The old Marquis Feng Ping had in his earlier years skimmed a good deal of profit from the salt and iron trade, leaving behind a substantial fortune for the next generation. By the time the Lin family had reached the current Marquis Feng Ping — Lin Kuishan — the clan had grown mediocre, with few members entering officialdom. But sheltered by the achievements of their ancestors, they had successfully inherited the noble title, and through the mutual protection officials extend to one another, had managed to maintain their considerable family enterprise.

Lin Kuishan, though without talent in matters of governance, had great insight into commerce, property acquisition, and profit-seeking. He also had a keen eye for opportunity, and in earlier years had formed a marriage alliance between his family and the now-Grand Preceptor Yu Qiushi.

The Lin family’s fortunes had risen accordingly. Looking across all of the capital, there was no noble household wealthier than the Marquis Feng Ping’s estate.

Yet Yu Qiushi knew well that Lin Kuishan was a man obsessed with wealth and shortsighted in his vision, and he rarely discussed court affairs with him.

Today, after laying out in careful detail to Song Lan the old acquaintance between Ye Tingyan and Shen Sui, Yu Qiushi had found Song Lan behaving entirely out of character — merely saying in a flat, indifferent tone, ‘This Emperor is aware,’ with no further reaction whatsoever.

Yu Qiushi understood he had met a worthy opponent, and was already vexed and unsettled. To make matters worse, upon arriving at the riding ground he came face to face with Lin Kuishan.

Lin Kuishan pulled him aside to a secluded spot and immediately announced that he too wished to send his own daughter into the palace.

Though Yu Suiyun had been willful at home, she had at least been raised on poetry, propriety, and rites, and was both pleasing and endearing. She knew to some degree when to hold back.

And so after entering the palace those few years ago, Yu Suiyun had still been able to keep up the pretense of a naive young girl’s manner, and had managed — just barely — to be tolerated by the Empress.

But the sons and daughters in Lin Kuishan’s household… not a single one was without arrogance and ambition far exceeding their station. Even the eldest daughter who had married into the Yu family would quarrel with her husband day and night, and had only worn down her sharp edges somewhat after several years.

A person with a temperament like that, if sent into the palace seeking imperial favor, would be devoured by the Empress — not a bone left — within a matter of days.

What was worse, she might hand over some piece of evidence and drag her mother’s family down with her.

Lin Kuishan was entirely unaware of Yu Qiushi’s displeasure and continued enthusiastically in a low voice: “Back then, Crown Prince Chengming disliked underhanded methods, intended to curtail the power of the great noble clans, and placed all his trust in the Su family — there was no prospect for you and me to ever rise. The Grand Preceptor, with his far-sighted wisdom, supported His Majesty in soaring up from obscurity — that is a merit worth a thousand years of glory.”

“His Majesty now heeds the Grand Preceptor’s every word. Yet the Empress is still of the old Su family, relying on her family’s prestige and opposing the Grand Preceptor at every turn—”

Yu Qiushi, hearing him go on in an increasingly unseemly manner, cut him off sharply: “An De, the more one speaks, the more one errs.”

“The Grand Preceptor, forgive me — what An De means is simply that you, I, and the several great families of the capital all appear stable on the surface, but we are in truth standing at the edge of a deep chasm, treading on thin ice. We must plan and prepare for every eventuality.”

Lin Kuishan patted his own mouth as a show of apology: “I have heard that His Majesty has recently been favoring that Ye San who came from Youzhou. He was even willing to deal with Lu Fengying. It is thanks to His Majesty’s grace that we have been able to protect our households — we cannot allow some young upstart to take that away. After all, His Majesty is young and may perhaps not appreciate old men’s words. But what if we also had young men of clean background before the Emperor?”

Seeing that Yu Qiushi was unwilling to approve a Lin family girl’s entry into the palace, Lin Kuishan immediately shifted tack and spoke instead of covertly promoting young officials to divide Ye Tingyan’s imperial favor.

This speech was measured and tactful, without a crack — entirely unlike his usual manner.

Yu Qiushi paused mid-step and said with a faint smile: “These ideas — surely An De did not think of them on his own?”

The smile at the corners of Lin Kuishan’s lips stiffened, then he laughed helplessly: “The Grand Preceptor is perceptive — I readily admit I cannot compare. Today at the equestrian competition, a fine horse seeking a path forward has come to my door. An De knows his own limitations and fears he cannot be the judge to recognize a thousand-li steed. So I have come to ask the Grand Preceptor — will you see this person or not?”

Yu Qiushi had been in a foul mood, but after hearing Lin Kuishan’s full account, he found himself somewhat interested in this scholar he had never met, who had come forward of his own accord.

But before he could open his mouth, from the distance came the long, drawn-out chant announcing the imperial procession. He turned his head and saw Song Lan arrive and take his seat alongside Luowei.

Lin Kuishan hurried forward to pay his respects, then, brimming with flattery, presented the prize to Song Lan and lavished him with praise.

The prize he offered today was a sword.

This sword had been crafted by an artisan many years past — a replica of the legendary ancient sword Chun Jun, said in the Yuejue Shu to have been forged through the combined effort of Heaven and Man. The hilt was carved with mountains and great rivers; the scabbard was engraved with sun, moon, and stars. Though it could not compare to the legendary original, it was nonetheless a fine sword of the present age.

More significantly, Chun Jun was — in legend — the treasured possession of King Gou Jian of Yue.

Lin Kuishan had also been one who knew the details of the Ci Tang case. Presenting this sword carried an implicit allusion to Song Lan’s long years of patient endurance — bearing humiliation, biding his time, before ultimately seizing power and washing away old humiliation.

As expected, upon hearing him out, Song Lan’s brow relaxed and his expression grew thoroughly pleased.

Others did not grasp the implication. But how could Luowei not? She only laughed coldly inwardly while showing nothing outwardly: “Marquis Feng Ping is truly generous. The cost of forging a sword like this must have come to no less than ten thousand gold — and yet he is willing to give it up so freely as a prize.”

Lin Kuishan set the sword back on the table, having not caught Luowei’s implication, and said with smug satisfaction: “Your Ladyship is too kind — but in truth this sword was no small expense. I searched all of Dayin for craftsmen and lit the furnace a thousand times before forging such a fine blade.”

Yu Qiushi, hearing this, first turned to glance behind him.

Fortunately, most of the civil officials were gathered in debate and discussion, and the few who had wandered over to watch the competition were standing at a distance and could not hear this exchange.

Song Lan glanced at Luowei, saw that her expression was as usual — as though it had merely been a jest — and held himself back: “Very well, let the competition begin.”

He turned and asked: “Elder Sister, did you not say you were going to enter?”

“I spoke too much earlier and feel a little tired. Zi Lan, do let me rest awhile. Allow these young men and women to compete first, and then I will enter,” Luowei said, waving her round fan.

“That makes sense. If Elder Sister entered now, what would there be left to watch?” Song Lan laughed.

So the eager young men of the capital took turns entering the field, galloping across the lush green grass on horseback.

Before the targets had even been set up, they took to shooting at willow branches and leaves of their own accord, drawing repeated cries of admiration from the women watching on one side. The scene was lively and festive.

Before long, the targets were set up one by one and a eunuch presided over the archery and equestrianism. Everything proceeded in good order.

From a distance, Luowei caught a glimpse of Ye Tingyan — she did not know when he had appeared around the perimeter of the riding ground — in conversation with a Censorate colleague, the same one who had helped him discover the body hidden at the West Garden.

He had changed back into his scarlet official’s robe, standing upright and composed, wearing a crossed-cord official’s cap, his hair neatly arranged.

The person she had encountered in the woods just now seemed like nothing more than a demon conjured by some mountain spirit.

She had only just glanced his way when she suddenly heard a startled outcry ring out from the arena.

A crisis had erupted without warning!

One of the capital’s young noblemen’s horses had, for some unknown reason, been thrown into a frenzy. It began tossing its head in wild agitation, and in an instant had hurled the rider galloping alongside it to the ground, then charged off in a wild run through the arena.

The man still on horseback was jolted and lurching, crying out desperately for help. The scene fell into an uproar.

Everyone who had been competing immediately fled for fear of being struck. Lin Kuishan saw what was happening and hurriedly rose to his feet — only to discover with horror that the man still on horseback was his own second son, the notorious wastrel of the capital, Lin Zhao.

The horse had gone suddenly berserk, catching everyone off guard. A fall from a horse was common enough, but if the man on its back were thrown while the horse was in full gallop, the outcome would be death or serious injury.

Lin Kuishan rushed from his seat in panic, nearly tripping over the wooden fence, and shouted hoarsely: “Where are the horse handlers! Where are the horse handlers!”

In the midst of the chaos, Luowei rose to her feet alongside Song Lan and walked forward a few steps. She glanced without purpose — and saw that Ye Tingyan was standing in place, not moving. Seeing her watching, he calmly unfurled the folding fan in his hand.

The fan’s face was entirely white, splashed with a single drop of crimson.

Could it be… that this was the great gift he intended to send?

“I wonder if the horse handler can bring it under control? The horse has gone suddenly berserk — it looks terrifying,” Song Lan said at her side with alarm.

“The horse handlers of the Muchun Field are superb. They can subdue even the wildest horse — Your Majesty need not worry,” Luowei replied perfunctorily.

Presently a guard dressed in horse handler’s attire came hurrying over and stood at the edge of the arena, blowing a whistle. The horse seemed to have some response to it, yet its pace still did not slow. The Second Young Master Lin on its back was so frightened he was wailing and screaming.

The horse handler, seeing the situation was dire, simply leaped to his feet and vaulted over the fence, coming directly to the center of the arena.

He patiently blew several more whistles, and finally seized his chance. As the horse drew near, he grabbed the reins with one hand, then sprang up and wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck, galloping along with it.

A wave of astonished gasps and exclamations of admiration rose from the onlookers.

The horse handler swung himself up onto the horse, grabbed Lin Zhao’s jade belt at the waist, and shielded him in front. Lin Zhao had already been scared out of his wits and could only clutch at the other man, crying out over and over: “Save this young master and you shall be richly rewarded — richly rewarded!”

Seeing the situation coming under control, Lin Kuishan wiped a cold sweat from his brow and sank back into his seat with relief.

But then — the horse faltered briefly and became even more frenzied than before. And this time it was no longer charging about blindly. Instead it turned direction and charged straight toward Song Lan and Luowei.

The horse leaped lightly over the protective fence before the imperial seats. A clear, sharp ring pierced the air, and the two riders lurched to one side — it was impossible to tell whose hand it was, or whose it guided — and drew out from before Song Lan the long sword named “Chun Jun.”

An ancient sword ought never to have been sharpened. Yet this Chun Jun had been given a blade at some unknown point, ground to a gleaming and ferocious brightness.

Drawing a blade before the Emperor — whatever the reason — was a capital offense!

“Jintian Guard — protect His Majesty!”

Luowei was briefly stunned, then immediately reacted. She drew the short blade from the nearest Jintian Guard beside her and held it before Song Lan as a shield.

In a flash of lightning, she understood that one of the two riders intended assassination. The very first emotion that surged up within her was a frantic, breathless, wild joy.

— If only the timing were a little more right.

— If only these two people were a little closer.

Even if Chun Jun had not struck its mark right away, she could use the chaos to deliver a fatal blow for them.

A thousand thoughts whirled through Luowei’s mind, and in an instant she crushed those rising impulses back down with all her strength.

Song Lan cannot die.

At least… not yet.

From a distance, Ye Tingyan had no idea what calculations were running through her mind. He only saw that in the moment of crisis, Luowei had heedless of her own safety swiftly drawn a blade and positioned herself before Song Lan as a shield.

His expression went somewhat cold. At his side, Pei Xi handed him a bow and arrow and said quietly in his ear: “My Lord… it was never worth it!”

Ye Tingyan took the bow and arrow and drew the string taut. The wound on his right shoulder was torn open by the effort, sending a dull ache through him.

He took aim, and suddenly felt his eyes sting with acridness — perhaps because he had been looking into the bright light for too long today.

His hand gave a slight tremor. The arrow left the string and flew straight toward the Emperor’s position.

What surprised Ye Tingyan was that the moment this arrow left his hand, from directly across from him came the sharp sound of another arrow leaving its string in equal measure.

Both arrows were unerringly precise. One struck the frenzied horse in the right eye; one struck its left leg. The horse let out a long, shrill whinny and, carrying its two riders, crashed heavily down the steps before the imperial seats.