Before setting off for Jingzhou, Zhu Yong first went to see Zheng Xia.

Although no one had paid attention when Dragon Imperial Guards presented their investigation at court, when they moved a box of case files to the Ministry of Justice, the ministry accepted them.

Since the case hadn’t been officially concluded, Zheng Xia hadn’t left his cell yet.

“The conditions here are better than any prison I’ve ever stayed in,” Zheng Xia said with a smile to his old friend as he lay on the wooden plank bed. “If not for these chains and the guards outside, I’d think I was back at the place where we studied in our youth.”

Zhu Yong looked at the stacks of books by the bedside, finding them both amusing and sad. “You’re still thinking about reading.”

Zheng Xia propped himself up with one hand: “I haven’t read any books since I was imprisoned. After all this time, when they asked what I needed most, I immediately asked for books.”

Zhu Yong hurried to support him, examining Zheng Xia. He had grown so thin he was almost unrecognizable. If they had met outside, Zhu Yong wouldn’t have known him.

Zhu Yong’s gaze fell on Zheng Xia’s left hand. It was withered and stiff, missing two fingers.

“It was fine the last time I saw you,” he said, his voice hoarse with pain.

“Fine? It was already ruined. When I came here, Captain Ding said that if I wanted to save my arm, the damaged fingers had to be amputated,” Zheng Xia said, looking at his left hand. “So be it. This hand is useless anyway.”

He looked up at Zhu Yong.

“But enough about that. What’s going on? How was my case suddenly reopened?”

Though the case revolved around him, he had been isolated in prison and knew nothing.

Zhu Yong explained what had happened, and Zheng Xia listened with shock and changing expressions.

“So this time, it’s… luck—” he murmured.

One might call it good luck, but it didn’t necessarily feel that way.

It was clear that he had been caught in a power struggle between the Empress and court officials.

“Someone like me, if I died, then I died,” he said, looking up at Zhu Yong with eyes full of guilt and worry. “You’ve been dragged into this too.”

Zhu Yong smiled slightly. “It was my own choice. And I’ve already requested the Empress’s permission to go to Jingzhou as an Imperial Envoy to conclude this case.”

Zheng Xia straightened up again in surprise: “Why would you do that? Even though you’ve been implicated, if you resigned and left the capital, those powerful people wouldn’t pursue you relentlessly. Why are you voluntarily jumping deeper into this?”

Zhu Yong said: “Regardless of the Empress’s intentions, she did overturn this wrongful case. I know what those people will do next—they’ll try to damage the Empress’s reputation. So I need to go personally to explain to the people of Jingzhou, to let everyone know that while the Empress is interfering in governance, she isn’t misruling.”

Zheng Xia fell silent. He was still being drawn into this after all.

Zhu Yong stood up and said: “Besides, I’m doing what you did.”

Zheng Xia was startled. What did he do?

“With all your scholarship, you were willing to spend over a decade in Jingzhou as a lowly official at others’ beck and call, to prevent corruption from hindering students’ futures,” Zhu Yong said, looking at Zheng Xia with a smile. “Now it’s my turn to do the same.”

If Zheng Xia was willing to live in obscurity, then Zhu Yong was willing to have his reputation tarnished.

…

…

Zhu Yong departed for Jingzhou, and officials from the Ministries of Justice and Personnel also went to Jingzhou, but the clamor in the capital didn’t seem to stop because of this.

All sorts of discussions arose around this matter.

“The Empress is wrong to do this. How could she act this way?”

“Why can’t the Empress do this? Because she’s a woman?”

“Can a woman only sacrifice herself to save the young prince, go to border commanderies to fight enemies, force back the Prince of Zhongshan, but not speak a single word in court?”

Men who had just opened their mouths in teahouses and taverns were immediately refuted by women—not just idle noble ladies who spent their days in leisure, but young women and wives selling goods on the streets, and tavern hostesses.

There was no way around it; Empress Chu had done too many things that women weren’t supposed to do.

“It’s not about whether she can or cannot, it’s that she’s doing it wrong.”

“Each department and office in the court has its duties. The Empress had the Dragon Imperial Guards investigate the case. What are the Dragon Imperial Guards? They’re the Emperor’s guards.”

“They’re not officials, yet they break into homes to arrest whoever they want, set up private prisons, and torture people for confessions.”

“If Zheng Xia’s case involved someone abusing their power, isn’t the Empress doing the same by acting this way?”

Of course, the debate wouldn’t remain solely on a woman’s identity. After scholars in Confucian robes with elegant beards raised their questions, young girls and women who appeared in public no longer dared or knew how to respond.

Guards rushed through the streets. When people saw the dragon patterns on their robes, they hurriedly stepped aside without being told, their eyes filled with fear and trepidation.

The Dragon Imperial Guards were now seen as more than just the Emperor’s guards in the eyes of the people.

Besides witnessing the Dragon Imperial Guards nearly fighting with the capital’s soldiers, many private rumors were describing how Master Jiang was treated after being arrested, how the Dragon Imperial Guards broke into homes in Jingzhou, even kicking aside the Prefecture Governor—whoever they said was guilty was guilty.

“People are already using the Dragon Imperial Guards to frighten children, saying if they don’t behave, the Dragon Imperial Guards will take them away,” Qi Leyun said softly, with his sleeves rolled up and holding arrows in his hand.

In a waterside pavilion in the Imperial Garden, Chu Zhao was hosting an arrow-shooting contest.

Besides attending court, Chu Zhao regularly held banquets, inviting ladies from noble families—this was something an Empress should do.

When the Empress issued invitations, noble ladies had to come whether they wanted to or not.

Those who came but didn’t wish to please the Empress sat quietly, and the Empress didn’t mind. She went on with her amusements, and there were always those willing to accompany her. After all, even before becoming Empress, she had many companions.

The bonds between girlhood friends were difficult to sever and didn’t dissipate with status changes.

Zhou Jiang threw an arrow, and it landed securely in the vase.

“This rumor is the most effective,” she said. “Children don’t know how frightening the Dragon Imperial Guards are; they only know being taken away is scary. Then when everyone in the streets uses this to quiet their children, even if the Dragon Imperial Guards do nothing, they become villains who stop children from crying.”

Chu Tang leaned over slightly and asked Chu Zhao in a low voice: “Should I leave the capital first and move to the academy?”

Matters of court, with court officials pulling strings behind rumors, couldn’t be countered by girls like them or Little Rabbit and the others shouting in the streets.

Chu Zhao smiled: “Only if you beat me first.”

She threw her arrow, and it landed squarely in the vase.

Chu Tang sighed: “I don’t know archery or martial arts. How can I compete with you, Your Majesty?”

Despite her words, she took the arrows handed by the palace maids and enthusiastically participated in the game.

Chu Zhao turned to the girls and said: “I know there are accusations and slander against the Dragon Imperial Guards everywhere—” here she smiled, as she too had started calling the Dragon Imperial Guards by that name, “—the purpose is to slander me.”

She had known about these rumors for a long time, and knew even more—she even knew where some of the rumors originated.

All were recorded, but there was no need to break down doors and arrest everyone.

“Your Majesty,” Zhou Jiang suddenly asked, “why are you doing this? Do you think this is right?”

This was a challenge. The girls around them were startled.

No matter what, Chu Zhao was no longer the Chu Zhao of before—she was the Empress now.

Even Qi Leyun, who considered herself the most straightforward, changed her expression. Wasn’t that question too direct? To ask like that, didn’t it suggest the Empress was wrong?

People who liked chess thought and acted differently from others—

If Chu Zhao wanted to hit someone now, she probably wouldn’t need to do it herself; she had the Dragon Imperial Guards, thought Qi Leyun, who instinctively glanced around.

Chu Zhao’s expression didn’t change at all, as if she were being asked who would throw the next arrow.

“Are you talking about Zheng Xia’s case?” she said. “It’s simple. Because it’s a wrongful case.”

Zhou Jiang was taken aback.

“I discovered there were problems with the case,” Chu Zhao continued, taking the arrows handed by the palace maid. “And someone was pleading for justice, so naturally it needed to be investigated. It’s that simple.”

The other girls were still stunned, but Zhou Jiang’s expression showed sudden understanding.

It wasn’t about power struggles or showing off; it was simply because this was a wrongful case. She saw it, so she addressed it.

“I can’t watch someone cry for justice and ignore it.”

“Since I sit in court and look after the kingdom, I can’t turn a blind eye.”

“As for whether this is right or wrong…”

Chu Zhao looked at the bronze vase ahead, the smile fading from her face.

“Don’t ask me. Instead, ask why I had to do this, who forced me to act this way.”

“And what I need to do is only one thing.”

She threw the arrow, and it landed firmly in the bronze vase.

“Investigate the wrongful case, clear the innocent, and ensure the guilty cannot escape.”

…

…

In the summer twilight, Old Master Zhou, resting in the corridor to enjoy the cool air, pondered after hearing Zhou Jiang’s account and paused with a chess piece in his hand.

“I see,” he said, then shook his head with a smile. “Truly acting as she pleases.” He murmured, “The heart of a ruler.”

Zhou Jiang placed a chess piece and said: “Grandfather, I told you she was just addressing a wrongful case, not targeting the Grand Tutor and the others. She had no choice but to find another way because they forced her to. If you want to ask who’s right or wrong, ask the Grand Tutor.”

Old Master Zhou examined the chessboard and smiled: “If you asked the Grand Tutor, he would naturally say they would investigate the wrongful case, but the Empress shouldn’t overstep her boundaries.”

“Rules, rules, what rules?” Zhou Jiang placed another chess piece. “Isn’t it just because the Empress is a woman? Rules are made by people, and the Empress is also a person. Who says new rules can’t be made?”

Old Master Zhou laughed heartily, then looked at the chessboard and glared: “Who gave you permission to move pieces while I was distracted!”

Zhou Jiang placed another chess piece and smiled: “I won anyway.” With that, she lifted her skirt and ran off.

Old Master Zhou shook his head. The relatives waiting outside the courtyard gate hurried in, anxiously asking what had happened and what the Empress had said.

The Empress regularly held banquets for noble ladies, using them to help noble families understand her.

“Jiang directly asked the Empress if what she did was right,” Old Master Zhou said.

This sentence startled his relatives.

“How could that child be so reckless?” “Even court officials don’t criticize the Empress, yet she dared to question her.” “I said she shouldn’t go.”

“Will the Dragon Imperial Guards break down our door too?”

Old Master Zhou tapped the chessboard, silencing everyone.

“Court officials don’t ask, not because they don’t dare, but because they disdain to ask, to deliberately embarrass the Empress,” he said. “What the Empress needs most now is to be questioned, and Jiang asked well.”

The relatives quieted down, understanding Old Master Zhou’s meaning.

“Father,” one asked, “do you mean you approve of the Empress’s actions?”

Old Master Zhou said: “It’s not about whether I approve or not.” He looked at everyone. “Rather, the Empress’s actions are not wrong.”

“How are they not—” the relatives immediately began speaking chaotically. “Private guards—”

Old Master Zhou raised his voice: “Because she is the Empress, she is the ruler.”

His relatives immediately fell silent.

Old Master Zhou lowered his voice and continued slowly: “All of you, and so many others—have you forgotten that the Empress is also a sovereign? This Empress was also entrusted and appointed by the late Emperor to protect the country and support the young Emperor. Don’t treat her as just a woman. Think about it: when a ruler acts, if it’s wrong, whose fault is it?”

Court officials had a common saying:

The fault lies with the ministers.

“As court officials, if you don’t remonstrate, don’t speak, don’t act, what right do you have to say the ruler is wrong?”

His relatives remained silent, contemplative.

So that’s how it is—

Similar scenes played out in many households. Women and girls recounted what they had seen and heard at the Empress’s banquet, while the men of the family discussed it behind closed doors.

Such discussions, though not spread to teahouses and taverns, caused many to hold their tongues.

The angry debates in teahouses and taverns continued, but somehow they felt like damp firewood that couldn’t catch fire.

“No matter what, the Empress allowing the Dragon Imperial Guards to act this way is evil—” a man at a teahouse angrily pounded the table.

Some agreed.

Some kept their heads down, pouring wine without speaking.

Some turned to look out the window: “Nice weather today.”

Some simply put down their wine cups: “Master Xu, I came today to discuss business. If you don’t want to talk about it, let’s meet another day, or have your elder brother come. You can continue with your important matters.”

The angry man felt both frustrated and dejected. He wasn’t well-liked at home and had finally secured a silk business deal. He couldn’t hand it back to his elder brother.

“Your family has such a large business. How can you not care about this matter?” he frowned and said. “What if the Dragon Imperial Guards raid your shops and property—”

The man who had spoken earlier smiled: “Thank you for your concern, Master Xu. Our Xu family obeys the law, harms neither heaven nor principle, has a clear conscience, and fears nothing.”

What a statement—as if the Dragon Imperial Guards had become agents of heavenly justice. Master Xu wanted to say more, but the man who had been looking out the window suddenly called out: “Look, there’s a commotion outside—”

Commotion? What commotion?

Everyone looked outside, hearing the clamor from the street.

“Come and see! Jingzhou has sent a huge umbrella to the Empress—”

Umbrella?

Jingzhou?

Sent to the Empress?

They could no longer remain seated, and all went to the window to look at the street.