Song Jüqing?

Chen Baoxiang’s eyes went wide.

Wasn’t this man Cheng Huaili’s most trusted and prized disciple? His Majesty had even remarked on it — this person and Cheng Huaili had been in frequent and close contact for many years, and as long as he was around, Cheng Huaili’s life would not be forfeit any time soon.

And yet somehow — this man had harbored ambitions to destroy his master long ago?

“Cheng Huaili used Liang Yongsheng as his puppet to skim profits from the salt and iron tax administration and fund his private troops — this was done with Li Jü’s tacit consent at the time.”

Li Jü had come to the throne through illegitimate means, and he himself knew that once Li Bingsheng recovered her strength she would come to settle accounts with him — which was why he had always been backing the cavalry corps.

But as those cavalry were maintained over time, their loyalty belonged not to Li Jü, but to Cheng Huaili himself.

“Now that the salt and iron administration has been reformed, whatever uproar and controversy it has caused, the fact remains that their source of income has been genuinely cut off.” Zhang Zhixu said, finding it somewhat amusing even as he spoke. “But it’s been barely two days since the decree came down, and Song Jüqing’s response was remarkably fast.”

Chen Baoxiang was stunned for a moment — then suddenly realized something. She leapt up and shouted toward the outer room: “Biyu, go and find Wang Wu and the others at once. Tell them the city gates are undermanned; have them dispatch people to keep watch at all four gates. If they encounter anyone from the Cheng household trying to leave the city, come inform me immediately.”

“Yes.”

Zhang Zhixu had not anticipated this reaction from her, but thinking about it for a moment, he understood: “You think Cheng Huaili will run?”

“He’s certainly going to run.” Chen Baoxiang began to pace back and forth. “The people around him are falling one after another; he can only watch while his enemies come to his door and threaten him, powerless to fight back. Given his temperament, he will definitely be looking for a way out — and his only remaining way out now is Song Jüqing.”

“But Song Jüqing has already come forward to expose him.”

“For the imperial decree to reach Nanzhou takes at least a day and a half. For Song Jüqing to send evidence from Nanzhou to Shangjing also takes a day and a half.” Chen Baoxiang raised two fingers. “And these materials were delivered less than two days after the decree came down.”

Which meant Song Jüqing had not decided to expose Cheng Huaili because he had become useless.

This man had long since had a falling out with Cheng Huaili — but because he could not fully control that cavalry corps, he had been forced to maintain a pretense of deference toward him.

What he wanted was to use His Majesty’s hand to eliminate Cheng Huaili, so that he could at last be completely free.

In other words — if Cheng Huaili could escape Shangjing before the Emperor moved against him and rendezvous with the cavalry corps, he could regain control over Song Jüqing and the troops under his command.

A restless urgency took hold of her. Chen Baoxiang said quickly to Zhang Zhixu: “You sleep first — I need to go out again.”

In an instant the space beside him was empty. Zhang Zhixu hadn’t even managed to say anything; the room held nothing but a gust of wind.

He was briefly bewildered, then called out to Ningsu: “Quickly.”

“Shall I prepare a horse for you as well?” Ningsu asked considerately.

“Prepare what horse — she’s out handling official business. Would I really cling to her and not let her go?” Zhang Zhixu laughed despite himself. “I want you to prepare paper and brush. While there’s a free moment, I’ll write two more memorials.”

Ningsu: “……”

They truly were both people who could always find something to keep busy with — not a single trace of the sorrow that comes from spending too little time together.

·

Li Bingsheng’s head was swimming from reading memorials.

Li Jü had not been on the throne long, but the mess he left behind was considerable. Many officials in important positions were simply inadequate — and beyond being inadequate, they were so interconnected that removing one set off a chain reaction. Every dismissal required careful balancing from multiple directions to find a perfectly natural and legitimate pretext.

Liang Yongsheng was one thing: his demotion had caused no small amount of trouble, but at least it would add a substantial sum to the national treasury.

But figures like Cheng Huaili and Pei Sihai had pledged their allegiance to her. To deal with them under some casually fabricated charge would inevitably damage her own reputation; but to keep not dealing with them meant these people were like rats in the grain stores, gnawing away until she could not sleep soundly.

Li Bingsheng had even begun to hope that heaven would simply send down a bolt of lightning from nowhere and strike Cheng Huaili dead.

“Your Majesty, Chen Baoxiang requests an audience.”

“At this hour?” Li Bingsheng looked up in surprise. “She doesn’t sleep, but I do.”

“Your Majesty—” Chen Baoxiang’s voice carried in from some distance away.

Li Bingsheng pressed her hand to her forehead: “Alright, alright — let her in. Wailing like that in the dead of night, people who don’t know would think something terrible had happened to me.”

The female official hurried to answer and went to open the door.

Chen Baoxiang came sprinting in — in the blink of an eye she was right in front of the stack of memorials. Standing on tiptoe and peering through the gaps, she said: “Would Your Majesty trouble yourself to write an imperial directive?”

The way it was said was somehow even more presumptuous than last time.

Li Bingsheng rapped the edge of the desk: “Chen Aiqing, I trust you understand that I am an emperor who holds the life and death of all under heaven in my hand — not a scribe for hire at your front gate.”

Who asks for an imperial directive quite like that?

“Write it, please, just write it.” She blinked. “Just summoning Cheng Huaili to the palace — nothing major.”

The middle of the night, summoning someone that disagreeable — what for?

Li Bingsheng hesitated, but looking at Chen Baoxiang’s expression — somewhat pitiable — she likely truly had some use for it.

With an unamused sigh, she picked up her brush, wrote a few lines, applied her seal, and set it down: “Take it.”

Chen Baoxiang received the directive with both hands, stepped back several paces — then her expression turned completely serious. She swept her robe aside and knelt.

“Your servant reports to Your Majesty: General Cheng Huaili, charged with defending the northern frontier, has defied the imperial decree. At the beginning of the hai hour, he led three hundred troops to force his way through the city gates and flee in the direction of Nanzhou.”

She held the imperial directive aloft with both hands, her voice ringing out so clearly that even the eunuchs keeping watch on the steps outside the hall heard every word.

“Your servant has failed in her duty. I beg Your Majesty to grant permission to mobilize troops in pursuit, so that I may atone for my failure through meritorious service.”

Li Bingsheng: “……”

This was such a fortunate turn of events?

She had just been thinking that as long as Cheng Huaili behaved and gave her no grounds for action, he could probably linger on for several more years. And now somehow this man had lost his senses, taken troops, and broken through the city gates?

Was this not perfectly heaven-sent thunder?

Restraining herself and pressing down the corners of her mouth, Li Bingsheng assumed an expression of imperial fury: “What is the meaning of this? How dare General Cheng defy the decree?”

“This man evidently harbors treacherous intentions.”

“After all the care I have shown him.” Li Bingsheng struck her palm against her thigh. “Hua Lingyin — immediately summon the Ministry of War, the Ministry of Personnel, the Ministry of Justice, the Imperial Censorate, the Minister of State, and the Court Historians to the palace to deliberate a response.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

What strategy could the Court Historians deliberate? A Court Historian could only stand to one side, brush in hand, and record: Cheng Huaili’s treacherous ambitions were never extinguished; at last, following the new Emperor’s ascension, he launched a rebellion in revenge for his former master.

His Majesty, in boundless magnanimity, dispatched Chen Baoxiang to invite him back, indicating that as long as Cheng Huaili returned without resistance, he would still be permitted to serve as General of the Northern Frontier.

Very good. Very flawless.

Cheng Huaili, who had slipped out of the city in disguise with his men, knew none of this.

He only felt that the guards at every city gate tonight had been infuriating — inspecting his luggage and travel documents over and over before finally letting him through.

When he was at last released, Cheng Huaili felt an almost jubilant sense of having escaped certain death. He immediately ordered his men to ride hard — they had to reach Nanzhou before anyone in the city realized he was gone.

The carriage flew forward at full speed.

Cheng Huaili gazed back at Shangjing from a distance.

Blazing with light, towering and magnificent — this was the city that had witnessed him at the very pinnacle of power and glory. Though he had to leave for now, one day he would return, bearing with him the standing and wealth that were rightfully his.