The wind from the courtyard carried the smell of blood and swept against them — only for an instant, then the door was shut again.
Li Rouyi had still been on the verge of snapping something with all her earlier sharp-tongued fury. But she fell quiet almost at once, her eyes blinking slowly as she stared at the door that had just been closed.
Chen Baoxiang had won?
She had actually won?
For one brief moment, Li Rouyi almost felt as though the surrounding walls of grey brick and white mortar had vanished, replaced by a frontier city beneath a sky full of yellow sand. A woman general astride a horse turned to face the light — her mount rearing high, her form clad in armor, unconquerable.
“Your Highness?” Zhang Zhixu called to her.
“Ah… ah?” Li Rouyi returned to herself, and finally remembered what she had come here to do today.
Father had said the marriage between herself and the Zhang Family must go through. If Chen Baoxiang became an obstacle, she must be removed.
But Father had not said — if Chen Baoxiang put every imperial guard on the ground and Zhang Zhixu was standing in front of her quoting the laws of Great Sheng — what she was supposed to do then.
She pulled her princess’s composure back into place by sheer effort of will: “I shall certainly report this matter to Father!”
“As you should.” Zhang Zhixu inclined his head slightly. “But may I ask, Your Highness — how do you intend to report it?”
“Simple enough — I’ll say Chen Baoxiang defied her superiors and assaulted the imperial guard, and that you shielded and abetted her. You shall share in her guilt!”
Zhang Zhixu gave a soft, quiet laugh.
He turned slightly and extended his hand. Ningsu placed a record booklet into his palm: “It is written quite clearly in here — it was Your Highness who first entered uninvited and injured Chen Baoxiang until she vomited blood onto her own garments.”
The records kept by attending palace officials could be destroyed, but not altered. With this in hand, she would either have to admit that she had provoked the incident, or simply pretend none of it had ever happened.
Li Rouyi ran an unhappy gaze up and down Zhang Zhixu: “She injured this many people, and you still dare to cover for her?”
“This matter involves a great many imperial guards — I certainly have no power to cover it up entirely. But rather than reporting it accurately and leaving Your Highness with the reputation of having stirred up trouble recklessly, I would prefer to preserve the dignity of all parties involved.”
He folded the record booklet and returned it to the palace official’s keeping. “The Military Enforcement Bureau and Bureau of Punishment have produced a formidable martial officer who, through the gracious attention of Your Highness and the exchange of skill with the imperial guard, has emerged entirely victorious — that account is a great deal more respectable than the alternative: that Your Highness arrived with soldiers, sought a quarrel, and came away defeated.”
Li Rouyi felt a flicker of irritation. She had come looking for trouble, and somehow Chen Baoxiang was the one being given all this face.
But when she thought it through, what Zhang Zhixu said was not wrong — it was, under the circumstances, the best option available.
Still reluctant, she cast one last glance at the firmly shut gate: “Then have her come out and give me a proper apology.”
It was a simple enough request, and one she was already making as a concession.
But Zhang Zhixu seemed not to have heard. He lowered his eyelids — and then swayed on his feet as though about to faint.
“Master?” Jiuquan rushed forward to steady him, his voice rising in alarm. “Your back — it’s soaked through with blood!”
Everyone in the vicinity was startled, and crowded closer to look. The crisscrossing wounds had bled through the thin cloth of his inner robe; Zhang Zhixu’s lips were pale, and it was evident he had been holding himself upright through sheer force of will.
“Oh no — how did we forget he was still injured.” Li Rouyi quickly had people help support him back inside.
Father had said that Zhang Zhixu would one day be her pillar of support.
But no matter how she looked at him, Li Rouyi could only feel that this particular pillar was teetering badly — and appeared to be no match for Chen Baoxiang.
·
The formidable Chen Baoxiang made her way back to her own small courtyard, battered and wounded all over.
Bikong had been just about to send word to the Princess Imperial’s residence when she saw the state of her — and her face went pale: “I was right after all?”
Chen Baoxiang reached for the medicine chest with practiced ease, and looked up while tending to her own wounds: “What were you right about?”
“Given today’s situation, you and Rouyi were certain to come into conflict. That would force Zhang Zhixu to choose between you and Rouyi.” Bikong ticked the points off on her fingers with a serious expression. “Either he sides with you — which would infuriate Rouyi and in turn displease His Majesty — or he sides with Rouyi… how could he actually side with Rouyi and leave you in this state? You two get along so well.”
Chen Baoxiang listened with a slight raise of her brow, then let out a sigh that was thick with melancholy: “Affection is something that works beautifully as ornamentation on an already comfortable life. It is not a pork bun that rescues you in times of destitution. ‘Love is enough to live on’ is absolute nonsense — a person has to survive first, and then think about those ethereal, intangible things.”
“If both he and I had nothing to worry about, of course Zhang Zhixu would do things that were good for me. But when his own future and his own life are at stake — I know that I would protect myself first, and someone as clever as he is would never be foolish enough to do otherwise.”
Bikong stood there listening, her brow creasing and smoothing and creasing again.
“You and I have lived under the same roof long enough now that you can surely see my sincerity.” Chen Baoxiang raised clear eyes to look at her. “I genuinely do want to serve the princess. But there are things that truly cannot be forced.”
“The princess gave you an assignment. Whether or not it can be forced, it must be done flawlessly.” Bikong kept her face stern. “There is no shortage of people who want to serve her.”
Only by destroying this imperial marriage could she prove her loyalty and her capability.
Chen Baoxiang said nothing, and dropped her eyes again to continue wrapping her wounds.
There were many methods the Princess Imperial could have chosen if she didn’t want the new emperor to form a marriage alliance with the Zhang Family — yet for some reason she had settled on this particular approach: the least reliable and the most time-consuming of them all.
What was she after?
·
Zhang Ting’an strode through the covered corridor, the front panels of his armor swinging and clanging with each step.
But he had only walked as far as the base of the Qingfeng Terrace when he stopped, and gave a half-kneeling bow of salute toward the figure above: “This subordinate pays his respects to Your Highness.”
The five-stringed qin plucked a single, unhurried note.
Li Bingsheng raised her eyes and sighed quietly: “You came faster than anyone.”
“Word has just arrived from the palace — the post of Patrol Camp Commander is to be temporarily filled by Chu Yan.” Zhang Ting’an said in a low, even voice. “This subordinate believes this is not appropriate.”
“These are His Majesty’s orders. If you find them inappropriate, why not take your concerns to His Majesty?” She turned her head, folding her fan with clear displeasure. “Or do you think I’m easier to bully?”
“This subordinate would not dare.” Zhang Ting’an frowned at her. “But Chu Yan is Your Highness’s man.”
Politely put, he was a man of her household. Stated plainly, he was a male favorite.
A male favorite with no martial skill and no knowledge of military affairs — what gave him the right to hold the rank of a fourth-rank commander and bear responsibility for the security of the capital? It was, frankly, absurd.
Clearly His Majesty should not have agreed to it either — but the two sides had contended over the matter, and in the end the Princess Imperial had prevailed.
Every minister and official at court lacked the courage to remonstrate further. But Zhang Ting’an did not.
He clasped his fists and pressed them together in a formal salute: “The Patrol Camp bears upon the peace of Shangjing and the safety of its people. I implore Your Highness to reconsider.”
Li Bingsheng broke into laughter all at once.
She rose in a languid motion, strolled down the Qingfeng Terrace, and came to stand before Zhang Ting’an, bending slightly to draw close to his face.
“You want me to change the appointment?” She smiled, her folded fan tilting his chin gently upward. “Then serve me as Chu Yan does, and I will hand over the Patrol Camp Commandership to you without reservation. What do you say?”
Zhang Ting’an’s expression darkened. His fists clenched so tightly with suppressed fury that his knuckles whitened — but given his position, the most he could do was turn his face away. Any more overt act of offense was beyond what his station permitted.
The long, coarse growth along his jaw swept across her palm as he turned.
Li Bingsheng’s mood shifted suddenly and she drew back, looking down at him with a frown: “What is all that beard for — you look like a wild monkey.”
“This subordinate has no interest in the post of Patrol Camp Commander.” Zhang Ting’an ignored her and continued in his methodical, measured way. “What this subordinate desires is simply that the position go to someone capable. Your Highness has more than one person in her service besides Chu Yan — I urge Your Highness not to treat the affairs of the realm as a game.”
The color of Li Bingsheng’s expression shifted abruptly — to the grey, heavy dark of a late autumn evening before the rain.
She flung her fan aside, drove a kick squarely into Zhang Ting’an that sent him dropping to one knee, and erupted in fury: “I treat the realm as a game? It is Li Shu who violates propriety and brings chaos to the world!”