The news of Pei Shaohuai’s confinement in the imperial prison spread quickly throughout the capital, stirring up a great commotion. The baseless charges brought a flood of speculation and conjecture.
Because the Crown Prince had been placed under house arrest within the Eastern Palace, and the Prince of Huai had been summoned back to the capital, some speculated that Pei Shaohuai had been audaciously meddling in the situation — stirring up the struggle between the two heirs to the throne — and had brought down the Emperor’s fury upon himself, resulting in his imprisonment.
Officials who had once believed the Emperor would never disturb the Crown Prince’s position were now looking at how things stood and finding that the outcome was anyone’s guess.
Others speculated that Pei Shaohuai had committed some offense during his time in southern Fujian that had angered the Emperor; or that he had encroached upon the interests of the enfeoffed princes, and the imperial clan had applied pressure, leading the Emperor to order his arrest as a temporary measure; or that Pei Shaohuai’s reforms to the court evaluation system were all a bid to seize power and form a faction for his own benefit… The guesses came in every shape and variety, with no end to them.
During this period, the saying “In the cold, wood does not thrive; without wood, farming cannot prosper” had somehow spread abroad, and when people learned that Pei Shaohuai’s element according to his birth characters was wood, many began to lend credence to claims that “wood gives rise to fire and fire burned the dragon’s nest,” “the heavenly fire was brought about by wood,” “Pei Shaohuai’s fate works against the Son of Heaven.” The string of consecutive fires, it now appeared, must have come about because Pei Shaohuai had been residing in the capital.
That made sense, then — no matter how favored one had once been, if one’s fate was destined to work against the Son of Heaven, the Son of Heaven could not possibly tolerate it. The greater the past favor, the greater the present fury.
What place could there be beside the Son of Heaven for one whose very existence spelled misfortune for him?
From the shadows, even more secretive words were circulating — like the furtive whispering of rats in their burrows. Though they amounted to only four characters — “Mars Occupying the Heart” — they were enough to leave anyone who heard them stunned and shaken.
Some officials who had originally intended to speak up on Pei Shaohuai’s behalf found themselves, upon learning in secret of the “Mars Occupying the Heart” prediction, inclined instead to sit back and watch how events unfolded, keeping themselves out of harm’s way.
And the rats lurking in the sewers did not merely slander the Pei family — they also spread rumors that Imperial Astronomer Wu had died as a result of divine punishment. The rumors went: “The heavenly fire burned Fengtian Gate in precisely the right spot — that was already a warning from above. Imperial Astronomer Wu, in order to cover for a treacherous official, had the audacity to deceive the Son of Heaven with the false auspicious omen of the ‘Five Planets in Alignment’… And so, naturally, heavenly wrath was provoked, the great fire destroyed the Palace of Heavenly Purity, and Imperial Astronomer Wu himself died under strange circumstances.”
The rats further claimed that having dealt with Pei Shaohuai, the court could hardly leave his tutors and relatives by marriage untouched — it was simply a matter of proceeding step by step, given how deeply those roots ran. The Xu family, the Zhang family, the Yang family, the Chen family… not a single one would be spared.
These several whispered rumors sent the court seething like a pot left on the heat — popular sentiment churning in utter disarray.
There were those who held fast to their integrity; there were those who were gripped by fear; and there were those who saw in this an excellent opportunity to climb higher.
After all, the Pei family had formed alliances through marriage with many families that held high office. With the Emperor having imprisoned Pei Shaohuai, a great number of capable men were now unavailable to him, and new people would naturally have to be drawn from elsewhere.
……
The Emperor did indeed find himself with precious few capable hands.
Zhang Lingyi was forbidden from the palace for one month. Xu Zhannian had submitted three consecutive letters of resignation. The position of Minister of Personnel stood vacant. The previous day, Minister of Revenue Ma had spoken on Pei Shaohuai’s behalf and been subjected to a furious dressing-down from the Emperor… Pei Shaohuai looked over the roster of civil and military officials — a blur of names — and found that those who were truly trustworthy and able to shoulder real burdens were scarcely a handful.
It was precisely at this time that Pei Jue arrived in the capital accompanying his youngest grandson Pei Shaobing. Upon learning of this, the Emperor bypassed the Grand Secretariat entirely and issued an immediate imperial decree reinstating Pei Jue and his sharp instrument of a blade.
He was restored to the position of Minister of Personnel.
That day, Hu Qi came hurrying from the Hall of Military Glory toward the imperial study to meet with the Emperor and discuss matters of state. These past few days, with neither Zhang Lingyi nor Xu Zhannian there to check him, Hu Qi had been running the Grand Secretariat as a one-man dictatorship and was thoroughly enjoying himself — all smiles and cheer, radiating a kind of holiday air day after day.
Unexpectedly, he came face-to-face with Pei Jue just stepping out of the imperial study. The white-haired Pei Jue had put his scarlet official’s robe back on, with the emblem of the first rank stitched upon his chest.
Of all the people to encounter — they could not have been more opposite.
“Pei Jue, how did you…how are you in the palace?” Hu Qi straightened himself to his full height and tugged at his wispy goatee. He was Grand Secretary now, after all.
“Being restored to a former post is hardly a novelty for an old official like me. Why does Grand Secretary Hu seem so taken aback?” Pei Jue said with a blade concealed in silk. “Come to think of it, after all these years, I have yet to properly congratulate Grand Secretary Hu on having risen to lead the Grand Secretariat.”
Hu Qi had held the position of Grand Secretary for many years now. For Pei Jue to say this at this particular moment was plainly a taunt — a way of laughing at the fact that only now could Hu Qi be said to be genuinely functioning as Grand Secretary.
“To be restored to one’s post by exploiting the occasion of a nephew’s imprisonment — and yet Sir Pei can still find it in himself to smile. This subordinate is truly full of admiration.” Hu Qi shot back sarcastically. “An old official restored to duty is, in the end, still old.”
Pei Jue raised his hands in a cupped salute toward the heavens and said: “When I was restored and by what occasion — that is the Emperor’s will, and has nothing to do with me. I have no leisure to speculate on such things.” He paused, then said: “I would only ask Grand Secretary Hu one thing… Surely Grand Secretary Hu does not believe that as long as he keeps that nephew of mine pressed down, denying him any chance to rise — he can then sit back without a care in the world, making all pronouncements alone with no one able to shake him?” And then, even Pei Jue himself began to laugh.
“If that is what you believe, Grand Secretary Hu’s thinking could not be more naive.” Pei Jue said.
Watching Hu Qi’s chest heave with fury, livid with rage but unable to find words, Pei Jue brushed past him. After a few steps he turned back around and delivered a parting jab: “After all, there is no one in this world who can profit from picking up another’s windfall indefinitely… If there is someone like that, it would be someone who has forever been picking up other people’s rubbish.” And with that, he burst into laughter and strode away.
Hu Qi stood before the hall, his desire to enter and see the Emperor utterly extinguished, and with a chest full of suppressed fury, he turned and made his way back to the Hall of Military Glory.
Without Zhang Lingyi and Xu Zhannian, the Emperor had been willing to reactivate an old blade rather than hand the Ministry of Personnel over to him, the Grand Secretary of the Grand Secretariat — the irony could not have been more pungent.
Even if Pei Jue had not returned to the capital, the Emperor would have found someone from somewhere else. In any case, the choice would never have been Hu Qi.
……
Within the palace grounds of the Imperial Observatory, the most commanding structure of all was the Celestial Observation Platform.
Four corridors encircled the platform, each lined with offices, where Imperial Observatory officials sat computing the calendar, announcing the seasons, and reading the unknown in the heavens.
Wu Jianqing had inherited his grandfather’s office. Since learning that Pei Shaohuai had been sent to the imperial prison, he had shut himself inside that small room and not left for several days.
He did not know whether what he had done was right or wrong, and could not bear to face the slander and attacks now directed at his grandfather from the outside world. He could only hide away.
The floor was covered in paper. Scroll upon scroll of old star calendars had been opened and spread across the chairs, the table, the windowsill, within easy reach wherever one looked.
Page upon page of discarded calculations lay strewn like a carpet on the floor. Wu Jianqing lay among all that waste paper, his hairpin askew, his robe stained, holding an ancient star calendar aloft in one hand and a brush in the other, calculating over and over again.
“Jupiter completes its orbit of the heavens in eleven years; Saturn completes its orbit in eighteen years; Orion and Scorpius never rise together in the same sky…” Wu Jianqing murmured to himself as he worked through each calculation.
His brush stopped. For a long while it did not move. The furrow between his brows tightened with a slight tremor. Suddenly, he did not dare to continue the calculation.
“Grandfather’s prediction of the ‘Five Planets in Alignment’ was the correct one. Has someone tampered with the Celestial Observation Platform?…” Wu Jianqing dared not let his thoughts go further. He felt as though he had fallen into a deep abyss once more, lost and at a complete loss.
The writing brush fell to the floor. Wu Jianqing collapsed onto his back among the paper, staring blankly at the ceiling above. “Grandfather was murdered by someone… And now they are trying to harm Sir Pei…”
He had no idea how much time had passed before the young man suddenly sprang to his feet. He gathered the loose strands of his hair into a rough coil and put on his official’s cap to cover everything. Then he burned the scattered calculations one by one.
Wu Jianqing pushed open the office door and — forgetting the composure expected of an official — broke into a run in the direction of the imperial study.
……
Inside the imperial study.
“Insolent and disrespectful — utterly without regard for those above you!” The Emperor thundered at Wu Jianqing in fury.
Wu Jianqing knelt on the floor, his mouth open in a stunned daze, completely unprepared for the Emperor’s sudden outburst. He had believed that as long as he explained the truth to the Emperor, the Emperor would let the matter pass and release Sir Pei from prison.
But in fact, after completing his bow, he had barely managed to say half a sentence — “Your Majesty, this subject has recalculated the star signs and found an irregularity; this celestial phenomenon is not…” — when the Emperor’s furious roar cut him off and he could say no more.
Wu Jianqing did not even know what offense he had committed.
Then came: “Let the Southern Office of Imperial Security come and take him. Confine him in the imperial prison.” A moment later the Emperor added, almost as an afterthought: “Put him in together with the condemned official Pei Shaohuai.”
No one knew what had transpired within the hall. All that was known was that the young Imperial Observatory official had come rushing in to seek an audience, and was swiftly led away by the Southern Office of Imperial Security. The young celestial official appeared to have been frightened witless — dragged along by the Imperial Guards, he did not even think to cry out “Your Majesty, spare this servant’s life.”
……
Only when he had been dragged into the darkness of the imperial prison did Wu Jianqing come back to himself and begin to think clearly once more.
But the path before him seemed to have reached a dead end.
He began to be gripped by terror. His body would not stop trembling. He was convinced that he, like the other condemned men in this prison, would endure every manner of torture, emerge covered in blood and wounds, and finally be carried out when the last of his strength was spent.
The Deputy Commissioner of the Southern Office came to receive him and led him further in. After they passed through two heavily guarded gates, the prison grew darker with every step, and the smells of damp and mold swept toward them in waves.
But then the third gate was pushed open — and a blinding shaft of white daylight stabbed through, connecting to a small courtyard.
In the courtyard, someone stood in a white robe, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the high wall before him, staring blankly at the green moss that had pushed its way through the cracks in the stone.
Moss tracing the crevices of the wall. A white-robed figure poised like a soaring dragon.
As the footsteps reached him, the figure turned — and it was Pei Shaohuai, the one who had supposedly been “imprisoned.” A stone table nearby held a pot of hot tea and several small dishes of food.
Pei Shaohuai turned when he heard the sound and looked at the young man being brought in by the Deputy Commissioner, mildly surprised.
“Going forward, I must trouble Sir to share these quarters with this young celestial official.” The Deputy Commissioner said politely.
“That is no trouble at all.”
The Deputy Commissioner withdrew and locked the gate.
Pei Shaohuai led Wu Jianqing to the stone table and sat him down. He poured a cup of tea to calm the young man’s nerves, and after a short conversation came to understand the full sequence of events.
“If I had only been more careful and re-verified the star signs before submitting my report, I would not have brought about Sir Pei’s unjust suffering, leaving him confined in a…” Wu Jianqing glanced around at their surroundings and could not quite bring himself to say “imperial prison.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“How is it that Sir can live here like this?” Wu Jianqing’s nerves had settled somewhat, and he summoned the courage to ask. He had expected to find Pei Shaohuai enduring terrible hardship in some dark cell.
Pei Shaohuai said nothing. From within his robe he produced a gold token and placed it on the stone table. A qilin coiled around the token, and the words “Southern Office of Imperial Security — Commissioner” were prominently inscribed upon it.
In the Southern Office of Imperial Security, to see the gold token was to see the Son of Heaven. If the Emperor had truly intended to imprison Pei Shaohuai, he should first have reclaimed the token before sending men to arrest him.
The Deputy Commissioner had only received the order to “arrest” — and so naturally he had only carried out the act of “arresting.” Once inside the imperial prison, the gold token still held authority.
Pei Shaohuai said: “Drink your tea and warm yourself. Some things, if you cannot work them out, think on them slowly — we will be staying here a while longer yet.” With that, he turned and went back to contemplating his moss — with a touch of melancholy.
Though he had not suffered hardship in this place, his wife, children, and parents outside must be worried sick. How could Pei Shaohuai’s heart be at ease? He had no idea how his family was faring.
……
As night fell, Pei Shaohuai lit a lantern in the courtyard, preparing to share a meal with Wu Jianqing.
The gate opened again. The one who entered was not the Deputy Commissioner, but Yan Chengzhao, carrying a jug of wine. He had just returned to the capital and, upon learning that Pei Shaohuai had been “imprisoned,” had hurried in at once. Fearing that Pei Shaohuai might be too downcast, he had made a point of bringing a jug of wine.
Yan Chengzhao saw the unfamiliar face, raised an eyebrow, and asked Pei Shaohuai: “Who is this young fellow?”
Pei Shaohuai had no heart at the moment to explain the whole sequence of events, so he made do with: “A new student of mine. Commissioner Yan need not be on guard.”
Yan Chengzhao sat down without rushing to start pouring and drinking, and first completed the task the Emperor had assigned him. From within his sleeve he drew out a small scroll and handed it to Pei Shaohuai, saying: “His Majesty commanded me to bring this to you.” Written on the front were the three characters: “The Governance of Music.”
It was “The Governance of Music” Chuan Cheng – Chapter from the Annals of Lü Buwei.
Pei Shaohuai’s canonical text was the Spring and Autumn Annals, quite different from the Annals of Lü Buwei — they were not the same work at all. But Pei Shaohuai had read it. And as the descendant of an Imperial Observatory official, Wu Jianqing could not possibly have failed to read it either.
Both of them understood at once.
“His Majesty says that everything he wishes to say to you is contained within it.” Yan Chengzhao did not grasp the Emperor’s deeper meaning and asked Pei Shaohuai: “What does His Majesty mean?”
Pei Shaohuai smiled. Beside him, Wu Jianqing, in the role of student, helped his teacher explain: “The Chuan Cheng – Chapter records that during the reign of Duke Jing of Song, when Mars was observed to be dwelling in the Heart Mansion, he asked his celestial astrologer how it could be resolved. The astrologer said it could be transferred to the Prime Minister. Duke Jing said the Prime Minister was his most indispensable minister, and refused. The astrologer then said it could be transferred to the common people. Duke Jing said without people there could be no ruler, and refused again. The astrologer said finally that a poor harvest year could dissolve it as well, but Duke Jing reasoned that if the people starved they would die, and a ruler cannot live on alone — and so he resolved to accept whatever Heaven decreed.”
“And how did it end?” Yan Chengzhao asked with curiosity.
Wu Jianqing was about to answer when Pei Shaohuai held up a hand to stop him. He passed the scroll to Yan Chengzhao and said: “Let him read it for himself.”