiangjie has been suspended and flogged. I sought Lord Xue for intercession, but he was too busy with affairs!”
“You didn’t see Yanqing?” Xi Hongxuan asked sharply, eyes narrowing. “Tell me the truth.”
Xi Dan hurriedly assured him. “Second Master, I would not deceive you! You’ll see once you leave. With the impending imperial pardon, the Ministry of Justice and Ministry of Punishments will review old cases together. Lord Xue must check the records with Kong Qiu—I couldn’t block him, so we haven’t met.”
Relieved, Xi Hongxuan muttered, “I’m cursed—why now? Lan Zhou, who encouraged the emperor to leave the palace? No news from inside?”
“Only a few people are near the emperor. Guessing is all we can do,” Shen Zechuan said. “But it’s clear the emperor is reluctant and wishes to protect someone.”
“To receive such protection, it must be Mu Ru,” Xi Hongxuan said, clenching his fists. “She has reason—be alert. She may be carrying an heir and eyeing regency!”
“Since she’s Xue Xiuzhuo’s person, unlikely. Also, your transfer to the Merit Office was his doing. If Mu Ru meant to harm you… Xue Xiuzhuo’s intentions remain unclear,” Shen Zechuan said.
Xi Hongxuan thought for a while. “For now, let’s focus on getting me out. What about Wei Huaigu? How much does he want?”
Shen Zechuan held up four fingers.
“Four hundred thousand?” Xi Hongxuan asked, stunned.
Shen Zechuan said nothing. Xi Hongxuan slammed the table, the wine cup crashing. “Good grief, Wei Huaigu… the Wei family! Four hundred thousand! That’s nearly the entire military budget for the dynasty! Transport alone would take six months—bribes at every checkpoint—how could he ever hide it in the capital?”
“His demands are audacious. The Embroidered Guard caught wind—Wei’s interest in Zhongbo is real. Imagine him controlling the Ministry of Revenue and Zhongbo’s six provinces. That silver will go to military use. Once Wei has troops, the Xi family will be at his mercy.”
Xi Hongxuan turned sharply. “You advised me to ally with them, didn’t you foresee this? Lan Zhou! These men are wolves and tigers, each greedy beyond measure. Once they hold it, we can never recover!”
Shen Zechuan sighed. “I urged you to join forces against the Yao family—you hesitated. The Yao were an easy target, you missed the chance, and today’s situation was inevitable. Xi Hongxuan, if you don’t remove them, they will remove you.”
Breathing heavily, Xi Hongxuan regretted his hesitation. Clenching his sweaty fists, he whispered to the flickering candlelight, “Lan Zhou… once I’m out, I’ll follow your plan. But now, we must first deal with that four hundred thousand…”
“Four hundred thousand is still too much,” Shen Zechuan said. “Transporting that much from the west, Jiang Qingshan would catch it. Wait—let me speak to Wei Huaigu.”
“We cannot delay,” Xi Hongxuan said. “The court moves too fast, and the emperor is indecisive. If Xiao Er or Mu Ru sways him, it will be too late.”
Shen Zechuan, adjusting his cloak, asked casually, “By the way, while in prison, what about Qi Huilian? He’s important—don’t let anyone see him.”
Xi Hongxuan softened. “Don’t worry. Qi Huilian won’t starve. I have someone watching him. Once I’m out, I’ll return him to you.”
Shen Zechuan, in the dim light, half-turned with a smile, tying his cloak, whispered, “Good.”
A cold wind slipped through the door, making Xi Hongxuan shiver. He rubbed his arms, trying to reassure himself, but Shen Zechuan had already stepped outside.