Even with so grave a matter erupting, the rapeseed flower banquet proceeded as planned.

The Chen family was, by this point, a tough and shameless lot. When Lord Chen had been in Jiangnan investigating the salt trade, he had certainly replenished the treasury and raised enough silver to fund the Emperor’s construction of the Three Great Halls — but the Censorate had also received a good many memorials impeaching him for accepting bribes in Jiangnan, colluding with salt merchants, embezzling salt taxes, and indulging his subordinates in forming cliques to bully local officials.

For this, Lord Chen had spent a full month in the Court of Judicial Review — during the very height of the Flower Reception season — but what of it? The Chen family’s banquets continued as scheduled, their gifts continued to be received, and they remained one of the most prominent new powers in the capital. When the matter concluded, Lord Chen was released without incident, with nothing more than a mild reprimand to mind his reputation. Everyone understood thereafter that the Emperor’s favor ran deep, and the Chen family vaulted at once to a standing that could rival even the Shen family.

So on this day, the rapeseed flower banquet was not shaken in the slightest by the Wei family’s petition.

On the contrary — precisely because of that petition, the occasion had to be even more festive, even more magnificent, to show it was of no concern at all. If the appearance of confidence crumbled, the hearts of supporters would scatter, and that could not be undone. Unlike the deep-rooted foundations of the Shen family, the Chen family’s splendor was largely held aloft by sheer momentum — let that momentum falter, and everything would collapse.

And so the Grand Princess arrived as promised, though just as she had done at the Shen family’s gathering, she made a brief appearance and took her leave. The Chen family’s women escorted the phoenix carriage respectfully to the gate. Han Yueqi was equally decisive — she immediately led her own circle away, saying only: “After such an upheaval, I am sure you are too occupied to entertain guests. I shall take my leave first.” No amount of entreaty from Lady Chen could hold her. Lu Wenyin, meanwhile, wore a pleasant smile, entirely composed.

Han Yueqi passed through the assembled ladies and met Lu Wenyin’s gaze across the courtyard. She offered a faint smile.

How marvelous, the workings of fate — not a thread out of place. What had things looked like ten days ago, and what did they look like now? At this moment, their positions and circumstances had been precisely exchanged. Truly, retribution always finds its mark.

Of course she also understood that today’s events would not shake Lu Wenyin’s foundations. Lu Wenyin, though caught off guard, could hold onto at least half the ladies. When the Emperor’s procession arrived, the other half would drift back as well.

Even this outcome mirrored exactly what had happened ten days earlier — only Sleeping Prince had been replaced by the Emperor himself.

And the new patron on whom the Chen family rested its weight also revealed its true form at this moment.

The Dowager Lady of the Liang Wang household departed, as did the Shen family. Prince Pingjun’s consort, however, did not leave as she had done ten days earlier at the Shen family gathering — she stayed.

Everyone in the capital knew that the social atmosphere of the Flower Reception had deteriorated in recent years. After the Old Dowager Lady of Prince Pingjun’s household aged out of prominence, no powerful noblewoman capable of presiding over the gathering had emerged, and so all parties acted as independent powers, fighting like cocks with inflamed eyes — unlike the old days when, though there was competition, at least one figure had been in charge, like the weft threads of cut silk weaving: the weft might run wild, but the warp never lost its order, and things never went truly out of hand.

By imperial edict, the Emperor had designated Her Highness the Grand Princess to preside over this year’s Flower Reception, and everyone had been busy ingratiating themselves with the Grand Princess, guessing at her preferences, catering to her inclinations. So no one had thought to ask: if the Grand Princess had not appeared out of nowhere, who would have been the natural successor to the position once held by the Old Dowager Lady of Prince Pingjun’s household?

Prince Pingjun’s consort was that answer.

Her maiden name was Gao. By genealogy, she was the Empress’s inner niece — her father held the legitimate title of National Uncle, and she was the true-born daughter of the senior branch of the Gao family. She had married the heir of Prince Pingjun’s household, endured ten years of hardship, borne one son and one daughter, and was just on the point of stepping into the Old Dowager Lady’s position when she passed away — only for the Grand Princess to appear out of nowhere and seize it.

She naturally dared not contest it, but neither had she any reason to forfeit this entire year. To cede all authority over the Flower Reception to the Grand Princess was one thing, but she had at least to cultivate her own influence. After all, the one enthroned in the palace was not a woman who ate plain vegetables and prayed for nothing.

No wonder Lu Wenyin had been so bold as to cast off Lady Wei and seek a taller tree to shelter under. The work of dismantling the Northern Pacification Army belonged to Lord Shen and Prince Pingjun — Lord Shen taking the lead, Prince Pingjun a rung below him as a member of the imperial clan. It was only natural that Prince Pingjun would want to build a coalition to counter Lord Shen. Lu Wenyin’s performance — like Jiang Gan stealing the letters — was precisely the opening move in an alliance between Prince Pingjun and the Chen family, aimed against Lord Shen.

Which vulture fed on the great camel, after all, did not matter — so long as one of them got to feed?

The Emperor evidently concurred. What were these Yanglin City women? So much effort had gone into splitting the Northern Pacification Army into the Mountain Battalion and the Fire Battalion, setting them against each other — and yet the Mountain Battalion remained solid as iron, its commanders all loyal to Marshal Wei, and the women all rallying around Lady Wei in close-knit solidarity like a single family. It was absurd. If the Mountain Battalion became a household unto itself, did they still have any regard for their sovereign and father?

So the Emperor arrived as planned — even a quarter of an hour early. The Chen family had certainly not skimped on corruption, and the costs of receiving the imperial procession bled like water — screens of silk were erected all the way from the imperial hunting grounds, the snow swept immaculate, the roads spread with yellow earth, and because the winter-bare trees lining both sides seemed too bleak, people had been dispatched to hang festive streamers and tie colored flowers along the entire route. Lord Chen himself went early to welcome the Emperor at the entrance of the imperial hunting grounds, while Chen Yaoqing knelt prostrate at the gate of the villa, leading the officials and noble sons in receiving the procession. The inner quarters housed the wives of court officials, who did not receive the Emperor directly, but all knelt and awaited his decree. The Emperor sent in a female official to convey a verbal message, telling the titled ladies not to stand on ceremony and to proceed with the Flower Reception as usual.

Lord Chen’s rise to his present position was inseparable from his remarkable pliability. A court favorite in his mid-forties, he could still bustle about like this, and what was more, his rapport with the Emperor’s personal eunuchs was excellent. Eunuch Huang, Eunuch Wu — the attentions he had paid them were beyond counting. After welcoming the Emperor inside, he came back out to attend to the palace attendants, addressing them as senior chief eunuchs, ushering them into a side chamber to rest, silver notes slipping smoothly from sleeve to sleeve.

Eunuch Huang and Eunuch Wu naturally did not disappoint this thoughtfulness, and at once gave him a word of advice: “I hear the Northern Pacification Army’s women are still inside the Grand Princess’s residence and have not come out. Lord Chen would do well to keep that in mind.”

Lord Chen was feeling pleased with himself today, and had been properly deferential before the Emperor — but now that the Emperor’s back was turned, a certain self-satisfaction crept into his manner. “A bunch of women,” he said. “What can they accomplish?”

Eunuch Huang was a seasoned veteran and said nothing, but Eunuch Wu, being somewhat younger, could not suppress a snort: “Would you dare say that in front of the Grand Princess?”

Lord Chen quickly reined in his satisfaction. “The senior chief eunuch’s reminder is most timely — please do have some tea.”

The tea was brought, along with a great many other things — antiques, jade objects, all the sort of treasures Lord Chen had accumulated during his time in Jiangnan — presented with the words “offered for the senior chief eunuch’s enjoyment.” Lord Chen settled matters on this end, and when word came that the Emperor was comfortable, he was summoned inside to pay his respects — those details need not be recounted here.

In truth, the Emperor had not come today primarily to lend the Chen family his prestige. Rather, the great victory on the northern frontier the year before had reawakened in him a certain ambition. The Great Zhou dynasty had been founded on horseback, and the Emperor, not yet forty, was in the prime of his years. Having been consumed by the affairs of war all winter, the autumn hunt had been cancelled, and he was inclined to make the spring hunt a proper affair. But he feared the censorate — those hidebound scholars — would obstruct him with remonstrances at every turn, as was their habit. So he had come first to Lord Chen’s villa to let fall a hint, knowing Lord Chen was the most adept at reading the imperial will. Once the Emperor left, Lord Chen would maneuver accordingly — rallying the ministers to jointly memorialize requesting that the Emperor conduct a spring hunt to celebrate the great victory on the northern frontier and display imperial might — and the Emperor would then acquiesce with an air of reluctant concession, circumventing the censorate entirely.

So the Emperor sat only briefly, then summoned the Northern Pacification Army commanders and the noble sons to appear before him. He dispensed with their obeisance, bade them stand, and looked them over with a pleased expression: “We are truly growing old. To see such a gathering of talent — all fine men of our Great Zhou — fills Our heart with gladness.”

Marshal Wei, perhaps genuinely failing to catch the hint or simply refusing to play along, offered no suitable reply. It was Lord Chen who recovered first, immediately stepping in with a smiling rejoinder: “Your Majesty, what manner of speech is this? Your Majesty’s imperial constitution is vigorous and flourishing; our Great Zhou’s martial destiny shines with glory, which is precisely why Marquis Wei was able to drive deep into the enemy’s territory and sweep the frontier clean of dust. This is all owing to the sagacity of our sovereign, whose virtue illuminates all within the four seas!”

The attending officials immediately chimed in with flattery, filling the hall, and the Emperor was coaxed into a broad smile. Lord Chen then called Chen Yaoqing forward and had him present a bow and a falcon to the Emperor, saying: “Today, my unworthy son set up a wager at the banquet, challenging the assembly to a hunt in the rear hills, with this bow as the prize. All of the capital knows that Your Majesty’s marksmanship is the finest under heaven. I beg Your Majesty to do us the honor of instructing my son.”

The Emperor, finding him so agreeable, was naturally happy to play along. He reached for the bow and drew it experimentally, then remarked with distaste: “A fine bow, but the draw weight is a touch light. Huang Jun — fetch Our strong bow.”

To go on an outing and bring a personal bow — the Emperor’s enthusiasm for making the spring hunt a grand occasion was written plain on his face.

The attendants carried out the bow, and it was indeed a magnificent piece. The Emperor had it passed among the assembly: “This is a bow handed down from our founding Ancestor — used by the great generals of the Gallery of Illustrious Figures. There are five in all. This one is called ‘Painted Sprite,’ made of sandalwood from Mount Chan, its string fashioned by the first Duke of Yingguo himself from the sinew of a deer he had personally hunted. Today is fortuitous — you are all gathered here for a hunting competition. We add Our own prize: whoever wins shall receive this bow as Our reward!”

Lord Chen immediately played along with a gleeful laugh: “Your Majesty, and the other four? There are so many masters gathered here today — one bow is hardly enough to go around!”

He was willing to act the clown, bending to make jests; the Emperor naturally obliged in turn, tapping him on the head with the bow: “Have no fear, you old schemer — those four will come out too, in due time. The men of our Great Zhou were born to ride and shoot — a kingdom founded on horseback. So long as you keep practicing your horsemanship and archery, Our rewards are inexhaustible. Not just today — every man will have his chance!”

The meaning was laid out so clearly that every official in the room understood without a hint of confusion. Lord Chen’s advisors were already composing in their minds the memorial petitioning the Emperor to conduct a spring hunt as an inspiration to all subjects. The whole hall immediately broke into accord — some praising the bow’s excellence, some boasting they intended to win the competition for it, some stirring the pot by saying the Northern Pacification Army commanders would surely be unbeatable, leaving the noble sons at a disadvantage —

There was also someone who misjudged the temperature of the imperial mood and began to raise the subject of the spring hunt too eagerly, just barely getting out the words: “Your Majesty’s wisdom is supreme — now that the spring hunt season is at hand—”

Lord Chen, though entirely devoted to pleasing the Emperor, was quick-witted where it counted. He immediately sent a blade of a glance in that direction, the look in his eyes murderous. The junior official caught himself — being one of the Chen faction’s own people — and promptly closed his mouth.

The Emperor appeared not to notice, continuing to smile as his gaze swept the assembled commanders and noble sons. “Hanhai — will you not compete today?”

Marshal Wei was famously blunt. He had been in the capital since his return, and had not even managed to form a Wei faction around himself. Hearing this, he did not know how to offer a compliment or make light of it, and replied stiffly, head bowed: “In reply to Your Majesty — this subordinate’s horsemanship and archery are truly mediocre. I would not wish to dampen the spirits of those under my command.”

The Emperor burst out laughing.

“Ah, of course. We had nearly forgotten.” He turned his gaze with a smile to Cui Jingyu: “Are all of the Northern Pacification Army’s commanders present today? We suspect this bow will most likely end up with Marquis Cui.”

Cui Jingyu, still young and bearing the bearing of a noble family — just as straightforward as the Marshal, but with a military man’s high spirits — replied: “In reply to Your Majesty — the Mountain Battalion has come in full. The Fire Battalion has several who must oversee the morning drills, so they have not yet arrived.”

Marquis Jing of the Fire Battalion, seeing him practically filing a report, immediately retorted: “Your Majesty, from the look of Marquis Cui, he considers this a foregone conclusion.”

Before the words had fully landed, one of the noble sons spoke up: “That may not be certain.”

Everyone turned to look. It was a young man in a scarlet brocade robe, about the same age as Wei Yushan, judging by his dress the son of a marquis’s household — but at his waist hung a pale yellow tassel that marked him as imperial clan. He was strikingly handsome, yet his face had a certain sharpness, and his manner was tinged with something brooding.

The Emperor immediately laughed.

“We wondered who it was — so it is this little rogue. Why are you not at the palace keeping Yanze company? What brings you here?”

Everyone understood at once — this young man was from Sleeping Prince’s household, clearly a trusted attendant who moved regularly in the Emperor’s presence, which was why the Emperor recognized him.

“The Prince heard Chen family had pheasants in the hills, and dispatched me out of the palace to bag a couple and bring them back to ease his boredom.” This young man in fine attire was entirely at ease in the Emperor’s presence, regarding the Northern Pacification Army’s commanders with an air of proud disdain.

Others managed to hold themselves back, but Wei Yushan was the first to lose patience.

“What is so special about pheasants? They are easier to bag than dimwit roe deer. If we are competing, let us compete for birds of prey. Back in our Northern Pacification Army days, we brought down several golden eagles with our heavy bows up on the frontier.”

He had the spirit of youth — always wanting to be first, unwilling to yield an inch to anyone.

“This is the capital, not the frontier. There are no golden eagles or silver eagles here. If you want to compete, let us compete to take down a peregrine falcon. The Records of the Northern Frontier says the peregrine flies faster than even the golden eagle, yet is less than half the size.” The young man responded at once. “As it happens, Lord Chen has one right here — let us release it and see who can take it. Whoever does is the winner.”

The two of them were competing eagerly, but Lord Chen had no appetite for such diversions — terrified of offending the Emperor, he smiled until his cheeks ached and was about to step in and separate them, when he saw that the Emperor was listening with evident pleasure and a smile in his eyes.

“Striving to rise, refusing to yield — that is the mark of our Great Zhou’s fine young men.” The Emperor spoke, and the whole room fell still, every person lowering their hands in respectful attention — the young man was no exception. The Emperor smiled and called the young man by name: “Let it be as Yuan Xiu proposes. Bring out the peregrine.”

The attendants at once brought forward the falcon’s cage. Peregrines were rare enough in the capital even as dead specimens; a living one was rarer still.

Lord Chen immediately added: “Your Majesty, take care — this peregrine was found by a herder from the frontier passes and brought here. It had struck itself unconscious in the snow during a hunt. Its wild nature is wholly untamed; it has refused food and water to this day. The hood is the only thing that keeps it manageable — without it, it bites at anything that comes near.”

“Enough chatter.” The Emperor gave him a sidelong glance.

Yuan Xiu stepped forward. One look made plain that he was accustomed to moving in the imperial presence — both proud in bearing and skilled at attending to the great, yet without the fawning quality of a palace eunuch. He had the look of a trained fighter. His hands moved with striking speed: he opened the golden cage, and before the peregrine could react or struggle, he seized it with one hand and cupped the other over its ears.

“The peregrine flies with extraordinary speed — it would be difficult to catch under ordinary conditions. Released now, it could reach beyond the passes within an hour. But placing a lodestone on its body will prevent it from flying long distances — it will circle within a set area, much like a homing pigeon.” Yuan Xiu, young as he was, knew a remarkable amount. An attendant passed him a pair of small golden rings fitted with lodestones, which he slipped onto the falcon’s legs.

“Equal weight on both sides — so it will not fly off balance.” He informed the Emperor with respectful attentiveness.

The Emperor listened to all of this with considerable interest, and when Yuan Xiu was finished, smiled and said to an attendant: “Bring a brush.”

An attendant brought forward the brush case — the Emperor’s own vermillion brush from his personal use, its vermillion ink enriched with golden powder, the very symbol of the Son of Heaven’s personal hand. What it marked dried hard as lacquer, impervious to water and fire; even if burned, the mark would still be visible in the ash.

The Emperor took the brush and pressed it to the peregrine’s head in a single stroke — on its grey feathers, a vivid point of vermillion appeared, glinting with gold.

“The Emperor’s own brush — turning stone to gold. This peregrine has truly accumulated blessings across lifetimes, like a carp leaping the dragon’s gate.” Lord Chen’s flattery was always perfectly timed.

The Emperor only gave a faint smile.

“The Book of Changes says: ‘The Duke shoots a falcon on the high rampart and takes it — all is advantageous.'” He held the brush and addressed the assembled crowd of ambitious faces with a smile: “Each of you is a fine man of our Great Zhou. Today, let us see who wins first honors!”

Yuan Xiu received the command. He held the peregrine and walked into the courtyard, then removed the hood from the head of the world’s fastest bird of prey. The falcon erupted in violent struggle; he could barely keep his grip.

He opened his hands.

The falcon shot upward like an arrow through cloud, vanishing into the mountain forest in an instant. The Northern Pacification Army commanders could not hold themselves back — the noble sons’ attendants also led their horses forward. The Emperor watched the eager, poised assembly, and a smile spread across his face.

“Go — today is yours. There is no need to stand on ceremony!” The Emperor declared with soaring spirits: “Whoever takes this peregrine comes before Us to receive a reward. Beyond the Painted Sprite bow, there will be further rewards besides. In this year’s spring hunt, it is the day’s champion who shall loose the first arrow!”

With the Emperor’s command given, riders mounted and archers took up their bows — the Northern Pacification Army commanders, the capital’s noble sons, even the Chen family’s own sons — all burst forth like birds freed from their cage, racing with wild cries through the hills, startling the birds from the mountain forest, setting the sky ringing with noise!