With state affairs before her, she would not gamble with the reputation of the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace.
“Wanting both wealth and power, and hostages in hand as well—I say the ones without sincerity for peace talks are you!”
A sudden cold sneer rang out. Zhao Yen followed the voice and looked over—it was a youth in martial attire seated not far away.
At the youth’s side, Marquis Jinping clenched his fist and coughed lowly, signaling him to hold his tongue.
The youth acted as though he did not see. Zhao Yen could not help but look at him twice more.
The youth was about eighteen or nineteen years old, bearing an extraordinary bearing. Only, at his left brow there was a small old scar, forming a broken brow, making him appear somewhat fierce. Yet he was the only one in the great hall who dared to openly speak in opposition.
“I did not say anything wrong.”
The youth spoke sternly, “If we are speaking of nobility, why not send Prince Yong or Prince Su to negotiate? It is nothing more than harboring treacherous intent, bullying the weak and fearing the strong!”
“My father’s aspirations lie in rivers and mountains; he has neither power nor influence and cannot shoulder such a heavy responsibility.”
Zhao Yuanyu spoke with a smile that did not reach his eyes, diverting calamity, “Let Prince Su escort the Crown Prince to go—now that would be a fine idea.”
Beneath the side hall doors, Zhang Cang, upon hearing these words, already felt the veins at his temples throbbing violently.
He quietly glanced at his master at his side. Cold light slanted from outside the doors, spreading inward. Hidden in the dimness, Wenren Lin’s face bore no expression.
“Your words, Shizi1Shizi (世子) literally means “heir son” or “heir apparent”., are somewhat improper.”
From within the hall came the frail yet clear voice of the young Crown Prince.
Zhao Yen, bearing the gaze of the assembled ministers, rose and bowed to the Emperor, “It is not that I, Gu, am greedy for life and fearing death. It is only that the court all knows Gu suffers from a weak illness. Should Gu meet
with some mishap on the road to pacification, will this account fall upon Prince Su, or upon the Governor of Liangzhou?”
This was indeed a stratagem of killing two birds with one stone.
If the Crown Prince were to encounter an accident during the journey of pacification, not only could Prince Yong’s household be justly promoted, but the blame could also be shifted onto Prince Su and the Governor of Liangzhou, dragging them down together.
After all, one of these two controlled the court, the other wreaked havoc in a region. For either of them to live was extremely disadvantageous to Prince Yong’s household. As long as they remained, it was like a thorn stuck in the back.
Now that this scheme was exposed publicly, Zhao Yuanyu forced himself to appear calm, but in his heart he secretly gnashed his teeth.
That damned sickly one! In the past, for the sake of appearances, he would still hypocritically yield to him. Yet now he dared to make him lose face openly before the ministers—truly becoming ever more bold!
The assistant magistrate of Liangzhou, with the look of stoat brows and rat eyes, laughed dryly, “The Crown Prince worries too much. Should the Governor see the Crown Prince personally arrive, he would surely remove his shoes to welcome you—how could he possibly bear to let the Crown Prince meet danger?”
“Not long ago, Gu merely shut the doors to recuperate for some days, and already rumors ran rampant, disturbing the very foundation of our state. Whence comes the courage for the assistant magistrate of Liangzhou to overstep his place and make this guarantee?”
Zhao Yen, her figure slender and delicate, turned her gaze toward Zhao Yuanyu opposite her, “If ill-intentioned people were to seize upon Gu’s death to stir up a great commotion, not only slandering the loyal and good who accompanied Gu, but also provoking once again discord between the court and the lands of Liangzhou and Shu, then today’s negotiations would surely fail utterly. Are these outcomes what Shizi wishes to see?”
At the words “loyal and good,” Wenren Lin gave a sneer.
It had indeed been long since anyone had described him thus. Hearing it suddenly now, it was rather ironic.
Having seen enough of the play, he finally instructed the chief eunuch waiting beside him, “Go report to His Majesty. The execution rods outside the hall—I have already prepared them.”
Having spoken, he did not wait for the eunuch’s reply, but turned and went out the doors.
The chief eunuch bent to pass along Prince Su’s report in a whisper. The Emperor, holding his immortal-like face that revealed no joy or anger, glanced toward the direction of the assistant magistrate of Liangzhou.
The chief eunuch at his side, eyes lowered to nose, nose lowered to heart, immediately grasped the sacred intent.
He moved without a trace of emotion to the side of the Liangzhou assistant magistrate, who was spitting as he spoke, and piled up a charitable smile: “Lord Assistant Magistrate, His Majesty bids you step aside for a word.”
The assistant magistrate of Liangzhou thought his suggestion had been accepted, that the Son of Heaven was about to question him and bestow reward. His heart could not help but delight, and he repeatedly flattered in assent.
Once outside the hall, he saw by the white jade balustrade a circle chair placed. A handsome man in a jade belt and crimson robe leaned back within it—even the most skilled painter could not depict one ten-thousandth of his elegance.
At his side rested a long bench, a bundle of coarse rope, and four Imperial Guards holding execution rods.
The Liangzhou assistant magistrate recognized this face. His mouse-like eyes, which had been squeezed into slits from smiling, instantly opened wide, and he froze in bewilderment.
By the time he realized something was wrong, it was already too late.
Two guards, left and right, seized him, stripped off his robes, and pressed him face-down upon the long bench. When he tried to struggle up, even his hands and feet were bound fast with rope.
“Your Majesty! Why does Your Majesty treat this minister in such a way—mmph!”
The voice was cut off.
Very soon, from outside the hall came the dull sound of execution rods striking flesh, and the muffled screams lodged in the throat.
Those screams, in the silence of the great hall, were infinitely magnified. The assembled looked at each other in dismay.
It was at this moment that Wenren Lin came, walking against the light. Though his steps were as leisurely as if strolling in a courtyard, each one seemed to tread upon the hearts of all present, exuding an oppressive chill.
“The assistant magistrate of Liangzhou neglected supervision, sought to sow discord between His Majesty and Liangzhou, placing the court in peril—his heart deserves death. By His Majesty’s command, he is to be beaten sixty strokes as a warning to others.”
When he said this he still wore a smile. Were it not for the pig-killing screams outside, it would have been a pleasing picture.
“What do you mean by this! Killing the chicken to scare the monkeys—is this the court’s way of treating its guests?”
He Hu slammed his fist upon the table, sending forth a thunderous sound.
In the end, he was but a reckless general, unable to fathom the Son of Heaven’s intent.
When young, the man upon the dragon throne had slaughtered his way out from among eleven princes to become an iron-blooded emperor. Even now, though he sought immortals and inquired into the Dao, he would never tolerate imperial authority being trampled. Pacification, naturally, was to be undertaken—but it could never be the court that knelt to pacify.
Zhao Yen understood well. The Liangzhou assistant magistrate, that wall-leaning grass who ate within yet leaned without, was the best discard.
Those sixty strokes that fell upon his body also fell upon the hearts of every minister present: favor is bestowed by the Son of Heaven, not seized. Whoever henceforth stood in the wrong ranks, the assistant magistrate of Liangzhou was his example.
But such arts of emperors were beyond the understanding of He Hu, who could not even recognize great characters.
He only knew that once one fell deep into the enemy camp and met with danger, one must instinctively seize a hostage to ward off the blade, forcing the enemy to hesitate.
Thus, his fierce gaze fell upon the Crown Prince of Great Xuan, who appeared the most weighty and the easiest to seize.
Just as He Hu was about to rise, he suddenly felt a heavy pressure descend upon his shoulder.
“The banquet has not yet ended. Why not sit and talk, General He.”
Wenren Lin had somehow appeared behind him. He Hu prided himself on never removing his armor at night, on being alert and keen, yet he had not perceived it in the least.
He Hu’s face flushed crimson, the veins at his neck bulging.
Wenren Lin’s single hand pressed upon his shoulder. His long, jade-like joints gleamed frost white, and even the veins on the back of his hand stood out.
To outsiders, it appeared only that Prince Su amiably greeted General He in a friendly closeness. But Zhao Yen, being near, saw with utmost clarity: Wenren Lin had subdued the killing-intent-filled He Hu with but a single hand—what terrifying strength this was!
He Hu, unwilling and resentful, at last let go of his strength. Only then did Wenren Lin release him. From his sleeve he drew a plain white kerchief to wipe his hand, and as he did so he walked back toward his seat.
His food table was at Zhao Yen’s right hand, the place closest to the Son of Heaven.
Zhao Yen fixed her gaze upon the wine cup before her, able even to catch the faint woody incense upon his person.
Outside the hall, the wails shifted from strong to weak, and very soon not even an occasional groan could be heard.
The Vice Minister of the Court of State Ceremonials’ face was the color of vegetables, and Zhao Yuanyu too was clearly restless, unable to sit in peace, drinking tea without cease to steady his nerves.
Sixty strokes of the killing-rod did not sound many, yet in these years, how many remonstrating officials and offending ministers had they already seen die beneath the rods?
At twenty strokes the skin was split and flesh torn; at forty strokes the bones broken and sinews ruined; at sixty strokes…whether breath remained was still uncertain.
Amidst the thudding sound of the cudgels, the Emperor’s voice was especially even: “The Governor of Liangzhou oversees the lands of Shu and Sichuan, and counting it out, he is still the ninth-generation grandson of Taizong, my imperial cousin. In this campaign he has eradicated bandits all along the way, establishing great merit. I now enfeoff him as Prince of Shu, bestow upon him ten thousand taels of gold, several tens of beautiful maids and dancing girls, permit his household to guard for generations the thousand li of the Southwest, and from this day allow him to retire to Liangzhou and enjoy his late years in peace. What say you?”
This stratagem of first awe, then favor, was used with utmost skill, yet Zhao Yen only felt it desolate and laughable.
But beneath the imperial robe of authority, what was it if not tottering, riddled with scars?
The loyal and upright buried their bones in foreign lands, yet the thieves who stole the state were enfeoffed princes and marquises—truly absurd to the extreme. At this moment, she somewhat understood the frailty and helplessness of Zhao Yan, sitting in the position of Crown Prince.
When Zhao Yen departed her seat, the Liangzhou assistant magistrate, stripped of his official robe, was still bound upon the execution bench on display. From back to thigh he was one mass of mangled flesh, his head drooping weakly, from his nose and mouth ceaselessly oozing lines of sticky, clotted blood.
In such a state, he was most likely useless now.
Those attending the banquet passed one by one before him, warning themselves thereby, not daring to look directly.
The steps had already been washed by the inner attendants, yet Zhao Yen could still smell in the air that nauseating stench of fresh blood mingled with incontinence.
Wenren Lin spoke some brief words of command, and the guards stepped forward to untie the coarse ropes and drag the assistant magistrate away.
His lips pressed in a faint line, lacking the profound and unfathomable smile he usually wore. This made Zhao Yen inexplicably feel an illusion—that he must deeply loathe the scent of blood…
A terrifying illusion indeed—that one who created slaughter could actually abhor blood?
As she wandered in such thoughts, Wenren Lin, as though with eyes grown at his back, turned and looked over.
Zhao Yen instinctively turned her gaze aside, gathered her sleeves, and gave him a student’s salute, then stiff-necked descended the white jade steps.
The cold wind swept by, lifting a corner of her fox-fur cloak, which lightly brushed across the clean black leather of Wenren Lin’s boots.
Tsk, so afraid?
His Highness Prince Su gazed at the nearly fleeing back of the young Crown Prince, eyes narrowing with some thought.
Zhao Yen truly could not see through Wenren Lin.
His hands were long and clean; yesterday they yet held scrolls and played chess, today they could take a man’s life. The assistant magistrate of Liangzhou was certainly suffering what he deserved, but Zhao Yen, carrying a world-shaking secret, how could she not also feel desolate dread?
All men possess the instinct to seek benefit and avoid harm. She could not foresee on whose neck Wenren Lin’s hands might next fall.
Cradling the small hand-warmer, Zhao Yen strove to drive from her mind that detestable face of Wenren Lin, and asked Liuying: “How is Liu Ji’s condition?”
Liuying shook her head: “Her food and rest are normal; there has been no other movement.”
“No matter what she asks for, as long as it is not excessive, try to satisfy it. However the former Crown Prince treated her, from now on it shall be the same. She must not be slighted.”
“This servant understands.”
“By the way.”
Remembering another important matter, Zhao Yen habitually propped her chin and asked, “Just now at the banquet, the youth who spoke up for me—who was he? The one seated three places to my left.”
Liuying also had a deep impression of that youth, and replied, “To answer Your Highness, it was Pei Sa, heir of Marquis Jinping.”
Marquis Jinping—Zhao Yen had some impression of him.
He, along with the Wei clan of Marquis Ningyang, came from an aristocratic family of caps and tassels. In recent years Wenren Lin had overshadowed all, thus suppressing their prestige.
Even so, Marquis Jinping had a sworn brother—General Huo Feng, consort to Princess Shoukang.
Therefore, though Marquis Jinping had resigned his post, within the army he still retained some esteem, and up to this day had not aligned himself with any faction.
The heir Pei Sa was but a few years older than herself. To speak out boldly upon seeing injustice, to dare openly to oppose—this showed he was one who could be of use.
Zhao Yen formed a plan in her heart, and clearly said, “Tell Mother, I want Pei Sa as a study companion.”
At night, word came from the palace.
Wenren Lin personally led a team of personal guards and imperial envoys, riding out of the city by night, to deliver His Majesty’s decree of pacification and withdrawal of troops among the rebel forces of Shu and Sichuan stationed outside the Western Capital.
Zhao Yen thought that in dealing with rebels such as the Governor of Liangzhou, Wenren Lin would need at least ten days or half a month before returning, and feared he would not make it back in time for lessons in the Chongwen Hall after the rest day.
She rejoiced in secret—until the next day, when she was led by the young eunuch of Shi Mo to the small drill ground behind the Chongwen Hall, and there saw Wenren Lin sitting in a circle chair, polishing bow and arrow. It was as though a basin of cold water was poured upon her head, heaven and earth turning deaf and unresponsive.
Had this man grown wings, to return so swiftly!
Zhao Yen resigned herself to fate and offered a salute. As she bent, she caught a faint scent of medicinal salve in the air.
Before she could look into it further, she saw Wenren Lin, without raising his eyes, gesture toward the weapon rack at the side, upon which were all kinds of crossbows and bows. His tone was indifferent: “May I trouble the Crown Prince to choose one at hand.”
The bowstrings were sharp, the arrows coldly keen; each exuded a heavy, intimidating aura.
Zhao Yen could not gauge what torment Wenren Lin was plotting this time. She swallowed and asked, “Today…are we not playing chess?”
“Military strategy, chess, riding and archery—rotating among them is less dull,” Wenren Lin replied.
Just as Zhao Yen was about to speak, Wenren Lin seemed to see through her very soul. He tapped his finger upon two black porcelain medicine bottles on the table.
“This prince especially requested from Divine Physician Sun two bottles of Huichun Pills. Do not speak of a mere fainting spell—even with one foot already across the Ghost Gate, they can still draw you back.”
His eyes lowered, lips faintly curved, as he added, “The Crown Prince may set his mind at ease. There is no lack of medicine.”
Zhao Yen clenched her fists in fury, pain twitching in her liver.
She went aside to select a great bow, her slender fingers tentatively brushing over the bowstring, when behind her she heard Wenren Lin say, “The Crown Prince is at an age restless with dissatisfaction. Of late, not overly proper. Learning some skill for self-defense is also well.”
Zhao Yen’s fingertips trembled. Swallowing with difficulty, she forced calm and said, “What does the Grand Preceptor mean by this?”
She feigned the appearance of earnestly choosing among the bows and crossbows, yet in truth she had not even seen clearly what they looked like. Her heart pounded as though war drums, like facing a great enemy.
Wenren Lin’s voice held not a trace of emotion: “This prince has said before—seeing too thoroughly is not necessarily a good thing. Stand in the wrong place, and you block another’s path.”
Zhao Yen thought of the blood that had splashed beneath Changqing Gate, thought of the Liangzhou assistant magistrate beaten into mangled flesh, thought also of her elder brother who had suddenly died… The emotions she had pressed down surged up, and she at last asked aloud:
“If Gu were to block Prince Su’s road—what then?”
“……”
Behind her there was no response for a long time.
Zhao Yen held her breath, her heart suspended, feeling a trace of regret.
She could only feign calm, choosing the smallest and lightest bow, drawing in a deep breath, then turned and said, “Gu has chosen…”
Cold light flashed, a fierce wind pressed against her face—an icy-feathered arrow was already at her eyes.
Wenren Lin had one hand clasped behind his back, the other gripping the shaft of the arrow, its tip but an inch away from the bridge of her nose.
Her heart stopped.
Within Zhao Yen’s abruptly contracted pupils was reflected Wenren Lin’s flawless countenance. She thought he would kill her.
Yet he only gave a light laugh, and with a turn of his fingers, shifted the arrow’s point—its sharp tip now aimed at himself, while the harmless tail-feathers faced Zhao Yen.
“That will depend on which of this prince’s paths the Crown Prince blocks.”
Having spoken, Wenren Lin placed the arrow, personally sharpened, into Zhao Yen’s cold palm.
Seeing the young Crown Prince still standing there dazed, a faint, self-satisfied smile spread within his eyes. His voice was warm as he said, “Be obedient.”
Footnotes
1
Shizi (世子) literally means “heir son” or “heir apparent”.
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