Under Dachu’s official system, the principal administrator of a prefecture was of the fourth rank—though there were exceptions. Dachu had thirteen principal prefectures across its realm. The original nine had later been joined by four additional territories deemed especially significant, elevated to principal-prefecture status: Yanzhou under Qingzhou, Chongzhou under Shuzhou, Lingzhou under Yongzhou, and Youzhou under Jizhou. With these four elevations, the empire now had thirteen Prefect Governors of the third rank.

Lian Gongming, Prefect Governor of Jizhou, had a powerful patron behind him, and had long operated as a de facto local emperor within Jizhou. Even the former Military Commissioner had given way to him by three measures—all because he had cultivated ties with the great eunuch Liu Chongxin.

This had emboldened him to the point where, when the new Military Commissioner Zeng Ling first arrived, Lian Gongming had actually considered giving him a dressing-down to put him in his place. He had misjudged: Zeng Ling gave him no face whatsoever, and that confrontation ended with Lian Gongming humiliated, forced to tuck his tail and make himself small.

Even Liu Chongxin had sent Lian Gongming a personal letter, telling him not to provoke Zeng Ling. The sheer terror of whoever stood behind Zeng Ling could be inferred from that alone.

In all of Dachu’s court, there were very few people Liu Chongxin dared not antagonize.

Lian Gongming had swallowed a belly full of grievances with nowhere to vent them, and over these two years the suppressed resentment had visibly aged him. His face was a mass of wrinkles—like a chrysanthemum past its prime, especially around the mouth.

Just as he and Yang Zhuo were speaking, Chief Constable Li Changxing stood outside the door and bowed. “Young Heir, my lord—the boy called Li Chi has been brought in. How do you wish to handle him?”

Lian Gongming waved a hand. “He’s nobody of consequence. Lock him up for now. Wait for news about Xiahou Zuo. If no confirmation of Xiahou Zuo’s death arrives, cripple him but keep him alive.”

Yang Zhuo frowned slightly. “The way you put that, my lord, suggests you’re still thinking about keeping a way out.”

Lian Gongming stroked his beard and smiled. “Is the Young Heir’s phrasing not somewhat… sharp? Such a pointed remark—the old man finds himself at a loss for how to respond.”

Yang Zhuo had to give Lian Gongming some face. He shook his head with a smile. “I simply don’t understand. He’s a pawn with no significance, a penniless nobody with no background or connections. What use is there in keeping him?”

Lian Gongming said: “There is naturally a use for keeping him. Does the Young Heir think the Prince will return and simply let the matter rest? When the Prince comes back and demands to know how Xiahou Zuo died, wouldn’t it be convenient to lay it all on this boy?”

Yang Zhuo asked: “How would that be made to stick?”

Lian Gongming smiled. “What method did the Young Heir use to lure Xiahou Zuo out of the Academy?”

Yang Zhuo said: “I had someone roughly the same height as Li Chi impersonate him, and used that to draw Xiahou Zuo out.”

“Hmm…”

Lian Gongming said: “Then why couldn’t it have truly been Li Chi who lured Xiahou Zuo out?”

Yang Zhuo heard this, frowned in thought for a moment, then suddenly broke into laughter. “The Governor’s schemes are indeed far-reaching. Though the Sun family isn’t worth worrying too much about, it’s always better to avoid making enemies where you don’t need to.”

Lian Gongming said: “It was the Sun family’s boy who helped lure Xiahou Zuo out. If the Young Heir abandons him now, the Sun family will hold a grudge. You may not place much stock in the Sun family, but better to have one more ally than one more enemy.”

Yang Zhuo laughed: “Well said, Governor. By now the news should have spread through the Academy—that Xiahou Zuo was chasing Li Chi when he went outside. Even if the Prince returns and investigates, the accounts will corroborate each other.”

Lian Gongming said: “Exactly. First, throw that wild little bastard into the cells. Break his four limbs, smash his jaw. That way, whatever he wants to say, he won’t be able to say it—and whatever he wants to write, he won’t be able to write it. As for why he ended up in that condition… prison cells, after all, are prone to accidents.”

Yang Zhuo nodded. “The Governor is indeed clever.”

Lian Gongming promptly waved at Li Changxing. “Go. Lock him up however you like. Give him a lesson first.”

Li Changxing bowed. “Your subordinate understands. Your subordinate takes his leave.”

He turned and walked away, thinking to himself how unlucky that boy called Li Chi must be—a born nothing who thought that latching onto Xiahou Zuo’s coattails would let him leap straight to heaven.

Well. It didn’t get much closer to heaven than this.

He understood perfectly what the Governor had meant. When Prince Yu returned and learned that Xiahou Zuo was dead, he would be furious and would certainly come to the Jizhou Prefecture Yamen demanding answers. The Governor would say: one of the culprits, Li Chi, is still in our cells—doesn’t that show how upright we’ve been? But with all four limbs broken and his jaw destroyed, the boy would have nothing left to say. And if the Prince asked why he was in such a state? The Governor’s words had put it perfectly: *prison cells are prone to accidents.*

When you thought about it, Xiahou Zuo was a pitiful sort. If that illegitimate son had just kept his head down, things would have gone so differently. Instead he was incorrigible to the end.

—

The Jizhou Prefecture Jail.

Two constables shoved Li Diudiu inside. The jail was gloomy and damp, heavy with a chill that seeped into the bones. Stepping into this place was like stepping into the underworld itself.

Li Diudiu stumbled from the shove and nearly fell. He looked at the constable who had pushed him and asked: “Didn’t you say you were bringing me to the yamen for questioning? Why have you taken me directly to the jail?”

“Oh ho!”

The constable laughed. “So the little brat knows a thing or two after all. Figured out this isn’t just a friendly chat, did you? I’ll tell you straight—if they wanted to question you, couldn’t they have done it at the Academy?”

The other constable laughed: “And here I thought everyone who got into the Four-Page Academy was supposed to be clever. Turns out there are dull ones too.”

Li Diudiu said: “I believe in Dachu’s law. I believe the yamen is just. I believe in the uniform you wear. Why do you think I’m foolish for that?”

Both constables stopped laughing at the same time. They glanced at each other.

Then they both burst out laughing again, doubling over.

One of them laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face. Between gasps he said: “That’s exactly why you’re foolish! You believe in our uniforms—*we* don’t even believe in our own damn uniforms.”

Something strange flickered in his eyes as he said it—a flash of unease—but it vanished just as quickly, as though it had never been there.

“Hey kid, you believe in this and that—so do you believe in fate?”

The other constable finished laughing, shook his head, and said: “If you don’t, let me give you some advice. You should. Some people are just born up high, and no matter how hard you climb your whole life, you’ll never reach the level of their feet. Accept your lot.”

Li Diudiu thought of the things his Master had told him—thought of all the effort his Master had put into getting him into the Four-Page Academy. Everything his Master had done was saying one thing to Li Diudiu: *Don’t accept your lot.*

“You think I’m laughable?”

Li Diudiu smiled too.

He no longer needed the constables to push him. He walked forward with wide, steady strides. “I don’t find myself laughable at all. If there’s anything laughable here, it’s this world, and the human heart, and your titles and your uniforms, and those you say were born up high.”

The two constables were both slightly at a loss. They found it strange that such words could come from someone Li Diudiu’s age—and yet those words from this boy pricked at something in their consciences, stinging in waves.

Neither of them pushed Li Diudiu again. Neither of them touched him at all. Their laughter had gone. They simply followed in silence behind him.

“Here.”

One constable pulled open a cell door and gestured inside. “In you go.”

The other constable’s expression shifted. He lowered his voice: “The Chief Constable gave orders to throw him in with Ragged-Pockmark. Why are you putting him in an empty cell?”

The first constable shook his head. He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said: “Just let him have one decent night… just one night. He’s, however you look at it… still a child.”

The iron door clanged shut. Li Diudiu looked around at his surroundings. He had thought before about whether he might ever end up in a jail cell—after all, wandering the world with his Master and relying on deception for a living, getting arrested wasn’t exactly unjust. But he had never imagined he’d end up in one for saving someone, and clearly wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon.

The cell was damp. He couldn’t tell where the moisture came from. There was no bed, no furniture, nothing at all—only cold hard stone walls on every side, and a cold hard stone floor.

Li Diudiu sat down cross-legged. He had expected to feel afraid, but he didn’t. When he finally grew still, the first thing that came to his mind was: *I wonder how Xiahou Zuo is doing.*

He had been sitting there for some time when footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Li Diudiu looked over. A young man in fine brocade robes walked up to his cell and stopped there, watching him with an expression of amused contempt.

“Li Chi.”

The young man outside called his name. Li Diudiu asked: “Who are you?”

The young man pointed to his own robes. “Recognize the clothes?”

Li Diudiu shook his head. “No.”

Because of those three words, disdain appeared on the young man’s face.

He laughed. “That’s fine. After all, the most important person you’ve met in your entire life up until now is nothing but an illegitimate son.”

He pointed at his own robes and said: “These are a Heir’s formal dress. Do you know what a Heir is?”

Now that was a condescending question. Even if Li Diudiu genuinely hadn’t seen many important people, he wasn’t an idiot—who wouldn’t know what a Heir was?

Li Diudiu nodded with complete seriousness and replied: “I know. A persimmon has to get soft before it’s good to eat. Once the skin breaks, there’s so much juice inside—it just runs out looking like a mess.”

Yang Zhuo’s face shifted sharply.

He turned to Chief Constable Li Changxing and demanded: “Weren’t you told to put him in the crowded cell? Why is he in here alone?”

Li Changxing looked toward the two constables. Both of them lowered their heads. Neither said a word.

“Take him out. Throw him in with Ragged-Pockmark.”

Li Changxing gave the order, then turned a fawning face toward Yang Zhuo and said: “Young Heir, it would be better if you were to head out—this place is heavy with damp and cold. Staying too long isn’t good for your health.”

Yang Zhuo made a sound of assent. He looked at Li Diudiu and said: “I’ll come see you again tomorrow. We’ll see if that mouth of yours is still quite so sharp.”

With that, he turned and walked away, Li Changxing fawning alongside him, nodding and bowing—looking every bit like a dog that had caught sight of its master dangling a meaty bone.

Once Yang Zhuo and Li Changxing had both gone, the two constables opened the cell door. One of them looked at Li Diudiu and sighed. “Was that necessary?”

Li Diudiu seemed unbothered. He shrugged and asked: “Left or right?”

The constable frowned. “Aren’t you afraid of dying? Aren’t you afraid of something worse than dying?”

Li Diudiu said: “Lead the way.”

The two constables exchanged a glance. Somehow, both of them felt a kind of respect for this boy who was barely half-grown.

Just moments ago they’d been mocking him as a dim-witted fool—and now they found him admirable. People were, truly, the strangest of creatures.

“Watch yourself.”

One constable walked ahead and murmured in a low voice behind Li Diudiu: “The cell you’re going to has a man called Ragged-Pockmark in it. He should have been executed by now. Having nothing to lose… and besides, he’s been paid.”

Li Diudiu made a soft sound of acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

—