“Really dead? No, no — really passed away?” Su Sheng asked the courier once more.

The courier said, “Yes.” He looked expectantly at Su Sheng, waiting to be let through.

Su Sheng ordered that the man be given food and water and a fresh horse. The courier took Su Sheng for a loyal subject. Little did he know that the moment the courier had walked out the door, Su Sheng was scratching the back of his head: “Well! Of all the times to die — we were just getting ready to celebrate the marshal’s birthday…”

Zhù Ying had always lived simply and had no fondness for making much of her birthday. This had been true even in her days as a chancellor, and it remained true after her return to Wuzhou. She mostly preferred to eat a quiet meal with those close to her. In years past, Zhang Xiangu and Hua Jie had managed the arrangements, and she had simply accepted them; after both had passed away, she no longer raised the matter herself.

But Du Dajie had kept track of the date. By Du Dajie’s count, Zhù Ying’s next birthday would be a milestone year, and that simply had to be celebrated. Du Dajie and Jiang Guafu, now less occupied with household duties, had thrown their whole hearts into the matter. Outside the compound, Qi Niangzi, Su Zhe, Zhù Lian, and others had also remembered and had quietly coordinated — all agreed it ought to be celebrated grandly.

Both camps had gone to Zhù Ying, and she had felt it was unnecessary to make such a fuss. Just as before — whoever happened to be at the marshal’s office could eat a meal together, and that would be fine. No one could talk her out of it. She felt it was a bother and expense, and Annan was currently promoting frugality while everyone still had so much to do.

Lin Ge, seeing that talking to her was useless, invited Liu Ao to try. Others had all grown up under Zhù Ying’s hand or been brought up by her; Liu Ao was different — she had come later, was young, and yet was held in considerable regard. Liu Ao heard them out and felt this birthday celebration was indeed warranted. At this age, with one’s health still good — both were rare and precious. Zhù Ying’s life was somewhat austere. From where Liu Ao stood, it always seemed that, for all the great affairs she dealt with, there was something lonely and cold about her. Warming things up would be no bad thing.

So Liu Ao set about persuading Zhù Ying: “When Xiao He built the Weiyang Palace, it was not for the sake of luxury — and the same applies to everyone wishing to celebrate your birthday. Annan, since it was established as a frontier district, has held grand events — funerals for the Old Madam, and similar affairs — but nothing in the way of celebrations. The officials and people, high and low, could all use this occasion to have some cheer. And it falls in the first month — it won’t interfere with agricultural work…”

Only then did Zhù Ying agree, with the condition that nothing be wasted.

Wu Ren volunteered, “I’ll keep watch — it won’t happen.”

Xiang An also said, “For anything needed at the banquet that can be repurposed afterward, we will plan ahead.”

Zhù Ying had no choice but to let them get on with it. Personally she didn’t care one way or another, but Liu Ao had a point — she couldn’t have all of Annan matching her joylessness. Su Sheng was at the northern pass, and as usual he had access to various profitable dealings. He had been preparing a birthday gift for Zhù Ying — he had just ordered a jade sculpture of the Longevity Goddess from passing merchants. But his wife felt these things might not distinguish themselves from the crowd; Zhao Su, Xiang An, and others knew northern goods just as well as he did.

Husband and wife were fretting over this when the days kept slipping by. Once the New Year passed, the birthday would be upon them.

Everyone was attending this carefully to the preparations for a happy occasion, and now the Emperor had to go and die, making things difficult. Not that anyone in Annan particularly cared about the Emperor’s life or death.

Su Sheng hurried home to find his wife was not there. She was a young woman from a small nearby village, seven years younger than Su Sheng. She had studied for a time under Liu Kun, then worked under Liu Yan, and was eventually taken on by the marshal’s office and posted to the northern pass to audit accounts. She had found numerous irregularities in Su Sheng’s work. Su Sheng had been summoned to the marshal’s office to explain himself, and had nearly been dismissed. In the end it was determined the errors had not been deliberate, but he still received twenty lashes.

Afterward, nobody quite knew how the two of them had ended up together. All that was certain was that Su Sheng had acquired the habit of listening to his wife.

He went back out the door and encountered a group of cloth merchants. A merchant hurriedly pulled out two bolts of plain white silk and pressed them toward him: “Good quality goods, sir — please, inspect them.”

Su Sheng said, “Don’t try your tricks! I won’t take this from you…”

While the two were in the middle of their tug-of-war, a woman’s voice cut through the air: “What are you two doing?”

Su Sheng dropped his hands. The white silk fell to the ground. The merchant scrambled to catch it, barely managing to gather the bolts into his arms. Su Sheng arranged a smile on his face. “My dear…”

Shan Hongfeng shot him a sideways glance, then turned a bright face toward the merchant, reassuring him and sending him on his way to sell his goods. The merchant oiled his feet and slipped off.

Su Sheng said, “What I was holding — I wasn’t extorting him at all!”

Shan Hongfeng said, “Holding the post you do, as long as you’re not actively extorting people, there are already plenty of benefits coming your way. If you also take what people offer, what kind of example is that?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

Shan Hongfeng placed into his hands the things she had been carrying. “Here, take these.”

“What’s this?”

“A waist belt,” Shan Hongfeng said with a touch of pride. “A new one. I noticed the marshal’s usual one is getting worn. I ordered this specially — northern goods, straight from the capital.”

Su Sheng said, “From the capital, ah —”

“What about the capital?”

“His Majesty has passed away.”

Shan Hongfeng said, “Really bad timing. But it shouldn’t affect us much, should it?”

Su Sheng said, “It shouldn’t be a major matter for us. The capital is too far away; even if something happens there, it has little to do with us. My job is to keep the northern pass secure and not let anyone take advantage of the confusion.”

“Then why did you come home at this hour?” Shan Hongfeng asked. “Shouldn’t you be at the pass?”

Su Sheng said, “I came to find you. We each write a letter and ask the others — now that this has happened, do we carry on with the birthday celebration? We can’t let this ruin it.”

Shan Hongfeng said, “I think we shouldn’t stop — but asking is good, so we’re all on the same page.”

Husband and wife busily wrote their letters and dispatched messengers. Replies came back quickly. Zhù Lian and the others all said: proceed as planned.

Shan Hongfeng also received specific guidance from Liu Kun: even if Annan placed great weight on the Emperor’s death, there was no need to let him interfere with the celebration for Zhù Ying. After an Emperor’s death, there were proper protocols governing how officials and common people across the realm expressed their condolences. The general principle was that the closer one was to the imperial palace, the more rigorously the protocol applied. In the capital, for instance, there could truly be not a single note of festivity, and people were expected to wear at least a token of plain mourning. Because those at the foot of the Son of Heaven’s throne received the most from him, their mourning should be most earnest. The duration of mourning also varied by distance.

By these standards, for Annan, by the time news of the Emperor’s death arrived, even the seven days of first mourning had already passed. Annan was also a loosely affiliated district; as long as the marshal’s office did not receive the news and immediately set off firecrackers and someone caught it and filed a complaint, things would be fine.

Su Sheng said, “Exactly — nothing happened when the Crown Prince died, either. Celebrate the birthday! They’re far away, and the court couldn’t send a great army here right now even if it wanted to. What is there to fear? In my view, they’re busy fighting over the throne right now — they have no attention to spare for us!”

Shan Hongfeng said, “Really?”

Su Sheng said, “Trust me!”

Shan Hongfeng opened her mouth, started to say something, then swallowed it. She said, “Fine. You keep the northern pass in order, and stop running home for nothing. The birthday gift is not your concern.”

Husband and wife consulted, then each went back to their business.

——

Su Sheng and his wife’s view was the view of the great majority of people in Annan. Some distant place had produced a dead Emperor — what did that have to do with them? From Annan, to Wuzhou, to Zhù County — since the very beginning, they had never elevated “the Emperor” to the top of their considerations. The Emperor had never given them anything of value, nor had he ever posed a genuine threat to them. What made the deepest impression was Jiang Zheng’s blockade of the mountains, which had put Wuzhou through a stretch of tight times — but even that had not been too difficult, and things had recovered quickly.

He was far away and couldn’t govern here — so why should anyone care whether the Emperor lived or died?

A small minority, like Zhù Ying, had no choice but to think more carefully. If all had gone smoothly, the announcement of mourning and the announcement of the new Emperor should have arrived at roughly the same time — normally such news came down in the name of the new ruler. Zhù Ying opened the document and found only the notice of the Emperor’s death, issued by the Grand Council in the name of the Empress Dowager — with no announcement of a new emperor, but only instructions for the various localities to maintain order and not spread rumors. That was a touch complicated.

Currently in the Grand Council: Wang Shuliang, Shi Jixing, and Yao Chenying, who was bent on maintaining stability. With those three men present, and still unable to effect a smooth transition, there was presumably some trouble at hand, and the worst possibilities had to be considered.

Liu Ao was thorough. She came before Zhù Ying and asked carefully, “Marshal — how should we respond?”

Zhù Ying said, “Write a memorial first.”

Liu Ao said, “The new Emperor has not yet been determined — that itself is significant. Far away across mountains and rivers, with no one knowing what the new Emperor’s nature and temperament might be — if he turns out to be petty and vindictive, that could mean future trouble. We cannot rule that out.”

The court’s reach could not extend here openly, but the occasional underhanded annoyance was still possible and quite uncomfortable. If a respectful posture could forestall some portion of that trouble, Liu Ao considered it worth the effort.

Zhù Ying said, “Of course we must also send a person. A person goes, and my memorial must accompany him. Hmm…”

Someone too young and inexperienced would have difficulty managing so complex a situation. Zhao Su would be the ideal choice, but he was no longer young, and the long journey would be hard on him. Zhù Qingjun had a particular status and was not well suited for this moment.

In the end, Zhù Ying chose to send Zhù Lian north with Lu Danqing and Zhù Tong. Lu Danqing knew the palace well enough; Zhù Tong knew the roads. Together, a man and women in combination, they could handle a range of social situations and gather information.

Liu Ao drafted the memorial, carefully avoiding any of the known princes’ given names in her phrasing — since the new emperor was unknown, she wrote in the most neutral possible terms. Zhù Ying then wrote her personal letters to old acquaintances. Finally, she summoned Zhù Lian and instructed him to take Lu Danqing and Zhù Tong and set off as soon as possible. Zhù Tong was to bring a hundred cavalry soldiers along.

Lu Danqing’s duties in the military bureau were handed over to Jin Yu, who had rotated back from the western pass. Lin Feng was dispatched to the western pass.

With those several orders issued, apart from Zhao Zhen weeping for a time, no one in Annan was alarmed. Zhao Zhen’s feelings were genuinely tangled — he knew this departed Emperor was no wise ruler, but he had been an emperor nonetheless, and to die with the succession unresolved was a most wretched end. What would become of the court and the realm? He feared disorder.

He wept, and no one else in Annan could understand his feeling. The loneliness of it made him feel doubly wretched. He wiped away his tears and asked to see Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying had him sit, and poured him tea first. Zhao Zhen, white-haired and red-eyed from weeping, was a sight that stirred some pity.

Zhao Zhen slowly drank half his tea before asking quietly, “My lord — what will happen next?”

Zhù Ying said, “The best outcome: the palace falls into chaos for a time. The worst outcome: the court erupts in a struggle, and people across the realm are caught up in it. Right now there is no one of towering authority left.” She did not even need to name the likes of Chen Luan or Wang Yunhe or Liu Songnian in their prime — even the recent Zheng Xi had been able to hold things steady for a time. But now, all of them were gone.

Wang and Shi might keep the fence-sitters from acting. But Xian and Yao — those two were harder to count on; they had accumulated quite a few people beholden to them.

Zhù Ying calculated silently and reflected on Xian Jing’s extraordinary longevity — he must be older than I am, she thought.

Zhao Zhen pressed her: “Does even you have no solution?”

Zhù Ying said, “The heart of people is difficult to fathom. I am only a military governor now — what can I do? Let’s wait and see what news A’Lian and the others bring back.”

Zhao Zhen’s shoulders dropped. He felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. Indeed — situated here in the “southern reaches,” what could they accomplish? Zhù Ying had the ability to manage complex situations, but the court had “exiled” someone like Zhù Ying here. What hope was there?

He bowed and shuffled out the door, stepping over the threshold into the courtyard. Unable to stop himself, he turned to look north — what was it like in the capital now?

——

Zhù Lian and the others traveled hard and fast. They were all light cavalry; the oldest among them was Zhù Lian himself, and as long as he could endure it, the others kept pace. Zhù Tong’s troops were half men and half women — a habit of Annan, and also a deliberate arrangement by Zhù Ying. If an urgent situation arose, the female soldiers could access places the male soldiers could not.

What would have taken nearly a month at the speed of a grain convoy was covered in under half a month on light horseback. Though they rode hard, they picked up vague fragments of news along the way: the palace gates had been closed; entry was permitted, but exit was not. An unusual number of imperial guards and imperial couriers had been dispatched from the capital; no one knew what great matter was unfolding. And the new capital prefect was an old man surnamed Jiang, who had always served in local posts.

They carried their official seals, travel documents, and passage credentials; the road was unobstructed until they reached the outer rings of the capital, where they were stopped. A party of over a hundred people, armed and mounted — permitted to pass, yes, but not without notice from the capital. The Grand Council had sent Yao Jinxia leading a small detachment of imperial guards to intercept Zhù Lian thirty li outside the capital and to ask why he had brought so many people.

Zhù Lian said, “The sudden news of this grave loss struck me deeply. In my haste to depart, I feared that some among my attendants might not survive the long journey — there could be sickness or death along the way — so I brought extra people.”

Yao Jinxia looked over the cavalry behind him, noting that there were female soldiers among them, and showed no surprise. These southern people were mostly short in stature, and even their horses seemed somewhat smaller. The imperial guard soldiers mounted on tall, proud horses felt a faint swell of pride.

Yao Jinxia said, “You cannot take this many people wandering freely about the capital. The imperial guards will provide a barracks for their accommodation.”

Zhù Lian said, “If I’m separated from them, who do I have to run errands for me?”

The two went back and forth for a while, and then Zhù Lian suddenly asked, “Has something happened in the capital? Why is there no news of the new Emperor’s ascension?”

Yao Jinxia’s expression hardened. “This is not something you should know at present.”

Zhù Lian said, “Once I enter the capital, do I suddenly lose the use of my eyes and ears? If something is the matter, I should be told — otherwise, if there is trouble in Annan, there will be pointed questioning about what I knew. Why don’t you tell me plainly? That would save both sides from this standoff.”

Yao Jinxia had no choice, and relented: “The Prince of Qi… forced imperial palace women to their deaths, then fled. While escaping, he also injured the Prince of Qin.”

“What?” Zhù Lian found this utterly beyond comprehension. The Prince of Qi — the eldest surviving son. Under normal circumstances, he would have been next in line. How could this have happened? Yet… men of power can be so shortsighted… both comprehensible and incomprehensible…

Yao Jinxia spread his hands: “What is said in the palace is that this is what happened. The Imperial Noble Consort Yan has now been confined to her quarters, and the Yan clan has been imprisoned.”

“And the chancellors’ view?”

“The chancellors also cannot enter the rear palace. How would they know what really happened inside?”

Zhù Lian asked again, “The state cannot go a single day without a ruler. If the inner situation is unknown — what of the outer matters?”

“Discussions are ongoing — which is precisely why these hundred-some people cannot roam freely.”

“The more you tell me, the more frightened I feel. I really don’t dare enter alone. These people, without me to keep them in check, might actually cause more trouble. Here’s what I propose — I won’t wander about aimlessly, and I won’t go mixing with the foreigners at the Court of State Ceremonial. I’ll stay in the capital, stay in the guild hall. How’s that?”

Yao Jinxia said, “I must report back to the chancellors.”

He went off for half a day before returning. “That is acceptable. But no wandering around.”

“Agreed.”

Zhù Lian thought to himself: I should have had them change into merchants’ or laborers’ clothes on the road and entered the city in small batches to rendezvous inside. He also quietly raised his guard — from the look of things, the situation in the capital was even more troubled than he had imagined. Something must have gone badly wrong in the palace.

Once they were in the city, Yao Jinxia watched them settle into the guild hall before going to report.

Zhù Lian said to Lu Danqing, “You go to the Zheng estate and pay your respects to the Old Madam. I’ll go to the Yao estate and call on Chancellor Yao. A’Tong — you don’t know the capital well enough yet. Stay at the guild hall and get the others settled. Tomorrow, go with Danqing to get familiar with the streets and roads of the capital.”

The three divided their responsibilities. Zhù Lian went to the Yao estate and learned of the Grand Council’s original intention: establish the eldest.

Though the Prince of Qi was hardly ideal emperor material, at least the propriety of such a choice was defensible.

Now it had all become complicated. The palace alleged he had “behaved dishonorably,” and the two Empress Dowagers and the Prince of Qin firmly refused to agree to his accession — even if they had agreed, the man had fled. In order of succession, next should be the Prince of Qin, but his injury was severe, and they feared he might die just after being installed, making the situation even more unsettled. After him came the Prince of Song, but he ranked further back in birth order, and the Prince of Qin — still alive and wounded — would never willingly stand aside. The two younger princes were still children.

Chancellor Wang and Chancellor Shi felt something was not right about the whole affair. Yao Chenying himself also sensed that the situation was off — just as Zhù Lian had thought: comprehensible and yet incomprehensible. And the Prince of Qi’s birth mother was currently under house arrest.

Yao Chenying’s view was that it would be simpler to install the Prince of Qin. Emperors who didn’t do much work made things easier for the chancellors — fewer complications.

But Xian Jing disagreed. He leaned toward finding the Prince of Qi and bringing him back. If there was no actual wrongdoing, he should still be the one to ascend. Wang and Shi did not want the throne left vacant, nor did they wish to install a new emperor who might die at any moment. Moreover, the Prince of Qin’s role in blocking the Prince of Qi was suspicious — they favored bypassing both of them and supporting the Prince of Song instead.

The two Empress Dowagers had yet another preference. The Empress Mu’s own son had died in infancy; the Mu family hoped to install the youngest and smallest of the princes. Their reasoning: the adult princes had all “failed in filial piety” by coveting the great position, making them unworthy. Better to raise a small child to be a wise ruler from the start, with the Empress Dowager’s guidance and the chancellors’ instruction.

In the end, Yao Chenying asked, “What is your view?”

Zhù Lian said, “Where exactly is the Prince of Qi now?”

Yao Chenying said, “We’ve searched everywhere he might have hidden. He cannot be found.” The Prince of Qi had with him his tutor and several of his household officials; none of them had been found at their own family homes either. The search was ongoing.

Zhù Lian said, “Then — we should issue an order to the regional troops across the realm, to prevent him from…”

Yao Chenying said, “The order has already been sent. Is there any news from your side?”

“None. He shouldn’t come south — and if he had, I would have crossed paths with him on the road.”

Yao Chenying said, “While you’re in the capital, don’t go wandering about. It’s chaotic enough outside. Whoever comes to call — don’t receive any of them.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Lian couldn’t yet make sense of the tangle. He only knew that the imperial household could become truly chaotic when it did — but he hadn’t known it could become a chaos of this scale, involving so many players. Far more entangled than the Lin Ge family situation, or even the mess in Su Sheng’s household!

He returned to the guild hall planning to compile all the intelligence gathered and write a letter quickly to Zhù Ying. Lu Danqing had already returned, and her expression was even more astonished than Zhù Lian’s.

Zhù Lian asked, “What? Did something happen?”

Lu Danqing said, “Far too strange. I went to pay my respects to the Old Madam. Her son is the Imperial Princess’s prince consort. From what they were saying, there is something hidden behind all this. It was the Empress who arranged it.”

“Words like that cannot be spoken carelessly — or believed carelessly.”

“It’s true. The Imperial Princess even spat, saying — ‘That family named Yan has gotten far too arrogant! Already putting on airs, no longer showing any regard for the Emperor’s true maternal relatives.’ Do you hear it? Is that not a story waiting to be told?”

Yue Miaojun was tight-lipped, but the Imperial Princess was less guarded. The Imperial Princess was close to the Mu family and called the Mu family her maternal uncles. Her brother had just died, and she was grieving for him while also worrying about her own future and her husband’s family. Yan Gui — an impudent young brother — had gotten into a conflict with a Mu family son.

Yan Gui had spoken quite self-importantly, pointing out that the Prince of Qi was his own true nephew, making him closer in kinship than anyone else, and that the Mu family was going to be old news; the Yan family “might not be less than you,” as the saying went — thirty years hence the wheel turns. Let everyone here open their eyes wide.

For others that might be one thing, but how could the Mu family swallow this? Lady Mu went to the palace that very night to lodge a formal complaint.

Empress Dowager Mu and Empress Mu had already been preparing to accept reality. The propriety of the situation was fixed; the chancellors were unwilling to generate further complications. The sooner a new emperor was in place, the sooner the chancellors could get back to doing their work. There was so much to be done: regional military forces had barely been reined in; the next step was recuperation and suppression of land consolidation — matters pressing on without end.

The two Empress Dowagers had no real alternative. For the Empress Dowager Mu, any of the princes was her grandson — it made little difference. For Empress Mu, none of them was her own child, but all of them would call her Mother — also not much difference in the end. Yan Gui had been in the palace a long time, long enough to be considered an old hand. His favor had faded as his looks did, but he had a son, and he generally knew how to get along with people; he was careful not to antagonize Empress Mu too much. She had pinched her nose and accepted it, steeling herself to be more tolerant and more courteous to the Yan family in the future.

Now things were different.

So it turned out you were all pretending before! The moment a petty man rises, he shows his true face — are you going to humiliate and destroy my family the moment you get the chance?! No! I will not let you win!

As for exactly what scheme had been put into motion, even the Imperial Princess in her carelessness would not speak it aloud, and Lu Danqing could only guess at the outlines. She inferred that both the Prince of Qi and the Prince of Qin had probably been used. The Prince of Qi had escaped with his life — that was a stroke of fortune.

The three of them compared notes. Zhù Tong asked, “So where did the Prince of Qi go?”

Nobody knew.

Was there nothing more than this to send back to Zhù Ying?

Zhù Lian said, “Whatever we can pass along, we pass along. Tomorrow let’s each set out again. I need to go to the palace tomorrow.” The Emperor still had not been interred; the Prince of Song had stepped up to oversee the temporary housing of the imperial coffin at the imperial mausoleum, while a cave was excavated there to hold it until the full mausoleum was built. The director of the mausoleum construction was none other than the Empress Mu’s elder brother — the Empress Dowager Mu’s nephew — who was currently overseeing the digging.

Lu Danqing said to Zhù Tong, “I’ll continue calling on the ladies tomorrow; come with me.”

The three settled on their plans. Early the next morning, they sent a courier out of the capital to carry word back to Annan. Lu Danqing and Zhù Tong went to call on Lady Wen at the Wen estate. Wen Yue was an old hand among the imperial guards, and Lady Wen had a good relationship with the Zhù family; Lu Danqing had also called on the Wen household several times during her time in the capital.

Zhù Lian, for his part, submitted his memorial at the palace and waited to be summoned. With no Emperor now, the ministers asked the Empress Dowager to serve as the formal face of the court; but the actual business of receiving officials was handled by the chancellors. So when he arrived at the palace, he was not received by the Empress Dowager but was instead summoned to the Grand Council chamber.

In the Grand Council, the chancellors sat with gravity and solemnity. Xian Jing, white of hair and beard, asked something strikingly similar to what Yao Chenying had asked: “Has the Prince of Qi traveled south?”

Zhù Lian had no choice but to explain once more: “He has not. The various chancellors have long held that the marshal is a woman and have been unwilling to defer to a woman — why would he come south? And truly, if he had, I would have met him on the road.”

Xian Jing was left without an answer.

While the moment was still awkward, a piece of astonishing news arrived — the Prince of Qi had been located. He had fled north and found Shen Ying’s son. Shen Ying’s son was serving as an official in the north. The two of them were distant cousins of sorts, and now they were fellow sufferers thrown together. They had issued a manifesto accusing the Prince of Qin of attempting to murder the Prince of Qi, and calling upon all loyal subjects across the realm to “rally to the cause of the rightful king.”