Once Emperor Zhaoyuan finished speaking, he seemed somewhat weary and said, “That will be all for today. If any of you have further pressing matters, come see me at the Hall of Civil Virtue.”

With that, he rose and, led by his attendants, left the hall.

Now that Cheng Chang had been formally invested as Heir Apparent, he was truly next in line to inherit the princedom. Given his noble bloodline, and setting aside his previously ill-spent youth, in terms of both ability and character he now clearly surpassed both Prince Ling and Prince Yun. The moment court adjourned, officials flocked to offer him their congratulations one after another.

Wei Jie left the throne hall intending to settle his score with Cheng Chang, but seeing him mobbed on all sides, he turned instead to Yun Xi nearby and asked, “I’m heading back to the Imperial City Bureau. Where are you off to?”

Yun Xi was about to answer when an elderly palace attendant emerged from behind the hall and bowed to Wei Jie. “Lord Wei, His Majesty requests your presence.”

Then, turning to Yun Xi, he said, “Congratulations on your promotion, General Yun. His Majesty has just instructed that he will personally draft your decree shortly. Please wait at the Ministry of War — once I have the decree in hand, I will bring it to you right away.”

Yun Xi recognized this attendant — his surname was Wu, and he had served two generations of emperors. He was now the chief scribe attendant at Emperor Zhaoyuan’s side. It was he who had once conveyed Emperor Zhaoyuan’s words to her, the time she had knelt before the palace gates pleading for justice for Yun Luo.

Yun Xi nodded. “My thanks, Eunuch Wu.”

After Yun Xi left, Wei Jie was led by Wu Mao to the Hall of Civil Virtue.

The Hall of Civil Virtue served as the Emperor’s study, divided into an inner and outer chamber. Emperor Zhaoyuan was indeed weary — rather than reviewing memorials at his desk, he was reclining on the couch in the inner chamber with his eyes closed, resting.

Hearing that Wei Jie had arrived, he slowly opened his eyes and asked, “Mingyin Temple — was it you who took Chang’er there?”

Wei Jie cupped his hands and bowed, answering honestly. “Reporting to Your Majesty, the Third Young Master said the witness held at Mingyin Temple might know the truth behind the Marquis Zhongyong’s death and the late Crown Prince’s passing. This official judged the matter to be of great importance, and so accompanied him there.”

“Of great importance?” Emperor Zhaoyuan said flatly. “If you knew it was of such importance, why didn’t you report to me first?”

Wei Jie knelt. “This official was careless. I beg Your Majesty’s punishment.”

Emperor Zhaoyuan stared at him quietly for a long moment before saying, “Never mind.” Then he asked, “Last time I had you search for Xu’er — how has that progressed?”

Wei Jie said, “Reporting to Your Majesty, no trace of the Fifth Prince has yet been found. However, this official has learned, through various channels, that the reason the late Crown Prince recommended the Marquis Zhongyong for the northern campaign six years ago seems to be connected to the Fifth Prince in some way. The Marquis Zhongyong’s former troops will be returning to Jinling soon — this official intends to question them and see whether any clues about the Fifth Prince’s whereabouts can be found.”

“As you see fit,” Emperor Zhaoyuan said. “Just be sure nothing leaks.”

He then waved a hand. “That’s all. I’m tired. You may go.”

Wei Jie acknowledged this, bowed once more to Emperor Zhaoyuan, rose, and withdrew from the hall.

The inner chamber had a window left open. After Wei Jie departed, Emperor Zhaoyuan watched his retreating figure through the gap in the window, and once Wei Jie had descended the white jade steps and vanished from sight, let out a heavy sigh. “This Wei Jie — he can no longer be trusted with important matters.”

The attendants serving in the inner chamber all lowered their heads and eyes, pretending to have heard nothing at all.

Only Wu Mao stepped forward, holding a bowl of ginseng broth. “Your Majesty, please have some ginseng broth and rest a while.”

Emperor Zhaoyuan took it and drank a few mouthfuls, then set the bowl down and said, “Chang’er has quick wits.”

Both of his remarks seemed rather disconnected on the surface, but Wu Mao understood perfectly well.

From the moment Cheng Chang discovered there was more to the late Crown Prince’s death than met the eye, to his decision to go to Mingyin Temple, to his deliberate strategy of having the Palace Front Bureau bring back the two witnesses and expose the Marquis Zhongyong’s wrongful conviction before the entire court — decisive and resolute throughout — the entire scheme had taken him less than two days to plan.

More importantly, in doing so, he had drawn Wei Jie into the matter as well, effectively forcing him to become his ally.

Emperor Zhaoyuan was well aware that Wei Jie disliked both the Third and Fourth Princes. By taking this step, Cheng Chang had essentially bound Wei Jie to his own ship — going forward, there was no doubt that whatever Wei Jie did, he would lean, if not outright side, in Cheng Chang’s favor far more often than not.

Emperor Zhaoyuan had ink and brush prepared, and personally wrote out the decree promoting Yun Xi. Just as he was about to set down his brush, he paused, considered a moment, then added two more lines, and handed the finished decree to Wu Mao, saying, “Take this to the Ministry of War to deliver.”

Wu Mao left the Hall of Civil Virtue accompanied by a young eunuch. After walking some distance, the young eunuch, checking that no one was nearby, lowered his voice and said to Wu Mao, “Master, the Third Young Master was invested as Heir Apparent today — he should be at the Ministry of Rites right now receiving his ceremonial robes and jade seal. The Ministry of War isn’t far from the Ministry of Rites — why don’t we swing by and offer our congratulations to the Third Young Master?”

Wu Mao asked flatly, “Congratulate the Third Young Master? Whatever for?”

“Master, don’t you always say the wind blows through this palace, and people like us can only follow wherever it leads? So many officials have already gone to offer their congratulations to the Third Young Master — we mustn’t be the ones left out.”

“Foolish child.” Wu Mao, holding his whisk, glanced at him. “You don’t even understand which way the wind is blowing, and yet you presume to follow it?”

He said, “Let me ask you this — why did His Majesty invest the Third Young Master as Heir Apparent today? Why does he intend to arrange a marriage for him? And why has he sent the Yun family’s daughter from the Marquis Zhongyong’s household off to Lingnan to quell the unrest there?”

“This…” The young eunuch hesitated slightly before answering. “Investing the Third Young Master as Heir Apparent is because he’s come of age, and ever since falling into the water last year, his temperament has changed — he’s grown more mature and capable now. As for arranging his marriage, it’s probably because His Majesty doesn’t want the Third Young Master growing too close to the Yun girl, fearing it might cause complications — and also because the Third Young Master exposed Prince Yun today, undermining His Majesty’s own position. Seeing that the Third Young Master seems to have feelings for the Yun girl, His Majesty wants to arrange another match for him instead, to keep him from getting what he wants. As for sending the Yun girl off to quell the unrest, it’s simply to get her out of the way.”

“Master, am I right?” the young eunuch asked cautiously, once he’d finished.

“Mud that can’t be shaped into a wall.” Wu Mao switched his whisk to the other hand and swatted the young eunuch across the face with its tail. “His Majesty and Prince Cong came up together through the storms of the previous reign — their brotherly bond runs deep. Whatever rivalry plays out privately between princely heirs and imperial princes can normally be dismissed as childish squabbling, and so long as nothing truly serious happens, it’s usually let go. But investing the Third Young Master as Heir Apparent today carries a very different meaning. Do you understand that?”

The young eunuch nodded, then shook his head.

Wu Mao sighed and asked, “Let me ask you this — in all the world, who has it hardest?”

“This disciple knows — the Emperor.”

“And who has it harder than the Emperor?”

Seeing the young eunuch still looked blank, Wu Mao answered for him. “The Emperor’s own brothers — the princes.”

“Being a prince may look prestigious on the surface, but in truth, whether it comes to power or standing, all of it is granted by the Emperor’s own hand. Whether to live or die, to be honored or humbled — all of it rests on a single word from the throne. A frontier general at least holds command over troops in his own region, a foundation to stand on. But a prince? Beyond his fief of ten thousand households and somewhat more gold and silver than the common man, what does he actually have? If the Emperor is weak, that’s one thing — but should a formidable ruler come to the throne, the prince becomes an object of suspicion at the slightest provocation. Since His Majesty ascended the throne, he’s spent years quietly consolidating power. The late Emperor had many sons — of those still living today, setting aside the one or two long since demoted to commoner status and banished to distant lands, only Prince Cong remains. And now, with a single decree, His Majesty has invested the Third Young Master as the next Prince. Do you truly believe this is meant as an honor?”

“By what Master’s saying, then — investing the Third Young Master as Heir Apparent looks like an honor on the surface, but it means that whatever the Third Young Master does from now on can no longer simply be dismissed as childish mischief. His Majesty has given the Third Young Master the status of princely heir precisely in order to bind him with it.”

Wu Mao nodded, gratified. “Now answer me this — why does His Majesty wish to arrange a different match for the Third Young Master?”

The young eunuch hesitated considerably. What he’d said earlier was that the Third Young Master seemed to have feelings for the Yun girl, and that since he’d undermined His Majesty’s position today, His Majesty wouldn’t want him to have his way — but now he found himself less certain.

The young eunuch stopped walking and bowed to Wu Mao. “Please enlighten this disciple, Master.”

Wu Mao said, “His Majesty is the Son of Heaven. There is simply too much weighing on the mind of a Son of Heaven for him to spare any thought for something as trivial as matters of the heart.”

He looked up at the towering palace halls and said slowly, “What His Majesty is doing… is showing weakness.”

“Showing weakness?” The young eunuch was taken aback.

“Today, in that hall, the Third Young Master and the Yun girl — one presenting evidence, the other making an accusation — backed His Majesty into a corner, leaving him no choice but to order a full investigation into Prince Yun. And immediately after, His Majesty announces he’ll arrange a match for the Third Young Master and sends the Yun girl off to Lingnan. Doesn’t it strike you as though His Majesty is acting in haste? Rushing to pull them apart, so anxious to keep a princely heir from becoming entangled with a military house that he’s acting almost recklessly?”

“Yes,” the young eunuch answered softly.

“Now think about this — if even you can see it, do you truly believe the officials throughout the entire court cannot?”

“But what would they make of it?” the old eunuch continued. “They’ll think that today, the Third Young Master’s testimony backed His Majesty into such a desperate corner that he acted in a panic. In their hearts, they will come to fear the Third Young Master. His Majesty displayed his own loss of composure before the entire court precisely so that these officials would learn to fear him.”

“These ministers might even come to believe that today, the Third Young Master merely spoke back to His Majesty in the throne hall — but that one day, should His Majesty push him too hard, given the Third Young Master’s abilities, and now bearing the title of princely heir besides, might he not rebel? Might he not raise an army and force his way to the throne?”

“Right now we live in a time of peace and prosperity. No one wishes for true upheaval — everyone hopes for a smooth, peaceful transfer of power, for someone to ascend the throne without incident.”

“The realm hasn’t changed hands yet, and there is no shortage of legitimate heirs. If His Majesty plants the seed of doubt in his ministers’ minds — the possibility that ‘the Third Young Master might rebel’ — don’t you think those ministers will start guarding against him?”

“But in truth, could the Third Young Master actually rebel? His standing at court is weak, his reputation tarnished for most of his life. Though it’s improved somewhat this past year, it’s nowhere near enough to overturn the court’s impression of him. Even with Wei Jie and the Yun family’s support, compared to the vastness of the empire, he remains isolated and weak — and on top of that, he now carries the seemingly prestigious but actually burdensome title of princely heir.”

“So you see — His Majesty appearing reckless, showing weakness first, is meant to make the court wary of the Third Young Master, wary of the future prince he’ll become. Investing him as Heir Apparent is meant to bind him in place. Put the two together, and it amounts to nothing less than praising him to death.”

“Remember this — His Majesty is the Son of Heaven. And because he is the Son of Heaven, what happens to himself doesn’t truly matter, and what happens to his rivals doesn’t truly matter either. What he calculates is which candidate this entire court of officials would actually be willing to support as ruler. If he can’t make himself seem more fitting than the others, then he’ll make the others seem less fitting instead. The art of imperial rule always comes down to calculating exactly what will strike at the heart of every person involved.”

Having listened to all this, the young eunuch couldn’t help but sigh deeply. “Prince Cong has spent his whole life treading so carefully, and yet even now, both he and the Third Young Master still face such an uncertain future. This disciple has heard—” He paused, glanced around, and lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “This disciple has heard that back when His Majesty first ascended the throne, he and Prince Cong were, in truth, evenly matched candidates. If the late Emperor had chosen the other, perhaps things wouldn’t have turned out this difficult today.”

Wu Mao paid this remark no mind.

He thought to himself — that wasn’t necessarily true at all.

Today’s circumstances were entirely the result of the different positions each of them now occupied. Had His Majesty and Prince Cong simply switched places, walking that same muddy road to its end, the outcome would likely have been just as wretched either way.

The young eunuch asked, “Master, so is Prince Cong’s entire household simply doomed to live under His Majesty’s suspicion forever, fated to decline?”

A mosquito flew past just then, and the old eunuch reached out to swat it, missing.

He withdrew his hand and said, “This is nothing yet. Don’t be fooled by how quiet this city of Jinling seems on the surface — stir the waters even a little, and you’ll find murkiness everywhere. Who’s to say what fish, what leviathans, might be hiding beneath? No waves show on the surface, but underneath, the currents run deep. His Majesty’s health has already declined considerably. Small shrimp like us can only hold our breath and hide in the crevices of the rocks for now.”

The young eunuch said, “Master, you’re no small shrimp — you’re a prized koi!”

As they spoke, they had already arrived at the Ministry of War, and both fell silent at once. Wu Mao entered the ministry, adopted a warm and pleasant expression, and after reading out the decree in full, said to Yun Xi, “This old servant offers General Yun his congratulations. His Majesty, in his generosity, has not only promoted you to General, but has also expressly stated that once the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Censorate have jointly opened the case regarding the Marquis Zhongyong’s northern campaign, you may call upon any of these offices at any time to inquire after its progress.”

Yun Xi unrolled the decree in her hands and looked it over — sure enough, Emperor Zhaoyuan had indeed added this clause to the decree himself.

At the very end, it further stated that should the Marquis Zhongyong’s wrongful conviction prove true, General Xuanwei’s title would be immediately transferred to inherit the Marquis Zhongyong’s peerage.

Yun Xi was overjoyed. She thanked Wu Mao and received her general’s armor and sword from a clerk at the Ministry of War.

Now a fifth-rank general, capable of commanding well over ten thousand troops, she was, of course, no longer to be treated as she once had been. The moment she reached the palace gate, a guard promptly brought her horse and respectfully said, “Safe travels, General Yun.”

Yun Xi rode all the way back to the Marquis Zhongyong’s manor, where Zhao Wu came out to greet her. “Young Miss, you’re back.”

Yun Xi gave an “Mm,” reined in her horse, and strode quickly toward the main courtyard, where she found A’Jiu lounging on a long bamboo chair, lazily throwing a ball for Zangzang to fetch, while Fang Furan sat to one side of the main hall, carefully embroidering a pattern with needle and hoop.

The moment A’Jiu spotted Yun Xi, she tossed aside the ball Zangzang had just retrieved and stood up, saying with some annoyance, “You said you’d be gone two days, and here you are, gone exactly two days. Any longer and I’d have gone out looking for you myself.”

Yun Xi walked up to her, pressed the imperial decree into her arms, and said with a smile, “Take a look!”

“What is this?” A’Jiu unrolled the decree, grumbling as she did. “You know I hate reading anything with words on it. I—”

But halfway through, she suddenly stopped short.

Her gaze had landed on a line of text to the right of the decree, and she went back and began reading from the very beginning, slowly and carefully this time.

A’Jiu truly did dislike reading anything with characters on it. Back on the grasslands, most people in the army camps had been illiterate. When A’Jiu had first learned to read, it had been alongside Yun Xi, with Yun Luo teaching them both together, holding their hands through it. But her mind was never on her books, and she learned slowly — where Yun Luo needed to teach Yun Xi something only once, he’d often have to teach A’Jiu the same thing three times over; where Yun Xi needed it three times, A’Jiu sometimes needed it a good ten times or more.

And yet now, A’Jiu read through this densely worded decree from beginning to end, not once, but three times.

She looked up and asked Yun Xi, “Is this real?”

“That old emperor is actually going to promote you to general? Send you off to lead troops into battle in the second month?”

Yun Xi nodded.

“And he’s going to launch a full investigation into what really happened in the northern campaign back then? Clear the Marquis’s name?”

“And once his name is cleared, that Yun Luo kid gets to inherit the title?”

Yun Xi nodded again.

“A’Ting.” Hearing the commotion outside, Fang Furan came to the doorway of the main hall and called out to Yun Xi.

Yun Xi took the decree back from A’Jiu and brought it over to Fang Furan. “Sister-in-law, today His Majesty—”

“I heard it all already,” Fang Furan said, nodding.

A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, her eyes filled with a gentle, quiet joy as she smiled. “You’ve worked so hard all these years — this day has finally come.”

Yun Xi shook her head. “It’s not me who’s worked hard. It’s you, Sister-in-law, who’s had the harder road.”

Fang Furan, being more attentive to detail than A’Jiu, noticed the general’s armor Yun Xi had brought back from the Ministry of War still in her arms and said, “Now that you’re a general, you’ll need to carry yourself with proper dignity going forward. Give me that armor — I’ll clean it thoroughly and have a wooden stand made to display it.”

Yun Xi said, “Sister-in-law, you’re not well. Just have Zhao Wu or Mingcui give it a quick wipe-down, that’s fine.”

“This is important. I’d worry anyone else wouldn’t be careful enough,” Fang Furan said. She knew how long Yun Xi had wanted to lead troops, to become a general, and now that her wish had finally come true, it deserved to be treated with proper care.

She returned to the main hall, put away her embroidery hoop, and said gently, “And here I was thinking I’d have your spring robes ready by the third month once the weather turned warm — but now you’re leaving in the second month, so I’ll need to hurry these next few days.”

With that, she called Mingcui over, and together they began tending to Yun Xi’s armor.

Yun Xi returned to the courtyard and looked around, only to find A’Jiu had vanished. Puzzled, she made her way to the front courtyard to look, and found A’Jiu already untying her horse from where it had been tethered just outside the manor gate.

Yun Xi asked, startled, “A’Jiu, where are you going?”

A’Jiu paused, turned back, and scratched her head. “Oh, didn’t I mention it before? I made a friend on the way to Jinling. He knows I grew up under the Marquis Zhongyong, in the frontier army camps. With such wonderful news today, I’m in a good mood, so I’m going out to see him, let him share in the good news too.”

Then she added, by way of explanation, “Last time I wanted to go find him, you had me stay and keep your sister-in-law company instead — he’s already been waiting on me for several days now!”

Yun Xi nodded. “All right then, go on.”

A’Jiu thought about it for a moment, then suddenly tied the horse back to the post, hurried over, and hooked her arm around Yun Xi’s shoulders, walking with her back toward the courtyard. “Forget it, forget it, I’m not going! You went and got yourself promoted to general, pulling off something this huge without even telling me! I’m staying with you today!”