A private act of punishment carried out within the family’s walls — to send the “extra” firstborn son into the palace, to bind him through blood and kinship, and have him win wealth and status for the family.

What cruelty.

In all of this, Huang’s scheming and her vicious suggestions were no doubt involved — yet at the root of it, the fault lay entirely with that man unworthy of the name father, who had acted out of selfish desire, heartless and ruthless.

Neither of them was anything but vile.

The room was quiet for a long while. Pei Shaohuai did not know what to say, and could only wait in silence as Xiao Jin gradually composed himself.

The smoke from the kitchen had gradually thinned. Xiao Jin’s nose was sharp — he knew it was time for the evening meal. He adjusted his lower garment, rose to his feet, and said: “All that this servant has said can be traced and verified. Your Lordship will have ways to confirm it.” He gave a slight bow and apologized: “Coming here without announcement today, saying things better left unsaid — I have troubled Lord Pei.”

He had said what he had come to say. What happened next was for Pei Shaohuai to decide.

Before leaving, Xiao Jin could not help but add one final word: “In the Eastern Palace, there are malicious servants who abuse the Crown Prince’s generous nature to lord it over others. If Your Lordship has any intention of dealing with them, please spare their lives.” He paused, then explained: “The Crown Prince’s nature is too gentle and kind — he holds the good memories of people in his heart.”

Not their treachery and wickedness.

“Why does Chief Eunuch Xiao not deal with them himself?”

“Though a eunuch carries the word ‘official’ in his title, in the end he is nothing more than a servant. The more one acts, the more one is guarded against.”

After Xiao Jin departed, Pei Shaohuai remained in the reception room deep in thought.

Night had fallen. By lamplight, shadows played strange.

Of Xiao Jin’s words this evening, Pei Shaohuai believed three or four parts. That the Emperor wished to pass the throne to the Eastern Palace, and that Hu Qi and Wang Gaoxiang schemed to use the Crown Prince as a weapon — these two points, at least, were beyond doubt.

Pei Shaohuai had a faint feeling that the adversaries he had encountered on his journey south were beginning to stir once more, ready to show their fox-tails again.

The methods by which those adversaries stirred up trouble were often subtle and unseen. Those who jumped out in plain sight were very likely nothing but chess pieces being manipulated to confuse and mislead. This time, Pei Shaohuai would not act alone on impulse.

As the southern scholar had said — let the field grow green through the season, and when the harvest comes, the weeds and tares will reveal themselves on their own.

……

Searching through the Board of Rites’ records, Pei Shaohuai sent Chang Zhou on a trip to a village in the southern outskirts of the capital called Xiao Village — not to confirm Xiao Jin’s identity, but to learn how Xiao Jin had handled his “family affairs.”

“The household Your Lordship asked me to find — according to the villagers, it disappeared decades ago. They say the man wore himself out on corvée labor and was carried back home, and within two days he had breathed his last. At the time, his son was still young, and the clan relatives devoured the estate. The widowed mother took the boy and remarried into a place called Gao Village.” Chang Zhou reported. “I made another trip to Gao Village as well. Huang died some years ago. Her son took the surname Gao, and having no land or fields, could not find a wife, so he became a live-in son-in-law for another family, making a living by chopping firewood and burning charcoal on the mountain.”

So it seemed Xiao Jin had long ago sent his father “on his way” — and then stopped.

Chang Zhou continued: “The villagers also said that since no one burned incense or made offerings, the man’s grave was swallowed up by weeds. In a year of famine, refugees flooded in from Baoding Prefecture, and the court gave permission to open wasteland for cultivation — the grave mound was likely dug up long ago.”

Listening to Chang Zhou’s account, Pei Shaohuai seemed to see it — a young boy newly entered into the palace, small and cautious, working to find his footing one careful step at a time, accumulating rewards one fraction at a time, until his hands had enough reach — and then, without hesitation, he struck back.

……

……

On the morning of the Lantern Festival.

Yang Shiyue finished arranging her hair and, thinking of the special nature of this day, opened her vanity box, took out the gold frog and agate lotus-leaf jade-foot hairpin, and pinned it into the back of her hair bun.

Though many years had passed, the hairpin was still as lustrous and new as ever.

Then came the sound of steady, light footsteps behind her. The one who had entered was Pei Shaohuai. He was dressed in his official robes and stood behind his wife, saying: “Madam looks truly beautiful.”

Then he gently removed the gold frog hairpin and drew from his sleeve a gold-set jade ruyi hairpin, pinning it in the same place. He smiled and said: “Madam need not think poorly of your husband’s taste — all you need know is that this ruyi hairpin carries a wish: that every day from this day on may bring you all you could wish for.”

The Lantern Festival was the anniversary of the day they had first met and begun to harbor feelings for one another.

“Will my husband be going to court today?” Yang Shiyue turned around and straightened his official robe for him.

Pei Shaohuai nodded and said: “With the evaluation approaching, the business of setting the examination questions must be properly arranged.”

Yang Shiyue took a round jade pendant from her sleeve and helped Pei Shaohuai fasten it to his sash. She said: “Your wife hopes for husband’s safety and peace.” The jade pendant was carved in open-work with the figure of a sacred elephant — an elephant for great peace, a guardian of safety and a guardian of the realm.

Married now for several years, she knew well the hopes and ambitions of her husband.

……

On the Lantern Festival, most palace departments were lightly staffed — but the Office of Merit Evaluation was fully present, and a good number of vice directors had been called over from the Six Ministries to assist with the work of reviewing the capital officials’ performance records and compiling them into ledgers.

Regarding the examination questions, Pei Shaohuai had considered several approaches. After comparing them, he determined that it would be most appropriate for the primary officials of the Six Ministries and the Nine Courts to jointly draft the question types and question banks, with the Emperor then selecting the final questions — this approach would carry more persuasive weight.

If Pei Shaohuai were to draft everything himself, suspicions of “ruling single-handedly” or “leaking questions to his associates” would inevitably arise.

After a full day of work, Pei Shaohuai left office half an hour earlier than usual. That evening, he was to take his wife and children through the streets to see the lanterns — Little Nan and Little Feng had been looking forward to it for a long time, and he could not break his promise.

The moon hung like a silver plate mirrored in the treetops; lanterns across the bustling markets shone like scattered stars.

Pei Shaohuai lifted Little Feng onto his shoulders. Little Feng held a small rabbit lantern in his left hand and a small sugar figurine in his right, exclaiming with delight every now and then — his eyes simply not enough to take everything in. The Lantern Festival in the capital truly was far livelier and grander than what they had seen in Fujian.

When he grew too eager, Little Feng used Pei Shaohuai’s hair crown as a “baton,” shaking it and calling out: “Father, Father — to the left, to the left!”

Little Nan was equally excited. He held his mother’s hand firmly, looking all around, standing on his tiptoes from time to time and pointing at some novelty, asking: “Mother, what is that?”

After they had walked to their hearts’ content, Pei Shaohuai brought Little Nan and Little Feng to Fan Garden, which was lively without being crowded.

Little Nan and Little Feng met up with Xu’er Ge’er and the Xu family’s siblings. The ladies led them to guess lantern riddles, freeing Pei Shaohuai to sit and rest in a stone pavilion.

Not long after, an elderly man leading a young man walked over — closer, Pei Shaohuai recognized them as Astronomer-in-Chief Wu of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau and his grandson Wu Jianqing.

Three years prior, when Pei Shaohuai had journeyed south, it had been this grandfather and grandson who had divined the hexagram of the “Treading” sign — “Mercury bright and radiant, a capable official serving the people” — and reported it to the Emperor.

Jianqing — “cheaply light” — the name suggested the boy’s fortune had not been favorable in youth, and that his grandfather had given him a humble name in hopes of seeing him grow safely to adulthood.

Pei Shaohuai quickly rose and bowed: “Astronomer-in-Chief Wu — it has been a long time.” He then turned to Wu Jianqing and praised: “In just a few years, young nephew has already grown this tall.”

The young man bowed properly, saying: “Greetings to Lord Pei.” He was a young man of few words. In the dim evening light, Wu Jianqing’s pair of eyes shone clear and bright.

Astronomer-in-Chief Wu said with a cheerful smile: “The hexagram of old — ‘discern above and below, establish the people’s resolve, and bestow blessings upon ten thousand people’ — it has proven itself true.”

Whether “discern” or “resolve,” both fit closely with everything Pei Shaohuai had said and done.

“The reminder Astronomer-in-Chief Wu gave me then — ‘cold years do not favor the growth of wood; without wood, farming cannot thrive’ — has benefited this junior greatly.” Pei Shaohuai said graciously.

The meaning was: prolonged cold winters damage the harvest, and without harvests, farmers cannot survive.

“Accomplishment lies with the man — the old fellow’s offhand remark hardly counts as a reminder.” Astronomer-in-Chief Wu’s expression remained the same genial, pleasantries-making face — yet he suddenly lowered his voice so that only Pei Shaohuai could hear, and said using minimal lip movement: “Lord Pei’s birth hour and year correspond to the element of wood. When this old fellow spoke those words back then, he did not think carefully enough. Your Lordship would do well not to mention this to others in the future, lest it be seized upon by ill-intentioned parties.”

Astronomer-in-Chief Wu was being very cautious.

Pei Shaohuai’s heart skipped a beat, yet his expression held its easy smile.

Astronomer-in-Chief Wu was right. In this world, celestial omens and divined signs were more potent than rumors.

Pei Shaohuai had indeed neglected this superstitious side of the world.

Astronomer-in-Chief Wu returned to his normal voice and said cheerfully: “My grandson is nearly of an age to take a wife, and a suitable match has yet to be found. I’ve brought him out for the Lantern Festival, to walk about and see if some affinity presents itself.”

The position of Astronomer-in-Chief at the Imperial Astronomical Bureau was hereditary. Astronomer-in-Chief Wu’s only son had died young, and his position would pass to Wu Jianqing — which made finding Wu Jianqing a suitable match genuinely difficult.

Families of standing would not wish to have their daughters marry into such a household. For one, those who observe the heavens were said to have thin blessings in this life, with life and death uncertain. For another, generation after generation would be confined to the small plot of land that was the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.

“Then I shall not take up Astronomer-in-Chief Wu’s time. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.”

After they had walked away, Wu Jianqing asked his grandfather quietly: “Why?”

Astronomer-in-Chief Wu pointed up at the fourth star of the Big Dipper and asked: “In your view — did the Star of Literary Excellence come first, or did the top scholar come first?”

“The stars have existed since ancient times.” Wu Jianqing assumed the Star of Literary Excellence came first.

“Wrong.” Astronomer-in-Chief Wu explained: “If people had never seen the glory of those who earned great honors, who would have ever worshipped the Star of Literary Excellence? Therefore — first come the capable men and wise ministers, and only then do the signs of peace appear in the heavens. And capable men and wise ministers are encountered perhaps once in a hundred years.”

Wu Jianqing nodded.

Astronomer-in-Chief Wu continued: “To divine is to observe the heavens — and to guard the heart.” For some reason, his face showed a look of quiet worry as he instructed: “No matter what comes, Jianqing — you must guard your heart.”

……

Once the Lantern Festival holiday ended and officials returned to their posts, the court grew “lively” once more.

The censors, who had held their tongues for half a month, began a new year of sharp-tongued accusations and written denunciations.

Among their targets, the most frequently impeached was Pei Shaohuai — the charge being that “Pei Shaohuai controls the cotton manufacturing industry, amasses great wealth and power, and harbors treacherous ambitions.”

During this period, a storeroom in the west wing of the palace caught fire. The censors laid this too at Pei Shaohuai’s feet, saying it was a heavenly omen of retribution against a treacherous minister.

It was truly beyond reason.

The court sent men to investigate, and found that of the weaving workshops connected to the Pei family, only one remained in the capital — its sole purpose the weaving of winter clothing for the frontier troops. The storeroom fire had been caused by a drowsy small eunuch who had kicked over an oil lamp on a low table.

The accusers were rendered speechless, and the farce came to a close.

All of this commotion was nothing more than anxiety about the upcoming evaluation — a bit of noise to buy time and cause delays.

On this particular day, Pei Shaohuai went to the Palace Secretariat. Unlike Hu Qi and Wang Gaoxiang, who had gone in secret, Pei Shaohuai went in full view of everyone — openly and known to all.

His account to the Emperor was this: he wanted to familiarize himself with the environment before formally taking up his post as junior vice-director.

Pei Shaohuai had barely settled into a seat in the Left Hall when the Crown Prince, having heard of his arrival, came at once — and had someone bring a Go board along.

“I have long heard that郎中 Pei’s skill at Go is superb. Why not seize this opportunity for us to exchange a few moves?” The Crown Prince said.

“Then this subject will make a fool of himself.” Pei Shaohuai smiled in reply, bowed, and went to take his place at the Go table.

In his view, the Crown Prince was indeed acting on impulse. There were clearly far more pressing matters to discuss — yet he was fixed on playing this game of Go. It was as though he had been preparing for a long time, waiting only for this opportunity today to release the fire pent up in his chest.

So be it.

Pei Shaohuai was genuinely not skilled at Go — he was not feigning weakness. And the Crown Prince had come prepared and ready, so within the game, Pei Shaohuai quickly fell to the disadvantage.

Pei Shaohuai muttered to himself inwardly: what was the point of bullying a poor player at Go?

At the end of the game, the Crown Prince set down his Go bowl, tucked both hands into his sleeves — signaling that the outcome had been decided and the game was settled. He looked at Pei Shaohuai. For the first time up close, had he not known of everything Pei Shaohuai had done in the court, the Crown Prince might not have believed that this young, pale-faced scholar — so composed in manner, so gentle in speech — could carry the shadow of becoming a powerful minister.

The Crown Prince asked: “When Emperor Yuan of the Jin dynasty held court, Diao Xie, Liu Yi, and Dai Yuan once advised him to take the opportunity of Wang Dun’s armed rebellion to exterminate the entire Langya Wang clan. What does Gentleman Pei make of that?”

To exterminate the entire Langya Wang clan — words carrying a murderous chill. Yet spoken from the Crown Prince’s lips, they came out evenly and without expression.

Pei Shaohuai understood: though the Crown Prince possessed no great brilliance or ambition, neither did he possess cruelty or ruthlessness.

This question was a most interesting one.

Sima Rui had ascended to the throne and established the Eastern Jin dynasty with the support of the Wang clan — and the Langya Wang clan had risen to overwhelming power as a result. Sima Rui even addressed Wang Dao as “Zhongfu” — as one would address a respected elder. When the minister’s power was great, the imperial power was diminished; as authority drifted away, Sima Rui was naturally unwilling, and tried to promote Diao Xie, Liu Yi, and Dai Yuan to restrain the Wang clan.

Did Sima Rui not wish to exterminate the Wang clan? Not necessarily — but he could not do it, and did not dare.

Wang Dao declared himself Chancellor; Wang Dun declared himself Duke of Wuchang. This left Sima Rui as Emperor in name only. Until Sima Rui died in bitter frustration, he had never managed to rein in the aristocratic power of the Wang clan.

This was “the Wang family and the Sima family sharing the realm.” More precisely, it should be said that Wang Dao, Wang Dun, and Sima Rui shared the realm together.

The Crown Prince’s meaning was that because Emperor Yuan of Jin had not listened to Diao Xie, Liu Yi, and Dai Yuan and had not exterminated the Langya Wang clan, it had led to “sharing the realm.”

Pei Shaohuai smiled, kept his eyes on the Go board without looking up, and replied in a tone of ease: “In this subject’s view, if Your Highness wishes to study the history of the Eastern Jin, you should begin by reading of ‘the Rebellion of the Eight Princes’ — or even earlier, from the Three Kingdoms period — rather than from the founding of the Eastern Jin.”

Sima Rui had relied on the Langya Wang clan, borrowing the power of the Wang clan, to emerge from the Rebellion of the Eight Princes and ascend the throne as Emperor in the south of the Yangtze River.

The Yangtze south — this land was not in Sima Rui’s hands from the beginning.

Pei Shaohuai continued, as if in passing: “After all, only after one has first ‘obtained the realm’ does the matter of ‘sharing the realm’ become something to speak of.”

His meaning: Your Highness, you have not yet ridden forth to seize the realm. As heir apparent, the realm has not yet come into your hands. Where does ‘sharing the realm’ come from?

Pei Shaohuai gently urged: “And so, this subject believes that what was said just now may be said between this subject and Your Highness — but please do not let the Emperor hear it.”

There was yet another layer of meaning: if the Crown Prince harbored such thoughts, rather than fixating on “sharing the realm,” he would do better to think about how to safeguard his own position as Crown Prince.