Pei Shaohuai did not know whether Yan Chengzhao was on duty inside the palace or outside the palace today. He thought of how thorough and meticulous an office the Southern Office of Judicial Review was — it must have its own system for conveying messages — and so he removed his authority token and handed it to Chang Zhou, adding: “Tell the embroidered-uniform guards to pass word to their commander — just say that there has been an incident at the theater.”
Pei Shaohuai did not know whether this opera performer was a private or official matter for Yan Chengzhao, but for the Prince’s household to make such a move, it was certainly nothing good.
“I understand.” Chang Zhou mounted his black horse and rode off.
Over at the theater, the young woman in blue had been carried away in the carriage. The Prince’s household male servants were still surrounding the theater in a circle, blockading all entry and exit.
There was little Pei Shaohuai could do without getting further involved — all he could do was what he had done. He stepped away at a measured pace and left.
The horse galloped like the wind.
Yan Chengzhao did not go to the theater — he went straight back to the Prince of Anping’s residence. His expression was cold and carrying a chill. He walked all the way into the main hall and sat down, and none of the servants dared step forward to block his path.
Before long, the old Prince arrived. Looking at the cold rage that emanated from Yan Chengzhao in the center of the hall, he was surprised his son had found out and returned so quickly.
In just a few years, the old Prince had aged a great deal. The imposing manner of authority he once carried — that air of absolute command — had diminished considerably.
He was holding the hand of the Prince’s young grandson, a child of three or four, dressed in embroidered silk robes. The child looked at Yan Chengzhao — stern-faced and unfamiliar — with some fear, and clung to his grandfather’s hand, hiding behind the door, unwilling to go in.
The old Prince picked up his grandson and forced out a stiff smile. He walked over and sat down beside Yan Chengzhao, gently rocking the child to soothe him, while saying: “I know your official duties keep you busy — it’s not easy for you to come back even once.”
He then added: “The kitchen is preparing the evening meal. Tonight the family will sit down together and have a proper dinner.”
Yan Chengzhao glanced at his father, watching him fuss over his grandson just like an ordinary old man. He could not tell — what was the meaning of this gentle tone? For whose benefit was it spoken?
Yan Chengzhao’s fingers were long, but each knuckle was slightly swollen, adding a certain hardness. His hand rested on the armrest of the grand chair — only his fingertips moved, and the veins beneath the skin rose.
The old Prince lifted the grandson from his knee and coaxed him: “This is your Second Uncle — go on, call him Second Uncle.”
After the separation of households, it was not as though Yan Chengzhao had never returned. It was just that each visit was like going through official formalities — he never lingered.
The child was timid by nature, and on top of that, this second uncle was a stranger to him. He only gripped his grandfather’s sleeve tightly and refused to let go, not daring to stray even half a step from the old Prince’s side.
Yan Chengzhao looked at his nephew — innocent and unknowing — and managed for the moment to hold back the full force of his anger, though there was nothing like warmth in his expression either.
The old Prince coaxed the child, and at last the little boy looked up at Yan Chengzhao and called out in a small, timid voice: “Se… Second Uncle.”
“That’s right — this is Little Ju’s Second Uncle. Nothing to be afraid of.” The old Prince beamed with delight, then said: “Little Ju, you like playing with your little wooden sword, don’t you? Go fetch it quickly and show it to Second Uncle. One of these days we’ll have Second Uncle take you to the Southern Office of Judicial Review to play — just look at the style on Second Uncle’s embroidered spring blade.”
The child, having received his grandfather’s permission, was off in a flash, vanishing out the door — who could say whether he would come back with his little wooden sword or not.
The embroidered spring blade’s scabbard was carved with elaborate patterns, which only made the hand gripping it seem more icy.
The old Prince murmured on: “Little Ju has been raised by my side since he was small. He loves playing at swords and weapons. He’s a little timid now, but he’ll grow out of it once he’s older…”
Yan Chengzhao’s anger spilled over. He asked: “Where is she?”
The old Prince stared at him blankly. He could not tolerate his second son daring to speak to him this way — from the moment he came through the door, he hadn’t even called out “Father” once. Fury rose within him. His palm struck the tea table hard, sending the tea sloshing and spilling out. He said: “I have gone to great lengths for your benefit, helping you plug the gaps in your situation, and this is how you speak to me? She is nothing more than a female performer with a somewhat pleasing appearance — is she worth putting you at odds with your own family? One man’s female entertainer who is nothing to speak of!”
His nostrils flared with hot breath, his beard trembling.
The old Prince continued: “There are rules about marriage and restrictions on taking excessive concubines. If people were to learn that you have disregarded the laws of the imperial clan on marriage, and privately kept a female entertainer on the outside — and if, heaven forbid, she were to have a child… Would you not fear that the censors at court would submit memorials impeaching you for defiling the imperial bloodline, corrupting the lineage of the realm, and bringing disgrace upon the symbols of authority?”
The marriages and concubine arrangements of the imperial clan were no trivial matter. There were ancestral precepts and clan codes to follow: one must select a woman from a respectable family, submit a memorial requesting an official title, wait for the command to be issued, and only then could the marriage be contracted.
If one failed to submit such a memorial and took a woman in secret, any children born from such a union were considered “illegitimate.” Such children had no right to a noble title, were not entered in the imperial jade register, were not recognized in the clan’s rolls, and were treated as commoners.
And it was easy for censors to submit impeachment memorials, citing improper conduct. The supervising secretaries of the Rites Bureau kept a very close watch on such matters.
“Would you not fear losing the Emperor’s favor, losing your power and authority?” The old Prince pressed, question after question.
Among the entire line of the Prince of Anping’s household, Yan Chengzhao alone still retained military authority, deeply trusted by the Emperor.
The Prince was old, the heir apparent was incompetent, and the young grandson was still small.
“I am grateful that Father still concerns himself with your son’s marriage.” Yan Chengzhao said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Yan Chengzhao was already twenty-five, and it was most unusual for a man of that age to still be unmarried. Were it not for the fact that he served as Commander of the Southern Office of Judicial Review and stood in close attendance on the Emperor, there was no telling how many unpleasant rumors would have been circulating about him.
There had been one — and only one — occasion: the old Prince had attempted to pressure Yan Chengzhao into a forced marriage alliance with the Jingchuan Earl’s household.
And it was precisely that occasion which had caused the old Prince’s words to gradually lose all effect in his son’s ears.
The old Prince’s expression flickered with a trace of embarrassment. He covered it and said: “In the past, I was remiss as a father — I only concerned myself with your career and neglected your family life. Now I am trying to make it up to you. I had no choice but to resort to this scheme on your behalf.”
“This is what I had in mind.” The old Prince set aside his anger and laid out his plan: “We select a respectable woman from a good family, submit a memorial for the marriage, have her bear your eldest son — so everything is above board and the succession of your title is legitimate. I know you are drawn to that young woman in blue, so here is the idea: we have her enter the household as a secondary wife alongside the main wife, concealing her origins. Any children she bears for you would not be illegitimate — they would have proper standing. Would that not be the better arrangement?” He paused and added: “This way you are protected from impeachment, and your wishes are fulfilled as well.”
This scheme, laid out in full, sounded as though it was carefully planned entirely for Yan Chengzhao’s benefit.
Yan Chengzhao feigned a look of being moved. He asked: “Father has taken such trouble to plan all this on your son’s behalf. I wonder — what is it that Father wishes your son to do for the family?”
He pressed his father to state his conditions plainly.
Just then, the child who had gone out earlier came back, holding a small wooden sword, hovering at the doorway and not daring to come in.
“Little Ju, come here.” The old Prince waved him over, and conveniently used the grandson’s arrival as a moment to make his purpose known. He said: “Your elder brother is indeed incompetent, in every way inferior to you. You have studied and trained diligently from a young age, and were able to seize your opportunity before the Emperor — you have made something of yourself… However, for a household of the Prince of Anping’s standing, there are always the rules of the imperial clan to contend with, and the hierarchy of birth order cannot be abandoned.”
What he implied was: no matter how incapable the eldest son might be, the rank of Commandery Prince could only pass to him through legitimate succession, and then to the eldest grandson.
“The Prince of Anping’s household has maintained its place in the capital on the strength of a measure of military merit and military authority. Now my voice in the military carries no weight, and your elder brother’s carries even less — those who bore old grudges against him are taking the opportunity to strike while he is down.” The old Prince’s eyes held a trace of desolation as he continued: “Little Ju is still small, but he is a clever child. If you — his Second Uncle — could lend him your support and give him opportunities, once he has established himself someday, that will be the moment of the Prince of Anping’s household’s renewed rise.”
Just as Yan Chengzhao had suspected — the gentle tone tonight was not for his benefit.
It was only meant to use him as an instrument to prop up the household’s eldest grandson.
Yan Chengzhao lowered his head. His fingers pushed the sword hilt and then drew back, repeating the motion, producing a rasping, sliding sound. He asked: “Which family’s daughter has Father chosen for your son?”
It seemed as though he was agreeing.
The old Prince was delighted, and replied: “She is the legitimate daughter of Deputy Censor-in-Chief Wang — a girl from a fine family.”
“And the Wang family’s daughter is willing?”
“Of course — this has all been discussed.” The old Prince replied.
Only Yan Chengzhao’s nod of agreement was needed, and the old Prince could submit the request to the Imperial Clan Court to formally proceed with the marriage.
Yan Chengzhao asked again: “Has Father sent her to the Wang household?” By “her” he meant the young woman in blue.
The old Prince nodded and said: “Don’t worry — she’s not being made to truly serve as a slave. It’s only to give her the identity of a bridal attendant.”
Yan Chengzhao gave a cold laugh. Such a ploy from the inner quarters — it was clearly not something his father had come up with himself.
Having drawn out all he needed to know, Yan Chengzhao took hold of his embroidered spring blade and rose abruptly to his feet, startling the child, who shrank back toward his grandfather. Yan Chengzhao said: “Such a fine match — your son is not deserving of it.”
With those words, he strode toward the door.
The old Prince, having been played for a fool by his son, was beside himself with rage. He called out to Yan Chengzhao’s retreating back: “Without my memorial petition, do you plan to go unmarried for the rest of your life?”
Yan Chengzhao stopped in his tracks. The light from outside cast his shadow on the wall of the hall behind him. He recalled a certain conversation he had heard years ago, and said: “A man mired in the muddy depths has no right to pull others down into it with him.”
A crash of tea and shattered porcelain rang out. Yan Chengzhao paid it no heed and walked out of the Prince of Anping’s residence at a swift pace.
Back on his fine horse, riding fast as the wind once more.
The moment he entered the Southern Office of Judicial Review, Yan Chengzhao instructed his deputy: “Take the authority token and a team of men to the household of Deputy Censor-in-Chief Wang and retrieve the person. If anyone tries to obstruct you, investigate the Wang household’s accounts.”
“Yes, sir.”
The deputy asked: “Commander, what is to be done about the young woman in blue and the theater?”
Yan Chengzhao felt resigned. The Southern Office of Judicial Review had lost another hidden post, and it had been ruined by the Prince of Anping’s household at that. He thought for a moment and said: “Restore their civilian registration and arrange for them to be sent in different groups to various prefectures and counties and settled properly. As for the theater — burn it down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Since it was Pei Shaohuai who had passed the word to Yan Chengzhao, he inevitably paid some attention to what happened afterward. The Embroidered Uniform Guard moved quickly and efficiently. Pei Shaohuai could not gather much information, but it was enough for him to piece together the general outline.
He next saw Yan Chengzhao half a month later, when Yan Chengzhao came to the Six Offices of Scrutiny to thank Pei Shaohuai.
Pei Shaohuai joked with Yan Chengzhao: “What a pity — Commander Yan was on duty away from the palace to attend to serious official business, while I’m on duty at the Six Offices with nothing to impeach or censure at the moment.”
“A skilled enough pen can find cause to impeach in anything.” Yan Chengzhao said. “My thanks are delivered. I’ll be going now.”
After Yan Chengzhao left, Deputy Official Gu poked his head around the door, then walked in and asked: “Official Pei, are you and Commander Yan well acquainted?”
Pei Shaohuai replied: “Not well acquainted — purely a professional association.” Then he asked: “Does Deputy Official Gu have something?”
“Good — not well acquainted.” Deputy Official Gu said. “I’ve written an impeachment memorial. I’d like Official Pei to second it in tomorrow morning’s court session.” He opened the memorial and set it on Pei Shaohuai’s desk.
Pei Shaohuai glanced at it and read: “… The Commander of the Southern Office of Judicial Review galloped off for the sake of a female performer… Deputy Censor-in-Chief Wang allowed his household servants to abduct a commoner woman…”
Pei Shaohuai said awkwardly: “The second part here has some merit for impeachment. But the first part — that is truly unnecessary.” And he declined Deputy Official Gu’s request.
“A full Commander of the Southern Office, going through all that trouble for a mere female opera performer — is that not worth impeaching?” Deputy Official Gu said in disbelief.
Pei Shaohuai replied: “If Deputy Official Gu wishes to find a reason to submit a memorial in order to have something to say in court, that is his prerogative. But in your subordinate’s view, a brush is wielded in the Six Offices to argue what is right, and paper gains its worth by recording sound policy — that is the true duty of a supervising secretary.”
Deputy Official Gu’s face flushed with embarrassment. He took back the memorial and muttered as he walked away: “I’ll go back and reconsider this…”
Pei Shaohuai thought to himself: “Galloped off for the sake of a female performer” — Yan Chengzhao had galloped urgently back to the Prince’s residence. Was that truly for the sake of the young woman in blue?