Since Su Zhe was continuing her duties at the Ministry of Rites, Zhù Ying no longer involved herself in the matter.

Yet even though she did not seek out others, others came seeking her.

The following evening, just as Zhù Ying had returned home from the Ministry of Revenue, Lan De arrived quietly at the Zhù residence dressed in plain clothes and accompanied by a young eunuch.

The gatekeeper ushered him inside. Lan De’s brow was slightly furrowed — he was in something of a bind. The day before, he had been sent on orders to the residence of Princess Yongping, where he had explained the whole affair and spoken of the difficulties facing Luo Ji. Luo Sheng had been anxious at the time and had wanted to meet with Zhù Ying at once, only to be stopped by Princess Yongping.

Princess Yongping had said at the time: “A’Niang is muddleheaded. This kind of thing will happen again in the future — we cannot go running to beg favors from others every time something comes up. No amount of goodwill can withstand that kind of drain. The only way forward right now is for A’Ji to sit securely on the central throne, and then everything else can be addressed at leisure.”

Princess Yongping then sent Lan De back to the palace with a message, and went herself the next day to see her daughter. She told her daughter not to panic first, and furthermore ordered that An Ren Princess not be disturbed that day.

She also arranged for gifts to be sent to the Zhù residence the following day. No words needed to be said — the Zhù household would understand they were meant as an overture of goodwill regarding An Ren Princess. No conditions were attached, no demand that the Zhù household defer to Luo Ji in all things — only a plea that no grudges be harbored.

That day, Princess Yongping did indeed enter the palace, and mother and daughter met with tears of emotion.

When they had cried their fill and dried their eyes, Princess Yongping said: “I know everything that happened. Your grandmother acted impulsively. You are the Empress — even though you are of the younger generation, you cannot yield and accommodate her in everything.

Times have changed; this is no longer the era when your late grandfather was still alive. The forbearance the Two Palaces have shown you owes something to respect for your grandfather’s memory — but no amount of goodwill can withstand being worn away day and night. If your grandmother continues to act as willfully as she pleases, there will be no goodwill left whatsoever. I will speak to your grandmother. You, in the palace, must keep a steady heart and a generous bearing. This is not the time for tears and tantrums.”

With someone now taking charge, Lan De should have felt reassured — but after hearing Princess Yongping speak thus, his heart was suspended in worry once more. He began to fear that Luo Ji had not yet fully won the Emperor’s favor and might already be losing it. A consort’s favor mattered, but an empress without even a child needed the Emperor’s protection.

Just as he was fretting over this, Princess Yongping made another decision: “Your grandmother has always been headstrong. You must know what truly matters. This is not the time to be picking quarrels with court ministers over wounded pride.

If you wish to enfeoff the rear palace consorts, then let them be enfeoffed! But you must be the first to speak to His Majesty on the matter! When you do, say this: the mother of the Crown Prince’s eldest son is of humble birth, yet he is the firstborn son and cannot be allowed to fall behind his younger half-brothers. From henceforth, he is to be raised under your care. As for his birth mother — do not grant her a rank or title just yet.”

Princess Yongping had prepared two contingencies. By having the eldest illegitimate son raised before the Empress, if the Empress produced no children of her own, this child would be Luo Ji’s support in her later years. And if the Empress did bear a son, that son would naturally be younger than this eldest — keeping the eldest nearby as a right-hand supporter would not be a bad thing either.

In name, all would be the Empress’s children. In reality… in families like theirs, fathers and sons, brothers of the same mother, had been known to fight to the death and exterminate one another to the root. One had to guard against such things.

A Crown Prince could not have two mothers! The birth mother would simply have to fade into obscurity.

Luo Ji said: “Ever since Da Lang’s fever, he has seemed dull and dazed.”

Princess Yongping said gravely: “And what does it matter if he is a little slow? He is His Majesty’s firstborn son — that is enough! If he is too clever, he will grow up resenting you for taking him from his birth mother — and then what will you do?”

Luo Ji bit her lower lip and said nothing. Princess Yongping sighed: “This is also for your own good. If you cannot bear it, then simply be kind to him. Hmm?”

“Very well.”

Princess Yongping further admonished Lan De to serve diligently, then went to seek out Dowager Consort Mu for a conversation.

After much deliberation, Lan De felt uneasy about the whole matter, and that evening made an excuse to leave the palace and came to the Zhù residence.

Zhù Ying had already received Princess Yongping’s gifts, and instructed that all of them be handed over to Su Zhe: “Here — these were earned by the trouble you caused.”

Su Zhe curled her lip: “What does this amount to? Who gets by on swallowing grievances in exchange for trifles?”

Zhù Ying said: “What is yours, you take. It seems there are still sensible people in the Princess’s household.”

Su Zhe said: “I am afraid that is the extent of it! Whether sensible or not, they all revolve around that one single matter.”

The two had barely exchanged a few words when Lan De arrived. Su Zhe said: “See — here he comes again. What a muddled, tangled affair.”

“Don’t go — meet with him.”

“All right.”

When Lan De saw that Su Zhe was also in Zhù Ying’s presence, his gaze flickered with a moment’s hesitation. Zhù Ying waved a hand at Su Zhe; Su Zhe cupped her fist toward Lan De in salute and walked out without looking back.

Only then did Lan De speak: “Your Excellency has a fine temperament. This granddaughter of yours is truly a girl raised in gold and jade — she will not suffer a single slight.”

“Is any child born deserving to be slighted? Surely you did not come to reproach me?”

“Dare not, dare not,” Lan De said. “In my estimation, An Ren Princess is just that sort of person — full of air and bluster.”

“However hollow she may be, she is still a senior member of the imperial family. One must still observe proper measure.”

Lan De said: “Her I can handle. My only request is that your household’s young lady give me a word of warning before she acts next time. Yesterday I nearly died of fright.”

Zhù Ying said: “She is young — at most she will go only so far, and no further. And if there is anything further, it will not be anything fit to say before the Empress.”

Lan De’s heart settled. He said: “That matter is now concluded. Yesterday…” and he proceeded to tell Zhù Ying everything that had transpired over that day and night. At the end, he added: “In my view, there is no longer any need for me to worry — it is beyond my worrying, so I shall simply save my energy to look after myself.”

Zhù Ying said: “Oh? Has someone given you trouble?”

“Not that, no — but there is a matter I must entrust to Your Excellency. Of all the people in this world, besides my late father, the only one I trust is Your Excellency!”

“What matter is it?”

Only then did Lan De say: “Over these years I have set aside some savings for my old age, and I wish to deposit them in your care.”

“My, but you are still young. Why would you…”

Lan De said: “My household has its own expenses, and I plan to raise an adopted son as well. But as I see it, the people around the Empress are not yet entirely reliable in their judgment. I am a man without roots — I must keep a path of retreat open. Should anything truly go wrong, I hope Your Excellency will look upon our years of acquaintance with some consideration.”

Zhù Ying agreed readily: “That can be arranged. And there is no need to deposit anything — if you are ever in urgent need, would I stand by with folded arms?”

“Business is business. Your Excellency has long been generous with gifts; what I am speaking of now is my own.”

“Very well. No need to bring anything here either — deposit it at the warehouse, give me the receipt, and I will have someone keep watch over it.”

“Excellent!”

Lan De was at ease.

Zhù Ying also offered to keep him for dinner, but Lan De declined, saying he had to hurry back to the palace.

Perhaps owing to Princess Yongping’s involvement, An Ren Princess quieted down somewhat thereafter, and Su Zhe’s official duties proceeded more smoothly as well.

First, the Emperor issued an edict enfeoffing three members of the rear palace all at once: Imperial Concubine Zhao was elevated to the rank of Jieyu, Lady Yan Gui was elevated to Baolin, and the third was not the birth mother of the Emperor’s eldest son but a Lady Li — previously unheard of — also elevated to Baolin.

Su Zhe was charged with instructing these women in ceremonial protocol, and with training the palace maids and eunuchs who served them in proper conduct, in preparation for the formal ceremonies following their change of quarters.

She first returned to the Ministry of Rites to locate the relevant ritual documents and brought them home to memorize — her horse carried back an enormous sack of them — and at the gate she ran into Zhù Ying, who had just returned home.

The two walked inside together. Su Zhe grumbled: “Before, I thought the realm resided in the sword’s edge, in books, and between the furrows of the plow. But now, looking at this rear palace, the realm seems to be endlessly entangled with the Emperor’s loins, the painted brows and almond eyes of palace maids, and the swelling bellies of consorts.”

Zhù Ying had no interest in the new favorites, and said: “And not only these things — it also resides in the lifespans of emperors and imperial princes. The realm does indeed lie with soldiers and commoners. But whether a single family and surname rises or falls is intimately bound up with all these matters. The realm, the court, and the imperial house are three very different things.

You need not lose heart. Everything these women possess derives from the Emperor — they are parasites upon His Majesty. Once the path by which they draw power from the Emperor is severed, everything is finished. These people seem important, and yet are not so very important.”

Su Zhe, still young, let her expression sour a little further: “A’Weng, before we did not need to trouble ourselves with these things, because you were standing in front of us shielding us from them — is that right? So many matters clamoring for attention, leaving no leisure to attend to what truly matters. When will you ever be able to do what you yourself wish to do?”

Su Zhe felt a measure of sorrow. For a long time now, Zhù Ying had occupied a role in her life even more important than a mother. She herself did not find the affairs of “the loins” as repugnant as she had made them sound — to her they seemed rather ordinary. The factional struggles within her own family, her mother’s rise to power and her management of her uncles, her entanglements with the imperial house — these bore some resemblance to the intrigues of the palace, except that her family’s estate was rather smaller than the Emperor’s.

But Zhù Ying was a person of ambition, and for nearly twenty years, Su Zhe had kept her eyes on everything.

Zhù Ying looked upon it with more equanimity, and only laughed softly: “It is not yet time. Life always has its passes to be crossed.”

Su Zhe muttered under her breath.

Zhù Ying smiled: “Go on and tend to your duties. I know what I am doing.”

“All right.”

After that, Su Zhe was busy for another two months. At last, the Dowager Consort Mu relocated her quarters, and in her newly renovated palace chambers received the formal congratulations of all: the court ladies within the gate, and the outer officials without.

Next, the Ministry of Revenue disbursed a portion of funds to undertake light refurbishment of the rear palace quarters — this was a simpler matter, since people had been living there continuously and the structures had not fallen into disrepair, unlike the Dowager Consort’s quarters, which had been vacant so long that renovation had taken considerable time.

Then came the relocation of the consorts.

Only after they had moved in were the formal ceremonies held.

The Empress received the court ladies’ formal obeisance; the outer officials did not go to pay respects to the Empress. The women of the rear palace held their ceremonies within the palace alone. Their ranks were not high, so the Ministry of Rites and other offices dispatched a few officials to preside over the proceedings.

Su Zhe herself was assigned one of these duties, serving as the envoy for the enfeoffment of Jieyu Zhao. Once this was accomplished, she found herself again with nothing to do and returned to her “cold palace” post within the Ministry of Rites.

Yao Zhen praised her effusively, feeling that she had managed to hold firm before the Empress and keep An Ren Princess from creating trouble for him — admirable indeed!

Because she served this function, her colleagues at the Ministry of Rites had tacitly accepted her presence, and had quietly made a collective resolution in their hearts: whenever there was business that required dealing with women, they would send her.

Thus Su Zhe passed a few more months in this idle fashion, until late summer arrived. The tomb of the late Emperor was at last completed — he could finally be interred.

And so the Emperor led the way, followed by the imperial clan and all the court officials, weeping in procession as the imperial casket was carried into the subterranean chamber.

Chancellor Li struck his head against the casket and wept with particular anguish: “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Take me with you!”

The construction of the late Emperor’s mausoleum had not taken long, for its scale was smaller than his father’s.

His father had reigned for over forty years; he had reigned only six. In this one respect he could not compare. And when his father had died, the treasury had been full and the coffers well-stocked; throughout the late Emperor’s own reign there had been scarcely a break in natural disasters and human calamities, and he had waged one great war besides. The new Emperor had no particular need to display his filial piety by constructing an extravagantly magnificent tomb — not for the sake of legitimacy.

Apart from Chancellor Li, who still felt some reluctance, none of the others in the Council of State wished to drain the treasury for the late Emperor’s sake and burden themselves with unnecessary trouble — maintaining troops, disaster relief, suppression of brigands all required funds, and every saving was welcome.

The officials were well practiced at cutting their coat to fit the cloth, and so construction had proceeded swiftly.

Chancellor Li felt only that he had let this late Emperor down, and wept until his eyes swam. Grand Counselor Shi Kun had also come; he said to Chen Meng and Zheng Xi: “Quickly, help him calm down.”

The two of them flanked Chancellor Li on either side and hauled him off to one side.

Chancellor Li said nothing at the time. But back in the Council of State afterward, he said to Dou Peng, Zheng Xi, Chen Meng, and Xian Jing: “The late Emperor departed in such haste. Are the soldiers and commoners assigned to guard the mausoleum not too few? And then there are the eunuchs assigned to guard the tomb…”

He had much more to say. Beyond these matters, he was deeply concerned about the late Emperor’s surviving consorts.

The Emperor had kept the late Emperor’s consorts who had borne children in the palace to be maintained there; but in Chancellor Li’s view, following established precedent and allowing the Prince of Qi and the others to receive their respective dowager consorts into their own households for care would be more humane.

Having finished with the matter of the consorts, he then expressed his view that Yang Jing’s proposal to re-examine and appoint the Imperial Academy students required further deliberation. This once again brought him into dispute with Xian Jing. Although Xian Jing had not reached an agreement with Yang Jing, in his heart he supported Yang Jing’s approach.

The two men’s views were at odds, and Chancellor Li did not confine his objections to the Council of State — he submitted a memorial setting forth his position, and Xian Jing had no choice but to present a memorial in rebuttal.

Half a month passed in this manner, and then Grand Counselor Shi Kun sent Chancellor Li an invitation card, proposing a time for them to meet.

When a distinguished senior figure extends an invitation, one must show him the courtesy of accepting. Chancellor Li cancelled his other engagements and, rather than making the elderly Shi Kun make the journey, went himself to call at the Shi residence.

Shi Kun’s white hair was more plentiful than Chancellor Li’s, yet he appeared more composed.

He welcomed Chancellor Li with a smile and first asked after his health and labors.

Chancellor Li said: “His late Majesty and I shared the bond of teacher and student, and I was the beneficiary of his grace in recognizing my worth. All of this is simply a minister’s duty — how can it be called laborious?”

Shi Kun said: “But you are no longer young — how can it not be laborious?”

“Indeed, I am old!”

“Hmm. I have long seen this clearly: when a man’s years grow too many, he invites humiliation.”

Chancellor Li paused in surprise and asked: “How do you mean?”

Shi Kun smiled gently: “The Son of Heaven observes mourning, substituting days for months. The mourning garments are shed after one month. As for the so-called ‘Chief Minister’ — must he truly serve another three years? Now that the late Emperor rests in peace, those who should step aside must step aside.”

Chancellor Li’s expression darkened. How few days had he even served as Chancellor? He had only just climbed to this position of seniority — a Chancellor who had served two dynasties, a role he was savoring to the full.

Shi Kun sighed: “If you refuse to release your grip on the Council of State, you will more easily release your grip on this world. I dislike raising the matter, but consider the fate of the departed Wang Yunhe — what a bitter path he walked.”

“That was…”

“Surely you do not intend to serve another twenty years?” Shi Kun asked with a gentle smile. “If not for your own sake, then think more of your descendants.”

Chancellor Li’s expression shifted through several permutations, and then he said: “I must think it over. I take my leave.”

Shi Kun had Shi Ji Xing see him out. Shi Ji Xing observed the troubled look on Chancellor Li’s face and accompanied him in silence to the gate of the residence without engaging him in conversation. When he saw Chancellor Li board his carriage, Shi Ji Xing turned back and said to Shi Kun: “Father, he does not look as though he intends to retire.”

Shi Kun said: “He had best come around to it. If he does, I can also answer to His Majesty.”

Chancellor Li brooded on the matter for several uneasy days. On one particular day, with the autumn wind stirring suddenly, a walking staff and armrest table were bestowed from the palace upon him. Before Chancellor Li had even finished composing his memorial of thanks, the Emperor approved Yang Jing’s petition.

Chancellor Li had no choice but to submit a memorial requesting retirement. The Emperor promptly agreed.

Chancellor Li’s heart was full of pain. He leaned on his staff, standing in the Council of State, his eyes lingering reluctantly over the furnishings of the room. Dou Peng and the others did not come to disturb him, letting him make his final farewell to the place. A welling of desolation rose in Dou Peng’s heart, and he watched the solitary figure with compassion.

All was quiet. Then suddenly, the sound of footsteps shattered the stillness — Leng Yun came stumbling in at a run: the Marquis of Leng had died.

The Council of State was thunderstruck!

Zheng Xi asked: “Is this confirmed?!”

Leng Yun said: “Would I make a jest of such a thing? I must see His Majesty!”

Zheng Xi said: “Go — you see to your household affairs. Everything else, leave to us — we will take care of it!”

Leng Yun gave a nod, wiped his tears, and rushed back toward the palace to request an audience. Having informed Zheng Xi, there was no need to worry about the Marquis of Leng’s posthumous affairs being mishandled.

In truth, the honors accorded the Marquis of Leng in death were the utmost of their kind — all the ceremonies were conducted in accordance with what had been done for the late Marquis Zheng, and the mourning surrounding it was even more sorrowful than that which had attended the Marquis Zheng’s death.

Even the Emperor personally attended to pay his respects, and the court officials, the imperial clan, and the noble families all gathered at the Leng residence.

Zhù Ying and Chen Meng stood watching the constant flow of people in and out of the residence, busy in all directions. Chen Meng said: “Lacking only a son who served as Chancellor, the Marquis of Leng’s posthumous honors are not one whit less than the Marquis Zheng’s.”

The comment was somewhat cutting, but Zhù Ying was more cutting still: “Now that he is dead, those who would revolt are all a little safer. Viewed in that light, the court does well to weep loudly.”

The old generals had withered away, one by one.

The generals of the present day — the greatest war any of them had fought was the campaign against the northern barbarians. They had the skill for charging at the vanguard, but all lacked experience in “overall strategic coordination.” They had only listened to the Marquis Zheng and the Marquis of Leng define the grand strategy, and then divided their forces to act accordingly. Beyond them there was Zhù Ying, who did possess the capacity for strategic coordination, but who in turn lacked experience commanding troops at the front.

The Marquis of Leng had been the last person with such capability — and whose capability had been proven.

The first pass has been crossed. There is no longer anyone among the court’s military commanders worth guarding against. Zhù Ying thought privately.