The early summer breeze was cool and refreshing by nature, yet for Elder Councilor Lou, it felt like the chill of autumn.

He recalled in a daze what the Emperor had just said, and only then, belatedly, did he realize that the Emperor had already given him a chance — yet he had failed to seize that last remaining thread of warmth, and instead had been preoccupied with the position of the Minister of Revenue.

The Emperor placed a white go piece between two fingers onto the stone board. The piece wobbled and swayed before finally coming to rest.

Round, or flat?

The basket had not yet been overturned. If Elder Councilor Lou were to take the initiative, the matter could still be smoothed over. If he spared the Emperor from difficulty, the Emperor would naturally leave him a measure of dignity in return.

“Flat” and “demote” were homophones. If he refused, the Emperor, out of old sentiment, would not have him killed — but an imperial edict of demotion would be unavoidable, and the current Grand Councilor would find himself cast away to some desolate, remote corner of the land.

Lou Yuxing was not without the wisdom to choose. It was that his mind was in turmoil now, regret surging up within him, causing his goatee to tremble as he opened his mouth without knowing where to begin.

The Emperor spoke: “In the blink of an eye, it has nearly been twenty years. How quickly time passes…” He was no longer the isolated, helpless First Prince of those years, and Lou Yuxing was no longer the Lou Xiansheng who had devoted himself singularly to preserving the imperial orthodox line.

Elder Councilor Lou grew somewhat clearer-headed. With quiet desolation, he said slowly: “This old servant has been too absorbed in the craft of political maneuvering and has failed in his oversight duties — the fault cannot be denied. Moreover, I am advanced in years and no longer capable of bearing the heavy responsibilities of the Grand Council. I humbly implore Your Majesty’s benevolence to permit this old servant to retire to his hometown to live out his remaining years in peace…”

The Emperor continued to gaze at Lou Yuxing, as though waiting for him to go on.

An affair of this magnitude — could the Emperor possibly deal only with Lou Yuxing alone? Lou Yuxing’s disciples had already established considerable standing in the court, enough to sustain the entire Hexi Faction.

“This old servant’s disciples — I likewise entreat Your Majesty to grant them leave to withdraw from office on grounds of illness.”

As for those who had directly committed offenses, they could only accept punishment unto death.

“We grant it.”

With those two sentences, Lou Yuxing had signified that the once supremely dominant Hexi Faction would henceforth decline and vanish from the court — like a great, lush tree stripped of its trunk.

In the days that followed, the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Rites grew exceedingly busy. On one hand, a number of capital officials were approaching the end of their evaluation periods, and the Emperor issued edicts dispatching them to serve as officials in various regions. On the other hand, a number of senior officials, either on account of old age or illness, submitted memorials requesting retirement and return to their hometowns. Taken together, these two circumstances resulted in no small number of positional changes throughout the court.

Acting on the Emperor’s command, the Ministry of Rites and the Court of Imperial Entertainments prepared fine wine and food to honorably send off Elder Councilor Lou upon his retirement. The matter had come so suddenly that it proved impossible to prepare fully within a few short days. The farewell banquet was kept brief and minimal — nothing approaching the splendor that had attended Elder Councilor Zou’s departure in years past.

In those days, how many disciples and officials had wept and pleaded, voice upon voice, for Elder Councilor Zou to stay, following him to the riverside landing, sleeves waving in tearful farewell. Lou Yuxing had looked upon all of that with contempt at the time — yet now that his own turn had come, listening to the hollow, perfunctory pleasantries, he finally understood just how laughable he himself had been.

At the riverside landing, Lou Yuxing boarded the vessel in quiet desolation. As he turned back for one last look at the capital, he suddenly caught sight of a rider raising a plume of dust near the relay station — a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

“Elder Councilor Lou, this subordinate comes under His Majesty’s orders, bearing this item in farewell to the Xiansheng.” The Embroidered Uniform Guard produced a rolled scroll, then continued: “His Majesty says that this was a gift from Xiansheng to His Majesty upon his first ascension to the throne, and that His Majesty has kept it hanging in the Imperial Study as a constant admonishment to himself, finding great use in its wisdom. Now that Xiansheng departs, His Majesty returns it.”

“His Majesty also says — that he will not forget, for the rest of his life, what Xiansheng once taught him…”

Lou Yuxing, who had shed his deep crimson official robes and was once again dressed in the plain blue robes of a scholar, let his tears fall in quiet sorrow. His trembling hands unrolled the scroll, and there, written in bold and vigorous strokes, was a line from the Guanzi — Seven Ministers and Seven Sovereigns:

“When the ruler values virtue, upright men stand before him; when the ruler values profit, men of slander and flattery stand at his side.”

Its meaning: when a ruler governs with enlightenment and benevolence, those of upright character and true ability are appointed to positions of importance. When a ruler pursues fame and profit, those who speak ill of others and offer honeyed flattery remain ever at his side.

This had been written to admonish the newly enthroned Emperor.

The truth of it was: the Emperor had stumbled along an errant path more than once, yet in the end had managed to hold to this precept. Lou Yuxing, however — at some point he no longer knew — had long since forgotten his original heart and become a man who chased after profit.

Just as Pei Shaohuai had anticipated, the matter stirred no small commotion throughout the court.

The Hexi Faction, headed by Lou Yuxing, had been dismantled in a single stroke. Had no grave offense been uncovered, would the Hexi Faction have submitted so willingly? Civil and military officials speculated in private, and opinions abounded.

Perhaps it was the Emperor’s deliberate intention, or perhaps something else entirely — but whispers about the Illustrated Guide to Feminine Virtue and the demon tract had begun to leak out, stripped of their specific details. For the seasoned “old foxes” of the court, these whispers alone were sufficient to piece together a general picture — though none would bring it to the open surface.

The truth had come to light.

Thereafter, the attention of the court turned to the vacant official positions, as everyone quietly awaited the deliberations to fill them.

On the day court dismissed, the Grand Council filed out first, followed by the Six Ministries, and then the Nine Courts — departing the great hall in order. As his rank was low, Pei Shaohuai was among the very last to leave the hall.

Pei Jue deliberately slowed his steps to an extreme crawl, and after Pei Shaohuai emerged, he unhurriedly fell into step beside him, walking shoulder to shoulder.

The red and green official robes side by side made for a striking sight, yet Pei Jue seemed entirely indifferent to the gazes of others.

With a quality that was equal parts gloating and mockery, Pei Jue said: “Does Censor Pei consider himself to have won?”

Pei Shaohuai had no interest in responding. He straightened his court tablet and quickened his steps. But Pei Jue promptly matched the pace and continued in a low voice: “The Grand Councilor has retired, the Hexi Faction has lost its footing, and the opposing camp has been routed — on the surface, the results seem rather favorable. Only…”

The mocking undertone in Pei Jue’s words grew even more pronounced as he continued: “Only — what has Censor Pei actually obtained? Has maritime trade been opened? Has the national treasury been enriched? Have the people’s livelihoods improved? At the very least, one might expect a promotion of a rank or half — surely it cannot be that things stand exactly as before, with nothing gained and no progress made whatsoever.”

The implication was plain: Pei Shaohuai had not truly “won.”

As one of the Emperor’s closest attendants, Pei Jue appeared to know considerably more.

“Is Minister Pei revisiting old matters and wishing once again to speak of joining forces?” Pei Shaohuai replied with pointed irony. “That tone of yours hardly conveys sincerity.”

“I would not presume to press anyone against their will,” Pei Jue demurred, then added: “I merely wished to offer Censor Pei a word of reminder — regardless of who has been toppled, so long as one’s aspirations remain unfulfilled and nothing has been gained, it cannot be called a victory. Only what is firmly grasped in one’s own hands is truly and concretely real.”

The passage from Taihe Hall to the offices of the Six Censors was long — more than sufficient for a great many words.

Pei Jue’s parting remark was: “Take care not to be used as a blade by others without ever knowing it.”

Pei Shaohuai glanced sidelong at him and caught the keen glint that had surfaced in Pei Jue’s eyes. He thought privately: if there were nothing to be gained, this nominal great-uncle of his would never have gone out of his way to come over and spend the effort of delivering such “counsel.”

It was evident that Pei Jue also believed the demon tract case still had room for deeper investigation.

Perhaps the Illustrated Guide to Feminine Virtue and the demon tract had indeed originated from the Hexi Faction’s hand — but who was to say it was not all part of a chain of double-cross schemes?

Pei Jue’s mind ran deep. No wonder the Emperor had been willing to retain him in service even after his descendants had committed grave offenses.

Because this blade was sufficiently dark.

“Drawing conclusions at this point is far too premature.” Pei Shaohuai abruptly stopped walking. Pei Jue’s next step had too much momentum to halt in time, and he stumbled slightly — only to hear Pei Shaohuai say, “Does Minister Pei not also wish to use me as a blade?”

His purpose laid bare, Pei Jue’s expression did not flicker in the slightest.

Having been needled the entire way, Pei Shaohuai decided to needle back. He said: “The clay bodhisattva can barely keep itself from being swept away by the current — and yet you still have the leisure to wade into these murky waters?”

“Watching a fire from the opposite shore — no matter the circumstance, who would ever object to earning more merit?” Pei Jue replied.

“Then I wish Minister Pei every success in earning his merit.” Pei Shaohuai continued walking forward. Pei Jue did not follow.

With Elder Councilor Lou’s retirement, the position of Grand Councilor stood vacant, and Wuying Hall along with it.

By established convention, seniority within the cabinet determined succession: upon the Grand Councilor’s retirement, the Deputy Grand Councilor would take his place. Though the Emperor had yet to issue the formal edict, civil and military officials throughout the court had already tacitly accepted Elder Councilor Shen of Wenhua Hall as the incoming Grand Councilor. Documents and correspondence flowed in steadily from all directions, and Wenhua Hall had grown a great deal busier.

Elder Councilor Shen maintained his characteristic gentle amiability. He treated juniors and subordinates with warmth, and habitually deliberated with the heads of the Six Ministries and Nine Courts before reaching decisions — nothing like Elder Councilor Lou’s tendency toward unilateral authority.

His reputation in the court was quite fine.

When the topic of opening maritime trade arose once again in the court, the opposition remained far from sparse. Elder Councilor Shen claimed to stand on Pei Shaohuai’s side, yet said: “This subject reports to Your Majesty: though Censor Pei is young in years, his vision reaches far. The many benefits of opening maritime trade need no further elaboration. This old servant also believes that opening maritime trade can bring new livelihoods to the people and is an undertaking that must be carried out. However, when any endeavor moves too swiftly, there will inevitably be insufficient preparation and overlooked details. It would be better to implement it on a trial basis and advance gradually — in the south, there is already Taicang and Songjiang; in the north, Jiaozhou may be added. After three to five years, further expansions can be considered at a steady pace.”

This position won the support of many censors and remonstrance officials.

In truth, this placed Pei Shaohuai in an exceedingly awkward position. Direct opponents he could still argue against openly — but Elder Councilor Shen’s words, which appeared supportive while in reality delaying, gave Pei Shaohuai nowhere to direct his efforts.

The coastal prefectures of Guangzhou and Chaozhou in the southeast, the entire Fujian and Zhejiang Administrative Commissions — these were precisely the places most urgently in need of opened maritime trade, and also the places where official-merchant ties ran deepest. Yet Elder Councilor Shen deliberately avoided mentioning any of these, and under the pretext of “one south, one north,” selected Jiaozhou instead.

Fortunately, the Emperor showed partiality, and merely replied that the matter would be revisited in time, declining to agree outright.

It was that very evening that word came back from Pei Shaohuai’s father-in-law, Minister Yang. The investigators had indeed traced and uncovered a great deal.

The two men, father-in-law and son-in-law, deliberated deep into the night and resolved that Pei Shaohuai would first report the matter to the Emperor, after which the Court of Judicial Review would conduct a thorough investigation.

The following day, within Qianqing Palace.

What surprised Pei Shaohuai was that the Emperor, upon hearing Pei Shaohuai’s report, showed no astonishment whatsoever. He praised Pei Shaohuai for the depth of his discernment and said: “Boyuan, since it was you who uncovered this matter, let it be you who leads the Court of Judicial Review in making the arrest and carrying out the subsequent interrogation.”

“This subject obeys the command.”

Pei Shaohuai felt an inward twinge, as though he had received a credit he had not entirely earned.

Before Wenhua Hall, the personnel of the Court of Judicial Review had already encircled the entire hall. Inside the central chamber, Elder Councilor Shen was alone, and appeared not yet to have sensed that anything had happened — still diligently attending to the documents before him.

The documents on the table were stacked in pile after pile, reaching as high as his white hair. His official black hat rested at the front-left corner of the writing desk. The tea at his side had not yet been touched and had already gone cold.

Pei Shaohuai said to Minister Yang: “After all, there is the bond of teacher and student between us. Allow me to go in and say a few words to him.”

Minister Yang gave a nod.

Pei Shaohuai entered without announcement, his footsteps quiet. It was only when a long shadow fell across the writing desk that Elder Councilor Shen at last raised his head.

Seeing it was Pei Shaohuai, Elder Councilor Shen set down his brush and smiled warmly: “Boyuan, what brings you here?”

“Elder Councilor Shen.” Pei Shaohuai performed a respectful bow — for the last time.

“There are no outsiders here — you and I share the bond of teacher and student, there is no need for such formality.” Seeing that Pei Shaohuai’s expression had turned somewhat cold, Elder Councilor Shen assumed he harbored some grievance and added: “Are you angered over yesterday’s matter? This official also had your interests at heart. The road ahead is still long — if you were to make an error by moving too hastily, would that not invite criticism? How would you sustain yourself over the long course?”

“Boyuan, set your mind at ease. Since your mentor has acknowledged the foresight of your vision, there will surely come a day when it is vigorously implemented. It is only that right now, the moment has not yet arrived…”

Elder Councilor Shen continued speaking without pause.

“Elder Councilor Shen.” Pei Shaohuai interrupted him and asked directly: “When the provincial administrators of the two circuits in the Jiangnan heartland came to the capital, they did not seek audience with the sovereign — instead, they met with you in private. What is the reason for this?”

On that demon tract printing block, had it been engraved with “Hu Yi” or “Zou Yi” rather than “Shen Yi,” Pei Shaohuai would never have directed his suspicion toward Elder Councilor Shen.

A Deputy Grand Councilor who had never allowed his edge to show before the Grand Councilor — why would the Hexi Faction go to the trouble of framing and bringing him down?

Just as with the altered examination results during the Palace Examination — suppressing oneself in order to rise higher afterward. Elder Councilor Shen understood the Emperor’s temperament far too well.