Ever since the morning the drum at the Complaint Gate had sounded out over the capital, wine shops and teahouses had been buzzing. The Citang case — the one that had once washed half the capital’s officialdom in blood — was now being dug up again over idle conversation. Some students and scholars who had only arrived for the spring examinations knew of the matter only in broad strokes, but after this incident they had at last heard the full story.

Qiu Fang had been known throughout his years in office for his clean reputation. The one who beat the Complaint Gate drum was Qiu Fang’s daughter — though no one knew how she had survived the prison sentence all those years ago, she had now stepped forward to plead wrongful conviction on Liu Fuliang’s behalf. As for the truth of the matter — and, thinking deeper, the person truly behind the Citang case — could it really have been the Fifth Prince?

But such speculation only passed briefly through each person’s mind. No one dared to speak of it aloud.

What circulated far more widely among common people, compared to “what the truth actually was,” were the deeds and merits of the former Crown Prince.

Though the Fifth Prince was brilliant in literary talent, he was ultimately a pampered scion of the imperial family, unfamiliar with the ways of the world. People clearly preferred to hear the legendary stories of the Crown Prince — of how he had been precocious from youth, living in the Youzhou military camp for two full years starting at age ten; of how he had been formally invested as Crown Prince at twelve; of how at fifteen he had already been shouldering responsibility on his own, managing floods and repelling locust plagues, not to mention the poems and writings that had circulated and become renowned throughout the realm.

The celebrated teacher Zhengzhi, who was known throughout the land, had personally inscribed the two characters “Chengming” for him. Out of a bond of affection for his teacher and old friends, the Crown Prince had sent out troops under pressure to the southern frontier, and with the force of a thunderclap had eradicated the ghost-worshipping cult that had been rampant there at the time, roots and all. To this day, from Jingchu to Guangdong and Guangxi, the common people still offer incense and worship before statues of the Crown Prince, in gratitude for his achievement in purging that evil.

The storytellers at the taverns sang his praises with dramatic flourish, embellishing his deeds until they seemed almost supernatural. Even the beggars outside the doorsteps jostled to crowd onto the steps and listen.

Perhaps such boundless achievements in his youth had sapped the Crown Prince’s allotted years. But a man like him — alive, he had shaken heaven and earth; dead, he could still become the subject of a beautiful tale. The Jingle Princess, who had herself passed away from illness, had composed a poem titled “Lament for Jintian” that still circulated widely to this day. At the time, the scholars gathered before the Censorate had competed to compose verses for the Crown Prince, calling for the execution of those responsible without mercy.

This was not only an expression of popular sentiment — it was also a grand event in the literary world.

Chang Zhao sat in the upper story of the tower, the spring tea in his hand long since gone cold. Outside the window, the willow branches had just burst into sparse new green.

Su Shiyu sat across from him. The two of them had listened to the storyteller’s words together and could not help but give a bitter smile. “Ping Nian, you have gone to considerable trouble.”

In recent days, Chang Zhao and Su Shiyu had been spending much time together. Both men were hemmed in on all sides, living with utmost caution. After several wine banquets, Su Shiyu had spoken candidly of what weighed on his heart, and the two had gradually come to feel something of the bond between true friends.

Therefore, Chang Zhao had concealed from Su Shiyu only one half of his wager with Luowei — Su Shiyu had long since seen through his ambitions, and whether it was a matter of shared interests or his feelings for the Noble Consort, he could only stand on Chang Zhao’s side.

Their meeting at Fengle Tower had been his declaration of allegiance.

Chang Zhao asked with a smile, “Why do you say that?”

Su Shiyu gestured downward. “Su Luowei wants to reopen the Citang case — that is a matter of goodwill, a desire to restore the posthumous honor of the more than a thousand people who were implicated back then. But she knows full well that as long as His Majesty remains on the throne, that cannot be accomplished. So she took the risk of having someone beat the Complaint Gate drum at this time — to plant seeds of doubt in the hearts of the people: did the case all those years ago have hidden circumstances? Suspicion is sometimes more frightening than evidence. His Majesty has been contemptuous of the Censorate and remonstrance in recent years, while her own reputation is excellent — she is the Chengming Crown Prince’s betrothed. If one day she launches a palace coup, she need only let slip a few words about the hidden circumstances of the Citang case, and the scholars of the realm will believe her to seven parts in ten.”

“This is no different from how Yu Qiushi and His Majesty used the Jintian poems to heavily punish the perpetrators back in the day. With men of letters at one’s side and public opinion once stirred, no matter how absurd the affair, one can persuade the world. She has been fighting against Yu Qiushi and His Majesty all these years, and in the end has learned no small amount from them.”

Chang Zhao arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Shiyu is clearly speaking of your sister — what does that have to do with praising me?”

Su Shiyu, his expression unchanged, continued, “For her to act this way, she must accept the risk that Qiu Xueyu might die and implicate others. So she had no choice but to come and negotiate with you. You agreed to her request — promising not to implicate others — and then proceeded to flood the streets and alleyways with lavish praise for the Crown Prince’s achievements. In doing so—”

He raised his wine cup in a toast to Chang Zhao. “The popular sentiment that had originally attached itself to the beating of the drum now shifts to rest upon the deceased Your Highness instead. The more excellent the Crown Prince’s name becomes, the more the Jintian poetry case is celebrated as a beautiful tale of justice — the scholars, the officials, and the common gentry who once furiously called for the Crown Prince’s grievances to be addressed, all of them will feel an ever-deeper resistance in their hearts against anyone seeking to overturn the Citang case. Do not forget — the person for whom Qiu Xueyu is pleading wrongful conviction was the very one who died under their relentless pressure.”

“Who would be willing to admit to having committed so grave a mistake?”

He took a sip from his cup. “Who has so broad a heart as to admit that they were deceived back then — deceived by the Grand Preceptor, deceived by the present Emperor? When His Majesty and the Grand Preceptor laid this poison scheme at the time, they bound those impassioned scholars to themselves on the same vessel. If the Citang case killed the wrong person, then all of them are accomplices. When all is said and done, the Chengming Crown Prince is already dead — to have such a fine reputation after death is enough. As for who actually killed him — to those people, how important can that truly be? Even if suspicions stir in the depths of their hearts, they will not speak of them openly. These past days, Brother Ping Nian has been deliberately spreading praise for the Crown Prince far and wide — was it not precisely to remind them of this?”

Chang Zhao raised his cup and laughed long and freely, a look of admiration in his eyes. “And so—”

Su Shiyu said calmly, “And so Brother Ping Nian has indeed kept his word — the way of not implicating others is precisely to use this matter to suppress the popular sentiment stirred by the Complaint Gate drum. In time, every piece of evidence and testimony that Qiu Xueyu has presented will be struck down one by one, and the original verdict upheld. The streets and alleyways will not only be free of doubt — many people, I fear, will secretly feel relieved.”

He paused here for a moment. “Yet this move of Brother Ping Nian’s is not without a way to break it. Both you and His Majesty are exploiting the dead. Once he has been elevated to this degree, Brother Ping Nian — are you not afraid? If by chance he has not actually died — if the Empress were to find someone to impersonate him, this entire scheme would fall apart of its own accord.”

Chang Zhao let out a contemptuous snort. “He is hardly so easy to impersonate.”

“The late Crown Prince departed this world too soon. Nearly all of those who clamored for his vindication had never actually laid eyes on him. Gold statues and painted portraits capture at most three parts of one’s bearing. The common folk have even less idea what this highborn scion of the imperial family actually looked like. Even if the Empress fashioned a puppet identical to him, what of it? To break this scheme through such means would be nothing but the fantasy of a fool.”

Su Shiyu’s brow shifted slightly, and he let out a breath as if relieved. “Then all is well.”

Chang Zhao gazed absently at the yellow-green willow branches and sighed. “Your sister, and your adoptive father, and the civil officials throughout the court of Great Yin, and His Majesty, and the Grand Preceptor — just like them, they place too great a weight on reputation. To accomplish one thing, they must first accomplish ten thousand others to prove that what they are doing is right. But in history, success is what determines who was right and who was wrong. Caring too much only adds to one’s own troubles.”

Su Shiyu was silent. The two sat facing each other for a time. Chang Zhao said suddenly, “The last time I gazed at the spring scenery here was together with Bo Ming.”

It was a familiar name. Su Shiyu thought for a moment and asked, “That is Xu Dan — Lord Xu?”

Chang Zhao gave a soft sound of agreement, but his gaze did not move from the window, as if his thoughts had drifted very far away. “I have never had many friends from childhood. Since coming to the capital I have only barely managed to make one or two. To call someone a true bosom companion… not even that — people with whom I could share a cup of wine were few and far between. Now that I have found favor in His Majesty’s eyes, Bo Ming no longer wishes to share a drink with me. He says that those who do not walk the same path cannot scheme together, that if one’s paths diverge… forget it.”

Su Shiyu’s expression became complicated. After a long moment he said, “Brother Ping Nian turns out to be a man of deep feeling.”

He was moved despite himself. “Back when I was under the wing of Minister Su, precisely because of the Minister’s prominence and the Empress’s power, I kept my distance to avoid suspicion. Even when I was on good terms with someone, I dared not drink to real intoxication. You and I share the same misfortune, Brother — it is truly a matter of fate.”

Chang Zhao shook his head. “Let us not speak of that. Today the snow is melting and the spring scenery is beautiful — truly a rare pleasure. Let us drink together, sleep side by side, and not return until we are drunk!”

Su Shiyu smiled. “Excellent — we shall not go home sober.”

*

In those days, Luowei did not venture outside. The crabapple trees in the back garden had sprouted new leaves and were growing greener with each passing day. In a single night, the bitter cold had given way to spring — and she, caught off guard, fell ill with a wind-chill fever.

Ye Tingyan came home from morning court each day and would always bring scrolls of books to her bedside. Sometimes he would tell her about developments at court; other times he would read new poetry aloud to her.

Luowei suddenly realized that his voice had never changed. What was different before was nothing more than deliberate disguise.

The words were beautiful, and reading them aloud left the taste of fragrance between the lips and teeth. His voice remained as it had always been — clear and refined, clean and pure. When she closed her eyes, she always wondered if she had been sleeping through a very long dream.

The dream had begun in the third year of the Tiansi reign. In the dream there were four years of torrential spring rain. Her hair and robes had been soaked completely through by the downpour, yet the crabapple flowers bloomed on year after year without fading — not a single petal had fallen, even in the rain.

“The old case has been reviewed.”

Ye Tingyan brought a bowl of medicinal broth, blew on it patiently a few times to cool it, and raised his hand to feed her. Luowei had always felt faint at the smell of bitter medicine and had barely begun to furrow her brow when, from somewhere, he produced a candied plum and placed it into her mouth.

Dreading bitterness when taking medicine was something only small children did.

Luowei gave it a lick. A sweet, thick flavor flooded the tip of her tongue.

She tilted her head back and drank the medicine down to the last drop, then said meekly, “I wasn’t even refusing to drink it.”

Coaxing a little girl who wouldn’t take her medicine with a candied plum — that was something from so many, many years ago.

Ye Tingyan only smiled without speaking. When he opened his mouth again, there was an almost childlike note of self-satisfaction in his voice. “These past days, I have walked through every street and alleyway of the capital, and wherever I went, I could hear people praising him.”

Luowei had to think for a moment before she understood — the “him” he spoke of was himself.

“Why say ‘him’? Are you not him?”

Ye Tingyan said ruefully, “That was not what I meant to say.”

Luowei would not let it go. “This part matters more.”

So he conceded. “I don’t know why I said it that way. He and I are ultimately different.”

Luowei coughed once and was just about to say something when Ye Tingyan quickly cut in, “It is nothing. Once I become him again, all will be well. Right now… it is not yet time.”

Luowei then turned it over in her mind and understood the meaning behind his bringing it up. She could not help but sigh. “Chang Zhao’s methods are formidable. I knew that once he accepted our wager he would not sit idly by, yet I didn’t expect him to play this card. Still… does Song Lan know his true intentions? Did he say nothing at all?”

“Song Lan had originally hoped to use the occasion to retaliate against those who had pressured him during the Jingqiu remonstrance affair. Chang Zhao’s move naturally displeased him. Moreover, Song Lan is no longer as unsure of himself as he was four years ago — hearing the praise of the late Crown Prince makes him all the more quick to anger. As the balance shifts, Chang Zhao is losing favor these days, while Song Lan trusts me a little more. I am using the opportunity to search the palace for the Ezhen spy you suspected earlier. This time, I will find him for certain.”

Luowei nodded in acknowledgment, wanting to ask another question — then thought better of it and said nothing.

Since she had not asked why she had been ill for a full month, Ye Tingyan likewise pretended nothing was amiss. “Though the retrial of the Citang case has failed, the Ministry of Justice still has that ‘letter in the Crown Prince’s own hand’ and has not yet reached a conclusion. Song Lan also has no desire to have Qiu Xueyu executed at this time — for fear of casting further doubt on an already-settled case. This time, he will certainly compel Qiu Xueyu to publicly admit to fabricating the evidence, in public view, to prevent the Citang case from ever having another chance to be overturned.”

Luowei gripped his hand tightly. “She…”

Ye Tingyan consoled her. “Song Lan will not permit her to die. I have sent word to the people in the Ministry of Justice — they will not subject her to the harsh punishments used in the Zhuque Bureau. But physical suffering, some measure of that, is unavoidable.”

Luowei breathed out slowly and said calmly, “Very well. Very well.”

She showed a bitter smile and said slowly, “You know — A’Fei beating the Complaint Gate drum was something we decided upon long ago. When she was rescued by Shu Kang and me back then, the reason she did not give in to thoughts of ending her life was precisely for this. Later, she was unexpectedly exposed within the palace, barely managed to escape, and fled far to the northern frontier. In truth, I had already stopped wanting her to come back. Even though this matter could not be done by anyone other than her — even though without it there would have been complications — I knew that even if her life were spared, she would endure a great deal, a very great deal of suffering.”

“And yet we all must guard things more precious than our own lives, and protect people more important than ourselves.”

Ye Tingyan said gently, “Yes. And also those beautiful bonds of friendship and principles — that is why one is willing to risk one’s life, and has never once felt regret.”

After evening fell, Luowei suddenly found she had a little more energy, and walked together with Ye Tingyan through the garden for a long while. The spring willows were half in full leaf, their branches dense and lush, and the restlessness and unease that had plagued her these past days gradually quieted.

Zhou Chuyin and Zhou Xuechu invited them over for refreshments and moon-viewing. The two of them accepted with pleasure. They had been gazing at the moon for only half of the evening when a sudden gust of wind rose. Ye Tingyan draped his outer robe over Luowei’s shoulders, and they hurried through the covered walkway.

“Was yesterday the Waking of Insects? Spring is returning as well. The early spring cold can be treacherous — you should wear an extra layer when you go to morning court.”

The following morning, Ye Tingyan came hurrying back after morning court.

Luowei opened the door and saw that the hem of his robe had been soaked by the spring rain, damp and suffused with mist.

And he simply said in a low, steady voice, “Last night the Noble Consort gave birth. The palace lights burned all through the night.”

Luowei was taken aback. “The child must be nine months along by now. Are the Noble Consort and the baby well?”

Ye Tingyan deliberated at length and did not answer her question. Instead, he said with difficulty, “Weiwei…”

“Shiyu was sent into the Zhuque Bureau yesterday.”