Although the border regions had been troubled in recent years, the Great Yin dynasty had not held a grand imperial hunt — the kind held twice a year — in a very long time. When Luowei proposed the idea, she was met with opposition from all levels of the Grand Council. At noon, when Song Lan came to see her, she simply said with a calm smile: “The founding emperor won his dynasty by force of arms, and was ever diligent throughout the four seasons — conducting spring tours and autumn hunts. How can Your Majesty not follow the example of his brave ancestors?”

Song Lan toyed with the glass bead in his hand and relented, giving his consent.

Not long after Yu Qiushi and his faction were sentenced to death for treason, it was Song Lan’s birthday. As the young emperor came of age, the occasion called for the grandest of national ceremonies. The entire capital celebrated for three days, and the crystal bead curtain in Qianfang Hall — long unoccupied yet still a symbol of the weighty authority of the regent — was finally taken down.

The court had previously been co-governed by the Empress and the Grand Preceptor. Now that the Grand Preceptor was dead and the Luminous Emperor ruled directly, the Empress’s position naturally became somewhat delicate.

From the very beginning, many ministers had been deeply dissatisfied with a woman’s involvement in governance. Though they dared not speak plainly given the deep bond between Emperor and Empress, their memorials were rife with veiled mockery and thinly veiled censure. Fortunately, the Empress had already taken the initiative to withdraw behind the curtain and stay away from court — and now, at the Grand Council assembly, she formally surrendered the golden seal of regency, declaring outright that she would no longer interfere in state affairs.

The ministers praised her effusively. The act of “withdrawing the curtain and returning the seal” became a celebrated story spoken of throughout the land.

Song Lan had expected that after Yu Qiushi’s death, it would take considerable effort to retrieve the golden seal from Luowei. Seeing her offer it up herself, he was genuinely surprised. With the Grand Council ministers present, it was not the moment for lengthy words, yet the hand he extended to help her rise tightened ever so slightly.

Was it that she had keenly sensed his thoughts — or did she have another plan entirely?

Either way, this posture of submission left him momentarily without a word to say.

After surrendering the golden seal, Luowei raised the matter of the Double Ninth Autumn Hunt.

To resist the Western Wilds, the founding emperor had once built a hunting ground enclosure outside Guyou Mountain, hunting for half a month around the autumnal equinox. But later emperors had little love for military pursuits, and the place gradually fell into disuse. Hunting was relocated to the outskirts of the capital, reduced to a mere three or four days.

Even the late spring hunt that year had been disrupted by an assassination attempt, and had concluded without pleasure.

When Luowei raised the matter, Song Lan immediately understood that the golden seal had not been surrendered so easily after all. But with Yan Lang about to depart the capital, he was curious to see what Luowei was scheming — and so he went along with the current, agreeing readily.

After the court assembly dispersed, Luowei encountered the now-aged Lu Hang at the entrance of the Archive Tower.

Lu Hang, after years of wandering in exile, had been recalled to court by Emperor Gao once Xue Wenming fell from power, reinstated as Censor-in-Chief. After the Thorn Pruning case, Xue Wenming had thrown in his lot with Yu Qiushi; Lu Hang had seized the opportunity to retire, taking a leisurely post at Qiong Ting, and ceased all involvement in the winds and clouds of court politics.

Thus, he had survived safely to this day.

Since their parting at Dongshan, they had met only in court or public settings. Luowei was surprised to see him now, and her heart filled with a tangle of emotions as she thought of Qiu Xueyue and how she did not know how he fared. Lu Hang stepped forward to bow: “This old minister pays his respects to Her Majesty the Empress.”

“Old Lu, there is no need for formality.”

Luowei handed several scrolls to Zhang Suwu and bade him proceed ahead, then strolled slowly alongside Lu Hang. She was not at all surprised to hear him ask: “I understand Her Majesty has withdrawn the curtain and returned the seal, and will no longer involve herself in state affairs?”

Luowei smiled: “It was always a reluctant necessity. Now that His Majesty has grown into his role, why should I cling to a reputation for villainy and refuse to relinquish power? Glory and power are like clouds floating past — Old Lu understands this far better than I do.”

Lu Hang shook his head: “Your Majesty, this old minister does not believe you are unaware — His Majesty… is not the late Crown Prince.”

These were words bordering on grave insubordination. Luowei’s eyes turned cold: “And what does Old Lu mean by this?”

Lu Hang was entirely unafraid, and only said: “At present, His Majesty has just come of age. Observing three years of his governance… without the Grand Preceptor and Your Majesty to check his nature, this minister can only worry…”

Luowei cut him off: “His Majesty is resolute and swift-acting, with the boldness of youth.”

Lu Hang sighed repeatedly: “Does Your Majesty not understand what this old minister is trying to say?”

He turned his head and saw that Luowei’s face bore no trace of anger — only a quiet smile. His heart stirred: “Could it be that Your Majesty has another plan?”

Luowei still said nothing. Just as Lu Hang was about to press further, they heard a voice call out: “Master.”

Looking up, they saw it was Xu Dan. Seeing Luowei present as well, Xu Dan came forward in joyful surprise to pay his respects. Luowei studied him for a moment, genuinely surprised: “So young Master Xu is a student under Old Lu?”

Lu Hang said: “Beyond the bond of teacher and student, I am already half-retired, and can offer Booming little in the way of prospects and career advancement.”

Xu Dan replied: “It is simply a matter of kindred spirits.”

Luowei looked up at the sky and bid the two of them farewell, but not before adding a meaningful remark as she departed: “Old Lu has taken in a fine student.”

Zhang Suwu had already been sent back to the palace. After parting from those two, Luowei walked alone along the long corridor before the Archive Tower for quite some time, following the red walls to their end, then climbed up to the city wall to look out into the distance.

It was the hour of sunset, and the distant sky was spread with a magnificent blaze of colored clouds.

The sky was vast, the clouds high. She closed her eyes, spread her arms slightly, and let the wind tangle the wisps of hair at her temples.

The clouds of this day looked exactly the same as they had years ago, when she had stood at the Censorate and confronted Yu Qiushi and the Song Lan behind him.

Only now the other side was empty and distant, and below the platform no sound of “Lament for the Jintian” could be heard.

The high sky remained as it always had been. Every absurd performance must, in the end, come down its final curtain.

She opened her eyes and turned — and was unexpectedly met with the sight of Ye Tingyan standing below at the Mingguang Gate beneath the palace wall, head tilted back, watching her with focused attention.

He was dressed in a crimson official robe, holding a spotless white ceremonial tablet, wearing a straight-angled headpiece whose long wing-like tassels trembled slightly in the wind — the image of immaculate propriety.

He must have been passing through here on his way out of the palace and happened to look up to see her.

She had no idea how long he had been standing there watching.

The two of them gazed at each other across the autumn wind. The sun was gradually sinking, casting her in a wash of golden light. Ye Tingyan narrowed his eyes slightly, gave a respectful bow, then turned and walked away.

Of all their many encounters, this seemed to be the first time he had been the one to leave first, Luowei thought.

* * *

When the autumn winds rose, Yan Lang entered the palace to bid farewell to Emperor and Empress, then set out with the dozen or so soldiers he had brought and began the journey back to Youzhou.

That same day, Song Yaofeng was conferred the title of Princess Imperial of the Chen Kingdom, and was set to leave the capital for her fiefdom after the Double Ninth Festival.

Song Lan dispatched people to escort Yan Lang all the way to the Pingshao Pass outside Youzhou city.

Luowei also sent several attendants to wait upon Song Yaofeng, keeping her secure within the princess’s residence, with tight and impenetrable guards surrounding the compound inside and out.

Between Emperor and Empress there persisted this kind of mutual tacit understanding — a surface calm that was gradually growing taut with tension.

This confrontation, save for the two of them, no one else was aware of.

In the eyes of the hundred officials, it was an entirely peaceful scene: the Emperor had taken direct control of the reins of power and was beginning to show his capabilities; the Empress had withdrawn from politics and devoted herself to managing the inner palace. Nothing could appear more tranquil.

Though the Guyou Mountain hunt had initially met with opposition, after repeated deliberations by the Grand Council, it was concluded that with the Emperor newly in direct control, if he could establish his authority through the autumn hunt, it would be no bad thing for the nation.

After a few days of silence, the Remonstrance and Surveillance Offices also submitted memorials in strangely unanimous support.

In the fourth year of the Jinghe reign, on the Double Ninth, the Luminous Emperor reopened the Guyou Mountain enclosure and held the first grand autumn hunt in three reigns, with the Empress in attendance.

Yan Ji, the commander of the Imperial Guards promoted by Song Lan, rode alongside the Zhuque Division, while Ye Tingyan was left behind in the city.

On the first day, the Emperor arrived at the enclosure grounds and ordered a high platform erected for observation.

On the second day, after a brief rest, the attendants on both sides released the deer for the drive. Song Lan raised a carved bow and golden arrow — and missed. The arrow only grazed the deer’s neck.

The startled deer bolted in all directions. The attendants quickly raised their banners and herded it back within a circle of people.

Luowei stood at Song Lan’s side and smiled: “Your Majesty need not be anxious.”

Song Lan glanced at her, and then suddenly said: “Elder Sister’s archery far surpasses mine — why not nock an arrow to the bow?”

Luowei looked back at him steadily for a long moment before she said: “Very well.”

She casually picked up a bow from beside her and drew an iron arrow from one of the soldiers. Song Lan had not expected her to agree, and was still in a daze when he heard her say: “Your Majesty, let us shoot together.”

And so the two of them drew their bowstrings taut at the same time, tracking the fleeing deer with their arrowheads. Yan Ji, seeing this, quickly ordered the men to begin beating the drums to add momentum. The drumbeats grew progressively more urgent, and then, at their most frantic peak, both of them released their arrows together.

Song Lan lowered his bow and watched as Luowei’s plain iron arrow grazed past his golden one — and in the fierce wind, actually deflected the golden arrow’s path by a full inch!

And so both arrows struck together. The golden arrow hit the deer’s leg, making it cry out in pain, while Luowei’s iron arrow pierced the neck wound that had already been grazed open — a single, lethal shot.

Someone pulled out both arrows and cried out in joyful excitement: “Emperor and Empress shooting together — great fortune for the Great Yin!”

Song Lan turned to look, and a cold bead of sweat suddenly appeared on his brow.

Luowei did not look at him. Smiling pleasantly, she adjusted the long bow in her hands and sighed with a tone whose meaning was unclear: “The deer of the Central Plains inevitably draws all under heaven to pursue it. Your Majesty obtained the deer in the forest, yet your aim was lacking; even had you released it back to the platform below, it would still have fallen to this consort’s advantage. My thanks for your gracious concession.”

He raised his hand and wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and felt within him a hidden excitement beginning to break through the surface like a seedling pushing up through soil.

After sparring in the shadows for so very long, today he had finally confirmed what the other party truly wanted.

Luowei watched the expression on Song Lan’s face shift and change, but said nothing.

She did not press him to speak, and in the end it was Song Lan who first reined in his displeasure. He gripped the long bow from her hands and raised his voice, laughing in praise: “Elder Sister’s archery is still as fine as ever — truly worthy of…”

Song Lan did not finish the sentence. Luowei understood without it being said, and the two of them broke into open laughter together.

The surrounding soldiers had no idea what had transpired and continued to beat the drums, preparing to summon the officers and soldiers of the capital’s suburban garrison to come forward and present themselves for the Emperor’s review.

The two of them watched a military review together from the high platform.

That same night, Ye Tingyan received, in his residence, a secret letter rushed to him by Song Lan in the dead of night.

The letter instructed him to immediately take the jade tablet Song Lan had previously bestowed upon him, enter the palace, and meet with Yan Ji’s younger brother Yan Ping — who was stationed within the inner palace — first to protect the Dowager Empress of Chenghui, and then to scatter the garrison guards throughout all thirteen gates of the inner and outer imperial city, watching vigilantly for any sign of unusual movement.

This handwritten letter from Song Lan was methodical and composed, and moreover the letter clearly named several commanders of the Imperial Guards — along with Yan Ping — all of whom were his most trusted subordinates.

He had placed these men in the city in advance, as though he had prepared for this long ago.

Ye Tingyan read the letter three times, his hands growing more and more unsteady. Zhou Chuyin came in rubbing her eyes, snatched the letter and read it in a glance, and was immediately jolted wide awake, unable to help muttering in stunned disbelief: “What does this mean…”

“So it is as I feared — the Guyou Mountain excursion…” Ye Tingyan enunciated each word with force, nearly biting the tip of his own tongue: “The Empress intends to rebel!”

He flung the letter to the ground and said through gritted teeth: “How could Song Lan not have guessed her intentions? Too hasty — far too hasty!”

After saying this, he pressed his fingers to his brow, composed himself for a moment, and then said: “Very well. Bring me my sword.”

Zhou Chuyin said not a word and placed the sword directly into his hand.

* * *

That night, Luowei and Song Lan were quartered in separate tents. Around the third watch, Luowei carried a bowl of soup to Song Lan’s tent to seek him out. The guards at the entrance lowered their eyes and let her pass. Luowei dismissed the attendants, set down the bowl in her hands, and walked slowly to the front of the sleeping pallet.

She had just opened her mouth and called out “Zi Lan” when she suddenly realized — the sleeping pallet was empty.

Song Lan was not here!

At once someone outside the entrance whistled, and the Imperial Guards burst in, surrounding her. Yan Ji, who led them, cupped his hands and bowed to her, a faintly mocking edge in his voice: “Your Majesty the Empress, His Majesty requests your presence.”

Yan Ji and the Yan Ping within the palace were both younger brothers of that young Yan woman who had served the Dowager Empress — members of the Song Lan’s maternal relatives who were close to him.

Luowei asked without hurry or panic: “And where is His Majesty at this moment?”

Yan Ji answered arrogantly: “Your Majesty will know when you arrive.”

Escorted by soldiers, she boarded a cramped palanquin carriage. The horses set off at a gallop, leaving the hunt encampment, ascending the mountain road of Guyou Mountain, and stopping before a somewhat ancient-looking temple at the peak.

Luowei looked up to take in the scene and recognized it in the darkness — this was the temple dedicated to the founding ancestor, Emperor Gao.

On Guyou Mountain stood the Chong Mausoleum of Emperor Gao. At the peak was the Chong Mausoleum’s ancestral temple, but Guyou Mountain being so far from the capital, an earlier emperor — Emperor Xuan — had moved the ancestral temple to the outskirts of the capital in his time.

This place no longer held ritual ceremonies, and as it was a royal garden, few people visited. Only servants came to sweep and clean, and guards to keep watch.

Luowei passed through four successive gates and walked toward the innermost depths. In the inner hall, Song Lan had lit many red candles. Wrapped in his dragon robe, a string of prayer beads in his hand, he sat quietly on the sleeping pallet, waiting for her.

The candlelight flickered, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow upon his face.

Someone slammed the hall doors shut behind her with a loud bang. Luowei glanced back, her face entirely expressionless. She did not even bow to him — she simply skirted the burning red candles and walked to stand before him.

“Zi Lan.”

Song Lan opened his eyes and smiled at her: “Elder Sister, you have come.”

Luowei spread her hands and sighed: “Today you have brought me here under constraint — what charge is it this time?”

Song Lan smiled: “How can Elder Sister call it ‘under constraint’?”

Luowei replied: “The last time you came to my chambers in the dead of night — was that not to bring me in under constraint?”

Song Lan replied: “That is a grievance — was it not Elder Sister who lured me there?”

At these words, his expression did not change, yet his chest rose and fell. He struggled to swallow, and asked with a faint smile: “But since you have come here, tell me one truth.”

Luowei asked: “Oh? And what does Your Majesty wish to ask?”

Song Lan closed his eyes. After a long while, he managed to ask with difficulty: “Did you ever…”

He did not finish. Luowei, as though unable to suppress herself, bit her lip and began to laugh, then reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, saying with a smile: “Guess.”

A vein twitched at Song Lan’s temple. He gripped Luowei’s arm with both hands and yanked her toward him. The prayer beads clattered and scattered across the floor.

Luowei stumbled a step and nearly fell before the pallet. She steadied herself against Song Lan’s arm and raised her eyes, her face still smiling: “Two months and four days after Yu Qiushi’s death — you’ve finally failed to keep up the pretense?”

“No, wait — from the first year of Jinghe — or even earlier, from after the Thorn Pruning, four years and eight months and twenty-four days — you have finally… failed to keep up the pretense?”