Yao Wuhen followed Jing Tingming in through a rear gate of the palace. When the Imperial Guards stationed there saw Jing Tingming, they bowed in deference—even the duty officer, a captain of the Guard, wore an expression of servile flattery. Yao Wuhen watched this and found something darkly amusing. A minor eunuch, simply because he belonged to the Surveillance Bureau, could have even a captain of the Imperial Guard bowing and scraping.
That Dachu had rotted to this degree—could that Crown Prince with his sky-reaching ambitions truly bring it back?
“When we get inside, you’ll stay in my quarters and rest. Don’t move until the time comes.”
Once through the palace gate, Jing Tingming had Yao Wuhen step down from the carriage and follow close behind him on foot—bent slightly at the waist, walking in small, quick steps. That way no one would suspect anything. Yao Wuhen tried a few steps and found it genuinely exhausting.
“Two hours from now it will be time to bring in the evening meal. The rules require that the Emperor’s food pass two inspections—the first by the Inner Palace Guard, the second by our Surveillance Bureau. I’m on duty tonight. I will take you with me when I go. You need say nothing—just follow behind me. When the food is brought into the room, I will hand you one of the dishes to carry.”
Yao Wuhen nodded, then asked curiously: “Little eunuch—why did you choose to side with the Crown Prince?”
Jing Tingming’s steps halted. He turned and looked at Yao Wuhen, and there was anger in that look.
After a moment he let out a slow breath. “I’ll tell you once we’re back inside.”
Yao Wuhen asked no more. He followed Jing Tingming to his quarters. Jing Tingming’s standing in the palace was evidently considerable—every maid and eunuch they passed along the way bowed to him.
Back in his quarters, Jing Tingming waved a hand and said: “All of you, wait outside the door. This new arrival is coming in with me—I need to instruct him in the rules of the palace and the Surveillance Bureau. No one is to enter without my order.”
“Yes!”
Every eunuch and Surveillance Bureau guard in the courtyard bowed and withdrew. From the way they deferred, it was clear that Jing Tingming was no minor figure without authority, as Yao Wuhen had initially assumed.
“You asked me why I chose to side with the Crown Prince.”
Jing Tingming sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. He took a sip, then looked at Yao Wuhen. “Because I have always been the Crown Prince’s man. Four years ago, the Crown Prince’s people sought me out in my home village and brought me to the capital. After a number of steps taken to conceal the connection, I entered the palace as a minor eunuch. It took me another two years to draw Liu Chongxin’s notice and be promoted into the Surveillance Bureau. In the world of the jianghu, there are master-apprentice lineages; among palace eunuchs there are the same. Senior eunuchs always have their own disciples they bring along, and my master is Liu Chongxin.”
Yao Wuhen understood at once why Jing Tingming’s status in the palace and in the Surveillance Bureau seemed so unusual—why even eunuchs of apparently higher rank would nod and bow to him with expressions that belonged on old foxes who had tried to assume human form without quite completing the transformation. They knew they were being ingratiating, even if they didn’t notice it in themselves.
“The Crown Prince chose to meet with you at the Heroes’ Tower—do you know why?”
Jing Tingming asked.
Yao Wuhen shook his head. “I never thought about it. Perhaps just a convenient choice?”
“No. Because the Heroes’ Tower also symbolizes Dachu’s former glory—the spirit of its first soldiers, the ideals of loyalty and courage. The first owner of the Heroes’ Tower was a man named Wu Yuan, who had been one of Emperor Taizu’s personal guards. The tower was later seized from him, and his descendants were driven out of the capital. They returned to their ancestral county of Su, and though the years passed, the resentment never left them, the anger never faded. Mister Yao—my original surname is Wu.”
Yao Wuhen’s expression shifted. He found himself feeling an involuntary measure of respect for this young eunuch.
“The Crown Prince’s men came to find us. I was only fifteen at the time. My father told me: our ancestors were founding meritorious officials of Dachu; we their descendants must always be prepared to sacrifice ourselves for Dachu’s sake. We all believed the Crown Prince could save Dachu, could save the people of the realm. And so I voluntarily underwent castration to enter the palace.”
Jing Tingming drew a breath and continued: “You actually have no idea how long the Crown Prince has been preparing for this day, or how much he has prepared—or how many people stand ready to sacrifice themselves for him at any moment. Most of the people in this world have already knelt. They kneel before those who are ugly and contemptible and yet hold power, and they live their degraded lives. But this world is not entirely composed of such people. There are still those who choose to live standing upright—or to die standing upright.”
He looked at Yao Wuhen and smiled. “I am only an insignificant person—but I take pride in what I am doing.”
Yao Wuhen nodded. He believed it now: there were indeed people in this world who were different.
Jing Tingming let out a long breath, and there was sadness in his voice as he said: “If a man like the Crown Prince had been born a hundred years earlier—even fifty years—Dachu would not be in the state it is today.”
Yao Wuhen said: “That’s not necessarily so. If he had been born a hundred or fifty years earlier, there would have been no people like you at his side.”
Jing Tingming made a dismissive sound. “A man like the Crown Prince will never lack for followers. There are many, many people like us. For the Crown Prince, for Dachu, we would go to our deaths in wave after wave—and think nothing of it.”
Yao Wuhen suddenly perceived what set this young eunuch apart from others: he had a faith. His faith was Crown Prince Yang Jing—an unshakeable belief that Yang Jing could bring a dying Dachu back to life, could make this aged and battered dynasty stand tall once more.
“And if you lose?” Yao Wuhen asked.
Jing Tingming said: “If the Crown Prince loses, Dachu falls. He is the last person who could save it. If we lose—at the very least, when we face death, we can tell anyone who listens: for the sake of the realm, we tried. We tried, and we gave our lives in the trying. No one can mock us for that.”
Yao Wuhen nodded. He believed him.
After a short silence, Jing Tingming asked: “Tell me if there’s anything you need—you have less than two hours before the duty rotation at the Emperor’s bedchamber. You can sleep, or you can eat something. Tell me what you’d like and I can have it brought quickly.”
“Two jars of wine. Food doesn’t matter.”
Jing Tingming frowned at that. “You can’t drink. Drink might cause you to make a mistake.”
Yao Wuhen smiled. “You underestimate me. Wine doesn’t slow me down—it makes me sharper. And you shouldn’t refuse me, because this may be the last time in this world that I ever drink.”
Jing Tingming thought about it, then nodded. “Very well, I’ll drink with you. I’ve been in the capital four years and haven’t had a single drink—I was afraid of making mistakes. But today I want to share a cup with you.”
Yao Wuhen said: “If you want to drink, just say so. For all you know, this might also be the last time in this world that you drink.”
A short while later, Yao Wuhen raised his cup and looked at Jing Tingming with a smile. “I never imagined—that my last drink in this world would be with a young eunuch.”
Jing Tingming looked at him, then raised his own cup and said: “I am a man of honor. In nothing am I lesser than you.”
—
An hour and a half later, at the Emperor’s bedchamber.
Jing Tingming led a squad of Surveillance Bureau officers to the door. The guards on duty immediately bowed to him in deference. Jing Tingming waved a casual hand—perhaps because of the wine, he no longer showed the taut anxiety he had worn when he first met Yao Wuhen.
“The rest of you may go. I will personally inspect the Emperor’s evening meal when it arrives.”
“Yes!”
The group bowed again and withdrew from in front of the bedchamber doors.
“Is that Jing Tingming outside?”
A voice came from within—languid, aged, without strength. Jing Tingming was visibly startled; his shoulders gave a slight tremor. But he quickly composed himself and answered in as steady a voice as he could manage: “It is your servant, Your Majesty.”
“Where is your master?”
“Your Majesty, my master has gone to Juma City. He is carrying out his imperial orders as military overseer.”
“Mm… he was the one who petitioned me to go—I’d almost forgotten. Come in.”
Jing Tingming’s face paled slightly. According to their plan, he and Yao Wuhen were to enter together with the evening meal, and Yao Wuhen would find the moment to act. But now, Jing Tingming sensed this was perhaps an even better opportunity than the meal time, and so he altered the plan on the spot. He caught Yao Wuhen’s eye and signaled him to follow.
Yao Wuhen nodded and straightened his garments, ensuring that the outline of the Piye blade didn’t show.
Jing Tingming went in. The old Emperor’s room was thick with smoke and haze; Yao Wuhen nearly coughed. He didn’t know what the substance was, but it had an exotic sweetish scent—and beneath that, something faintly nauseating.
He didn’t know the substance was called Ghost Addiction Paste—a thing that had come from the nation of Qiuli beyond the southern sea coast. It was addictive and could not be given up. Liu Chongxin had presented it to the Emperor, and the Emperor now could not go without it; he smoked it every day.
In that moment, Yao Wuhen saw the old Emperor lying on the dragon bed. He was dressed in a short inner garment with the buttons still not fully fastened. White-haired, decrepit, gaunt as dried wood, his face a landscape of wrinkles, his teeth clearly nearly all gone when he spoke—this was the Emperor?
Was this what an emperor was supposed to look like?
Two palace maids helped the old Emperor sit up. His complexion was waxy yellow; he had almost no teeth left, and what remained weren’t simply missing in the manner of old age—the few that persisted were blackened, broken halfway down, as if they had rotted away. The Emperor looked like an old ghost who had overstayed his welcome among the living and stolen for himself the highest power in the mortal realm.
“When is your master coming back? I find I miss him.”
The Emperor asked in a raspy voice.
Jing Tingming quickly replied: “Your Majesty, my master only left the capital yesterday—he has likely not even reached Juma City yet.”
The Emperor seemed already rather slow in his faculties; he considered this for a moment and then said: “I miss him. Let him come back—why does he need to be out there in the sun and wind? Isn’t it better to keep me company here in the palace?”
Jing Tingming bowed low. “Your Majesty, my master is carrying out an imperial decree.”
The Emperor made a dismissive sound. “He just wants to get away from me, clearly… *Imperial decree*—whose decree? Isn’t it mine? If I could send him, I can call him back. Hmm? Who is that beside you? I don’t seem to have seen him before.”
Jing Tingming said: “Your Majesty, he is a newly appointed man in the Surveillance Bureau—he was previously posted in the provinces. Because of his considerable martial skill and his careful, steady manner, my master transferred him to the capital. My master said that since he would be temporarily away and was worried about Your Majesty, he wished to strengthen the Surveillance Bureau’s protective presence.”
The Emperor sighed. “I had many brothers—blood brothers. But I always knew that all my brothers wanted to take my realm from me. Only Liu Chongxin has ever truly treated me as a brother. Only he…”
The Emperor seemed to lose his train of thought, or perhaps he was weighing something; after a moment he asked Jing Tingming: “Where is your master?”
Yao Wuhen went very still.
The man before him—was this truly the Emperor?
—