From Yuzhou to Jingzhou, as they approached the border, that sense of difference gradually became clear.
Though the dynasty had fallen into decay and the realm was in turmoil, the common people of Jingzhou still possessed a certain inexplicable pride.
As if being born Jingzhou natives meant they were entitled to hold their heads high.
Jingzhou remained relatively stable for now — at the very least, the court’s authority still held, and the local yamen still exercised their powers.
After all, this was the heart of the imperial domain, still garrisoned by formidable forces stationed throughout.
There were many roads leading from Yuzhou into Jingzhou — the border stretched for thousands of li, after all.
But if one wished to travel the official roads, there were only a handful of viable options, and doing so meant submitting to extremely rigorous inspections.
People like Li Chi and his company would naturally never take back roads — they would enter Jingzhou openly and above board.
Luling was a great city at the junction of Jingzhou and Yuzhou.
The first time Li Chi had heard the name Luling was because of Mu Fengliu, who had been captured and then escaped in Jizhou.
To the north of Luling ran a great river called the Daqing River — throughout the realm, who could say how many rivers bore that same name.
Spanning the Daqing River stood a stone bridge, and on the southern side of that bridge, no fewer than several hundred Dachu garrison soldiers maintained a permanent presence.
Jingzhou people could leave freely, but Yuzhou people could not enter.
Of course, this was not absolute. Ordinary commoners had no hope of entering Jingzhou whatsoever, while those of the so-called upper class needed only to announce their family name and offer a little consideration — entering Jingzhou presented no difficulty.
So when Li Chi’s procession arrived at the stone bridge in full splendor, the soldiers guarding it involuntarily rose to their feet.
The scale of this party was, in truth, quite impressive.
A dozen or so large carriages, several hundred mounted escorts — all uniformly outfitted, wearing armor that, while not the official battle dress of Dachu garrison troops, was garrison equipment through and through.
This gave people cause for concern, because it was a breach of regulations.
Under Dachu law, possessing garrison weapons and armor without special authorization was a capital offense.
In the days when Dachu’s laws were still strictly enforced, even the household guards of princes and ministers were subject to rigorous restrictions on weapons. Such guards might carry swords and sabers, but absolutely nothing like repeating crossbows, bows and arrows — no shields, no armor. Even the swords and sabers they were permitted could not be the standard issue blades of Dachu’s garrison troops.
All of this constituted vulnerability. For a prince or noble who felt unconcerned — thinking the court would not scrutinize so closely — his opponents and enemies certainly would not share that complacency. So long as someone raised the matter before the Emperor in open court, could the Emperor really permit such things in full view of his ministers?
Later, as the realm fell into disorder, officials in the Ministry of War — especially those in the armory — began openly selling off stockpiled weapons in bulk, filling their pockets with ill-gotten gains without a shred of conscience.
Yet even so, among common folk, seeing standard garrison-issue equipment remained essentially impossible.
So when the garrison soldiers saw this procession, they were all left thoroughly bewildered.
A captain stepped forward. Not daring to be too brusque, he inquired politely whose people these were.
Li Chi had previously dealt with the Cao family, ordering a news blackout — though the seal may not have been thorough enough, the soldiers stationed here at the border may well have been uninformed. Even if they had heard something, they were unlikely to know the full picture.
Yu Jiuling stepped forward and removed a token from his waist, handing it to the captain.
The captain’s expression immediately relaxed when he saw it. He thought — no wonder, these are Cao family people.
The Cao family commanded seven marquisates. Looking across all of central China, there were precious few who could compare.
Yu Jiuling said, “In the carriage is the eldest son of Lord Feiling, Young Lord Cao Du, along with Lord Feiling’s family members.”
Lord Feiling was the title of Cao Dengke, a man of extraordinary standing within the Cao family, and no small reputation.
Cao Dengke had a son named Cao Du — who was presently raising pigs at Qishan.
Compared to Cao Lie, this man was well and truly a wastrel. In Yuzhou he ran roughshod over everyone, bullying people by leveraging his family’s influence — even Cao Lie looked down on him.
Li Chi and Cao Du were of similar age and build, and he hadn’t even bothered with a disguise before entering the capital.
In the capital, the only one who could see through his identity would be the Princess of Wu, but she had been sent back to Jingzhou and had not lingered in the capital — she had gone straight to find Prince Wu, and by now should have arrived at the Left Wuwei Encampment in the southeast of Jingzhou.
As for the reputation of Cao Du, Young Lord and son of Lord Feiling, within Yuzhou City — it stank to high heaven and then some.
But this person had never been to Jingzhou, nor to the capital, so even those who knew his name had never laid eyes on him.
An unlettered wastrel, arrogant and domineering — this sort of persona was not, in truth, particularly conspicuous in Dachu’s current climate.
But if it wasn’t conspicuous, Li Chi felt he would be doing a disservice to the image Cao Du had cultivated for himself.
“Where does the Young Lord intend to go?”
The captain glanced at the token and still asked, cautiously.
He was a Jingzhou soldier, but he had heard something of this Young Lord Cao Du, famed as a local tyrant.
Yu Jiuling frowned. “Does the Young Lord need to report to you where he goes and what he does?”
The captain bristled at these words. Cao Du might throw his weight around in Yuzhou, but was he going to do as he pleased here in Jingzhou too?
He was just about to speak when Yu Jiuling reached an arm around his neck and steered him off to one side.
Yu Jiuling led the captain a short distance away, then waved his hand — an attendant promptly came over carrying two pouches.
Yu Jiuling placed both pouches in the captain’s hands. “One is yours personally, the other is for your men. The Young Lord is heading to Prince Wu’s side. If you let us through, keep the silver. If you obstruct us, I’ll kill you here and now — and when your superiors hear about it, they won’t dare make trouble for the Young Lord. It’s not like you’re guarding the border for your own sake. Why be foolish about this?”
The captain weighed the two pouches of silver and immediately broke into a smile. “Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right, sir. How could I possibly delay the Young Lord’s business?”
He waved a hand behind him. “Let them through!”
Yu Jiuling said, “One more thing — stamp our travel documents and permits. We’re not hiding anything, we’re not doing this with guilty consciences. We’ve got all the way to the capital ahead of us.”
Hearing this, the captain felt even more at ease.
And what Li Chi wanted was precisely this — official travel documents with the checkpoint’s stamp.
And so it went: at each stop they sent some silver, and with the Cao family’s prestige and standing, they made their way toward the capital smoothly and without incident.
The entire itinerary was managed under Dantai Yajing’s direction. He was the sort of man who packed everything he needed before stepping out the door. The first time they had met him, Li Chi’s group had felt that this person had an unmistakable bearing about him.
When it came to putting on a show, Dantai Yajing had considerable experience.
They did not stay in inns or official post stations. Half of what filled those dozen or so carriages was daily necessities — they had even brought handwashing basins — projecting the unmistakable air of someone who found everything beneath him, too filthy and unworthy of a person of his station.
So Li Chi’s procession had not yet reached the capital when his reputation had already preceded him there.
Daxing City. Shiyuan Palace.
Dachu’s Prime Minister Yao Wuhen cautiously glanced at the Emperor’s expression, thinking to himself that this time, when the Cao family’s people arrived in the capital, he absolutely could not let them come away unscathed.
Yao Wuhen had a grievance with the Cao family — without the current Emperor Yang Jing taking the throne, no matter how capable he might be, he could never have risen to the position of Prime Minister.
Yang Jing was the Emperor the Mountain River Seal had not anticipated, entirely beyond their control.
This had created a situation where many of the trusted officials Yang Jing now relied upon were beyond the control of the Mountain River Seal’s people.
The Mountain River Seal’s influence was vast, seeming to seep into every crack — but it was not omnipotent.
For instance, the Mountain River Seal’s people here in Jingzhou had essentially never been to Yuzhou. They knew Cao Du’s name, naturally, but had no idea what Cao Du looked like.
In an age where all information traveled by human courier, there was simply too much ignorance that could never be resolved.
“This young man is far too audacious.”
Yao Wuhen bowed and said, “Your Majesty, this young man has been arrogant and unruly all the way from Yuzhou, with no regard for Dachu’s laws and propriety. His spending on food and clothing has been extravagant and wasteful. Moreover, he comes from Yuzhou — this minister believes he may be harboring motives he cannot openly declare.”
Yang Jing frowned slightly.
He looked at Yao Wuhen. “So your meaning is: a completely undisciplined libertine, harboring undisclosed motives, has been making his way to the capital in an ostentatiously extravagant fashion?”
Yao Wuhen startled, then realized his phrasing had been somewhat inopportune — he had been too hasty.
He had once had the opportunity to rise to the high position of Minister of Personnel, but the Princess of Wu had spoken ill of him before the late Emperor, and so he had been cast aside.
Fortunately, after Yang Jing took the throne, he was reinstated and entrusted with important responsibilities.
He also understood, in truth, that the Emperor no longer trusted men from the great established families — families like the Yuwen clan…
And yet the Emperor could not do without the great families. He did not wish to use them, but still needed their support.
This was why the court was in such disarray at present, and why men like himself who had been restored to office occupied an awkward position.
The Emperor slowly exhaled and said, “What I am primarily occupied with now is the matter of the Heroes’ Assembly. I need a large number of troops to retake Yuzhou. The Yanyun rebel Li Chi is already nearly positioned to press troops into Jingzhou — and you, as Dachu’s Prime Minister, are squabbling with a worthless son over personal grudges.”
Yao Wuhen dropped to his knees with a thud. “This minister has erred, but this minister also acts with state affairs in mind. Yuzhou has already fallen to the Yanyun rebels, and this young man’s sudden journey to the capital is genuinely suspicious.”
The Emperor considered for a moment, then called toward the outer room, “Hui Chunqiu.”
The commander of the Imperial Guard, Hui Chunqiu, immediately stepped briskly through the door and bowed. “Your servant is here.”
The Emperor said, “Send someone to summon the Grand Court of Revision’s Chief Justice Gui Yuanshu.”
Hui Chunqiu acknowledged and turned to leave.
The Grand Court of Revision.
Gui Yuanshu — barely thirty years old, yet already holding the exalted post of Chief Justice of the Grand Court of Revision — sat in the corridor gazing at the lotus pond in the distance.
In the corridor stood a small wooden table set with four dishes and a jug of wine. The dishes were cold-dressed cabbage hearts, braised peanuts in sauce, aged vinegar shredded radish, and scallion tofu.
Not a single hot dish. Not a single meat dish. The wine, though, was well-aged.
Over at the lotus pond, mosquitoes and flies buzzed about, which somewhat displeased Gui Yuanshu.
He tipped out his toothpicks and pinched one between his fingers, then flicked it with casual ease. The toothpick shot out like a streak of light.
With a light crack, a fly was pinned to a lotus leaf.
“My lord.”
An attendant hurried over and bowed. “His Majesty summons you to the palace.”
Gui Yuanshu frowned slightly, thinking to himself that whenever His Majesty remembered him at a time like this, it was never going to be anything good.
Because of the Heroes’ Assembly, every person in the Grand Court of Revision had been dispatched to assist with maintaining order in the capital — his court was now an empty shell.
The critical point was that his people had been reassigned away from his authority and placed temporarily under the Thirteen Gates Prefect.
So for nearly two months now, he, the Chief Justice, had had nothing to do.
The entire Grand Court of Revision had only himself and four subordinates remaining.
He ought, by rights, to have gone to assist as well — but he was a Senior Third Rank official, while the Thirteen Gates Prefect held Senior Fourth Rank.
If he went, what would he be?
So he simply stayed away, idle in the yamen.
“There’s bound to be trouble… the kind that will give me a terrible headache.”
Gui Yuanshu straightened his robes and glanced to one side. The fly he had pinned nearby was somehow still alive.
So he pinched another toothpick and sent it flying with a casual flick. This time the toothpick pierced the fly squarely through the head.
The two toothpicks protruded from the surface at exactly the same length.
—