The next day, the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review opened the public trial together. Luowei and Song Lan sat side by side behind the ancient painted screen north of the judges’ dais.

To avoid any appearance of partiality, the Emperor and Empress, by convention, were not required to attend in person. When they did come, they sat in high seats behind the hall and rarely intervened directly.

Before the dais, the Minister of Justice, the Imperial Censor-in-Chief, and the Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review stood in a row. To the left were the Attending Censor Ye Tingyan, appointed by Song Lan personally for this case, and Chang Zhao, temporarily assigned. To the right were Yu Qiushi and the chief officials of the Personnel and Works Ministries in the Council of State.

During Emperor Ming’s reign, there had been a famous reform, and though the resulting Flower-Reduction Edict had ultimately been abolished, the principle of “cautious punishment” had been passed down. Thus, in major cases where collective punishment was a likely outcome, it was standard practice for the Emperor, the Council of State, the Three Judicial Offices, and all officials of the third rank and above in the Six Ministries to convene together in deliberation.

When Lin Zhao and the horse trainer were brought up into the hall, everyone was startled. Lin Zhao’s back bore some marks of caning, with only faint traces of blood seeping through, but the horse trainer was covered in blood and filth — though he could manage a prostrate kneeling position, he was clearly badly injured.

The moment Lin Zhao reached the floor of the hall, he knocked his head against the ground with a series of loud thuds and wept loudly: “Your Majesty — injustice! This is unjust!”

The presiding Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review barked: “Silence, prisoner!”

The Great Yan’s criminal code specified time limits on the interrogation of prisoners — within twenty days, caning was permitted only once. Lin Zhao and the horse trainer had not been held in the Ministry of Justice or the Court of Judicial Review’s prison but had been taken for interrogation by Zhuque, which was itself contrary to legal statutes. Their present condition made it plain that Zhuque’s questioning had not followed proper legal procedure.

One of the remonstrance officials standing at attention immediately found himself struggling to maintain composure. If the Emperor had not been absent from the front dais, he might have submitted his remonstrance on the spot.

His colleague hastily grabbed hold of him and, with a look, signaled that today’s public trial must not be disrupted — if there was a remonstrance to be made, it should wait until the next morning court session.

Luowei glanced at Song Lan and saw that his expression was perfectly composed, as though he saw nothing amiss.

Song Lan was not necessarily unaware that Lin Zhao was reckless and might not have dared to act so rashly. But he always had to think a step further than others — for instance, could Lin Zhao’s various past behaviors have merely been cover for today’s actions? If so, he would have to be an iron-willed figure, likely impervious even to torture.

With that in mind, it would be far more convenient to interrogate the horse trainer, who was of low station and had never seen much of the world.

Song Lan had entered the Hall of Worthy Excellence somewhat late, and because he had been under Song Ling’s care, he had never been beaten by the teachers there in the name of “defying legal precedent.” Thus, he had no particular feeling for the strict adherence to the law’s letter as practiced by the various censors and remonstrance officials.

Luowei let out a soft, almost inaudible snort.

The Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review began his questioning according to proper procedure. Lin Zhao then claimed that on the day of the event, he had merely been making advances in mounted archery and riding and wanted to claim the prize for glory — but unexpectedly, the horse had suddenly run wild, catching him off guard. The horse trainer then tearfully insisted that he had only gone into the arena to rescue someone at his master’s orders, had no idea that the Second Young Master Lin would have him draw the sword, and had not known that the ancient sword’s blade had been sharpened.

These words had been heard back and forth many times by everyone present. Song Lan, deeply tired of it, leaned in his chair with some impatience.

Though he intended to use this opportunity to have the Marquis of Feng Ping put up some silver to fill the treasury’s deficit, his heart still held a great curiosity about who had carried out the assassination and why. The imperial throne was like a sharp blade hanging over one’s head — he knew full well that such matters would inevitably recur in the future. This was the first open attempt since his enthronement; a severe punishment was called for, to serve as a deterrent.

The Ministry of Justice had already investigated the horse trainer’s background from top to bottom. He was a former palace guard who, in his early years, had committed some transgression and been dismissed. Fortunately, he was quite skilled in horsemanship, and so rather than being expelled from the palace entirely, he had been demoted to the Warm Spring Arena.

The imperial inner court was vague about what offense he had actually committed. According to his own account, it was nothing more than breaking a noble’s teacup — but with the change of dynasty, the palace staff had been replaced in a new wave, and there was no longer any way to verify the truth of the matter.

Under such circumstances, if both parties had been ordinary commoners, it would have been possible to charge them with conspiracy to commit high treason. However, Lin Zhao was the legitimate son of the Marquis of Feng Ping, and the Marquis had close ties with Yu Qiushi — one wrong step and they would offend the chief minister. The Three Judicial Offices had deliberated repeatedly and truly did not dare to render a verdict carelessly.

Just as even the public trial seemed on the verge of deadlock, Ye Tingyan suddenly rose from his seat and summoned a witness to the front of the hall.

This witness had originally been a sweeping eunuch at the Warm Spring Arena, about seventeen or eighteen years of age. When he entered, he was trembling and could barely string a sentence together. Upon catching sight of the assembled dignitaries on the dais, his legs buckled and he nearly toppled over.

“S-small one pays respects to the honored lords and ladies.”

Ye Tingyan left his seat and went over to steady the young man by his arm, signaling him to stand upright.

Upon recognizing who it was, the young eunuch let out a great sigh of relief, stammering: “L-Lord Ye.”

Ye Tingyan said gently: “Ruoshui, there is no need to be nervous. The words you told me that day you may speak freely before the assembled lords and ladies. The Son of Heaven sits in the bright hall above — he will not allow a single person to suffer unjust wrong.”

From a distance, Luowei noticed that Chang Zhao’s brow was deeply furrowed.

Evidently, the two had investigated this case together, and yet this witness was someone Ye Tingyan had never mentioned in front of him.

With Ye Tingyan’s reassurance, the young eunuch named Ruoshui calmed down in a strange way. After kowtowing once more, his voice no longer trembled quite so badly: “This small one, Ruoshui, originally served at the Warm Spring Arena tending horses and sweeping.”

The presiding Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review said: “Let the witness recount in detail what he witnessed and heard in connection with the major case of the attempted assassination at the Warm Spring Arena.”

Ruoshui hastily agreed, then said: “His Majesty had prepared to come to the Warm Spring Arena for the hunt, and so a full half-month in advance, everyone began cleaning and setting things in order. The distinguished guests who usually came to ride horses had mostly stopped coming in recent days. This small one recalls… in that half-month, only the Second Young Master Lin and a few close friends continued to come regularly to the arena — riding horses, practicing mounted archery, playing polo. They had planned to go into the wooded hills, but the manager would not allow it and turned them away.”

Lin Zhao cried out urgently: “I was only practicing diligently ahead of the upcoming spring hunt at the Warm Spring Arena!”

Ye Tingyan let out a slight “tsk”: “Biandu is such a vast city — the Golden Brilliance Pool, the Clear Tranquility Garden, and even the Lin family’s private estate — why could another practice ground not be found? Second Young Master, those words are rather strained.”

Lin Zhao was about to say something more in rebuttal when the Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review cleared his throat, addressing only Ruoshui: “Continue.”

Ruoshui glanced timidly at Lin Zhao: “This small one offends the Second Young Master, but can only tell the truth. Though the Second Young Master came often, it was not against the rules. On the day Lord Ye came to the Warm Spring Arena to investigate the case, he asked several times before this small one remembered — there was one other occasion where this small one saw the Second Young Master…”

“On that day, the distinguished one had dispatched a servant to bring the sword that served as the prize into the arena. Before it was delivered to His Majesty, it happened to run straight into the Second Young Master. The one accompanying the sword-bearer to polish and carry it was none other than this small one and this small one’s roommate. The Second Young Master, despite attempts to stop him, took the sword in his hands and showed it off at length to his friends nearby.”

The moment these words were spoken, the hall erupted in an uproar.

Everyone had investigated the matter multiple times, and the palace attendants who had examined the blade at the Warm Spring Arena had been quite certain — “Chunqiu” had been inspected repeatedly before it entered the arena as the prize, and what had entered the Warm Spring Arena was definitely an unsharpened ancient sword.

Yet when the two men drew it together, it had become a sharp blade.

Someone had certainly seized the opportunity in between to swap out the blade.

Ye Tingyan and Chang Zhao had examined the swapped sword and found that someone had meticulously replicated the hilt of Chunqiu, then attached the most ordinary of blade bodies to pass off the fake as the real thing.

Ruoshui’s meaning was plain for all to see — after the guards had inspected it and before it was presented to the Emperor and Empress, he had witnessed Lin Zhao handle that sword!

Lin Zhao’s face stiffened, his lips trembling, but no words came out.

Every person present was a seasoned old fox — how could they not see that his expression was one of a guilty conscience?

Ruoshui prostrated himself once more and, summoning his courage, said: “How would this small one dare to deceive the sovereign? On that day there were many people walking alongside the Second Young Master — as long as they are summoned and questioned, the truth will be known at once!”

The presiding Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review dared not speak for a moment. The Minister of Justice, Hu Minhuai, swept a glance at Yu Qiushi.

Yu Qiushi understood, set down the teacup in his hand, and asked quickly: “You just said that you saw the Second Young Master holding the sword together with someone else. Before this, he came often to the Warm Spring Arena, and those who knew of it were surely not only you. Yet someone deliberately chose you to serve as a witness. Is there any particular explanation for this?”

His words carried an implicit meaning — he was suspecting that Ruoshui was someone Ye Tingyan had deliberately arranged.

At this point, the situation in the hall was shifting rapidly, and any single remark could change the direction of the wind.

Ye Tingyan stood beside Ruoshui and met Yu Qiushi’s gaze without a word. Ruoshui, meanwhile, shook his head quickly: “The reason Lord Ye chose this small one, aside from these two matters, was actually more because, before the mounted archery contest, while sweeping in the wooded hills behind the mountain, this small one found something like this.”

“Grand Preceptor, you should at least let someone finish speaking,” Ye Tingyan interjected gently, then waved his hand without a flicker of fear before Yu Qiushi’s gaze. “Bring out what he found and present it.”

The one who carried up the evidence was Pei Xi. He ignored the various expressions of those around him and went directly to present the item before the Three Judicial Offices: “When Ruoshui produced the item, Lord Ye knew a witness would be needed, and so he entrusted it to me for safekeeping. Several colleagues in the Censorate saw it. After I received it, I immediately sealed it in the Censorate — there is absolutely no possibility of fabrication.”

Hu Minhuai stood up, seeing the evidence before the Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review, and the moment his eyes fell on it, his mind rang out with a resounding buzz.

What Ruoshui had found in the woods was the golden tassel from a Jintian Guard short blade!

Every doubt was instantly resolved — on the day of the spring hunt, only bows and arrows were permitted to be carried; all the princes, lords, and noble families were forbidden from bringing edged weapons.

Therefore, on that day in the arena, only two categories of people carried bladed weapons.

The first were the Zhuque — the hidden guards who secretly accompanied the Emperor, whose weapons no one dared to touch.

The second were the Jintian Guard — the first unit of the Imperial Guards that provided daily protection at the Son of Heaven’s side.

Ruoshui, completely unaware of the tension in the hall, haltingly continued: “The Second Young Master, before the start of the mounted archery contest, went with the others into the wooded hills to hunt. This small one was stationed on the path through the woods, and saw with my own eyes how the Second Young Master chased after a mountain eagle and separated from the group. Then this small one heard a distinguished one asking in puzzlement where the Second Young Master had gone, and that is how — that is how…”

There was no need to finish — everyone filled in the rest of his meaning.

Everything fell into place, forming a logical whole: Lin Zhao had intended to assassinate the Emperor. He had colluded with one member of the Jintian Guard, who in advance had replicated Chunqiu’s hilt and fitted it with a blade, then brought that counterfeit sharp weapon into the Warm Spring Arena on the day.

Lin Zhao then used the pretense of hunting to separate from the group, met the guard in the woods, and obtained the sword. He then contrived to bump into the attendant carrying the prize, and swapped the swords.

He was an accomplished rider, yet he could not control his own longtime mount, and waited deliberately for a horse trainer to enter the arena, so that the two could charge toward the imperial presence together. Whether the assassination succeeded or not, the guilt could be laid entirely on the horse trainer alone.

This scheme was seamless and flawless — had the Jintian Guard who colluded with him not carelessly lost the golden tassel, not a single slip should have occurred!

As long as Lin Zhao held firm and insisted he was innocent, the Three Judicial Offices, constrained by the relationship between the Marquis of Feng Ping and Yu Qiushi, would certainly not dare to convict him outright. Even Song Lan would have had to weigh matters carefully.

Luowei heard the Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review in front of the screen murmur in a low voice, “It is a Jintian Guard ornament,” and her previously calm heart began to pound wildly.

— What a brilliant piece of strategy.

That young eunuch named Ruoshui was likely not someone Ye Tingyan had deliberately arranged — though to say he had been deliberately arranged would not be wrong either. Under Ye Tingyan’s meticulous orchestration, Ruoshui had unwittingly become the best witness for him.

Lin Zhao was a scoundrel, and when Song Lan had been out of favor, he had apparently been at odds with him. When Lin Kuishan organized the mounted archery contest that day, he had probably harbored the thought of letting his son shine brilliantly, win the sword, and then present it to the Emperor to curry favor. If the old scandal later came to light, that merit might at least earn him some small grace.

As a result, Lin Zhao reasoned that he had long since made an enemy of Song Lan, and turning things around was already too late. He was always reckless and hotheaded, and so he seized the opportunity to stage what he believed would be an “undetectable” assassination.

As for separating from the group to hunt the eagle and showing off the sword to his companions — either of these, taken alone, sounded like nothing much. On closer thought, one might even find it absurd that Lin Zhao would swap the sword in front of a crowd of rowdy friends.

But under his deliberate guiding hand, Ruoshui recounted these several events in sequence, and it would certainly lead everyone to the “truth” he had fabricated.

Had she not known in advance that this was his “great gift,” she might have been drawn in by him herself, and still felt rather clever about it.

Thinking back now, on that day, Ye Tingyan had not deliberately followed her into the wooded hills behind the mountain at all — he had gone there to throw down that golden tassel!

Others might not know, but Luowei knew clearly: after Lu Heng had been imprisoned and put to death, the Jintian Guard changed its commander, and the ink-green tassels originally worn on the blades were replaced with golden ones.

The Department of Palace Attendants had sent the tassels to the Jintian Guard’s Changfeng Hall. With so much happening recently and everyone replacing them at different times, even if one were to investigate, it would not necessarily be possible to determine who had taken one extra, or who was short one.

And the most ingenious element of the entire scheme was precisely this golden tassel.

Because it told Song Lan plainly and clearly: someone within the Jintian Guard had colluded with an outside official.

But Song Lan could not determine who.

Beyond bringing down the Marquis of Feng Ping, this affair meant that, after all this, the entire Jintian Guard had become “not fully trustworthy” in Song Lan’s eyes. From Lu Heng to the present, Luowei could easily foresee — after today, the unit that had once been Song Lan’s most useful imperial guards would cease to exist.

The Jintian Guard were all men personally trained by Song Ling, capable hands even on the battlefield, and above all loyal without question — they would see the Changfeng Command Token and treat it as though their former master stood before them.

Now that Song Lan held the token, even Luowei herself could not learn from these men what orders the Emperor had given.

If she could not learn, better to destroy.

This was the true great gift Ye Tingyan intended to give her.

He had guessed that she had struck against Lu Heng, and naturally concluded that she feared the entire Jintian Guard, and so he offered his loyalty by this method.

A dense, crawling shudder crept up from her spine, and once Luowei had thought all of this through, a single bead of cold sweat actually ran down her temple against her will.

Looking again at Song Lan, she saw his face was dark and overcast, and he said nothing.

And so she knew: today’s trial had already been completed in Song Lan’s heart.

Just then, the horse trainer, covered in wounds all over his body, heard all of this, struggled to rise, and kowtowed against the steps with a force that made the heart tremble.

“This small one is innocent! This small one is innocent!”

Lin Zhao, amid the unrelenting stream of accusations, had gone completely blank. By now, even he — dense as he was — understood that he had likely stumbled into someone else’s trap, but with both witness and physical evidence before him, he had no idea whatsoever how to refute them.

He had run rampant for many years, and for the first time he felt an enormous, overwhelming terror rise up in him — he could barely get words out: “This is… a frame-up, this is a fabrication, you — you people…”

Song Lan gave a cold cough and, from behind the screen, opened his mouth: “We are weary. Now that the trial is concluded, let the Three Judicial Offices take the prisoners and subject them to severe interrogation to determine who is behind this.”

This was his verdict for them all.

The Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review and the Imperial Censor-in-Chief immediately breathed a sigh of relief, and Hu Minhuai — who was on close terms with Yu Qiushi — hesitated but had no choice other than to follow the other two and respond together: “As Your Majesty commands.”

Lin Kuishan had not attended today to avoid any appearance of conflict of interest. Yu Qiushi at this moment had also worked out the full scope of Ye Tingyan’s scheme and was still in a state of disbelief that a jade-faced young man could maneuver the art of power to such a degree — he was caught in a stunned uncertainty when suddenly another voice rang out from the opposite side.

“Speaking of which, Lord Ye — quite by coincidence — I too have just suddenly discovered that I have a witness, who has likewise retrieved a piece of evidence.”

Ye Tingyan paused slightly and raised his eyes toward Chang Zhao, who had left his seat and risen.

Chang Zhao bowed to him, then called someone from behind him. This person too carried a piece of evidence and walked toward the dais.

“Lord Ye questioned everyone at the Warm Spring Arena, and so did I, and I too obtained a piece of evidence from a sweeping eunuch. When I first saw this item, I did not know what use it had. But now that I have heard Lord Ye’s words, I find it is indeed worth presenting.”

Song Lan could not restrain himself and rose to look. Luowei followed, stepping forward, and the moment she saw it, her heart jolted violently.

The item this sweeping eunuch had found was the feather-flower wooden arrow she had snatched away and shot into the woods on that day!

Chang Zhao said slowly: “Lord Ye says the Second Young Master Lin separated from the group and entered the deep forest, and the forest also contains a Jintian Guard ornament — most suspicious. This feather-flower wooden arrow is carved with a leaf, which is Lord Ye’s personally crafted signature arrow. And so this official also wishes to ask — was Lord Ye also separated from the group on that day, alone in the back hills? Did he conspire with the Second Young Master Lin, or is he… also not above suspicion?”

Luowei stepped one pace outward, standing to the side where she could just glimpse Ye Tingyan, and cast him a long, deep look.

For some reason, she suddenly recalled the words Ye Tingyan had spoken — “save this official’s life.”

Yet under the present circumstances, how could she step out and speak, claiming that on that day Ye Tingyan had been on the back hills for a private meeting with her?

Ye Tingyan’s gaze shifted from Chang Zhao to Yu Qiushi, then swept across Luowei and, pausing for just an instant, quickly moved away.

“I rode alone and indeed have no one to vouch for me,” he said calmly. “The feather-flower wooden arrow, too, is indeed mine — I cannot refute it. Scholar Chang’s doubts are entirely warranted. But an innocent man has nothing to fear — then please let the Ministry of Justice take me in, and subject me to interrogation together with the Second Young Master Lin.”

*