The succession dispute of the previous court had not yet fully cleared its clouds and mist, but a corner of it could be glimpsed.

By mid-October, the Northern Censorate had arrested twelve people in the capital for “improper discussion of succession.”

Yang Lun stood before Yunyai Hall, where a central cedar pillar ran straight to the top. Four eave pillars stood around the central pillar, with pavilion pillars between the eaves. Starting three meters out from the central pillar’s base, four levels were carved, with cross-beams connecting the horizontal center pillar, eave pillars, intermediate pillars, and corner pillars into one unit. The structure was so complex that a single error would cause the entire building to tilt.

Wearing gray robes, Deng Ying stood in the autumn wind’s fine dust, looking up at the roof tiling work, raising his hand to point at the eaves while speaking with the craftsmen. As his sleeve fell back, the marks left by shackles were visible on his wrist.

“Master Deng, the food has arrived from the kitchen.”

“Good, everyone come down to eat.”

After speaking, he lowered his arm and turned to walk back, raising his head to see Yang Lun.

After their eyes met, they tactfully avoided each other’s gaze.

“You’re here,” Deng Ying casually greeted.

Yang Lun nodded, glancing at the scaffolding before him.

“Almost finished?”

“Yes.”

Deng Ying replied, “Just these two days left.” They stood side by side, looking up at the hall’s roof.

The deep autumn wind swept down from above, stirring their robes.

Yang Lun spoke sideways, “I came today to inform you that the Ministry of Justice has concluded the investigation of the elixir case at Qingtian Temple. His Majesty has summoned Cao Peilin for questioning.”

Deng Ying lowered his head, “What did he say?”

“He said the central pillar of Yunyai Hall reaches heaven above and connects to underground rivers below, securing the emperor’s longevity and stabilizing the realm. These words touch upon His Majesty’s vital point.”

Deng Ying silently lowered his head.

“What did His Majesty say?”

Yang Lun brushed the dust from his robes, saying lightly, “Wait here for the imperial edict. It’ll be just a day or two.”

Deng Ying didn’t ask anything more, just nodded and said, “Alright.”

Yang Lun looked up at the hall’s roof again and said evenly, “After the Tongjia tragedy, you climbed to the position of Eastern Factory Superintendent over those people’s corpses. The officials of the Censorate and Six Bureaus hate you to the bone. Now you’re walking the old path again – don’t you want to tell me anything beforehand?”

Deng Ying smiled slightly.

“What is there to say?”

His face was somewhat pale, but his voice was calm.

“What could you do even if I told you?”

“Hmph.”

Yang Lun snorted coldly and turned his back.

Deng Ying’s voice came from behind, “Zixi, this path is one I chose to walk. I’ve walked it steadily. Coming to this point, you’ve accepted me as a friend, and the teacher is willing to call me Fuling. What I once dreamed of has become reality – I have no regrets left.”

Yang Lun stopped walking.

“What about my sister?”

He turned to face Deng Ying, “She’s twenty-one now, her reputation ruined because of you, never having seen a single good day.”

Deng Ying didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the dust on the ground in silence for a while before saying, “Zixi, after the castration, the only thing I could make sense of was that, being a servant from then on, I could be subservient to Yang Wan.”

Yang Lun’s hands clenched.

Deng Ying had mentioned “subservience” – at that moment, Yang Lun didn’t know whether Deng Ying or Yang Wan was more tragic.

As they stood in silence, a supervisor from the Ministry of Works came looking for Deng Ying, saying someone from the Ceremonial Office had arrived to summon him back to the palace to receive an imperial edict.

Deng Ying turned and replied evenly, “I understand. I’ll go after changing clothes.”

Then he said to Yang Lun, “The cabinet can submit their memorial now.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

Deng Ying was silenced by the rebuke and could only smile awkwardly.

The two parted before Yunyai Hall. Deng Ying followed the Ceremonial Office staff into the palace to hear the edict outside Yangxin Hall.

The Emperor, citing his merits in rebuilding Yunyai Hall, pardoned his punishment of exile to Nanjing as a slave and also waived the eighty strokes of the heavy bamboo, keeping him in the Ceremonial Office as Vice Director. After Deng Ying received the edict, Yangxin Hall ordered him brought inside for questioning. Entering the inner hall, he saw Emperor Zhenning reclining weakly on the imperial couch.

Deng Ying knelt on the couch, and Emperor Zhenning extended a hand toward him, “Is Yunyai Hall secure?”

“In reply to Your Majesty, your servant has reinforced the cross-beams on the foundation built by the teacher. Now all the eave pillars, intermediate pillars, and horizontal center pillars are embedded in the cross-beams.”

Emperor Zhenning said, “Guard it well… and you guard Us well.”

“Yes.”

“Deng Ying…”

“Your servant is here.”

“Have We not treated you well?”

“Yes.”

Deng Ying prostrated himself, “Your Majesty has twice pardoned your servant’s capital crimes. Your servant’s entire being will never forget Your Majesty’s grace.”

The Emperor coughed several times and said hoarsely, “Though the cabinet hasn’t submitted their memorial yet, We know their thoughts. They’ve taught Our son for over ten years, and they think they’ve taught him well enough. But…”

Emperor Zhenning propped himself halfway up, “But We’re not dead yet!”

After saying this, Emperor Zhenning’s internal breath churned, and he fell into a violent fit of coughing.

All the servants in the hall who attended to his daily needs knelt upon hearing their master speak thus.

Deng Ying straightened up and glanced at the servants in the hall, “One must not show sorrow before His Majesty.”

Hearing these words, the servants all forcefully suppressed their grief.

Deng Ying crawled forward two steps on his knees, approaching the imperial couch, “Your Majesty is ill; the Crown Prince can only feel anxiety and fear.”

“We know…”

He spoke while pushing against the couch surface, forcing himself to sit up with a held breath.

“We have tolerated the cabinet for decades, thinking they too are full of patriotic fervor. What We Could Pardon… We’ve pardoned. But Our family, We must still support it, We must still be in charge! Can’t let them scatter it to the winds. Deng Ying, the Eastern Factory… We still entrust to your control…”

Deng Ying raised his head, “May your servant ask Your Majesty one question?”

Emperor Zhenning swallowed a mouthful of burning bile, “Ask…”

“Why is Your Majesty willing to use your servant again?”

Emperor Zhenning looked down at the kneeling Deng Ying, “Because you’re willing to endure. In the Xuetian case, We had you bear a death sentence while continuing your duties – you said nothing. When the prison tortured you during interrogation, you still didn’t speak. We’ve watched you for two years; you, as a servant, value ‘stability’ above all. Just this one thing – among all the servants the Ceremonial Office manages, not one understands it so clearly. We know that those who serve Us should have some wealth and face. We remember their hard work, how they often think of Us and haven’t punished them severely. However, while We live, We can still maintain Our reputation. After We die, these servants could utterly ruin Our name!”

After speaking this, Emperor Zhenning had almost exhausted his spirit. The breath in his throat mixed with old phlegm he couldn’t cough up, making a wheezing sound.

He recovered for quite a while before saying to Deng Ying, “Return to the Ceremonial Office, and think well on what We’ve told you…”

“Yes, your servant takes his leave.”

Deng Ying left Yangxin Hall and went straight to the Ceremonial Office.

By the time he returned to his quarters by the city moat, it was nearly dusk.

When Deng Ying changed into his Eastern Factory Superintendent’s uniform, Li Yu almost didn’t recognize him at first glance, holding his broom and staring for a long while before running over joyfully.

“You’ve been reinstated?”

“Yes.”

Deng Ying nodded with a smile.

Li Yu clasped his hands, “That’s wonderful! A few days ago, Manager Chen and I were worried those eighty strokes might take your life. Who would have thought you wouldn’t have to be beaten or go to Nanjing? We can gather around the stove to eat together again, right?”

Deng Ying smiled slightly and said evenly, “I’m somewhat tired. I’ll go sleep for a while.”

Li Yu blocked him with his broom, “Eh, wait.”

“Hmm?”

Li Yu glanced inside the room, “Yang Wan is inside. I haven’t heard any sound for a while; she might be asleep.”

Deng Ying asked, “When did she come?”

“She came at the chen hour [7-9 AM]. She’s been helping clean your room all this time, and hasn’t even eaten.”

Deng Ying looked toward the city moat, “What did you eat for lunch?”

Li Yu said, “We stir-fried some vegetables to eat with rice.”

“Is the stove out?”

Li Yu said, “Not yet. I secretly saved an egg, wanting to make egg custard for sister.”

After speaking, he hesitated for a moment, then took the egg from his chest, “Give it to Yang Wan.”

Deng Ying took the egg, smiling as he said “Thank you.”

Li Yu waved his hand, “I’m going on duty.”

Deng Ying pushed open the door and entered his quarters. The floor had been sprinkled with water and was still somewhat wet.

The books on the shelf were stacked very neatly, and the positions of the writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone had also been arranged. Yang Wan lay wrapped in a blanket on his bed, with the candle at the bedhead almost burnt out.

She was lying on her side facing outward, her arm resting outside the blanket, pressing down on a book.

Deng Ying crouched down, originally intending to pull the book out, but as soon as he pulled at one edge, his body suddenly went rigid.

The book was Chen Hua’s, and its contents were unspeakable.

Chen Hua said the book’s author was a eunuch from the Founding Emperor’s reign who, old and destitute after leaving the palace, drew his intimate encounters with women in the palace, added text, and sold it to private publishers. In this erotic book, Deng Ying saw the fundamental nature of his identity – most scenes depicted eunuchs kneeling or lying back, pleasuring women intimately, raising thin arms to support women’s bodies, their expressions melancholy yet somehow at peace.

This was a delicate eunuch’s aesthetic reflection on his sexuality – for Chen Hua, it was boundless fantasy; for Deng Ying, it was introspection. When alone, he had lit a lamp and sat at his desk reading it many times.

Now Yang Wan had opened the inner pages, stopping at a page where Deng had inserted paper slips with “annotations.” Feeling somewhat guilty, he wanted to quickly pull the book away, but Yang Wan applied pressure, pressing the book down. She leaned against the pillow, opened her eyes, and smiled at Deng Ying.

“You’re back?”

“I…”

Deng Ying unconsciously stood up.

Yang Wan sat up on the bed, reached back to gather her loose hair that had fallen over her shoulders, then closed the book and placed it on her knee.

“Where are you going? Bring a stool over and sit down.”

“Wan-wan, I…”

“Take off your official robes too, and put on the shirt I made for you.”

“Wan-wan…”

“What’s wrong? I didn’t say I was going to scold you.”

Deng Ying stood up and, beside Yang Wan, raised his hands to undo the ties of his official robes, took off the outer robe, folded it on the bed, then took the shirt Yang Wan had made from behind the door and put it on.

Yang Wan propped her chin up watching Deng Ying’s movements and asked evenly, “You’ve changed into your official robes – did His Majesty summon you?”

Deng Ying lowered his head tying the strings, not daring to speak.

“At least make a sound, let me feel at ease.”

Deng Ying nodded while facing away from Yang Wan, “He summoned me.”

“That’s wonderful. When Qin Wende and the others hear about this, they’ll surely be happy for a while.”

“Mm.”

He was still answering very reluctantly, his movements becoming increasingly slow.

Yang Wan watched his back – even wearing the padded garment, he still looked thin-shouldered in those gray clothes.

Yang Wan tapped the book on her knee, and Deng Ying’s hands suddenly stopped.

“You’re waiting for me to ask what book this is, right?”

“No…”

“What book is this?”

Yang Wan interrupted Deng Ying, “The pages are worn thin from your reading.”

“I won’t read it anymore.”

“Put on your clothes and come sit down.”

Deng Ying helplessly brought the stool before Yang Wan, lifted his robes to sit, and placed both hands on his knees, with his gaze fixed on Yang Wan’s hand.

Yang Wan spread the book on Deng Ying’s knee and looked up to ask, “Do you want to be like this too?”

Deng Ying shook his head, then fell silent.

Yang Wan straightened up, “Deng Ying, I’m not forbidding you from this. I just can’t let you live like Chen Hua.”

She held up the pages as she spoke, “This book is beautifully drawn, but both its artist and readers are pitiful people. Deng Ying, you’re not sick anymore – you don’t need to hide alone to read secretly. I’ll teach you.”

Deng Ying quietly nodded.

“Return the book tomorrow.”

“I’ll go return it now.”

He started to stand up, but Yang Wan grabbed his sleeve, “Wait.”

Deng Ying stopped and turned back to see Yang Wan smiling helplessly at him, “I’ve only read half of it too, Deng Ying.”