Why had Yu Wenli urged the Emperor to go ask the Princess Consort? The reasoning was not difficult to follow — because the Emperor should not, at this juncture, be killing the Ning King’s envoys.

If he killed them outright and then went to tell the Princess Consort, she would of course feel gratitude toward the Emperor — but it would also cut off his own path forward.

And yet, if he admitted them without the Princess Consort’s blessing, it would chill her heart — and the hearts of those who hadn’t thought the matter through carefully.

For the Emperor to receive the Ning King’s people without the Princess Consort’s prior approval would stir up serious trouble.

What Yu Wenli truly wanted, in his heart, was for the Emperor to meet with the Ning King’s envoys.

Not because he had any desire to capitulate — but because the court was now at a disadvantage, and there were two powerful enemies outside. Seeing them might yield some avenue, some possibility.

To forcefully turn the Ning envoys away — or worse, send soldiers to kill them — might mean that the Ning King’s attitude would become permanently unrecoverable.

Besides, with three forces now pressing around Da Xing City, any two of them could form an alliance. Every possible combination had to be considered.

Han Feibao presented the appearance of implacable enmity with the Ning army — yet in the face of interest and gain, what knot was ever truly beyond untying?

Whichever two allied, the third would have cause for worry.

It was from this kind of thinking that Yu Wenli had urged the Emperor to go seek the Princess Consort’s counsel.

—

*Wu Prince’s Residence.*

The Emperor sent someone ahead to announce his visit, and stood waiting at the gate himself. In terms of ceremony, he had shown every courtesy available to him.

He had come once before, and the Princess Consort had sent word that she was unwell — and an emperor could not very well force his way in.

But this time, when word came that there was a matter of state, the Princess Consort could not in good conscience decline again. She came out personally to receive him.

They sat down in the reception hall, exchanged a few brief words, and then the Emperor stated his purpose.

“Envoys sent by the Ning King, Li Chi?”

The Princess Consort’s expression shifted slightly when she heard this.

“Yes… and that is why We came personally to seek you out, Royal Aunt. We wished to ask how you would have Us handle them. If you wish them dead, We can issue the decree right now and have General Jin Jieyin take soldiers out of the city.”

The Princess Consort let out a quiet inward sigh.

If the Emperor had truly intended to kill the Ning envoys, he wouldn’t have come here to ask. He would have ordered the soldiers out first and come to inform her after.

The Emperor coming here to ask her was a sign: he wanted to see them. He didn’t want to kill them.

The Princess Consort had long since lost any attachment to the things of this world. What kept her going was a single thread of duty.

What worried her was that if she went to join the Wu Prince now, her son Yang Zhenting would be in danger.

The Princess Consort managed vast commercial holdings, and in the place where Yang Zhenting was in hiding, enormous wealth had been quietly accumulated. If she were simply gone, the servants there — inevitably — might develop all sorts of improper ideas, or even worse ones.

She no longer cared about enemies. She no longer cared what became of Great Chu. She had already decided: in a few days, she would leave the city and find her child. Once everything was properly arranged and there was nothing left to worry about — she would follow the Wu Prince.

Living now was harder than dying. Only the Wu Prince’s child she could not yet leave behind.

Multiple times — standing at the Wu Prince’s grave during the burial rites — she had thought to take the poison she had brought. And each time, she had ultimately held back.

“What Your Majesty wishes to do for the good of the state is for Your Majesty to decide. There is no need to ask me. If killing these people would benefit Great Chu, then Your Majesty should order it. If not killing them would be the better choice, then do not kill them.”

The Princess Consort said: “I leave it in Your Majesty’s hands.”

The Emperor felt a pang of guilt. He offered a few more words of comfort and condolence — though he knew, even as he said them, that they meant very little. And precisely because of that guilt, he dared not linger in the Wu Prince’s residence. He rose to take his leave.

In the moment that Jin Jieyin had announced the arrival of the Ning envoys, the killing intent in the Emperor had been genuine.

But even before Yu Wenli could intervene, he had already regretted it. The problem was that he was the Emperor — he couldn’t reverse his own words the moment he’d said them and call Jin Jieyin back. An emperor must maintain his dignity. And to change his mind instantly in front of the Princess Consort would be even worse.

In that moment, he had cast a glance at Yu Wenli — and Yu Wenli had understood at once what his lord needed. That was why he had stepped in.

The reason the Emperor had regretted his command the very moment he gave it was, at its core, the same reason the Princess Consort was still making herself live: he had thought of those who would come after him.

The Emperor now had children. He was afraid that if the Ning King’s envoys were killed, his own children would one day have no chance to live in peace.

To have become an emperor like this — no one suffered it more than he did himself.

—

*Outside Da Xing City.*

Gao Xining asked Li Chi: “If someone recognizes you, the Chu Emperor will almost certainly have thoughts.”

Li Chi said: “The only person who might recognize me with any confidence would be the Princess Consort. But the Princess Consort won’t see us.”

Gao Xining thought about it. That was true enough.

The Princess Consort would have no heart to receive anyone from the Ning army. Either she would refuse to see them, or she would go directly to beg the Emperor to have them killed.

But Li Chi’s judgment was that even if the Princess Consort went to the Emperor, the Emperor would find a way to delay. And as long as the Princess Consort didn’t see Li Chi in person and didn’t press the Emperor directly and forcefully, there would be no real danger inside Da Xing City.

“Then let me ask…”

Gao Xining continued: “If for some other reason the Chu Emperor guesses your identity — would he act?”

“He wouldn’t.”

Li Chi said: “He would hold me somewhere under guard. Then try to use that to pressure Old Tang into moving against Han Feibao. Defeat Han Feibao, then Guanting, then spend the rest of his energy on recovering his lost territories.”

Gao Xining said: “You don’t seem worried at all.”

“Not that I’m not worried — just that worrying doesn’t accomplish much. Think about it: if Xiahou had come instead — and the Chu Emperor held Xiahou prisoner, then sent someone to press me to go fight Han Feibao and Guanting for him — how certain do you think he’d feel that I would agree? And how certain that I wouldn’t?”

Gao Xining considered. “He wouldn’t dare be sure. He’d worry that if he pushed too hard, maybe you’d harden your heart and write Xiahou off.”

“Exactly,” Li Chi said. “But if it’s me — the Ning King himself — he’s taken prisoner?”

He explained: “Two outcomes. First — he worries Old Tang would abandon me and declare independence. So holding me would be useless. Second — he holds me and Old Tang actually agrees to his demands.”

“With the first: taking the Emperor’s logic as given, if he’s worried Old Tang will declare independence — and Old Tang really does — the Emperor won’t dare kill me.”

Gao Xining said: “If he kills you, Old Tang will raze Da Xing City to the ground. Even if he declared himself independent afterward, he would still avenge you — and no one in the Yang family would survive.”

Li Chi nodded. “Right. And second: if he holds me and Old Tang agrees — then even more, he can’t kill me. The moment I die, the result is identical to the first case.”

“So even if danger does arise,” Li Chi continued, “in the critical moment, I just reveal my identity directly. Neither you nor I will come to any harm. The worst that happens is we get confined in some courtyard and they have to feed us.”

“But if anyone else had come instead of me — if the Emperor lost his nerve — he might very well order the killing.”

Li Chi said: “Before we left, Grandfather had you take me out for a walk. I knew at once that Old Tang and the others were going to discuss this. So I couldn’t let them have the chance.”

Even as they were talking about it, up ahead on the city wall, someone called out: “Envoys of the Ning King — please fall back a short distance. His Majesty has sent a welcome party, but an inspection must be conducted outside the city first.”

Li Chi acknowledged this and led the column back some dozen or more *zhang.*

The city gates opened. A body of cavalry rode out — clearly dressed up for the occasion to project dignity, their armor gleaming.

Leading them was an elderly man of about fifty, wearing the python-embroidered robe of a Duke of the State. Behind him trailed a group of civil and military officials.

A young eunuch walked up to Li Chi with a manner that was a shade imperious and said: “This is His Grace the Duke — the Grand Chancellor, Lord Yu — who comes by imperial decree to welcome your party into the city.”

Li Chi had already guessed the man’s identity. He clasped his hands and bowed. “Greetings to Lord Yu.”

Yu Wenli was the courteous one — considerably more so than his young eunuch. He returned the bow and asked: “How should this envoy be properly addressed?”

Li Chi answered: “My compound surname is Xiahou, given name Zhuo, a single character.”

Yu Wenli’s mind ran through what he knew, and he understood quickly. His manner shifted. He adjusted his robes and bowed again with added formality. “This old man greets the Young Lord.”

Whatever the circumstances, Xiahou Zhuo was still the child of Prince Yu Yang Xiji. Even if the lineage had never been formally recorded, it was a point of connection — and a way to bring the two sides closer.

A man as careful and discerning as Yu Wenli would never fail to appreciate the significance of that identity.

And besides — welcoming a *Young Lord* was a great deal more presentable than announcing one was receiving the Ning King’s envoy.

Even if it was somewhat self-deceiving, it was useful.

A few in the party who didn’t understand the connection watched Yu Wenli address the Ning envoy as *Young Lord* with blank expressions.

Yu Wenli walked alongside Li Chi into the city. He had originally intended to give the Ning party a show of force — demanding they strip off their weapons and armor. But the moment Xiahou Zhuo’s name came up, Yu Wenli changed his mind.

The Censorate Troops rode into the city. The citizens lining the streets watched with open curiosity. No matter how you looked at these black-armored riders, the impression they gave — in bearing and presence — far outstripped that of the gleaming Imperial Guard escort.

Even though these black riders looked travel-worn, dust-covered, some of them visibly tired — they still gave off something that the Guard simply didn’t. A feeling that made your breath catch, involuntarily.

When you thought about it: a group of men who spent their days on ceremonial duty, against a group who had cut their way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood — how could they possibly be the same?

These black riders had only to appear, and something in you shrank back without knowing why.

By imperial order, Yu Wenli first escorted Li Chi and his party to the Yibin Garden — the facility maintained by the Ministry of Rites specifically for housing foreign envoys and dignitaries. It lay not far from Shiyuan Palace, conveniently close should they need to enter the court.

Given the status of a *Young Lord*, Yu Wenli even made an exception and allowed the black-armored riders to enter the Yibin Garden and billet there.

Once Yu Wenli had taken his leave, Gao Xining smiled a little. “That one was playing the gentle side. There’ll probably be someone coming to play the hard side before long.”

Li Chi made a sound of agreement. “No matter. Should we take a walk around the Yibin Garden? I’ve heard it’s extraordinarily beautiful — there’s a small lake in the back, and dedicated performers for song and dance.”

Gao Xining: “Let’s go then.”

She pulled Li Chi along by the arm. “I’m dressed as a man right now — I’d better play the part properly.”

She asked Li Chi: “When watching a performance in a place like this — is there any protocol I should know?”

Li Chi: “How would I know…”

Yu Jiuling: “Ask me. I know this inside out.”