The situation in Shangjing grew increasingly chaotic. Today it was officials clashing over political differences and trading insults in open court; tomorrow it was someone found dead in the street with no leads to pursue.

Every official in the court was on edge. Many who held high positions would attend court to meet the Emperor during the day, then slip off in disguise to the Princess Imperial’s residence at night — all to avoid offending anyone, and to keep all their options open.

And yet it was precisely at this critical juncture that Zhang Zhixu, the head of the Zaoyesi, stepped forward and declared openly in court that the official system was rotting and the people’s livelihoods were withering — that not only did the Zaoyesi’s regulations need to be reformed, but Dasheng’s laws as a whole needed to be made clear and just.

These words were no different from offending every single official in the hall.

Everyone understood full well that Dasheng’s legal code existed to uphold the stability of those in power, the authority of imperial rule, and the standing of all officials. The rights of the common people were nothing more than scattered decorations tucked between the chapters — what possible grounds were there to reform them? And why on earth would they revise them in a direction that harmed their own interests?

Outrage erupted immediately. Several of Zhang Zhixu’s uncles from the Zhang Family stepped forward to berate him and publicly sever ties with him, calling on the Emperor to punish him harshly. The Chief Minister himself declared it preposterous outright, saying a young man full of empty talk had no business standing before this court.

Zhang Zhixu, in the midst of all their shouting, took out the revised edition of the Great Dasheng Code — Taxation Chapter and flung it to the ground.

The white scroll tumbled and unrolled, the neat, fine brushstrokes densely covering it from end to end, stretching all the way to the base of the Emperor’s jade dais.

“Zhang Zhixu, you insolent wretch!” Li Shu erupted in fury.

This man was the son-in-law he had chosen. With the boy’s twentieth year and the wedding rapidly approaching, how dare he throw something like this onto the floor of the court.

“Your Majesty.” Zhang Zhixu pressed both hands to his forehead and bowed low to the floor. “When the law is unclear, those who carry it out will wield excessive power. When those who carry out the law grow too powerful, they will lose sight of their purpose and grind lives beneath them. The common people are the bedrock of the nation. Clear and strict laws are the will of the people’s hearts. The revision of the law is a matter of utmost urgency — please, Your Majesty, consider this carefully.”

“You are nothing but an official of the Zaoyesi — how dare you presume to comment on revising the law!”

“Exactly — the ministers of the Three Departments haven’t even spoken yet. Isn’t this overstepping your bounds entirely?”

“We implore Your Majesty to strictly punish Zhang Zhixu, to restore proper conduct!”

The court erupted in noise, the condemnation relentless.

Li Bingsheng stood at the front of the hall, watching, and privately thought: this man truly has the nerve — openly throwing himself into the fire like this.

Once something this incendiary was cast onto the floor of the court, the enemies it made wouldn’t stop with just those present. If the new Emperor then went ahead and named him as Prince Consort, wouldn’t that be as good as telling every minister that he actually supported this cause?

“So this is the fine son the Zhang Family has raised.” Li Shu’s anger settled into cold fury, his gaze sweeping downward.

Zhang Yuanchu immediately stepped out of the ranks and knelt, clasping his hands together: “Your Majesty, the Zhang Family has already severed all ties with this individual. This man is wild and reckless, devoid of loyalty and filial piety, with neither father nor mother to speak of. He has committed an offense today — naturally, he is entirely at Your Majesty’s disposal.”

Zhang Zhixu knelt with his eyes lowered, his fingers tightening imperceptibly.

“Very well.” Li Shu closed his eyes. “Then strip him of his official seal and credentials, and throw him in prison to await judgment.”

The morning bell struck — a single heavy blow against wood, its low and solid resonance rolling out from far away.

·

Chen Baoxiang rushed through the gates of the Princess Imperial’s residence.

Zhang Zhixu had said he would handle it himself — but he hadn’t said he’d handle it like this. With the Zhang Family protecting their own interests and everyone else offended, going to prison meant there was no coming back in one piece.

She charged straight to the Princess Imperial — she had just opened her mouth to ask for a token of authority when she noticed someone sitting in the guest seat.

“Why the rush?” Li Bingsheng said, fanning himself with a smile.

Zhang Zhixu turned his head and slid a cup of tea in front of her. “It’s not hot.”

Chen Baoxiang picked it up and gulped it down in one go, her eyes wide as saucers: “You — how are you here?”

Zhang Zhixu glanced toward Li Bingsheng.

The latter let out a rueful shake of her head: “As Fengqing says — our Dasheng’s laws truly aren’t strict enough. And so, when private power is abused, a prisoner can simply be released just like that.”

Chen Baoxiang’s face lit up with delight: “Thank you, Your Highness!”

“Don’t thank me so soon. I went to considerable trouble to get him out — surely not just so he could pour you tea.”

At that, both of them paused. Chen Baoxiang’s brow furrowed slightly, and she had already begun calculating what she might have to offer in exchange.

But Li Bingsheng glanced at the sheaf of documents lying on the low table beside her and said instead: “He needs to keep writing this. I’m quite curious myself — just how many enemies he can manage to make.”

Zhang Zhixu’s heart gave a sudden lurch, and he looked up sharply.

Keep writing… was she saying?

Chen Baoxiang’s brow relaxed instantly. She let out an astonished cry: “Your Highness, your eye for talent is truly something else!”

Li Bingsheng pressed a hand to her forehead: “This is called knowing how to use people. ‘Eye for talent’ indeed.”

“Same thing, same thing!” She clapped her hands in delight. “Either way, you’re far better than that one sitting in the imperial palace.”

These were treasonous words. Beside her, Zhang Zhixu’s back went rigid.

But Li Bingsheng seemed well accustomed to it by now — she took it in stride and only laughed behind her fan: “That mouth of yours.”

The attendant officials stepped forward respectfully to collect the scroll.

Li Bingsheng thought for a moment and gave the order: “Have someone make several copies of this, and distribute them among the major academies. Then send someone to deliver the Emperor a calming tea.”

Li Shu would of course never agree to revising the law in this manner — but the scholars throughout the land, once they read this, would know that Zhang Zhixu was acting purely for the people’s benefit, without any personal agenda.

A man like this, in Li Shu’s hands, would only ever end up in prison.

As for what sort of creature was really sitting on the imperial throne — they could draw their own conclusions.

Li Bingsheng let her smile fade, her eyes narrowing slightly.

At ten years old, she had been named Crown Princess by the Emperor her father. She had fought with the army for three years, administered the imperial treasury for seven, and knew the principles of governance by heart. In her three years as regent, she had accumulated achievement after achievement — praised by all, both inside and outside the court, and well regarded throughout the realm.

If Li Shu had defeated her in a fair and open contest and ascended the throne that way, she, Li Bingsheng, would have had nothing to say.

But that despicable wretch had planted a spy in her inner circle for a full decade, waiting precisely for when their father was gravely ill to poison her while she was heavily pregnant — intending to kill both her and the child together.

She had fought for her life for half a month before barely clawing her way back from the edge of death. Yet Li Shu had then used the argument that she was a woman, still without a son, and still facing the mortal risk of childbirth, to claim she could not bear the responsibility of succession.

Li Bingsheng would sooner die than swallow that insult.

She wanted Li Shu driven off that throne — not through abdication, not through a peaceful transfer of power, but as a traitorous criminal to be purged, his name carved into the history books to be reviled for ten thousand generations.

She snapped her folding fan shut and asked her attendant official: “What is the situation with the Imperial Guards?”

The official replied with some embarrassment: “Nothing has been accomplished yet.”

She clicked her tongue. “Didn’t Wushi already take the position of Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards?”

“He did, but there are over thirty Deputy Commanders in the Imperial Guards. There is very little a single person can actually accomplish.”

“And what about Shi Dacheng?”

“Scribe Shi was ordered to take charge of the traveling palace in the Jiangnan region, but seems to have encountered a number of obstacles — nothing has been accomplished yet.”

“And You Shiying?”

“General You is formidable in combat, but the strategists beside him are rather inadequate.” The official wiped the sweat from his brow. “He encountered Song Juqing, one of Cheng Huaili’s subordinates, near Yunzhou, and was unfortunately defeated.”

Li Bingsheng’s expression darkened considerably.

“Your Highness, please forgive us.” The deputy official knelt again. “Victory and defeat are common in military affairs. Moreover, what these lords are undertaking is genuinely difficult.”

Their tasks were difficult — but was what Chen Baoxiang was doing easy? Yet she managed to complete everything asked of her without once making excuses.

Even as this thought crossed her mind, the strategist Hua Lingyin stepped forward to report: “Your Highness, Zhao Huaizhu — under Commander Chen’s command — encountered Meng Tianxing, one of Cheng Huaili’s subordinates, in the western outskirts yesterday. For reasons unknown, the other side initiated the attack first. Zhao Huaizhu won decisively — but due to her somewhat excessive force, she was impeached by the Censorate today.”

“Oh?” Li Bingsheng smiled again at last. “And how ‘excessive’ was it, exactly?”

“Meng Tianxing had set out with over five hundred men. When they returned to the city…” Hua Lingyin paused slightly and clasped her hands respectfully. “For some reason, only half remained.”

All the attendant officials present were stunned. Chen Baoxiang, on the other hand, wore an expression that said this was entirely as it should be.

Senior Sister Huaizhu was just that formidable — cutting the opposition in half was letting them off lightly.

“Since it was the other side that struck first, how can the blame fall on her?” Li Bingsheng shook her head with a thoroughly magnanimous expression. “And Cheng Huaili as well — a man of his age, still so petty, always picking quarrels with Baoxiang day in and day out.”

“This is what we’ll do: I’ll host a dinner at Leyou Plain, a reconciliation banquet for General Cheng and Commander Chen. Go deliver the message — tell General Cheng he absolutely must attend.”