Zhou Yi states, “Heaven shows signs through the stars, revealing good fortune and calamity.”

Zuo Zhuan states, “Omens arise through human agency; when people abandon normalcy, omens appear.”

For ordinary common folk, they both feared fire and worshipped the Fire God, erecting temples in the deity’s honor, making offerings and praying that the Fire God would drive away pestilence and banish evil spirits.

Lightning-born fire descended from the heavens, and so the common people called it “Heavenly Fire,” holding it in even greater reverence and awe.

For the Son of Heaven, what mattered — and what was feared — was this: when a dynasty was about to rise, auspicious omens would first appear. Conversely, when a nation was about to fall, calamities and anomalies would herald its doom.

……

When thunder and lightning struck the watchtower of the Fengtian Gate, Pei Shaohuai initially paid it little heed.

Nearly the entire Forbidden City was built of wood; accidental fires were not uncommon. As for heavenly fire, while rarer, the Veritable Records contained several such accounts.

For instance, in the second year after the capital was relocated northward to the capital, the three great halls — Fengtian, Jinshen, and Huagai — had been burned to the ground by heavenly fire, frightening a host of senior ministers into submitting memorials demanding the capital be moved back to Jinling.

Then there was the time during the Jiajing Emperor’s reign, when a heavenly fire swept from the Fengtian Gate all the way to the outer reaches of the Meridian Gate. The Jiajing Emperor had promptly erected numerous shrines within the palace, offering worship to the Supreme Heavenly Emperor and the Thunder God, with incense burning without cease.

Compared to those two great conflagrations, the burning of the Fengtian Gate watchtower was an unlikely misfortune; that it had been extinguished in time was an even greater fortune.

Pei Shaohuai reasoned that the Fengtian Gate watchtower stood taller than all surrounding structures, making it a natural target for lightning, and so heavenly fire struck there time and again.

Far more concerning to him than the fire at Fengtian Gate was the prisoner escorted to the capital from Raozhou Prefecture — a move that was plainly a gambit by the Prince of Huai to bring down the Crown Prince.

The Court of Judicial Review, the Ministry of Justice, and the Imperial Clan Court had been conducting a joint trial for several days now, yet not a single piece of information had leaked out. The more tightly sealed it remained, the more wildly the officials’ imaginations ran, and the more rumors flourished.

Pei Shaohuai retrieved the ledger belonging to Xie Jia and read through it from beginning to end, silently speculating: would the charges the Prince of Huai intended to level against the Crown Prince be connected to the illicit silver from the Maritime Trade Office at Quanzhou Port?

The Emperor was aware that the illicit silver had flowed into the Eastern Palace. Would using that charge actually prove effective? If the Emperor had wished to punish the Crown Prince, he would have acted long ago.

Or perhaps the charge was related to the illicit silver but cut even deeper — treason, collusion, or adultery, something injurious to the dignity of the state.

At that thought, cold sweat broke out along Pei Shaohuai’s spine. If that were truly the case, who on earth was orchestrating matters behind the Prince of Huai? Who had conceived of such an elaborate scheme? It was impossible for this scheme to have only begun after the Prince of Huai had departed for his feudal domain.

As for the Crown Prince — a not particularly bright son who, whether by intent or negligence, had brought disaster upon himself — how would the Emperor choose to act?

In the candlelight, upon the writing desk, lay a newly drafted proposal for the implementation of the new capital inspection system. Pei Shaohuai had originally planned to present it to the Emperor within the next few days, but now it was clear the timing would need to change.

It was wholly inappropriate for the moment.

Pei Shaohuai set the memorial aside and locked it in a drawer. Haste makes waste — a deep-rooted chronic ailment cannot be cured in a matter of days. The more urgent one’s desire to act, the more likely one is to overlook something and ruin everything.

The new capital inspection system encroached upon the interests of far too many officials. When the floodwaters rose, every old fox hiding in his burrow would come crawling out.

And matters would grow considerably more difficult.

A lone spark of a firefly — yet there will come a time when it scatters into a river of stars across the night sky.

No matter how difficult, this endeavor had to press forward, for the cultivation of talent works from the bottom up, while the appointment of talent works from the top down. If the beam at the top is crooked, the beams below will be crooked as well.

Consider this: even if there were tens of millions of officials posted beyond the capital, men like Jiang Ziyun who did real, meaningful work — diligent for years on end — if they were to be exploited by capital officials seated within the imperial city, stirring up trouble at court and reaping the rewards of others’ labor… then how could this creaking, crumbling vessel of a nation possibly sail steadily toward a distant shore?

……

Several days later, at morning court, what Pei Shaohuai had dismissed as “a minor matter” — the heavenly fire — erupted into a clamor of collective remonstrance from the assembled officials.

Some said it was the spirit of the Founding Emperor manifesting, admonishing the Emperor not to recklessly alter the ancestral institutions: “When the Founding Emperor came into this world, the morning sky blazed red as fire; as a child bathing in the river, red silk floated down from a sacred mountain upon the current. Thus the Da Qing dynasty belongs to the element of Fire. Now that the Founding Emperor has set fire to the Fengtian Gate, he must be using this celestial sign to warn his descendants to uphold the ancestral institutions and not alter them without cause.”

What must not be altered without cause? Naturally, the capital inspection system.

Others claimed it was a sign of discord between high and low, of imbalance between yin and yang — that Heaven was meting out a mild punishment to warn the Son of Heaven to quickly engage in self-reflection and cease his unrighteous and unvirtuous conduct: “The burning of the city gate tower is iron proof that the administration of court affairs is not being properly maintained.” They pointed the finger directly at the Emperor for neglecting the affairs of state, and added, “When the sovereign neglects self-cultivation, there must be slanderous words in his presence, deceiving him.”

The implication being: the neglect of governance was not the Emperor’s fault, but rather that those around the Emperor were villainous people who had led him astray.

The memorial concluded: “Your subject humbly implores Your Majesty to engage in self-reflection and avert this calamity; let there be no idle formality, but rather the turning back of Heaven’s will, and the reassurance of the people’s hearts.”

Using the heavenly fire to take aim at Pei Shaohuai, the memorial covertly accused him of being a villainous person.

Naturally, there were also those who connected the omen to the matter of naming an heir, pointing directly at the Eastern Palace, and vigorously advocating for the Prince of Huai. It was plain that a portion of court officials had already aligned themselves with the Prince of Huai, and their actions at court were coordinated with his.

Still others petitioned the Emperor to abstain from carnal pleasure for a full year, in order to cultivate virtue and nurture his character.

Opinions were many and varied.

Pei Shaohuai had underestimated the weight that “the will of Heaven” carried in this world. If even the educated classes could hold such views, what of the common people who could not read a single character? Some were exploiting the “will of Heaven” for personal gain, while others were simply ignorant and resistant to change.

No one had named the “villain” outright, and so Pei Shaohuai held his ground and simply listened attentively, unmoved — after all, he could hardly leap forward of his own accord and accept that hat upon his head.

He lifted his gaze to look at the Emperor, and saw that the Emperor’s brow was deeply furrowed, his expression weighted with worry. His body was slightly slumped against the armrest of the Dragon Throne, as though worn down by the burdens of governance.

One official spoke his remonstrance with firm, ringing tones, yet the Emperor showed no reaction — he had clearly lost himself in thought, his mind far from morning court.

It was the first time Pei Shaohuai had ever witnessed the Emperor allow his troubled feelings to show openly, before the assembled court and all its officials. The Emperor had never been like this before.

It was only at Chief Grand Secretary Hu’s prompting that the Emperor roused himself and returned to the present.

“Has everyone finished speaking?” the Emperor asked, resuming his authoritative bearing.

Silence fell across the hall.

“Since everyone has finished speaking…” the Emperor commanded, “Imperial Astronomer Wu of the Bureau of Astronomy — you shall speak. Have there been any celestial anomalies of late? Is the burning of the gatehouse the admonishment of Heaven’s will, or is there another explanation?” The implicit meaning was clear: none of those present were officials of the Bureau of Astronomy, so what did they know about celestial signs or the will of Heaven?

Specialized matters required specialized persons.

Director Wu stepped forward from the ranks and replied, “In response to Your Majesty: there are no anomalies in the heavens; the stars proclaim peace throughout the realm. As for changes in the celestial patterns, there have indeed been some over the past year.” Director Wu paused deliberately, then smiled and continued, “Your subject has been observing the sky by night and has found that the Commercial Star is trending upward while the Chen Star is trending downward. Within half a year, there may be the auspicious sign of the Five Planets in Alignment.”

The Five Planets were the planets of Gold, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth. The Commercial Star was Mars, and the Chen Star was Mercury. Five Planets in Alignment referred to the five planets each occupying one celestial palace, connected in an unbroken line.

This was an auspicious omen.

Director Wu continued, “The Commercial Star is in ascendance; the power of fire grows strong, and minor fire anomalies in the southern part of the city fall within the normal range of such signs. Moreover, the southern direction radiating brilliant light signifies illumination — an omen of a wise ruler and worthy ministers. Your subject holds that there is no need to make a great fuss over the burning of the Fengtian Gate watchtower.”

What everyone else had decried as an inauspicious “heavenly fire” became, in Director Wu’s words, a harbinger of the “Five Planets in Alignment.”

The hall erupted into a clamor. Disinclined to continue, the Emperor said, “Director Wu has explained matters clearly. That is all for today — court is dismissed.” He gave the officials no further opportunity to submit their remonstrations.

Pei Shaohuai suddenly understood why, on the night of the Lantern Festival when they had encountered each other by chance, Director Wu had warned him not to reveal his birth date and not to speak again of “the cold does not favor wood, and without wood there can be no farming.”

His birth element was wood, which was why his name contained the character “Huai.”

Those with ulterior motives could use the so-called celestial omens to make an issue of Pei Shaohuai’s birth date.

Director Wu, as an observer of the heavens, had encountered far too many such matters over the years. He knew how difficult it was to clear one’s name in such affairs, and so had taken deliberate care to warn Pei Shaohuai.

……

The next day, Grand Secretary Xu was the first to seek out Pei Shaohuai, urging him to pay closer attention to the matter of the “celestial signs” and to guard against being ensnared, lest someone fabricate rumors against him — for three men making the same accusation can create the illusion of truth.

As for the capital inspection system, it could be set aside for now.

After the offices were closed for the day, a message came from the Yang household: his father-in-law wished him to pay a visit.

“I imagine you’ve already guessed — the prisoner’s testimony points directly at the Eastern Palace,” Lord Yang said to Pei Shaohuai in his study.

Pei Shaohuai asked, “Does Father-in-law know what the testimony contains?”

Lord Yang shook his head. “That is precisely why I asked you to come — to give you this word of warning.”

Pei Shaohuai’s heart sank. Lord Yang held the position of Chief Judge of the Court of Judicial Review, and yet even he was in the dark. The Emperor must have issued an imperial decree sealing all information.

The tighter the seal, the more it indicated that the Crown Prince’s charges were severe — severe enough that the Emperor had let his worry show openly in public, and had not been able to reach a decision even after all this time.

Lord Yang said, “Until matters become clear, you would do best to keep your distance from the Crown Prince’s Household Administration, and avoid any association with the Eastern Palace.”

“I thank Father-in-law for the warning. Your son-in-law understands.”

On the return journey, Pei Shaohuai found himself hoping that Yan Chengzhao would come back sooner rather than later — not because he was incapable of managing on his own, but because without Yan Chengzhao nearby to “hold a lantern” for him, he was like a man groping through the dark of night. To act with certainty, he could only slow down — slower, and slower still.

He even wondered whether the matter that had sent Yan Chengzhao to Wuchang Prefecture halfway through his journey was something the opposing faction had deliberately stirred up — a diversion, a ploy to lure the tiger away from the mountain.

After all, the Emperor might occupy the highest seat, but the number of capable, reliable men at his disposal was precious few.

Without Yan Chengzhao, Pei Shaohuai was not the only one missing a lantern — the Emperor was missing one too.

Thinking further still, whoever had been clever enough to remove Yan Chengzhao from the equation clearly understood not only Pei Shaohuai very well, but also who surrounded the Emperor… This was someone hiding as a mole within the very palace itself.

……

……

The Emperor still trusted Pei Shaohuai; he summoned him without delay.

The one who came to announce the summons was no longer Eunuch Xiao, but an officer from the Southern Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Could it be… that the matter of the Eastern Palace had ensnared Eunuch Xiao as well? Had Eunuch Xiao done something improper in secret on the Crown Prince’s behalf?

In the Imperial Study.

Without Eunuch Xiao’s attentive management, the Imperial Study seemed to have dimmed by a whole layer of light. The same sandalwood incense burned as always, yet somehow the fragrance was lacking. Upon the Emperor’s desk, a considerable pile of memorials lay in disarray, unsorted and uncategorized.

Perhaps it was the Emperor’s displeasure that lent the room its oppressive atmosphere.

“Your subject kowtows in greeting to Your Majesty.”

“Ah, Boyuan — you’ve come.” The Emperor attempted a smile, yet was unable to muster one. He waved a hand, saying, “Xiao Jin, fetch Boyuan some refreshments…” The words were barely half-spoken before he remembered that Xiao Jin had already been placed under watch on his orders, and he withdrew his hand awkwardly.

The Emperor said, “Boyuan, close the door.”

The door of the Imperial Study was closed. Several oil lamps burned within, yet the room remained somehow dim and cheerless.

In Pei Shaohuai’s presence, the Emperor made no effort to conceal his weariness. He seemed to have aged considerably in just the past few days. With a guilty expression, the Emperor said, “Boyuan… when you and Chengzhao were investigating the powerful families in Fujian, someone did leak word, and that is what placed you both at a disadvantage.”

Just as he had suspected.

Pei Shaohuai’s guess had been correct — the Crown Prince’s “crimes” were connected to Fujian, and connected to the opposing faction as well.

No wonder the Emperor’s mind had been clouded these past days. He had labored with all his heart to lay a path for his eldest son, yet that son had gone and overturned everything his father had prepared for him. Placed in anyone’s position, who could fail to grieve?

Was this matter something the Crown Prince had done deliberately? With his own hands? That seemed unlikely. If it were so, the Emperor would simply have deposed him as Crown Prince — there would be no need to sit here in this uncertain, hesitating state.