Sentry Lane welcomed two new additions, both baby girls, and no matter what others thought of it, the men of Sentry Lane wanted to celebrate properly. Unfortunately, before the traditional third-day bathing ceremony could even arrive, His Majesty sent for them one by one and called them back.

That mad nun had come, and it reminded the Emperor of the days when the nun had sat atop the throne. His heart filled with anger, and he went two nights running without sleep, forcing him to summon the Long Blade Bureau back.

The moment Chen Dasheng and the others returned, they simply sat outside His Majesty’s sleeping chambers, and before long His Majesty’s earth-shaking snoring started up — the kind no one dared laugh at, and no one dared mention.

Seven of the men from Sentry Lane had left, leaving Meng Wanquan, the foolish father, in sole charge, though he was used to it by now. Naturally he had a sheep slaughtered and the meat cooked, hired an opera troupe, sent out invitations, gave alms at the temple, and scattered coins among the beggars to bring blessings on his daughter.

Someone who had never experienced being torn from their own flesh and blood, who had never lost every family member they had, could never understand what these old blades felt in their hearts. So what if it was a girl? Even if ten girls had come, they wouldn’t have minded one bit — they’d have pampered each one like a princess.

While Sentry Lane carried on with its worldly affairs, something big had happened in the palace these past few days.

She Qingling had handed over his post at the Ministry of Revenue without the slightest reluctance, and he no longer held the position of Seal-Keeping Eunuch either.

This startled everyone. Those who’d had their eye on meddling in the Ministry of Revenue’s affairs had only just begun keeping a quiet tally on She Qingling, yet here he was, giving up such enormous power over the nation’s finances without a second thought. His Majesty didn’t even bother with the ritual of “three invitations, three refusals” — he practically summoned the man several times a day to try to keep him, yet She Qingling showed not the slightest attachment to the post.

“It’s most fitting that Godfather step down. With the new dynasty’s special examinations plus the two years’ worth of scholars who entered court last year, His Majesty’s hands are looser than ever these days — now is exactly the right time. If you ask me, why don’t we stop staying in the palace at all? They don’t even pay us wages. You could just come home with your son and finally live in complete leisure from now on.”

It was a stifling summer day. Chen Dasheng, a man famously prone to foot odor, made washing his feet the very first thing he did after being relieved of duty, heading to his godfather’s small courtyard. He sat comfortably under the eaves washing his feet, chatting idly and grinning at his godfather She Qingling.

The Ministry of Revenue was a crucial post — a “poor” ministry that everyone dreaded and avoided, an extremely difficult place to hold. After His Majesty ascended the throne, She Qingling had taken on this thankless, exhausting position, devoting himself heart and soul to helping His Majesty through the Great Liang dynasty’s two hardest years. Now that things were finally looking up, to see his godfather let it go without the slightest hesitation filled Chen Dasheng with genuine, heartfelt joy.

In his eyes, his father’s body — so frail a strong gust could blow it away — would simply vanish, worn down to nothing, if he kept on serving His Majesty for a few more years.

Chen Dasheng sought wealth and revenge, but what did his godfather seek? The thrill of watching old officials squabble in the hall like fighting cocks? With his father’s blade of a tongue, sharp enough it seemed almost forked like a serpent’s, if he didn’t infuriate someone to the point of fainting at least once a month, he’d hardly live up to his nickname “Bamboo-Leaf Green” — a name meaning sharp and bitter as strong liquor.

His Majesty had gotten to play the good guy and go off to be gracious, but what about his own father? Don’t be fooled by how dignified those old officials looked, all courteous gentlemen out in public, robes sweeping grandly as if about to ascend to immortality — bah! He’d seen it too many times to count: the moment real money was on the line, they’d find some corner after court let out and go at each other with their ceremonial tablets, brawling for half an hour straight without even pausing to catch their breath.

The Shao Shang faction was always like this — just last year they’d frightened a newly-passed scholar half to death.

How had that gone again — oh right, the new scholars had all wanted to get into the Hanlin Academy, so the old officials struck first. In the old days there was “seizing a son-in-law beneath the exam placard”; in Great Liang they now “press-ganged laborers beneath the exam placard.”

The man had just finished parading through the streets on horseback, draped in red silk in celebration, when the moment he dismounted, Vice Minister of War Zeng Anbang snatched him right up. This had all been arranged by Minister of War Sun Shouyi — His Majesty had called him shameless, and the man had simply owned it and stayed shameless.

It seemed like ages since things had felt this relaxed. Not having to spend half the morning trapped in endless layers of court business, She Qingling fanned himself lazily with a palm-leaf fan, listening to his son talk while smiling and looking over the gifts just sent from behind.

A eunuch, doing work meant for court ministers — in the past, when times were desperate, no one said a word, might even praise him for his hard work. But now that things had turned around, this post really wasn’t something he could keep doing.

Setting down the jade ring in his hand, She Qingling chuckled lightly. “Look at you, so pleased with yourself?”

Chen Dasheng lifted his foot, and Wan Chunyang quickly and cleverly whisked away the foot basin.

Pulling the cloth towel off his shoulder, Chen Dasheng wiped his feet while grinning foolishly. “Heh! Of course I’m happy. What’s good about the Ministry of Revenue? All the officials in the other five ministries spend every day glaring bloodshot eyes waiting on silver, while you, old man, never once handed anything out without a fight. You may be selfless enough in your heart to stand proud and unbending, but deep down, getting cursed at behind your back can’t feel good, can it? That post is either for some ancient slippery eel of an official, or for someone like you — well, either way, you’re the one who suffers for it. Anyway, I never approved of it…”

She Qingling laughed and tossed the jangling trinket in his hand aside. “Wen Fengshu really is a thousand-year-old eel. This time your Emperor got the appointment right.”

Chen Dasheng blinked, then slipped on his soft shoes, washing and drying his hands with the freshly brought basin, and sat down beside his godfather, looking at him earnestly. “That’s because you recommended him selflessly, from the goodness of your heart. So what do you say — shall we head back to live in Qingfeng tomorrow? Just wait a little longer, won’t even take two years, and I’ll present you with a fat grandson. You’ll see how wonderful that’ll be.”

Seeing his adopted son’s sincere expression, She Qingling relaxed completely. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes as if gazing at the heavens, and silently mocked them in his heart.

The early summer sun was pleasant, shining gently on She Qingling’s handsome face. Eyes still closed, he said, “In ancient times, Sima Qian endured castration yet still completed his duty as Grand Historian. I’ve studied since I was young — I can’t let it all go to waste. Once my days grow leisurely, I think I’d like to do something meaningful — writing books, leaving my thoughts behind, that wouldn’t be bad… What do you think, my son?”

Chen Dasheng’s heart eased, and he smiled even more broadly. “That would be wonderful. You’re so learned, and you’ve got eight grandsons besides — from now on their education is entirely up to you. I’m a rough sort of man, I couldn’t manage that kind of work myself.”

Letting out a long breath, She Qingling turned to look at Chen Dasheng, his expression turning serious. “Good! Even if there were eighteen of them, as long as you don’t mind the cost, I won’t say much else, but when it comes to their education, I’ll certainly manage just fine. Sheng-er, back when His Majesty first took the throne and wanted to grant me a noble title, I didn’t dare accept it, because my merit in that one battle was unclear and couldn’t be openly discussed. But now, after these two years of service, my moment has come. Once things settle down and Wen Fengshu takes over the Ministry, I expect I’ll finally earn a title…”

Seeing Chen Dasheng look a little startled, She Qingling laughed easily. “This post at the Ministry of Revenue — I’m not giving it up so lightly either. At the very least, I need the old officials to recognize what I’ve done for them. Now that the family’s finally growing with new additions, and next autumn once your wife’s mourning period ends, I ought to secure something respectable for my grandsons and granddaughters too. Or has staying as the palace’s little favorite become addictive for you?”

Chen Dasheng immediately waved his hands. “Listen to you — addictive? Look how chaotic this palace is, with young girls squeezing their way in one wave after another. So really, I’m relieved you’re retreating while you’re ahead. You should enjoy your ease from now on. As for your son and daughter-in-law, neither of us is foolish, and besides, there’s no need to wait for you to earn something for future generations… You’re the father — from now on, you should just focus on enjoying life…”

She Qingling was overjoyed, and even personally handed his son some fruit. Things that court officials would eagerly scramble for meant little to this father and son.

As they chatted idly, Ma Ergu hurried in to say that His Majesty had ordered them to head to Jiu Si Tang.

Hearing this, the corner of She Qingling’s mouth twitched, and he shook his head helplessly, sighing with mock scorn. “Tsk, born with the bones of an emperor, yet his belly’s full of a whole flock of little girls — so hesitant, so tangled up in sentiment, it exhausts even me on his behalf. Go on, say little when you’re there. That Meng Wulang likes to take charge of things — just let him, and smile along whatever he says.”

Chen Dasheng chuckled, stood, went inside to change into his guard uniform, and jogged off.

At Jiu Si Tang in the capital of Yandu, Chen Dasheng arrived just in time to see Tang Jiuyuan, the Director of the Bureau of Punishments’ Records Office.

The two families were neighbors, and in the past when Chen Dasheng went for walks, he’d often spot young Master Tang up in the hills behind their homes with his lovely wife, carrying a little flower basket — not picking mushrooms, just gathering wildflowers for fun.

This couple had no shortage of odd habits — climbing all the way up that mountain and not bringing back a single wild vegetable or mushroom for the dinner table, what a waste.

Still, the two families had grown close and familiar over the years. The two men greeted each other with smiles and walked in together.

Tang Jiuyuan was a decent sort. Just as they were about to enter, he leaned in close to Chen Dasheng’s ear and said quietly, “Brother Feilian, once we’re inside, let’s just find a corner and sit and listen — this is business for Jiu Si Tang to handle in the martial world… understand?”

Glancing around to make sure no one was near, he leaned in again and murmured, “I heard Tan Shouyi invited ten old hermits into the capital to protect his son — Yandu’s about to get chaotic, I’m afraid.”

Chen Dasheng already knew this. Seeing that Tang Jiuyuan didn’t treat him as an outsider, he chuckled quietly in return. “Who would’ve thought the Tan family was secretly keeping so many old hermits in their service.”

Tang Jiuyuan raised an eyebrow. “Tell me about it. Old Marshal Tan’s devoted love for his son is truly moving to behold.”

Last year, when His Majesty had been in danger, the Tan family hadn’t even mentioned having so many old hermits at their disposal, let alone thought of rushing to His Majesty’s rescue — instead they’d merely sent a brief memorial to inquire after his safety. Seeing this show of force now — hmph, the rift between ruler and subject was already plain to see.

Strangely, Jiu Si Tang hadn’t sent anyone to receive them today, yet there was a token guiding the way.

The two gossiping men followed the guiding token, giving way to each other politely as they entered a courtyard. Unremarkable as Jiu Si Tang’s reputation as a dangerous place might suggest, there was actually an elegant spot within it.

The courtyard before them was called Wanyu Hall. Entering the garden, they saw lush thickets of assorted bamboo, with a winding pebble path curving gently through, half-hidden, leading them inward. After a few steps, the view suddenly opened up — there, amid a nine-bend bridge, stood a small, delicately built pavilion with upturned corners at each of its four eaves.

The pavilion had no covering to block the view, and from a distance they could already see quite a few people had arrived early. Tang Jiuyuan clasped his hands behind his back, surveyed the scene, and chuckled. “Brother Feilian, this spot really is clever. See — dense bamboo covers it from the outside, but inside it’s wide open, so no one need worry about eavesdroppers.”

Chen Dasheng never imagined his neighbor would be so free with his words. Raising a fist to his lips to stifle a laugh, he crossed the bridge, winding this way and that, until at last they reached the center, where an old acquaintance, Xie Wuhao, came out to greet them.

“Ah, ah, you two, my lords! Today Jiu Si Tang is truly swamped with business — I’ve only just finished receiving several officials from the Ministry of War and hadn’t had the chance to go out and greet you, and yet here you both are already. This is truly inexcusable of me — I beg your forgiveness, forgiveness!”

Chen Dasheng had no intention of forgiving him. He glanced around with a smile and said mockingly, “Oh! Commander Xie isn’t calling himself ‘young master’ today?”

Xie Wuhao’s face reddened with embarrassment. By then Chen Dasheng had already entered the pavilion with Tang Jiuyuan, greeting a few familiar colleagues, before the two of them settled into a corner, leaning against the railing to snack on pastries, planning to feed the koi in the pond below.

Jiu Si Tang’s pastries were as tough as ever. Not wanting to look rude by forcing them apart with his bare hands, Chen Dasheng slipped his hand under the table and slowly crumbled the pastry, occasionally flicking a small piece over his shoulder into the water behind him, drawing a whole crowd of fish bubbling up to gather, mouths gaping wide — not a pretty sight at all, honestly a bit unsettling.

Chen Dasheng thought he’d been discreet, but one of Jiu Si Tang’s sub-commanders spotted him anyway, spat, and cursed, “Spoiled brat!”

Xie Wuhao happened to overhear the complaint and drifted over silently to murmur, “That’s Old Blade — what kind of eyes does he have? Compared to him, you’re the spoiled brat. Just shut your mouth, don’t let it get out and embarrass Jiu Si Tang.”

The man’s face flushed red, and he was about to turn and glare at Chen Dasheng again when someone announced the arrival of the Head Commander.

Meng Dingchen held a proper Second Rank official position, outranking everyone present, so all of them rose to greet him.

He had just come from inside the palace, but had changed into casual house robes to come discuss matters with his colleagues. He wore his usual carefree, easygoing air, entering with a relaxed clasped-hand bow. “Ah, apologies to you all for the trouble — my humble office is short-staffed. We managed to press-gang two scholars right off the examination placard, but they wriggled free and ran off again. These new scholars don’t even want to work in such a shabby place, and now we’re short on hands, so please excuse the poor hospitality today…”

Regardless of how eccentric the man’s behavior, since it was all official court business, everyone smiled sincerely and returned the courtesy, saying it was no trouble at all.

Once everyone had settled again and fresh tea was served, Meng Dingchen smiled and said, “Ah, it’s really nothing much — hardly worth troubling all your offices over. I’ve told His Majesty more than once that the martial world is full of trivial squabbles, and that everyone’s already busy enough with their own duties, no need to bother you all. But His Majesty said that if Yandu’s public security lacked the involvement of even one office, that simply wouldn’t do — and so, today’s meeting came about…”

As it turned out, after Tan Shiyuan had been slashed at Flower Street that day, Qingbuyi had carried out two more assassination attempts on him — well, not quite assassinations, more like one-sided beatings.

In this way, she’d already ruined one of Tan Shiyuan’s eyes and crippled one of his hands — she meant to flay him alive.

His Majesty had never liked Tan Shiyuan to begin with, and had wanted to lure the man out of Yandu, letting him go off and die on his own. But Tan Shiyuan was no fool — vicious and cunning as he was, knowing he couldn’t get into Baiquan Mountain, his only hope of survival lay in Yandu. If he were chased down and hacked apart in broad daylight, in front of everyone, with the court powerless to intervene, his death would still tarnish the court’s dignity.

But this man no longer wanted to live. He intended to drag everyone down with him — he hated this nation, resented his own father, even the entire Tan clan, having long since given up all hope.

Yet no matter how disgusting or reviled he’d become, there were still people responsible for managing him.

The ten old hermits who’d arrived from the martial world had, once settled, dutifully registered with Jiu Si Tang according to protocol. After registering, they’d each taken up position around the Ningshu Lute House where Tan Shiyuan was hiding, refusing to budge.

This lute house was, as ever, a house of ill repute. Having thrown all caution to the wind, whenever Tan Shiyuan was caught, he was more often than not caught half-naked — thoroughly and utterly destroying whatever reputation “Qingbuyi” (Unmoved by Love) still had left.

Meng Dingchen, a proud man by nature, explained that this matter naturally fell to Jiu Si Tang, since it was a dispute within the martial world. All the officials present, he said, need only show up when the time came and simply observe from a distance.

As for their own side, Jiu Si Tang planned to deploy its full forces, first surrounding the Ningshu Lute House to watch the two sides fight it out like clams and cranes locked in struggle. If Qingbuyi won and the old hermits were injured, they’d seize the opportunity to wrap up Tan Shiyuan and smuggle him out of Yandu, hiding him somewhere on Baiquan Mountain — giving the Tan family some kind of explanation, at least.

If Qingbuyi lost, they’d capture her instead, and negotiate with Qinshe, forbidding her from ever entering the capital again.

This was his plan.

Once Meng Dingchen laid out the plan, a flatterer stood up and said, “Since the Commander has put it this way, then so be it — we’ll gladly enjoy the free time. This business of the martial world is like our training in bow-and-arrow, spear-and-shield defense, halberd-and-hook support — all five weapons, each with its proper use, the long protecting the short, the short rescuing the long — heh heh, that’s a completely different discipline, isn’t it, my lords? Wouldn’t you all agree…?”

The other officials smiled, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

Tang Jiuyuan murmured to Chen Dasheng, “That one belongs to the Second Prince’s faction.”

Chen Dasheng, in the middle of pinching apart his third pastry, glanced up at the man still spraying spittle as he talked, and said, “What’s he even thinking, just a fence-sitter. His wife’s younger brother is in the palace accompanying the Fifth Prince in his studies — I’ve met him a few times. Brother-in-law and brother-in-law, cut from the same cloth, always love to show off their book learning. You just need to outrank them by one level and you become their father figure. Say what you will, but it does make people like them — not really the type folks resent.”

He finished and handed Tang Jiuyuan a pastry, and the two went back to crumbling pastries to feed the fish.

Since His Majesty had issued the decree, every office in the capital was stirred to action. Though Meng Dingchen needed no assistance from anyone else, the others still had to show the proper attitude — everyone needed to attend, and once there, they’d each keep their distance from the actual fighting, find some spot to settle in, and simply observe.

But none of them realized that five hundred li away from Yandu, Tan Shouyi, serving as a frontier official newly appointed to his post, dared not return home without an imperial order, and could only make camp and wait for news.

That old man had even prepared his son’s coffin — an oversized triple-layer casket, far more extravagant than the one he’d had made for his second son.

His family had a son who constantly opposed him at every turn, who’d tricked Qingbuyi into breaking free of his control, then recklessly driven her mad enough to attempt to assassinate the Emperor, repeatedly offending Qinshe as well — if that son died, Tan Shouyi wasn’t prepared to feel any grief over it.

He’d written the plea for help only because he was Tan Shiyuan’s father, and could not afford to appear unloving — he owed the world that much of an explanation.

As for whether his son lived or died, he’d already sent a secret letter beforehand, first pleading guilty, then finally reaffirming his position — that if this wretch died, he requested His Majesty have the body ground to dust and the ashes scattered.

Great clan patriarchs had always carried themselves with this kind of resolve. It was just unfortunate that this third generation of the Tan family had been ruined by their scoundrel of a father.

As night fell, candles of tallow burned inside the tent. The still-young Tan Weixin had been bound to a bench with sinew cords, and was now being whipped by his own grandfather with a horsewhip.

The boy proved to have a stubborn streak. Twenty-some lashes from his grandfather had already split his skin open, yet he didn’t make a sound, simply biting his lip, sweat beading on his forehead as he endured it in silence.

Tan Shouyi, old as he was, trembled all over with rage. He brought the whip down again and cursed, “Little bastard, you really are just like your father — bones just as hard as my Ze-er’s!”

Unfortunately, his grandson wasn’t cooperating.

Tan Weixin, who had stayed silent the whole time, spat out a mouthful of bloody spittle at these words and gasped back, “My father? My father is Tan Shiyuan? That son of a lowborn concubine — he, he dares call himself my father? He, he doesn’t deserve to!”

This single sentence very nearly made Tan Shouyi keel over from fury. He raised the whip and struck down another dozen or so times in a row, this time putting real force behind it, injuring bone, until Tan Weixin finally couldn’t bear it any longer and let out an anguished cry: “Father!”

He fainted the moment the word left his mouth.

Seeing his grandson pass out, Tan Shouyi felt not the slightest pity, and wanted someone to douse him awake so he could keep beating him.

His old family guard, unable to bear it any longer, stepped forward to intervene. “My lord, you mustn’t keep hitting him. For Second Young Master’s sake, let’s teach him slowly, slowly — this is the bloodline His Majesty designated for Second Young Master. If something happens to him, how will you explain it to His Majesty…”

Even with a thousand careful schemes weighing on his mind, Tan Shouyi had by this point completely lost all hope. He raised his whip toward his blood-soaked young grandson and cursed, “Better if he’s beaten to death — beat him dead and I’ll get my Ze-er a more obedient replacement. I’d rather have some spineless coward of a grandson than one like this!

Look how bold he’s grown — after everything I taught him this past year, even his own father never got such treatment, and I, old fool that I am, never saw this coming — this wolf cub actually dared to steal my clan seal and secretly mobilize the loyal retainers our family spent two generations’ worth of painstaking effort cultivating to protect our lives, and for what? To go save that beast who deserves a thousand cuts and ten thousand slices! He doesn’t deserve it! Fine, fine!”

The angrier he grew thinking about it, the more hopeless he felt, and he moved to kick the boy, but his old guards rushed forward and pulled him back. Tan Shouyi kept cursing, “The Tan family isn’t mine alone to ruin! Beating him to death would at least be some kind of explanation! This truly must be the ancestors’ lack of virtue, one fool breeding a whole nest of fools. I’d originally planned to take you all far away, recover our strength first, rest and recuperate, let no outsider trouble the Tan family, and even if we made mistakes, His Majesty wouldn’t hold it against us — and now look what’s happened, this little beast has ruined every last hope I had… ruined it!”

Tan Shouyi pushed away the tea cup his guard offered him, strode forward with all his remaining strength, and finally kicked over the bench Tan Weixin was tied to, continuing to rain down blows on his still-unconscious grandson.

Just as he was in the midst of his frenzy, the sound of urgent hoofbeats came from outside. Someone stumbled off their horse and ran, staggering, straight to the front of the tent.

Tan Weitong appeared, disheveled, face covered in stubble, eyes bloodshot, bursting into the tent. He first stared at his younger brother, lips trembling, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, he heard Tan Shouyi bellow, “Drag him out!”

Several old guards scrambled to intercept him, seizing him around the waist and hauling him back a dozen paces. Desperate, Tan Weitong lowered his head and bit down on one guard’s ear, tearing off a chunk of flesh as if devouring human meat.

He roared savagely, “Let go of me!!”

Even having lost half an ear, no one dared release him.

With no other option, Tan Weitong pulled a dagger from his sleeve and slashed it across his own neck, then held it against the vital point and shouted, “Let — go!!!”

At that, no one dared move against him any further.

Holding the dagger to his own throat, Tan Weitong entered the tent, walked step by step to stand before his younger brother, let the dagger fall from his hand, then knelt and embraced his brother, tears streaming down his face as he said savagely, “Ha, dead — good, dead and finally free, huh? Grandfather, are you — are you whipping your own grandson’s corpse now? Well, our family’s finally complete. Look, I’m here too. Why don’t you whip us both together?”

The whip fell from Tan Shouyi’s hand. He stared blankly at his grandson, then spat out a mouthful of fresh blood and collapsed backward onto the ground.