When Zangjie had eaten his fill, he rose. “Shall we go outside?”

He glanced toward the stall keeper as he spoke — as if to tell Master Chu: there is no need to frighten the man.

“A moment,” Master Chu said. “I have a few more mouthfuls to finish.”

So Zangjie actually sat back down and waited, saying nothing further, sitting in quiet stillness.

When Master Chu had finished, he took out some copper coins and settled the bill, paying for Zangjie’s share as well.

Zangjie smiled slightly. “I won’t thank you. Seeing as you are about to kill me.”

“I am not killing you,” Master Chu said. “His Majesty said: there are many in this world who could put you to death, but I am not among those who should.”

Zangjie stilled.

Turning it over in his mind — what this man had said moments ago, about having seen him at his temple in Daxing City. And now these words. The pieces were almost close enough to name. Zangjie had occupied a somewhat unusual position in Daxing City, after all — he had moved among officials and nobles, had been on close terms with the palace consorts, and had therefore known things no ordinary person could have known.

A man who could enter his temple without leaving the faintest trace in his memory — that meant this was no ordinary visit.

“Your given name — is it Zhu?” Zangjie asked.

Master Chu nodded. “It is.”

First came shock in Zangjie’s eyes, then a flash of fear — both gone in an instant. What replaced them was the calm of understanding.

“Then it is no wonder.”

“So where does that leave us now?”

“You were just going to follow the procession that left the city this morning,” Master Chu said. “We follow it now.”

Zangjie thought for a moment. “Is His Majesty with them?”

Master Chu looked at him once, said nothing, and walked out the door. Zangjie followed.

No matter how much confidence he had in himself, he knew: if this man truly was the one from Daxing City — that Fang Zhu — running was useless.

And besides, there were too many questions pressing on him. He wanted to ask the Emperor of Great Ning face to face.

At the city gate, Zangjie found two horses already waiting for them. They passed through unchallenged, without a single word from the guards.

They rode at pace, and by midday had caught up with Li Chi and Master Yan’s procession at a small town.

Li Chi and Master Yan were at rest. At the edge of the road a *cha tang* stall was open.

This was not tea in the drinking sense, but a warm, thick food resembling congee, made from fine millet flour. A little hot water and red broth were placed in the bowl first; then a handful of the flour was added slowly while stirring; then boiling water poured in to finish. What began thin and pale became, with that rush of boiling water, thick and smooth.

As for why this food was called *cha tang*, neither Li Chi nor Master Yan — learned men both — had ever been able to say.

But they loved it. They sat on low wooden stools, bowls in hand, slurping with easy, unhurried contentment.

When Master Chu and Zangjie arrived, Li Chi’s guards stopped them briefly. Li Chi shook his head to wave them through.

“Shall Master have some?” Li Chi asked Master Chu.

They had been riding since dawn, and the morning buns were long gone. Even so, Master Chu shook his head. “I don’t care for sweet things, Your Majesty.”

“They can make noodles here too,” Li Chi said. “Master may have them put a bowl on.”

Master Chu agreed and went inside — leaving Zangjie standing there as if he had not a worry in the world about the man making a move.

Li Chi looked at Zangjie. “Would you like some?”

“Is it very sweet?” Zangjie asked.

“As sweet as you ask for it to be,” said Li Chi. “The more sugar, the sweeter it gets.”

“Then I should have a bowl,” Zangjie said. “Right now, I could do with something sweet.”

“Don’t add too much,” Li Chi said. “A little sugar makes it gently sweet. A bit more and it’s quite sweet. More still and it turns cloying. Too much and it tastes bitter.”

Zangjie smiled. “Thank you for the guidance, Your Majesty.”

And yet he still asked the stall keeper for a great deal of sugar — not knowing whether all that sweetness would take even a little of the bitterness from his tongue and from his heart.

Li Chi said no more to him and turned back to chat leisurely with Master Yan, the two of them slurping their *cha tang* in the same easy, natural way as before.

If you did not know that one was the Emperor of Great Ning and the other the Imperial Teacher, there was little in the way they ate to set them apart from ordinary farmers.

Then somehow — without any particular reason — both of them ended up squatting on their stools instead of sitting. It was Li Chi who crouched up first; Master Yan simply followed, quite naturally.

Zangjie came back carrying his bowl of steaming *cha tang*, and seeing this scene, sat in quiet thought for a moment — before squatting on his own stool as well.

Li Chi glanced at him. “How is it?”

“Cloyingly sweet,” Zangjie replied.

“I used to like it that way too,” Li Chi said. “But the Empress would not allow it, so I gave it up.”

“Why would the Empress concern herself with something so small?” Zangjie asked.

“I think,” Li Chi said, “she feels there is nothing small when it concerns me.”

Zangjie felt a pang of regret at having asked.

“Is there anything Your Majesty wishes to ask me?” Zangjie inquired, slurping his *cha tang* in imitation of the others.

Li Chi gestured. “Finish eating first.”

Just then Master Chu returned carrying a bowl of noodles. He looked at the three of them squatting on their stools, hesitated — briefly — and then held to his own preference and sat down properly.

In that moment, Zangjie felt something stir within him, the edge of an insight — but he cut it off himself.

There was no use in it.

This was not a meal between friends. It was a reckoning of life and death.

To seek enlightenment here was pointless. What good was wisdom grasped when it was already too late to use?

Li Chi, watching his face, seemed to catch something. “Your expression stiffened just now,” he said. “Was it because Master Chu, unlike us, chose to sit instead of squat?”

Zangjie was inwardly taken aback. He had not expected the Emperor of Great Ning to notice so subtle a thing.

An Emperor like this — and he had not moved against Xu Ji. It could not be as Zangjie had assumed.

Until this very moment he had held fast to the belief that Li Chi’s failure to act against Xu Ji could only mean one thing: he was soft. A man who could not bear to deal harshly with an old retainer and man of merit, no matter what that man had done — what else was that but a woman’s soft heart?

And for an Emperor, such softness could only mean the law held no teeth, justice grew murky, and the hearts of the people grew cold.

“Now it is my turn to ask you something.”

Li Chi watched Zangjie set his empty bowl aside, then rose from his stool, brushed the seat with his sleeve, and sat back down.

“That day in the Imperial Garden — was it you who killed the cook, took on his appearance, and found an opportunity to administer poison to the Empress and the Imperial Prince?”

He asked this looking directly into Zangjie’s eyes.

Zangjie nodded. “It was.”

“Could that poison kill a person?”

Zangjie was silent for a moment, then answered: “Although I deliberately kept the dosage low, the poison was capable of killing.”

Li Chi gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment and asked nothing more.

Zangjie was puzzled. “Why does Your Majesty ask only this? Why not ask why I did it?”

“I was looking for something that might let you live,” Li Chi said. “I felt that part of you perhaps did not deserve death. But since the poison truly could kill, there is no reason left.”

Zangjie stared at him. “Regardless of whether the poison could kill — I administered it with the Empress and the Imperial Prince as my targets. Surely I deserve death ten thousand times over either way?”

Li Chi nodded. “Yes.”

Zangjie looked at the Emperor, his eyes plainly asking: *Then why did Your Majesty bother to ask?*

Li Chi read that gaze and, feeling a genuine spark of appreciation for this monk, gave a brief explanation.

“That question was not mine. The Empress asked me to put it to you. She said: a man who had no quarrel with us, and yet risked certain death to act — it must have been out of loyalty. Right or wrong, loyalty is something worthy of respect.”

“So the Empress asked me to find out whether the poison could truly kill. If it could not, she said I should find a way to spare your life if one could be found — because men willing to ride to their deaths out of loyalty are not many in this world.”

After those words, Zangjie’s expression shifted and changed in quick succession. The blow to something inside him was plain to see.

He was silent for a long while, then said, “Even if Your Majesty were not the Emperor you are — if only the Empress were the Empress she is — Great Ning would still surpass Great Chu.”

Li Chi said, “Great Ning surpassing Chu was done the day I founded the dynasty. Nothing to be proud of.”

Zangjie let out a heavy breath and said to Li Chi, “Because Master Fang is of the Chu royal bloodline — that is why Your Majesty would not allow him to be the one to kill me?”

Li Chi said, “That is only one reason.”

“And the second?”

Li Chi looked into his eyes. “You laid hands on my wife and child.”

Zangjie’s expression shifted again. The moment those words left the Emperor’s lips, his instinct was to draw back.

As those words were spoken, it was as though something unseen had wrapped itself around him — countless invisible blades drawn close on every side. As long as he did not move, he would be safe. One wrong motion, and they would cut him to pieces.

Master Yan glanced at Zangjie’s expression and asked, “Is there some regret in you now?”

“That depends on what for,” Zangjie said.

He looked at Master Yan. “I have no regret for my purpose. But I regret administering poison to a woman like the Empress.”

Then he turned back to Li Chi. “Your Majesty means to kill me with your own hands, I think? Then you may act whenever you are ready. Though I know my time has come, if there is a chance to stand against someone of Your Majesty’s stature, I would like to know — am I truly no match in martial skill either?”

“Either?” Li Chi said. “Why ‘either’?”

Zangjie said, “Because I cannot understand why Your Majesty has not killed Xu Ji. But I believe there is a reason in it — which means it is I who fail to understand, not that it is wrong to spare him. That is where I fall short of Your Majesty. As for martial skill — hence ‘either.'”

Li Chi nodded. “Well said.”

He rose. “You aimed the poison at the Empress but not at me. Was it because you thought: if the Central Plains lost its Emperor again all at once, it would fall back into chaos?”

Zangjie said, “That did enter my thinking.”

Li Chi gave a soft sound of acknowledgment. “Then you shall have a whole corpse.”

—