Even Mei City’s winters were mild enough — Shu Circuit was simply a place of comfortable seasons, each one agreeable in its own way.

When Xu Ji received word in Mei City that His Majesty intended to redraw Great Ning’s dao boundaries, a trace of anxiety stirred in him. Yao Huansheng, his most trusted confidant — a counselor of roughly the same standing as Guan Mo had been — was also growing uneasy.

He understood, in truth, why the Chancellor had built such an elaborate, long-term scheme. Put plainly: fear.

Back in Yuzhou, Xu Ji had colluded in secret with Yang Xuanji, and His Majesty had quietly buried the matter. Could Xu Ji not know that? He knew.

Now he was the foremost minister of the Great Ning court, the Emperor’s most favored subject by all appearances.

And yet Xu Ji was still afraid. Afraid that one day His Majesty would dredge up that old account from Yuzhou and settle it. An account like that didn’t diminish with time — ten years on, twenty years on, the moment it was brought out again, it would still be a capital crime.

Xu Ji’s goal was certainly not to topple Great Ning. He had that much self-awareness; even at the height of his power he could not accomplish it.

His true goal he had never spoken aloud to anyone — not even to intimates like Guan Mo or Yao Huansheng.

But Yao Huansheng was far cleverer than Guan Mo. Guan Mo had only believed that the Emperor trusted Xu Ji, and that Xu Ji was exploiting that trust to dominate the court. Yao Huansheng had understood from the very beginning: Xu Ji’s true target was the Emperor himself.

Why had Xu Ji reached into the Military Commissioners across the land? Because the Commissioners had soldiers.

Xu Ji couldn’t overthrow Great Ning — but if he truly achieved absolute power one day, he could coerce the Emperor into abdicating. Or… simply remove the Emperor.

By then, the Emperor’s children would still be young. If Xu Ji could hold the court in his grip, Great Ning would be his to command.

But now that His Majesty had resolved to abolish the Commissioner system, that whole calculation fell apart.

Say what you would — without military power, you amounted to nothing. If His Majesty decided to act, a simple order to march troops into the capital would flatten any opposition, no matter how fierce.

So at this moment, Yao Huansheng found himself compelled to think harder — for Xu Ji’s sake, and for his own.

“My lord.” Yao Huansheng read Xu Ji’s expression and lowered his voice. “You mentioned the academy just now?”

Xu Ji nodded. “Yes. What are your thoughts?”

Yao Huansheng said, “Just now a notion came to me, though I’m not sure it’s appropriate…”

Xu Ji frowned. “Speak plainly.”

“Yes, yes — your student only thought: the academy is a place of real importance. Now that the realm is at peace, literary pursuits will naturally be elevated over military ones. My lord could use the academy to great effect — to persuade those great generals to set aside their military power.”

He looked at Xu Ji. “The sharp blade in His Majesty’s hand is ultimately just Tang Pidi and those like him. But if we can find a way to draw them far from Chang’an…”

Yao Huansheng continued, “People say scholars are the most principled of men — but look at it another way, and scholars are the easiest to manipulate. Use sound argument to provoke them, and they’ll walk right into the trap.”

Xu Ji’s eyes lit up. “Go on.”

“Are the officials of the Censorate not scholars? Of course they are. If we find a way to make them believe that the great generals holding troops today are a latent threat — they’ll submit memorials to His Majesty calling for the generals’ military power to be curtailed.”

Xu Ji nodded. “And what did you mean when you mentioned the academy?”

Yao Huansheng said, “The students at the academy are the easiest of all to stir up. What if your student were to quietly return to Chang’an and find a way to get them to submit petitions urging His Majesty to reduce the generals’ power…”

He leaned in closer. “Your student has a few friends at the academy who carry considerable standing among the students there — if they were to take the lead…”

Xu Ji was silent for a moment. “If it can’t be traced back to me, and serves merely to test His Majesty’s intentions… it isn’t out of the question.”

Yao Huansheng said, “Throughout history, the founding generals of every dynasty have been their emperors’ deepest worry. Take Chu itself — of Chu’s founding generals, seven or eight in ten were gone within years of the dynasty’s founding…”

He ventured further: “What if we happen to guess His Majesty’s own mind? What if His Majesty turns a blind eye and the matter simply takes care of itself?”

Xu Ji fell into thought again. After a moment, he gave a slow nod.

“Word has come from the capital that His Majesty intends to establish nineteen dao across Great Ning, each with one guard of soldiers — which means he plans to break up the generals’ military authority, dividing it nineteen ways among new appointees…”

Xu Ji looked at Yao Huansheng. “So go and prepare. Return to Chang’an first thing tomorrow morning.”

Yao Huansheng bowed. “Your student obeys.”

Xu Ji said, “There is one more thing. When I was in Ji Circuit, I quietly kept a corps of assassins…”

He paused and looked at Yao Huansheng, who immediately lowered his head and said, “Your student knows nothing of this.”

Xu Ji said, “Now you do.”

He walked to the window, looked out, then reached over and shut it.

“During my time as Military Commissioner in Ji Circuit, I secretly uncovered many of the Mountain River Seal’s secrets — secrets I never reported to His Majesty. Among them were not only a great quantity of gold seals, but a group of highly capable fighters.”

He turned to look at Yao Huansheng. “Those men are now lying low in Chang’an. After you return, make contact with them. When the opportunity arises… Lu Chonglou must still be removed.”

By this point, Xu Ji had somewhat lost himself. With intrigue failing him, he was reaching for the most ruthless methods available.

“My lord… why, at this particular moment, is it still so necessary to remove Lu Chonglou?”

“A threat…”

Two words was all the answer Xu Ji gave.

“Counting every civil and military official at court — even men like Director Gao and Yan Qingzhi — I do not fear any of them. Lu Chonglou alone is my greatest threat.”

“And when you trace that threat to its source, is it not His Majesty himself? Only because in His Majesty’s eyes, Lu Chonglou is the one man who could replace me.”

Xu Ji exhaled a long, heavy breath.

“Were it not that Lu Chonglou’s seniority is still too shallow to command broad respect, I suspect His Majesty would have preferred him as Great Ning’s first Chancellor.”

Xu Ji said, “You return to Chang’an and lay the groundwork. I will finish arranging matters out here as quickly as I can. The next five to ten years will be the most critical.”

“Yes!”

Yao Huansheng took his leave and departed.

The room fell quiet. Xu Ji walked slowly to the window and opened it again, looking out at the pleasant view beyond. He exhaled once more, long and heavy.

“Your Majesty… do you truly think your subject cannot see what you are doing?”

He spoke to himself.

“From the beginning, when you did not have me killed, I understood: with His Majesty’s character, when a man is spared, it is only because that man will be of great use in the future.”

“Others believed that great use to be the chancellorship itself — that you needed me as Chancellor, and so showed mercy. But your subject has always known, Your Majesty… When you did not kill me then, it was only because my value to you had not yet been fully realized.”

“Now the realm is settled, Great Ning is founded, and your meritorious subjects inevitably grow arrogant.”

“Your Majesty would never choose to stand in open conflict with your own meritorious subjects. I — your subject — am the man you chose long ago.”

Xu Ji spoke softly toward the open window, as though Li Chi stood just outside it, watching.

“Your Majesty… the world calls you benevolent. The wisest sovereign in history, they say. The most humane.”

“Yet only your subject knows: the hardness in Your Majesty’s heart exceeds that of any emperor who ever lived.”

“You wish to use me to give offense to your meritorious subjects — even to have them removed through my hand. And so those great generals will not blame Your Majesty. They will curse me. They will say it was I who acted too savagely, I who sought to monopolize power, I who built factions and cultivated private ties.”

“Your Majesty lavishes such favor on me, even ignoring the memorials from the regional Censorate branches — is it not precisely because you are fattening me up?”

“I have seen all of this with perfect clarity… yet what can I do? I have no choice but to follow your lead, and within the game you have set, find a way to carve out a path of survival by my own strength.”

“Your Majesty does not wish to let me live. I must find a way to survive on my own. If anyone else heard me say this, they would surely laugh and call it an egg battering against a stone.”

“Yet I am not afraid. I have no retreat. No one in this realm understands Your Majesty better than I do; no one understands me better than Your Majesty. We both see clearly what the other intends — and Your Majesty, holding the instruments of state, has no doubt that you will prevail.”

“I do not wish to lose either. So I have no choice but to go through with this — egg and all. And I remember what Your Majesty once said: betrayal, of the kind that has happened once, is never forgiven.”

“Yes… your subject has already betrayed you once. How could Your Majesty permit me to remain?”

When Xu Ji had spoken to this point, he exhaled for the third time, long and heavy. The weight pressing on his heart needed no further description.

“Your Majesty, surely you must be lonely as Emperor too — for there is no one in this world who is your equal anymore. Your subject can only come and be your adversary.”

He turned and walked back to the writing desk.

He sat down, took up his brush, and wrote two lines.

*The great road stretches wide as the sky — yet I alone cannot pass through.*

He stared at the words for a long, long time. Then he picked up his brush again and wrote two more lines below.

*Pierce through the vault of heaven — sweep away the clouds and watch the sunrise.*

He set the brush aside carelessly and stared at what he had written for a long, long time.

The sky grew gradually darker. Xu Ji reached out, took the sheet of paper, and tore it to shreds — into fine, fine fragments.

“Your subject will play a game with Your Majesty. Your Majesty believes yourself master of the world — your subject throws out a move and Your Majesty breaks it… Then your subject will stop making moves anywhere else. I will make moves only for Your Majesty to see.”

Xu Ji turned and left.

The last traces of evening light still lay across the desk. The paper had become smoke and memory.

Xu Ji’s brilliance was matched by few in all the realm, and what he said was not wrong. The person who understood the Emperor best was perhaps truly him.

What he said was not wrong either: the person who understood him best was certainly the Emperor.

Xu Ji found himself suddenly remembering the first time he had ever laid eyes on the Emperor — when that man had still been a boy in his teens.

The one who brought him to meet the lord had said: when you see the master, do not hold his gaze.

He had asked: why?

The answer given was… *The ambition in your eyes runs too deep.*

Xu Ji thought back on it. What of it, if a young man had ambition in his eyes? Wasn’t that only natural? At the time, he had felt no need to hide it.

But if time could turn back now — if he could return to that day — he knew with absolute certainty what he would do.

That day, he would make sure not to meet the master’s eyes.

—