At the end of spring, approaching summer, daylight came early.

At morning court, sunlight poured into the Hall of Supreme Harmony, filling it with a brilliance of gold and jade. The assembled ministers had already taken their places, their figures casting shadows across the steps before the dragon throne.

After more than half a shichen had passed, the Emperor had still not appeared, and the ministers began to murmur among themselves.

Pei Shaohuai understood: as one clap of thunder stirs all creatures from hibernation, the insects and serpents alike would come crawling out — the turmoil was beginning.

The assembled officials had not been made to wait for the Emperor. Instead, the Left Vice Minister of Justice and the Deputy Commissioner of the Southern Office of Imperial Security arrived. Imperial Guards surged into the great hall. Officials scrambled to step aside and clear a path, all wearing expressions of startled bewilderment, not knowing who was about to be arrested in open court.

The Vice Minister of Justice stopped before Pei Shaohuai and said coldly: “Pei Shaohuai, come with us.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“When the Imperial Guards haul you away, where else would you go if not the imperial prison? To enjoy fine food and drink?” Watching a once-favored minister fall so precipitously toward imprisonment, the Vice Minister of Justice lost himself in smug satisfaction, every bit the petty man revealed.

A moment of silence — then the hall erupted into a clamor.

The Emperor avoiding morning court, Pei Shaohuai, the Ministry of Justice, the imperial prison… The whole affair was bizarre and sudden. How could a favored and meritorious minister that even the Grand Secretary could not overrule have suddenly, overnight and without any warning, fallen from imperial grace and been sent to prison?

Could it be that the Emperor truly intended to depose the Crown Prince, and that Pei Shaohuai had offended the Emperor in matters concerning the “Imperial Family”?

Several senior ministers in scarlet robes moved to stand before Pei Shaohuai — they were Grand Secretary Zhang, Grand Secretary Xu, Lord Yang, and others. Lord Yang rebuked sharply: “You dare speak of arrest without even producing an arrest warrant? Have you no regard for the law?”

An arrest warrant was the official authorization required to detain an official within the capital. It had to bear the Emperor’s personal vermilion endorsement, the seal of the Directorate of Ceremonial, and the countersignature of the Six Offices of Scrutiny before it could take effect.

The Vice Minister of Justice produced a red document and held it up for all to see, announcing loudly: “The warrant is right here. Let everyone see it clearly. Today’s arrest of the treacherous minister Pei Shaohuai is fully warranted!”

The document bore a bold red inscription — unmistakably in the Emperor’s own hand — along with the countersignatures of Grand Secretary Hu Qi and the Office of Justice Scrutiny.

“On what charges? If you cannot make that plain, you might as well be arresting anyone you please.” Grand Secretary Zhang Lingyi stood his ground and demanded an answer in a thunderous voice.

“Grand Secretary Zhang, please do not make things difficult for this subordinate.” The Vice Minister spoke as he held the red document before Zhang Lingyi without ceremony, and said: “It is written plainly in black and white right here. Pei Shaohuai, while serving as an examination official in southern Fujian, set examination questions based on ‘The Master said: Not so’ and ‘His clansmen call him filial, his neighbors call him respectful of his elders’ — showing contempt for his sovereign and master, using veiled allusions to attack those above him, and deliberately forming a faction to incite rebellion. The evidence is irrefutable.” He added: “I ask that Grand Secretary Zhang not make things difficult for this subordinate, lest you draw the suspicion onto yourself as well.”

“What a baseless charge fabricated out of thin air. Who lodged this accusation, and who passed judgment? Step forward, if you dare.” Zhang Lingyi did not retreat; he stepped forward instead, his ceremonial gold-trimmed belt pressing against the Vice Minister of Justice, and said: “I wish to understand the grounds clearly. How am I making things difficult for you? Could it be that you have a guilty conscience?”

“This official is the one who determined the charges!” Hu Qi stepped forward, pushing the Vice Minister of Justice from behind, positioning himself squarely against Zhang Lingyi, and declared: “According to the commentary of Master Zhu, ‘the inner room’ represents the sovereign and master, while ‘the kitchen stove’ represents those who hold power. Yet Pei Shaohuai deliberately set the question ‘The Master said: Not so’ — does he not mean to have the examination candidates think it better to ‘curry favor with the kitchen stove than with the inner room’? His intentions are no different from Wang Sunjia’s — if this is not contempt for his sovereign and master, then what is it? And since his return to the capital, has not his every action been in pursuit of overwhelming power and influence?”

Wang Sunjia had once said: “Better to flatter the god of the kitchen than the god of the inner room” — an analogy meaning “Better to follow whoever holds real power than to follow the lord of the state.” “The Master said: Not so” was drawn directly from this Analects passage.

“And if that instance could be dismissed as coincidence or careless oversight — what of the Quanzhou Prefecture examinations? Grand Secretary Zhang could not be unaware of what comes after ‘his clansmen call him filial, his neighbors call him respectful of his elders.'” Hu Qi posed the question and answered it himself: “It is: ‘What are those presently in governance like? The Master said: Alas! They are men of petty measure — hardly worth counting.’ Can that still be called careless oversight? This is an unambiguous mockery of those above him.”

Zigong had asked: how do those who currently govern measure up? Are they truly worthy of being called men of principle? And Confucius had answered: Alas — they are men of narrow and petty spirit, not worth counting at all.

“Hu Qi, you are inventing a crime to pin on an innocent man.”

“This arrest warrant bears the Emperor’s personal signature. To refuse compliance — Zhang Lingyi, do you intend to join this rebellion?” Hu Qi swept his gaze across those who stood in opposition and barked: “Does this realm belong to the Emperor, or does it belong to those of you who shield one another through ties of marriage and discipleship? Those who defy imperial decree and deliberately obstruct the enforcement of the law shall be put to death!”

Pei Shaohuai looked at the backs of his father-in-law, his elder of the clan, and his examining tutor. They stood with spines straight and unyielding. Beneath their black official’s caps, their hair was white with age, and the veins at their necks stood out in sharp relief with the force of their fury.

He understood — “contempt for the sovereign” was a charge hastily fabricated. The true cause was Mars Occupying the Heart. Before that celestial phenomenon appeared, the court would never make that prediction public.

Were they to announce Mars Occupying the Heart, the people would be gripped by terror, grain prices would spike, popular sentiment would fall into chaos, and the realm would lose its peace. Enemy nations on all four borders would seize the moment to claim they had received divine auspicious signs of their own and, rallying as one, launch their attacks on Da Qing in hopes of replacing her.

In a world where everyone believed in Mars Occupying the Heart, that very belief could manufacture real catastrophe — and therein lay the brilliance of his adversaries’ scheme.

Pei Shaohuai became all the more certain: his adversaries were a group deeply versed in The Book of Lord Shang. Only, rather than developing the more progressive aspects of Legalist thought, they confined themselves entirely to scheming through “the art of manipulating rulers” and “keeping the people stupid and obedient,” becoming a nest of hidden woodworms lurking in the dark — writhing and seething, conspiring to drive all people down into the damp and murky tunnels below, to live and breathe at their command.

If his father-in-law, his clan elder, and his tutor were all arrested together, that would be falling squarely into his adversaries’ trap.

Just then, Hu Qi called out loudly: “The ruler commands the minister to die; should the minister refuse death, he is disloyal. Pei Shaohuai — do you intend to go on hiding behind your elders and not come forward?”

The moment had come for Pei Shaohuai to make his wager.

He stepped out from behind those who had spoken on his behalf, bowed deeply to them, then raised both hands to his head and removed his tall black official’s cap, setting it upon the ground where it faced directly toward the blinding sunlight streaming through the main doors of the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

“Boyuan…”

Having removed his official’s cap in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Pei Shaohuai felt it was still not enough. As he untied his ceremonial belt and removed his outer official’s robe until only a plain white garment remained, he declared in ringing tones: “This old vessel — is sinking!”

“What do I mean by the old vessel? Everyone acts only for their own interests; in all things, they know only advantage and disadvantage, never right from wrong. Petty men hold sway; mediocre officials occupy high positions — incompetent yet arrogant, possessing neither ability, nor method, nor talent, knowing only how to form cliques for private gain and use leverage to coerce their subordinates into allegiance… this is the old vessel.”

“The old vessel is sinking, tottering on the edge of ruin, and yet everyone scrambles only to seize the helm, while none have the will or the heart to patch its hull. Out of every ten mu of farmland in the realm, common people can till fewer than three — and yet you say nothing; the people take to the mountains to eat grasses and gnaw tree bark, stuffing themselves with Guanyin clay to survive — and yet you say nothing; the barbarian nations watch from every direction with hungry eyes, and the Japanese pirates are a festering affliction that will not heal — and yet you say nothing… and yet you have the heart and the time to nitpick at words and phrases, drawing up accusations for a crime that never existed. I, Pei Shaohuai, am nothing more than a minor official — how is it that the mighty Grand Secretary of the entire court cannot spare attention for matters of true importance, burning his lamps through the night solely to devise a charge against me?”

“You may not be able to tell black from white — but the common people can see clearly. My writings are not for the sake of personal ambition; my brush speaks only to the sorrows of the people. The things you refuse to say, the memorials you refuse to write — the green brush of history’s chronicles will write them all.”

“Today you can imprison Pei so-and-so on the charge of ‘contempt for the sovereign.’ Tomorrow, on what grounds will you suppress and arrest other capable and worthy men? When every minister with the heart and the will to patch the hull has been worn down and destroyed, and this sinking vessel’s helm falls into your hands — of what use is it then?”

“The old vessel — is sinking!”

Pei Shaohuai tossed the official’s robe he had removed with one hand; it fell like the folded wings of a white crane. He walked to stand before Hu Qi, raised both hands, looked at the man, his gaze filled with open contempt and disdain, and said in a measured voice: “You cannot even touch the helm of this sinking ship.”

Hu Qi had gained the position of Grand Secretary through nothing but chance.

“Traitor! Traitor!” Hu Qi shouted, his eyes bloodshot and his composure shattered — those words had struck at his most tender wound. He waved his hand and cried: “Seize this traitor at once and throw him in the imperial prison!”

The Imperial Guards advanced.

Pei Shaojin, who was also present in the court, broke free from his colleagues’ restraining hands and, just as his elder brother had done, tore off his own official’s cap. Only now did he understand why his elder brother had said those things the day before. Yet if his elder brother had foreseen all of this, why had he not devised a way to escape? There was no time to dwell on that now. He stepped in front of the advancing Imperial Guards and, his composure somewhat lost, declared: “If even Elder Brother cannot be called a clean and upright man, then who in this court can be called so? If you wish to take him away, take me first.”

“Pei Shaojin, step aside.”

Shaojin’s body stiffened; the sound of his own name spoken aloud jolted him gradually back to his senses. He slowly lowered his outstretched arms and turned around, his voice carrying a trace of tears: “Elder Brother…”

“Go do what you are supposed to do.”

“Younger Brother is doing precisely what he is supposed to do.”

“Each column must bear its own end,” Pei Shaohuai said with composure. “You are not only my younger brother. You are the eldest son of the Pei household, you are Zhengguan’s father, you are your tutor’s student, you are yourself, and I am myself.”

Pei Shaohuai asked: “Have you forgotten the books you read as a boy?”

“Not for a single… moment.”

While Shaojin stood gazing at his elder brother in a daze, Zhang Lingyi and Minister of War Chen Gongda pulled Shaojin aside, clearing the way.

“Sir Pei, my apologies.” The Deputy Commissioner of the Southern Office of Imperial Security spoke with a note of respect. The two subordinates behind him, who had been carrying iron fetters, read the glance their superior gave them and moved quietly to one side, making no move to approach.

The Deputy Commissioner made a gesture and said: “Sir Pei, please.”

Pei Shaohuai was led away by the Ministry of Justice and the Southern Office of Imperial Security. The hall fell silent. Whether they had supported Pei Shaohuai or opposed him, all those who remained were left with complicated feelings.

“Go home and settle matters there for now. As for Boyuan’s affairs, there are still several of us old ones here to manage them.” Lord Yang walked over and patted Shaojin on the shoulder in comfort. “This matter is not as straightforward as it appears. Do not act rashly.”

Cooling down somewhat, Lord Yang, Grand Secretary Zhang, and the others were able to think clearly. The Emperor would never use a charge as flimsy as an exam “question” to deal with Pei Boyuan, nor would he give any credence to the Grand Secretary Hu’s absurd arguments.

The Emperor had known full well that arresting Pei Shaohuai would stir controversy at court, and had deliberately absented himself from morning court, putting Hu Qi forward as the instrument of his will.

Judging by the Deputy Commissioner of the Southern Office’s manner, at least Pei Shaohuai’s life was not in danger.

What truly worried them was the Emperor’s inscrutable stance — and why he had suddenly chosen to have Pei Shaohuai locked away.

Pei Shaojin left the palace and boarded his carriage, hurrying back toward home. The very thought of his elder brother being taken away by the Imperial Guards, and of his own helplessness in that moment, filled him with overwhelming self-reproach.

“Pei Shaojin, you are useless!”

……

In the Palace of Heavenly Purity, which had been reduced to smoldering ruins, the Emperor had set up a temporary imperial study in the Hall of Great Virtue to the west.

The doors were tightly shut, refusing all visitors, yet the ministers knew the Emperor was inside.

Led by Zhang Lingyi, a group of ministers knelt outside the hall requesting an audience. Without seeing the Emperor, how could Pei Boyuan be rescued?

Inside the imperial study, the Emperor had ordered all lamps extinguished, casting the room in dimness. Daylight fell through the skylight in a slanted column, within which dust floated slowly in the stillness.

The column of light did not fall upon the Emperor’s desk, leaving the golden dragons of his imperial robe without luster. His expression was grave and his eyes were closed in contemplation, his mood deeply displeased.

The sound of hurried, fractured footsteps drew near, and the newly appointed Chief Eunuch entered and knelt, saying with a tremor in his voice: “Your Majesty, Grand Secretary Zhang has removed his official’s cap and is outside the hall, chanting continuously without pause…” The fear in his voice was palpable.

The Emperor did not open his eyes. “What is he chanting?”

The Chief Eunuch hesitated.

“Speak.”

The Chief Eunuch pressed his forehead to the floor, trembling, and said: “Your Majesty, he is chanting: ‘When the clever rabbit dies, the hunting dog is boiled; when the birds are gone, the good bow is laid away…'”

The Emperor’s eyes flew open. His brows rose sharply, and a fierce rage seized him. He grabbed the teacup from the desk, ready to hurl it to the ground — but the familiar feel of it in his hand gave him a momentary pause.

What he held was the very white porcelain teacup that Pei Shaohuai had brought him as a gift upon his return to the capital. On the day of the great fire at the Palace of Heavenly Purity, the palace attendants had rescued a few items from the imperial study in the chaos — among them, this teacup.

The Emperor hesitated for only a moment, then his rage returned in full force. The teacup was released from his hand and struck the floor, shattering into pieces amid a pool of spilled water.

“Your Majesty, please calm your fury, please spare this servant’s life…” The Chief Eunuch kept knocking his head to the floor.

“Get out!”

The Chief Eunuch had not yet retreated to the side door when the command came again: “Come back.”

The Emperor closed his eyes and ordered: “Go and bring Xiao Jin back.”