“A-Yun,” Chao Yan called softly.
Gu Yun’s indignation had reached such a pitch that it was as though his very ears were stopped; he could hear nothing. Lowering his head, he turned on his heel to leave.
Yet two fingers pinched the back of his collar, deftly pulling him backward. Chao Yan retrieved the book list and pressed it into his palm, murmuring, “It will serve well enough to pass the time.”
Gu Yun snapped his head up to glare at him.
The youth’s countenance was mild and his gaze serene, as if all of Gu Yun’s prior suspicions had been entirely unfounded, and the prince remained utterly oblivious to his inner thoughts. Gu Yun gripped the paper tightly, turning away with the sole intent of utterly destroying the romantic novellas that had brought him into such a perilous predicament. Before he could take a step, however, the older man closed the distance between them, and a breath as warm and silken as a serpent’s hiss coiled into his ear.
“If it is your desire, it is not entirely out of the question. It is merely that I am somewhat occupied at present. Shall we revisit the matter once my hands are free?”
Gu Yun: “…”
Without a word, Gu Yun slapped the book list directly onto the prince’s face, though he was careful to avoid the wound upon his brow.
Grand Eunuch Huang, bearing several items from the Eastern Palace that he deemed highly suspicious, made his way back to the East Garden.
At that juncture, the search of the East Garden had not yet concluded. He instructed his subordinates to deposit the confiscated goods in an orderly fashion, and without uttering a sound, he took up his station outside the main hall. From within, the air was thick with the sounds of weeping and frantic pleas for clemency.
Aside from the Emperor and his personal guard, only Prince Yan and the Eighth Prince were present within the chamber.
Grand Eunuch Huang easily distinguished the voice of the Eighth Prince. He let out a quiet sigh in his heart. You knew perfectly well what His Majesty loathes above all else, yet you chose to run headlong into it! Prince Yan, by contrast, made not a single sound.
Before long, both Prince Yan and the Eighth Prince were escorted out under guard. One possessed a fiercely resentful glare, his spine held perfectly erect, whilst the other bore a visage of abject misery, thoroughly disheveled and broken.
The former was consigned to the dungeons of the Court of Judicial Review, while the latter was remanded to the Imperial Clan Court. Following an investigation conducted by an emergency tribunal composed of the Three Judicial Offices and the Governor-General’s Administration, the sentences were handed down: the Eighth Prince was stripped of his status, reduced to a commoner, and condemned to lifelong solitary confinement; Prince Yan was divested of his titles and rank, and sentenced to public execution. Their descendants were condemned to exile, their female relatives were either assigned to the Imperial Laundry or turned over to the Entertainment Registry, and their subordinate officials and relatives by marriage were investigated and punished according to the severity of their transgressions.
During this period, several former subordinates of Prince Yan attempted to voice their grievances on his behalf. The Emperor’s informants lost no time in reporting this to the throne. Greatly incensed, the Emperor chose to make an example of them; he stripped them of their offices and decreed that their sons should be barred from officialdom for all generations.
Under the direct supervision of the Emperor himself, the sluggish machinery of the court moved with astonishing celerity. By the onset of the year-end holidays, the affair of Prince Yan and the Eighth Prince was rapidly drawing to its conclusion.
Grand Eunuch Huang accompanied the Emperor on a visit to the Eighth Prince. The young man had been confined in the Imperial Clan Court for several days and had only just been relocated to his permanently designated place of exile.
Upon beholding the Emperor’s frozen expression, Chao Yao understood at once that whilst his father claimed to have merely confined him, the true intent was to have him quietly put to death.
His courage entirely failing him, Chao Yao collapsed into tears and threw his arms around the Emperor’s legs, crying, “Father! I have seen the error of my ways, I truly have! It was all done at the instigation of Prince Yan; I never harboured such thoughts myself, Father, I swear it…”
Yet no matter how piteously Chao Yao wept and begged for mercy, the Emperor remained rooted to the spot, his gaze lowered, observing the youth in absolute silence.
His shadow, cast forward by the dim light, stretched long and ominous across the floor.
After a long while, the Emperor commanded his attendants to pry the ash-faced Chao Yao away, and strode out. No sooner had he departed the place of confinement than a messenger arrived to report that Prince Yan requested an audience.
Reflecting that the man was to be publicly executed on the morrow, the Emperor allowed a passing whim of fraternal sentiment to move him, and consented to the meeting.
The Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, Minister Hu, had Prince Yan transferred from the maximum-security cells to his personal office, where the Emperor awaited him.
Prince Yan’s appearance was remarkably composed, his garments impeccably clean; the officials of the Court of Judicial Review would never dare mistreat a royal prisoner without explicit imperial sanction.
The moment the two men came face to face, what little sentiment the Emperor possessed vanished entirely. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk and said, “What else have you to say for yourself?”
Prince Yan stared intently at the Emperor. The sovereign had moved with far too much speed; had he been even a fraction slower, allowing the prince to fully deploy his stratagems, matters would never have come to such a pass.
After a long silence, the prince spoke: “Do you truly believe that we are the only ones who harbour treasonous designs, and that all others are blameless? To say nothing of the rest, Chao Ziyu most certainly does.”
The Emperor let out a short chuckle.
“If war were to break out tomorrow, there is not a single soul in your entire court capable of commanding an army.”
The Emperor merely chuckled a second time.
“Have you forgotten the catastrophic defeat of years past? Surely not; you yourself were taken captive in that very campaign…”
The Emperor slammed his palm upon the table and roared with laughter. Yet within a breath, his mirth vanished utterly, and he cast a meaningful look toward Grand Eunuch Huang.
Understanding the unspoken command, Grand Eunuch Huang ordered the guards to pin Prince Yan down. He stepped forward and struck the prince across the face with his horsetail whisk, continuing the assault until blood trickled from the corner of the prisoner’s mouth before finally staying his hand. Prince Yan spat out a mouthful of bloody water, glaring venomously at the attendant as he snarled, “Eunuch dog!”
Grand Eunuch Huang’s expression tightened slightly.
The Emperor rose, saying coldly, “If you have nothing but these empty recriminations to offer, then there is no further need for speech.” He turned to depart, but Prince Yan threw himself to his knees, crying, “Your Majesty, I can yet be of service to you!”
“Great Xuan enjoys peace and prosperity,” the Emperor replied, without turning his head. “We have no need of you. Even should war arise, there are men in abundance to be deployed; we have no cause to trouble a traitor. If you truly possess any regard for the realm or for Us, then once you have departed this world, pray that our ancestors look down upon us with favour.”
Prince Yan’s face turned a mottled purple, the sound of his grinding teeth snapping in the quiet room. “If you put me to death, you will live to regret it.”
“My only regret,” the Emperor retorted sharply, “is that I did not execute you sooner, before you could corrupt my imperial sons!”
With steady steps, the Emperor exited the Court of Judicial Review, with Grand Eunuch Huang and his retinue following in close attendance. Minister Hu and his subordinate officials bowed low to see the sovereign off, each of them breathing a profound sigh of relief as they finally looked up at the sky.
The heavens were leaden and overcast, the dark clouds resembling a parched, cracked earth, huddled close together with deep, shadow-filled fissures between them. Frigid snowflakes began to drift down through the gaps, melting against the skin and bringing with them a biting chill.
Minister Hu tucked his hands into his spacious sleeves and turned to look at Meng Zhao, who stood nearby, a trace of schadenfreude glinting in his eyes. “A few days past, Prince Yan openly confessed to his crimes. Without expending a single grain of effort, you have successfully resolved the matter of the substituted death-row prisoner on a case that had vexed us for months without result. You are fortunate indeed.”
Meng Zhao replied in a thoroughly mild tone, “It was entirely owing to the celestial fortune of His Majesty.”
“I fear, however, that you will receive no reward for it,” Minister Hu remarked.
“To be permitted to atone for my past negligence is reward enough; I dare not presume to hope for more,” Meng Zhao said. “The year-end holidays commence in but two days. Minister Hu, you and I must exercise the utmost vigilance in discharging our duties. Should any oversight occur, we shall not enjoy a peaceful holiday.”
“There is little need for the Vice Minister Meng to remind me of that,” Minister Hu sniffed. “One can only hope that no further complications arise.”
Meng Zhao merely smiled and remained silent.
In truth, both men were well aware that further troubles lay ahead. The Emperor had ordered a rigorous search of both the Eastern Palace and the East Garden; it was only because he had been entirely occupied with the destruction of Prince Yan and the Eighth Prince that he had not yet found the leisure to settle scores with the remaining factions.
—It was rumoured that a great variety of items had been unearthed from those two residences, though the precise nature of the discoveries remained a closely guarded secret.
…
The masters of the Eastern Palace and the East Garden, however, knew precisely what had been uncovered. Because the imperial searchers had proved entirely incorruptible, delivering even the slightest anomaly directly to the Emperor’s desk, every inhabitant of the palaces had been plunged into a state of quiet, agonising anxiety following the raid.
Gu Yun, observing Chao Yan’s current demeanour, found himself somewhat perplexed. Had the prince not foreseen this event long ago and taken every necessary precaution? Could it be that he had merely instructed Gu Yun to safeguard himself, whilst neglecting his own affairs?
This bewilderment lasted for a mere two days before Gu Yun caught on. He realised that Chao Yan was entirely feigning his distress; his performance was so flawlessly executed that the entire palace had been thoroughly deceived, sharing in his simulated anxiety.
Living within the Eastern Palace under such conditions, Gu Yun felt as though he were suspended over a slow-burning fire.
This stifling atmosphere persisted until the very eve of the year-end holidays.
On the opening day of the court recess, Chao Yan, alongside several of his imperial brothers, was summoned to the Emperor’s presence.
When he returned that evening, he brought with him a severe imperial reprimand.
The Emperor had castigated him for neglecting his proper duties and displaying an unseemly obsession with commerce. The account books of the enterprises under his name and those of the Eastern Palace showed virtually no deficits, each entry serving as an eloquent testament to the immense diligence he poured into his business ventures. The Emperor demanded that he redirect his intellect toward matters of state.
As for the academic sponsorships conducted under the Emperor’s name, the sovereign raised no overt objections, but quietly assumed direct control of the ledger himself.
Any observer could easily deduce the Emperor’s reasoning: though he had discovered no evidence that the Crown Prince was using the funds to cultivate a personal following, he harboured deep misgivings that the prince might do so in the future. He had therefore taken the administration into his own hands to forestall any potential trouble.
In sum, apart from a stern scolding, Chao Yan had emerged entirely unscathed.
A wave of relief washed over the Eastern Palace, and Gu Yun was able to resume his accustomed comfort. By the following day, the other princes had returned to their respective quarters, though each had been subjected to severe penalties, and their political factions had been ruthlessly suppressed by the crown.
Gu Yun was entirely content to witness their downfall, given that his fortunes were tied to the Crown Prince.
That evening, as they prepared for rest, Gu Yun enquired of the prince whether he might now resume his own projects, having finally devised a concrete method for the improvement of the wheat seeds. Chao Yan sat at the head of the couch, a loose robe draped over his shoulders, slowly drying his freshly washed hair with a cloth.
Upon hearing the question, Chao Yan turned his gaze upon him and asked, “Do you place your trust in me?”
Gu Yun had bundled himself entirely within the quilts, leaving only the upper half of his face exposed. He looked back blankly. “What do you mean?”
Chao Yan gestured for him to draw nearer.
Tugging the quilts along with him, Gu Yun shuffled across the mattress and pressed his ear close to the prince. Chao Yan murmured a single sentence in a low voice. Gu Yun sat frozen in astonishment for a long moment, wondering if his ears had played him false. Adopting the cautious air of a conspirator, he dropped his voice to an absolute whisper and said, “Say that once more.”
Chao Yan smiled faintly. “What, do you not believe me?”
“It is not that,” Gu Yun said, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “It is merely that my mind cannot quite grasp it… it is far too sudden.”
“It is by no means sudden,” Chao Yan replied. “The heavens, the earth, and the will of the people are all aligned. This is a campaign destined for absolute victory.”
Gu Yun licked his lips a second time, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. His throat felt parched from within, as though every drop of moisture had been drained from his frame. “It was those very items… that prompted this decision within you.” The statement was uttered not as an inquiry, but with absolute certainty.
A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Chao Yan’s features. “From what did you deduce that?”
Gu Yun thought to himself: From the account provided by Xu Jingzhou. In the narrative Xu Jingzhou knew, this character before him was supposed to ascend the throne only a decade later, following the natural demise of the old Emperor.
Though these thoughts raced through his mind, his lips offered a different response: “May I not simply have guessed correctly?”
Chao Yan laughed softly. “You may indeed; why ever not?” He then added in a quiet tone, “For the sake of your security, once the New Year festivities have concluded, I shall dispatch you and Zhao Xun to Xu Jingzhou’s garrison. I intend to promote him to a military command; I am confident he will safeguard you effectively.”
Gu Yun smiled and gave his assent, though a trace of anxiety lingered in his heart. “You intend to move immediately after the New Year? Is that not somewhat precipitous?”
“The timing is optimal,” Chao Yan explained. “The New Year will have just concluded, a period when men are traditionally indolent and entirely off their guard. Furthermore, within so brief an interval, those brothers of mine whose strength has just been shattered by His Majesty will have had no opportunity to recover, rendering them incapable of opposing me.
I shall have to contend only with my imperial father, who still reposes his trust in me. I intend to bring the matter to a swift and decisive conclusion. Thanks to the Emperor’s past edicts, the entire court is well acquainted with my administrative competence, and a preliminary purge of the ranks has already been executed. Once the dust has settled, I shall secure the throne with great celerity. There is no cause for anxiety; I have weighed every factor.”
Gu Yun nodded his agreement.
Chao Yan smiled, leaning down to press a brief kiss against the youth’s forehead before resuming the drying of his hair.
Gu Yun touched the spot where the prince’s lips had rested, then reached out to take the thick drying cloth, saying,
“Allow me to assist you.”
Yet Chao Yan deftly avoided his hand, murmuring, “Save your assistance for a later hour; there is little need of it now. I can attend to this myself.”
Thoroughly perplexed, Gu Yun asked, “Assist with what, pray? Planning how the Eastern Palace is to observe the New Year?” He considered this for a moment before adding, “Very well, though I possess no experience in such matters. You are not permitted to mock me.”
“It is not that affair,” Chao Yan said. “The New Year celebrations within the Eastern Palace follow the established protocols.”
“Then what is it?” Gu Yun pressed.
Chao Yan lowered his eyes, his gaze resting upon the damp tresses of hair that reached down to his waist. He spoke in a low, resonant murmur: “The weightier matters of state have all been set in motion, and I find myself with an abundance of leisure during this court recess. Tell me… would you care to make a trial of it?”
