◎Ten Evils◎

The court settled back into calm, and the talk in the streets and markets died down. Zhou Tan returned to his post as if nothing had ever happened, continuing to push forward with his reforms.

A conflict that had threatened the throne itself faded into silence with that final explosion at Changling. Aside from those who had been present, no one would ever know what had truly happened that day.

Song Shixuan had the imperial mausoleum for Emperor De rebuilt, along with resting places for his two sons, whose remains had never been recovered.

One had no name recorded in the history books; the other became a madman whose name would be reviled for a thousand years. It was hard to say which of the two was the more fortunate.

When Bai Shating wrote back home, Qu You couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth of what had happened. Zhou Tan quietly took up his brush and wrote to him instead, telling him that Bo Ying had resigned his post and gone traveling, with no set date of return.

If Qu You had never learned what came after, she likely would have believed the story ended there.

A powerful minister helps the sovereign he serves clear away every obstacle on the path to the throne, then, filled with ambition, goes on to realize his political ideals. Years later, having students and disciples scattered across the realm, he leaves the court behind, retreating with his beloved into a life among rivers and mountains—a story that becomes a celebrated tale for generations.

But history, in truth, has never had many such tales to tell.

In the blink of an eye, another winter came.

The snow fell unusually heavy that year. Qu You opened the window one morning only to be met with a faceful of blowing snowflakes. She hurriedly put away the emerald bamboo lattice frame and, lowering her head, saw a sheet of flower-patterned stationery on the wooden desk.

Zhou Tan had not yet woken.

A brush had been set carelessly beside the paper, its ink dried on the tip—it seemed he must have written this in the night, unable to sleep, standing by the window listening to the falling snow.

His health had been declining more and more of late. At night his body grew cold as ice, and no matter how many braziers Qu You placed in the room, nothing seemed to help.

So as not to wake her, Zhou Tan always forced himself to suppress his coughing in the middle of the night. But in truth, she heard every single cough. Once, she’d even spotted a trace of blood on his pillow.

A cruel shade of red.

Qu You pulled her pale blue fur cloak tighter around herself and found that the lines he had written in the night read: “By night I carve the bamboo’s bone into a blade’s edge; though born of metal and stone, my heart still refuses to die.”

Her nose stung, and she nearly burst into tears on the spot, but in the end she forced herself to hold it back, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth.

Winter, this year, felt endlessly long.

Zhou Tan’s lashes trembled faintly, but, just as she’d hoped, he did not open his eyes.

Su Chaoci gave orders for several more braziers to be set up in the main hall.

Not long after, Shen Luo and Qu Xiangwen arrived together. Neither said much, simply sitting before the hall, warming themselves by the fire.

Snow fell steadily. Court had been excused that morning, and all around was quiet, save for the crackling pop of the silver charcoal burning in the braziers.

Shen Luo couldn’t help but sigh. “Did you go try to talk sense into Zhou— into your brother-in-law?”

Qu Xiangwen shook his head. “He won’t see me. I hear he won’t see anyone these days—stubborn as ever. My sister… sigh, my sister used to be nothing like this. Now she’s just as unyielding as he is, determined to stand alone against everyone. She hasn’t even been back to our family home in a long while.”

“Throughout this whole court, he’s even turned away old Luo and old Cai. Is there truly no one he’ll listen to?” Shen Luo sprang up from his chair, but seeing Su Chaoci glance his way, he swallowed his anger and sat back down. “His Majesty received me in his study yesterday. He actually wanted me to bring the Censorate to try to talk him down again—these reforms are moving far too quickly… These past six months, the noble clans of Bianducheng are truly at their wits’ end. If this keeps up…”

Su Chaoci listened in silence.

Song Shixuan had always supported Zhou Tan’s decisions, all the more so after Bo Ying’s death. The two of them had always been the people Song Shixuan trusted most.

Zhou Tan had never told Song Shixuan of the plan he’d made back at Linfeng Pavilion, so from that point on, the young Emperor had genuinely and wholeheartedly supported Zhou Tan’s reforms.

But he was no longer the child who could live entirely under his teacher’s protection.

He was the sovereign now—accountable above to heaven and earth, and below to his ministers and countless subjects. The old nobility, the new scholars, the court, the far reaches of the realm—countless pressures weighed on his young shoulders. However much he trusted Zhou Tan, he couldn’t shoulder the entire foundation of the state in support of every one of Zhou Tan’s decisions.

But now that Zhou Tan was pressing on so stubbornly—or rather, only pretending to be so stubborn—the young Emperor couldn’t even bring himself to voice a word of caution. Under the pressure, all he could do was repeatedly summon others to speak with him, hoping they might get through to Zhou Tan and convince him not to push the old faction quite so hard.

He was still too young. If this continued, even the Emperor himself couldn’t say what the consequences might be.

Su Chaoci let out a heavy sigh.

Zhou Tan, with his sharp and delicate mind, could hardly fail to guess at Song Shixuan’s predicament.

He had done this on purpose from the start.

Su Chaoci pressed his fingers against his brow, and, looking somewhat weary, rose to his feet. He took a thick, bound memorial from a yellow rosewood box behind him and tossed it down before the two men in the hall.

Shen Luo reached for it first, but after reading only a single line, he froze.

—A memorial resigning from office, indicting the Chancellor’s ten great evils, submitted with deepest respect.

Impiety, disrespect, unfiliality, discord among kin, unrighteousness, incest within the family, along with suspected lechery and violent excess, accepting bribes, flattering the sovereign, and abusing power for personal gain.

Qu Xiangwen’s face changed instantly, though for a different reason than Shen Luo’s—Shen Luo was shocked by the contents of Su Chaoci’s memorial, but Qu Xiangwen was shocked because he recognized the handwriting!

He immediately looked up at Su Chaoci, who only lowered his eyes and shook his head at him. Qu Xiangwen felt the world spin around him and had to steady himself against a chair to sit back down, his mind still reeling.

Why would Zhou Tan write a memorial fabricating crimes against himself?

The wording of this memorial was vicious, spun to its most damning extreme—by rights, only someone burdened with the world’s condemnation, someone truly guilty of unforgivable crimes, driven to their last resort, would have officials jointly submit such a memorial against them.

Zhou Tan currently enjoyed the Emperor’s favor. Though the Censorate impeached him daily and there were plenty within the court who resented him, everyone else knew well enough to read the room—who would dare write such an outrageously fabricated indictment?

He sat there, thinking it over again and again, and after the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, he began to understand something, his face growing paler still. Just then, Shen Luo also finished reading the memorial over and over, his voice trembling with fright. “Chancellor… do you truly mean to submit this?”

Su Chaoci gave a simple nod.

Shen Luo paced back and forth across the hall with the memorial in hand, and when he returned to stand before Su Chaoci, his handsome face had flushed deep red. “Zhou Tan—whatever else you might say about the man—however reckless he’s been, however much he refuses to heed advice on these reforms, pressing ahead so stubbornly—I truly never imagined you would write something like this… Do you understand what will happen once this memorial is submitted?”

He grew more agitated as he spoke, his voice nearly rising to a shout. “Even if His Majesty rejects this memorial of yours, with you leading the charge, all those who’ve impeached him, the conservative faction, the noble families whose interests are threatened—they’ll seize on this without restraint and spread it through the streets and markets as though it were truth! You’re nailing him to the annals of history with your own hands, condemning him to eternal infamy! Do you hate him this much? Hate him enough for this?”

Qu Xiangwen tried to speak. “Brother Shen—”

Shen Luo, a man of blunt temperament, dropped all formality and cut off his attempt to intervene, speaking only to Su Chaoci, his voice bitter. “I was wrong about you! Reform may have a hundred flaws, but a heart devoted to the people can never be at fault! You’re using this to eliminate a rival—you, you… Look up at this bright hall above us, this clear mirror of conscience—does your heart feel no guilt at all?”

Su Chaoci lifted his eyes to look at Shen Luo and, to everyone’s surprise, wore a relaxed, easy smile. “Lord Shen speaks with righteous indignation—but unfortunately… there’s not a second person in this entire court quite like you. Once this memorial is submitted and spreads, everyone will only feel grateful to me, full of admiration—the history books, the endless talk of the realm, will all praise me as the loyal minister who cleared away a traitor on the sovereign’s behalf. But will anyone, like you, ever speak up to clear his name?”

Shen Luo stared at him, wide-eyed, speechless, as though meeting him for the very first time.

The silver charcoal was nearly spent, and the hall grew colder by the minute.

But the snow outside fell even harder.

Qu Xiangwen watched as Shen Luo let out three bursts of laughter, then pointed at Su Chaoci, his expression somewhere between laughing and weeping. “Only today do I truly come to know you…”

With that, he reached up, pulled off his official cap, and hurled it viciously to the ground. “The whole world is mired in filth, and I stand alone with no one beside me! In the end, it’s the very man I’ve spent every day impeaching who deserves a sigh from me… This officialdom, this court, this world… enough, enough. There’s nothing left worth staying for. Chancellor Su, I take my leave!”

With that, he turned and walked straight out. Qu Xiangwen hurried to his feet, wanting to explain something, but Su Chaoci held out a hand to stop him. “Don’t go after him. Let him serve some time out in the provinces—it’ll do him good. He’s no fool. It’ll temper his temperament, and in a few years, he’ll come to understand on his own.”

Qu Xiangwen asked urgently, “Why did you two—”

Su Chaoci patted his shoulder, his voice hoarse. “Do you know—he doesn’t have much longer to live.”

His gaze drifted toward the hall doors, which Shen Luo had left open in his haste to leave. The north wind swept snowflakes in through the opening, and even in the young Chancellor’s eyes, a faint, glimmering trace of snowlight seemed to gather. “This is his last wish. I will see it through for him, no matter what.”

Qu You was crossing the long flower corridor, a bowl of medicine in her hands, when, just as she reached to push open the door, she heard the sound of coughing from within.

These past few days, Zhou Tan had not attended court, shutting himself away and refusing all visitors. She had sat on the snow-covered steps, gazing up at the sky, remembering that night years ago when she had knelt in that passage—it seemed to have been the night the snow in the palace had fallen deepest of all.

After that night, the unending months of heavy snow had finally stopped, though spring had come late.

It seemed… that it wasn’t far off now either.

She stood at the door, unwilling to dwell on the thought any longer, and was just about to enter when she heard another voice inside—Zhou Yang’s: “…I heard what you and Chancellor Gu said, back then.”

Qu You stayed where she was, unmoving. Snow pressed down on the green pines and cypress before the hall, shaking loose in soft showers onto her shoulders.

Zhou Tan poured a cup of tea for him. “Our teacher must have gone to great lengths to get you into the imperial prison.”

Zhou Yang said, “Yes. I went and knelt before Chancellor Gu day after day, until my knees bled on the steps, and only then did he soften and take the risk of bringing me in to see you once—the imperial prison was truly dangerous, and with you there all alone, I was too worried to bear it.”

Zhou Tan let out a low laugh.

“How could I not understand what you were doing, once you came out? Given the circumstances, all I could do was play the part of a reckless troublemaker myself, hoping to make some name for myself that way, hoping it might help you somehow… I never thought that while I was in the army, I’d actually be able to steel my heart and leave you to fend for yourself at the start of the month.” Zhou Yang seemed to be crying; Qu You could hear a slight catch in his voice. “I only came back when you married—learned you were gravely ill, and I was terrified. Brother, do you know—the very next day, when I came to provoke sister-in-law, if she had said anything improper about you, I honestly meant to kill her on the spot.”

Qu You couldn’t help a small laugh escaping her.

Zhou Tan seemed to have guessed she was outside the door and glanced that way with a smile, though Zhou Yang, oblivious, kept his head down and continued. “But that day, sister-in-law told me she’d already fallen for you so deeply she couldn’t help herself. I didn’t believe her at first, but after asking around repeatedly and learning she’d found physicians to care for you devotedly, I finally set my heart at ease. Sigh, if something had happened to you back then, how could I ever have forgiven myself…”

At this, Qu You couldn’t help herself any longer—she drew in a breath of cold wind and coughed outside the door. Zhou Yang jumped, startled, and quickly wiped the tears from his face, saying with embarrassed indignation, “Brother, you already knew sister-in-law was here—the two of you were conspiring to laugh at me together…”

Zhou Tan pulled his blanket tighter around himself, smiling gently, still murmuring the words he’d just spoken. “Mm, fallen so deeply she couldn’t help herself—she fooled you completely, and you still believed it…”

Qu You simply pushed the door open and walked in. “It wasn’t entirely a lie, you know.”

She set down the medicine bowl, pulled a few roasted tangerines from the brazier, and tossed them casually to Zhou Yang. “I’ll give you credit for having a conscience—much better than that Ren Yuechu fellow!”

Zhou Yang caught them and said proudly, “Naturally.”

Then, more quietly, he added, “If Yuechu knew, he wouldn’t be like this either—he’s grieving too… Though Yuechu could never match me. Even if I knew nothing at all, I’d have kept believing in you all along. Later, he went through Boss Ai’s connections to disguise himself in black, partly to avoid notice, and partly because he had no face to see you with…”

Zhou Tan shook his head helplessly and was about to say something when he heard hurried footsteps outside the door.

Zhou Shengde came in carrying a bronze brazier, adding more charcoal to the room, then said in a low voice, “Someone from the Su household just brought word—they said the eldest young master must attend court tomorrow morning without fail. Everything has been prepared.”

Zhou Yang didn’t understand the implication, but Qu You caught the meaning at once, her face going pale in an instant.

Zhou Tan reached out to take her hand in comfort, gripping it tightly, as though trying to draw some strength from her in return. “I understand. You may go.”