The scrolls rested silently on the stone table, as if mocking Yan Chengzhao.

Yan Chengzhao neither reached for them nor showed any irritation. Instead, he lifted the jar of wine, pulled off the stopper, and said, “Let’s drink.”

Pei Shaohuai stopped teasing the Chief Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and recounted the latter half of the record: “Duke Jing of Song reflected upon himself, cultivated his virtue, and held benevolence toward all under heaven. The Stellar Office declared that Heaven would surely take notice of the ruler’s great virtue. And so it was — that very night, the Mars star retreated three celestial stations, an omen that Duke Jing of Song would be granted eleven additional years of life.”

Yan Chengzhao’s hand paused mid-pour. He grasped the Emperor’s deeper meaning, glanced over at Pei Shaohuai, and opened his mouth without a sound — likely finding this particular “historical account” to read more like a storybook — then shook his head and went on pouring, grumbling as he did, “If it could be said in a single sentence, why not say it plainly?” And yet the man had made him bring along an entire book.

“Chief Commander Yan has quite the nerve,” Pei Shaohuai teased.

Having filled two cups, Yan Chengzhao turned to Wu Jianqing and asked, “Can the young lad hold his drink?”

The fearsome and menacing Chief Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard was personally pouring wine for him? Wu Jianqing was first struck dumb, his face showing hesitation, but he quickly gave a nod. The result was a brimming cup set before him — Wu Jianqing had barely taken a small sip when the burn sent his tongue darting out in agony.

Yan Chengzhao raised his own cup and was reminded of something. “Almost forgot,” he said. “His Majesty says the white porcelain tea cup you gave him… was accidentally dropped and broken. He asks whether you have any more at home.”

There were more — seven, in fact.

But thinking of his family at the estate, of his wife kneeling outside the palace hall until the middle of the night, Pei Shaohuai felt a swell of suppressed anger and replied, “There are none. It was one of a kind — utterly irreplaceable. Now that it’s broken, it’s gone.”

Yan Chengzhao read the emotion in Pei Shaohuai’s manner, and finding nothing suitable to say in comfort, could only pour him a few more cups and drink alongside him. Loyalty and filial devotion have never both been easily fulfilled since ancient times. And for the scheme to succeed, the fewer who knew, the better — there was truly no other way.

Even the finest wine could not dispel sorrow. Pei Shaohuai only wished to root out the “weeds” as soon as possible and return home.

The two men drank and talked.

“The forces from Raozhou Prefecture ought to be nearing the capital by now?”

“They’ve already halted outside Hejian Prefecture, waiting only for His Majesty’s summons.” Yan Chengzhao said. “The people haven’t yet arrived, but the calling cards sent ahead to all the senior officials have.” It was clear that Yan Chengzhao did not hold a particularly favorable impression of this Prince of Huai either.

Pei Shaohuai’s attention was not focused on the Prince of Huai, but he knew that the prince’s arrival in the capital to offer birthday congratulations would certainly serve as an opening.

He calculated the days — Huang Qingxing had been employed at the Precious Spring Bureau for several months now — and said, “The matter of the counterfeit silver coins ought to be approaching the time to draw in the net.”

“Prefectures surrounding the Southern Metropolitan Region have all been arranged with agents watching in secret,” Yan Chengzhao said.

Now it was only a matter of waiting for the other side to expose their footing.

“Oh, by the way — Pei Daren may have to endure some physical suffering tomorrow.” Yan Chengzhao said, even a false act had to be performed in full. “The Minister of Personnel, acting under imperial command, will enter the prison to conduct your interrogation.”

“Who?”

“Your great-granduncle.”

“Pei Jue — he has actually returned…” Pei Shaohuai was somewhat caught off guard. He thought to himself: Pei Shaowen had entered officialdom the same year as Shaojin, and five or six years had passed. Word was that under Pei Jue’s guidance, he had accomplished commendable things in Chengdu Prefecture. Counting the years, it was indeed time for his return to the capital for the triennial review.

That the Emperor had arranged for Pei Jue to enter the prison and conduct the interrogation was a move that would leave the court officials unable to read His Majesty’s mind, while simultaneously striking a blow to the Chief Grand Secretary’s dignity — and could even be seen as a test of the Pei Family: abandon Pei Shaohuai alone, and imperial favor could continue.

It was an excellent move in the craft of imperial statecraft.

Half an hour later, the wine jar stood empty, and Yan Chengzhao took his leave. Wu Jianqing, who had been sitting beside them the entire time listening to the disjointed conversation, could only piece together half of what was said, his mind full of questions and bewilderment.

The small prison courtyard was enclosed by high walls, with only a square of night sky exposed above — like gazing at the heavens from the bottom of a well.

Looking upward, the river of stars drooped its reflection down to the mouth of the well.

“Your grandfather kept vigil at the Star-Watching Platform until his dying day — guarding not only those ten thousand stars, but the lamplight of ten thousand homes across this land.” Pei Shaohuai patted Wu Jianqing on the shoulder and said, with both shame and resolve, “We will seek justice for him together.” He used the word “we.”

“It grows late. Go in and rest early. Today’s fright must have been considerable,” Pei Shaohuai said.

Wu Jianqing withdrew his gaze from the stars and asked, “Does Daren stand by what he said earlier?”

“What did I say?”

“About taking this young one as a student.”

Pei Shaohuai saw the starlight reflected in Wu Jianqing’s eyes, their brightness restored, and replied, “I stand by it.”

Wu Jianqing immediately ran to the stone table. There was no tea on it, so he picked up the cup of wine he had not yet finished, came back before Pei Shaohuai, and knelt down, saying, “Please allow the student to bow three times in respect to the teacher.”

He had been about to offer tea, but suddenly recalled that offering tea and offering wine were different — when offering tea, it was the teacher who drank; when offering wine, the student drank himself. Wu Jianqing changed his words: “The student offers wine in place of tea, and drinks first as a mark of reverence.”

He gulped it all down in one go, and choked so hard he could not stop coughing — Pei Shaohuai had not even managed to stop him.

This was wine brought by Yan Chengzhao, after all. How could it be anything but strong?

And so what had been a deeply moving moment one instant became, in the next, a scene of the young lad stumbling about in a daze, his steps lurching and swaying.

It was safe to say that Wu Jianqing would remember this apprenticeship ceremony for the rest of his life.

……

……

The deputy officer of the Southern Embroidered Uniform Guard wielded an impressive whip — crack after crack it snapped, landing on Pei Shaohuai’s body, immediately staining his white garments with blood.

It looked utterly wretched, yet Pei Shaohuai knew that the whip had only broken skin, not flesh — and certainly not muscle or bone.

But when a bucket of cold water was thrown over him, the pain still made Pei Shaohuai bite through his own lip.

When Pei Jue entered, Pei Shaohuai was shackled to a rack, his white garments transformed into blood-soaked crimson, blood dripping steadily. A shaft of light fell through the skylight, landing precisely upon him.

A sheet of white paper was spread open on the interrogation table. Pei Jue sat down and asked, his face expressionless, “And is this the outcome of what you chose to uphold?” There was no mockery in his tone.

Years ago, when Pei Jue had resigned from office, before the imperial study, Pei Shaohuai had once said he would “never abandon what he stood for” — and what he stood for was the common people.

Pei Shaohuai slowly raised his head. Beneath disheveled locks, he smiled and said, “So Minister Pei has returned… it has been a long time.”

Pei Jue ground the ink as he spoke: “I had still been waiting to see the day Pei Langzhong achieved great success. What I did not expect was to be waiting for the day Pei Langzhong was defeated by himself.”

“I have disappointed Minister Pei.” Pei Shaohuai said. “Pei may indeed have been defeated, but from where does this ‘defeated by himself’ come?”

“You knew perfectly well that stepping back just once would allow you to protect yourself and advance steadily — yet you chose to take that step forward. If that is not being defeated by yourself, what is it? Or is someone forcing you to take that step?” These words, which seemed to cut at the heart, strangely carried within them a faint trace of lament. Pei Jue said, “There are merits one can claim, and merits one must not claim.”

“This official is slow-witted and does not understand which step Minister Pei speaks of.”

“Which step?” Pei Jue said. “After you wiped out the pirates and opened the sea routes, you should have stepped back — yet you rushed to destroy the three great clans. After you returned to the capital and entered the Bureau of Merits, with the great power of the metropolitan inspection in your hands, you should have stepped back again — yet you forcibly pushed through the new policies… is that not single-minded obstinacy?”

“I had not realized that after resigning from office, Minister Pei still pays such close attention to Pei’s affairs. Pei is overwhelmed by the honor,” Pei Shaohuai murmured.

In the corner of the wall, a nest of rats crept out from their hole, squeaking and chattering, boldly prowling the prison without a trace of fear.

Pei Shaohuai turned his head to watch these filthy vermin scurrying around the base of the rack and said, “Does Minister Pei see them? In the darkness of this imperial prison, the great rats fear no one.”

“Why is this?” Pei Shaohuai raised his voice. “Because those trapped within these walls have no power to save themselves — how could they spare a thought to fight rats? Because the prison guards on watch are only responsible for keeping the prisoners confined — the blades in their hands are not meant to cut down rats. The more something goes unmanaged and unattended, the more boldly the rats run rampant.”

Because he had strained too hard, the chains and iron locks on the rack clanged and rattled. The corner of Pei Shaohuai’s bitten lip began to seep blood again.

He continued: “Had I stepped back after the sea routes were opened, Shuang’an Prefecture would only have become another Quanzhou Port — a tool for the powerful and privileged to amass wealth. Da Qing has endured long winters year after year; northern farmland falls short of harvest every year. In some places, drought and pest disasters have left not a single grain. If the sea routes had not been opened, if no grain had been shipped back, if all that came back was silver… people would have died. When disaster strikes and men devour one another, when children cannot survive past the age of three — is that heavenly calamity or man-made catastrophe? Does Minister Pei truly not understand this?”

“In the court, those who have the ability to speak and act choose to hold their tongues in silence. Beyond the capital walls, capable and virtuous officials who wish to speak and act can only face barren wastelands and displaced people — weeping without tears, with no recourse whatsoever. What officials ought to hear is not fawning flattery, but the voice of the common people… If this metropolitan inspection system goes unreformed, with mediocre officials and treacherous ministers in power, how much longer can Da Qing endure?”

“Endure until enemy cavalry breaks through the city towers? Endure until enemy ships bombard Da Qing’s ports? Until the people of this land are driven back against the southern walls, left to be burned, slaughtered, and plundered — can we afford to step back even then?”

“If Pei stepping back would allow both the realm and himself to be preserved, why would Pei not step back? But if by stepping back, the great rats would run rampant and unchecked — how could Pei dare to take that step? If everyone looks to step back to protect themselves, then there will never be anyone who dares to step forward.”

The iron chains clanged on without cease. The rats grew somewhat afraid, drifting slowly toward their hole. Then suddenly a palm slammed on the table — the rats bolted in a panic, scrambling over one another to retreat into their hole.

The storm of words had unsettled Pei Jue’s composure, and all he could do was rise to his feet with a slam of the table. He said, “For famine in the northwest, there are hundreds upon hundreds of local officials, and beyond that, there is still the Governor-General of Shaanxi and Gansu. For corrupt metropolitan inspections and mediocre men in power, there is still the Ministry of Personnel and the Grand Secretariat to manage it. If they cannot relieve the disaster or discipline the officials, then it is they who go to prison and face punishment — not you… Why do you take every matter upon yourself? What ability do you have to bear all these things?”

In his locked gaze with Pei Shaohuai, Pei Jue realized he had lost his composure somewhat. He quickly straightened his official cap, sat back down, and resumed a calm tone: “A person who only thinks of being praised by others will never accomplish great things, for a kind heart makes the hand soft, and a soft hand creates vulnerabilities. Once someone seizes upon your weakness, you will end up in chains… Does Pei Langzhong not think his own words are wild and reckless?”

He felt that Pei Shaohuai lacked the necessary ruthlessness.

“A man trapped in prison can accomplish nothing. A man whose soul departs under the blade can say even less.” Pei Jue said. “There is nothing more important than preserving one’s life. Only the living can achieve things.”

“Minister Pei’s ‘achieving things’ is a success belonging to one person alone. My ‘achieving things’ means that thousands upon thousands carry it forward — as long as one of them, in the end, succeeds, that is the achievement of them all.”

“Pei Shaohuai, you are far too insolent, and far too arrogant,” Pei Jue assessed. “To be a minister is to have the awareness befitting a minister.”

Pei Shaohuai was shackled to the rack, elevated above. Pei Jue sat before the table, his head tilted slightly upward.

Pei Shaohuai asked, “What is a ruler? What is a minister? What is the heart of a minister?”

Pei Jue knew himself to be a “black blade,” and it was precisely because of this that he was relied upon by the Son of Heaven. He said, “A minister is the sharp blade in the emperor’s hand — forged of iron, and ought to have no heart of his own… Without a minister’s own heart, whoever is strongest is my ruler.”

Pei Shaohuai gave a contemptuous smile and asked again, “But if an enemy were to slaughter your kin, exterminate your clan, confine the people of this realm in ignorance, and use the suffering of ten thousand families to elevate the glory of one — could Minister Pei still acknowledge such a ‘strong one’ as ruler?… Minister Pei could not.”

“Compared to dying in humiliation, I would far rather die in defiance,” Pei Shaohuai said.

Pei Jue had no reply. He truly could not do it.

Half the ink in the inkstone had already dried. Pei Jue finally took up the brush, dipped it in ink, and began what was, in name, his interrogation. He asked, “Is there anything you wish to declare to His Majesty?”

“This official has committed no crime.”

Pei Jue asked no further questions. On the long, unfurled white paper, he wrote only three characters — “this official has no crime” — and said, “Then affix your seal.”

When Pei Jue himself brought the vermilion ink and the interrogation document before Pei Shaohuai, pressing Pei Shaohuai’s thumb down to make the impression, there came a fleeting moment of distraction — and in it, his keen eye caught that the skin of Pei Shaohuai’s hand was smooth and unmarked.

Pei Jue turned his head sharply toward Pei Shaohuai.

He had taken a beating for nothing, and still the truth had slipped out — Pei Jue’s eyes were simply too sharp. Pei Shaohuai thought to himself. He could only smile and gloss over it, saying, “The grandnephew has not lost, has he? Thank you for the trouble of coming all this way, Granduncle.”