The following day.

Subtle shifts occurred at court. By the time Li Shu noticed them, everything had already been settled.

First, during the morning court session, Second Prince Li Yan raised the matter of “substituting grain for money.” He argued that the affair was of great consequence; that all the officials of the Ministry of Finance had been occupied of late with disaster relief for the drought; that the Ministry of Finance was short-handed and needed additional personnel; and that the available posts were all minor positions of the eighth or ninth rank.

The Crown Prince mocked the Second Prince openly and obliquely, insinuating that he did not know how to manage the Ministry of Finance — but saw nothing unusual in the Second Prince’s proposal, and raised no objection.

The Emperor Zhengyuan approved.

So by the afternoon, the Second Prince had submitted a memorial concerning personnel changes in the Ministry of Finance — among them, Shen Xiao.

A transfer from the eighth-rank Investigating Censor to the eighth-rank Superintendent of the Ministry of Finance. In terms of official rank, there had been no promotion — but the Ministry of Finance was after all the most lucrative of all the ministries, and so it counted, in a small way, as something of an advancement.

When the news reached the Eastern Palace, the Crown Prince was practicing calligraphy. He did not even look up, and offered a single sardonic remark: “Second Brother’s choice of people these days is becoming… increasingly unconventional.”

Even someone of common birth with no family connections had been drawn into the Ministry of Finance. Evidently the matter of “substituting grain for money” had left Second Brother in quite a frantic state.

And so the Crown Prince dismissed the matter without further thought.

And just like that, Shen Xiao straightforwardly became a Superintendent of the Ministry of Finance, eighth rank.

After completing the handover of his duties at the Censorate, he had barely passed through the Zhuque Gate of the imperial city when a retainer came forward and greeted him with great warmth: “My respects, Lord Shen — the Second Prince requests your presence at his mansion for a conversation.”

As he spoke, he swept a hand aside, and a four-man sedan chair was produced at once.

The manner was warm and eager, yet the sedan chair had been brought forward before anyone thought to ask whether Lord Shen was free.

Shen Xiao gave a slight nod, said “thank you for the trouble,” lifted the hem of his robe, and settled into the sedan chair.

By the customs of the Great Ye dynasty, when princes and princesses came of age and left the palace, they were granted residences within the Thirteen Princes’ Ward to the right of the imperial city. The Thirteen Princes’ Ward was very close to the imperial city — just a right turn from the Zhuque Gate.

Shen Xiao drew back the curtain of the sedan chair and watched one great red gate after another flash by — all of them the residences of imperial kin and the most powerful nobility. Abruptly his gaze came to rest, and he saw the characters “Princess Pingyang’s Mansion” hung above one of those crimson gates.

He furrowed his brow slightly, then swiftly dropped the curtain back into place.

Before long the sedan chair came to a halt. A retainer bowed as he opened the curtain, pressed down the chair, and said: “Lord Shen, please.”

Li Yan received Shen Xiao in the main hall.

Shen Xiao first knelt before him in formal salutation, offered his respects, and then said: “This official thanks the Second Prince for his recommendation.”

As he rose, his left arm remained noticeably stiff.

Li Yan took the initiative to extend his hand and help him up, then continued holding Shen Xiao’s forearm as he guided him to the host and guest tea seats.

He smiled. “Lord Shen, please sit.”

Every gesture of the ceremony of treating a worthy man with deference had been performed to perfection.

An ordinary eighth-rank official would, at this point, have been overwhelmed with gratitude. Yet on Shen Xiao’s face there was no trace of any such sentiment — he appeared, if anything, overly composed.

A maidservant brought Shen Xiao a cup of tea. The Second Prince sat in the seat of the host and asked with apparent concern: “How is the injury to your left arm?”

Shen Xiao let his left arm hang at his side and replied: “It did not reach the bone or sinew — it will heal with some rest. The physician prescribed a few doses of medicine.”

Shen Xiao pressed his palms together in a bow. “This official must also thank the Second Prince’s household physician.”

Li Yan waved the thanks aside with his characteristically open manner: “Think nothing of it. Ah — Grand Princess Kangning is my aunt, and even though her conduct leaves much to be desired, it is not easy for me to openly fault her for her wrongdoing… Your injury was sustained under circumstances where I could not seek justice for you at the time, and I feel genuinely remorseful about that.”

Shen Xiao said quickly: “That Your Highness was willing to extricate this official last night is already more than enough to fill me with gratitude. Should Your Highness ever have need of my service in the future, this official will exert every ounce of his strength, devote himself utterly, body and soul!”

With those words he stood up and bowed deeply toward Li Yan.

Li Yan smiled.

“Exert every ounce of his strength, devote himself utterly, body and soul.” Those eight words were the true subject of today’s meeting.

Li Yan wanted Shen Xiao to feel indebted to him. He wanted Shen Xiao to be entirely devoted — only then could Shen Xiao help him out of the predicament posed by “substituting grain for money.”

Though that was what he thought in his heart, the words could not be said so plainly.

And so Li Yan replied: “What ‘exert every ounce of your strength, devote yourself utterly, body and soul’? I recommended you so that you might do something of genuine substance for the court — not to serve my private interests. Even if you are to devote yourself utterly, it must be in devotion to the court.”

Shen Xiao lowered his eyes; a flash of contemptuous mockery seemed to pass through them, but it was quickly concealed. “This official understands,” he said.

And so both host and guest departed the meeting well satisfied.

Shen Xiao had only just changed his post that day and knew nothing yet of the workings of the Ministry of Finance, so Li Yan did not press him into action immediately. Instead, he continued to chat at leisure about official gossip and matters of learning, then kept Shen Xiao for a meal, and on top of that presented him with a three-courtyard residence, together with maidservants, manservants, and other attendants to serve him, as well as generous funds.

That composed face of Shen Xiao’s remained stone-still and grave as ever. He pressed his palms together and said a single line — “This official thanks the Second Prince” — and then accepted all of it without any ceremony.

Li Yan, seeing how utterly unruffled he was, gave him a long, searching look.

After Shen Xiao had departed, Li Yan’s most trusted personal attendant was clearing away the tea bowl Shen Xiao had drunk from. The attendant was somewhat disgruntled, and said: “Your Highness, the servant cannot help feeling that Lord Shen is… a little ungrateful. You showed him such deference and esteem, gave him a house and maidservants — a normal person would have fallen to their knees, overcome with gratitude. But Lord Shen kept that grave face of his. As though… as though those things were his by right.”

Li Yan was quiet for a moment, then suddenly said: “He is very much like Pingyang.”

The attendant did not understand, and was about to ask — but then noticed that Li Yan seemed to have drifted into memory, and hastily fell silent.

“When she was fifteen and began to make her mark under the Crown Prince’s wing, when the Crown Prince rewarded her with things, she had the same expression as Shen Xiao just now — cold and unruffled, never once the look of someone overwhelmed with gratitude.”

In those days, the bond between him and his sister had been exceedingly close. Li Yan could not accept Li Shu lending her help to any prince but himself — not even when, at that time, he had not the slightest standing at court. He had viewed it as a betrayal.

In his rage he had called her a dog crouching at the Crown Prince’s feet, wagging its tail and begging for scraps of gold and silver.

Li Shu had looked at him with perfect cold indifference and said: “This is not a reward, Second Brother. This is a fair exchange. I trade my strategies for wealth and power.”

A fair exchange.

Li Yan thought: Shen Xiao and Sparrow were alike in their intelligence — both had seen clearly to the very nature of politics. At its core, it was nothing more than trading whatever one possessed — talent, wit, even life itself — for wealth and power beyond measure.

Exchange at an openly stated price.

They wore their worth on their foreheads and stood upon the scales of politics, waiting for others to make their bid.

The personal attendant stood quietly nearby, watching the Second Prince — renowned for his martial valor and unyielding resolve — as a look crept into his eyes that could only be called… wistfulness.

*

Shen Xiao departed the Second Prince’s mansion. The sedan chair was already waiting outside, and the bearers bowed and invited him to take his seat. But no sooner had the sedan chair traveled the length of a stick of incense than, just as it was preparing to turn left, there came from ahead the sound of carriage wheels rolling over the road.

The turning point was narrow, and the carriage approaching from the front was wide and imposing. One or the other would have to yield.

The guard accompanying the carriage shouted: “Make way — this is Princess Pingyang’s carriage!” His tone was fierce and aggressive.

The bearers naturally did not dare contest the right of way with Princess Pingyang’s carriage, and quickly lifted the sedan chair aside, clearing ample space.

Inside the sedan chair, Shen Xiao heard the shout and drew back the curtain to look outside.

Princess Pingyang’s carriage moved forward. The tall, stately vehicle passed alongside the sedan chair. Through the drawn-back curtains of both conveyances, the gazes of Li Shu and Shen Xiao met.

Li Shu raised her hand, and the horses and carriage came to an abrupt halt.

Li Shu’s expression was cool. “Why, Lord Shen — I have not yet congratulated you on your entry into the Ministry of Finance.” She raised an eyebrow. “Entering the Ministry of Finance already makes a difference, I see — a sedan chair, no less. Quite a grand display.”

Shen Xiao looked quietly at her for a moment, then drew aside the curtain, stepped out of the sedan chair, and stood beside the carriage to bow in salutation. “This official pays his respects to Princess Pingyang.”

Li Shu looked down at him from above, and noticed that his left arm was quite stiff.

She recalled last night’s events, and the cold expression on her face softened slightly. Whatever else might be said, the fact that Shen Xiao had not been destroyed by Grand Princess Kangning — she had actually let out a quiet breath of relief about that.

Li Shu said: “There is no need for such ceremony from Lord Shen.”

Li Shu swept her gaze over the sedan chair, recognized it as belonging to the Second Prince’s mansion, and said: “Lord Shen is truly worthy of being the top scholar — that keen and nimble mind of yours is clear. Using this Princess as a stepping stone and a pledge of allegiance, you have entered into the Second Prince’s service.”

Li Shu gave a slow clap of her hands. “A fine scheme.”

Outside the carriage, Shen Xiao gave a faint smile. “Your Highness is too kind. This official would not dare accept such praise.”

He lowered his eyes, concealing within them a look of admiration.

Princess Pingyang’s perception was truly swift. She was, without question, the most perceptive among all the imperial princesses.

Li Shu let out a cold laugh. “Would not dare? Lord Shen is remarkably modest.”

“Among all the powerful figures in Chang’an, you chose specifically to impeach me… How laughable that I actually believed at the time in those words about ‘the common people of Guanzhong’ — I had quite underestimated Lord Shen, took you for a rigid and inflexible sort.”

Li Shu fixed her unblinking gaze on Shen Xiao. “Lord Shen never intended to impeach me at all — you merely needed a method to enter the Second Prince’s service and could find no way in. So you chose me to serve as your stepping stone and pledge of allegiance. Is that not so?”

There was no longer any point in playing ignorant.

Shen Xiao said: “Your Highness’s name is well-known throughout the realm.”

Li Shu stared at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “Lord Shen, you have used this Princess. If this Princess truly wished to deal with you, even the Second Prince could not save you. But…”

She beckoned Shen Xiao with her hand, drawing him closer to the carriage window.

Li Shu leaned her head out, and in a low voice said: “Rest assured — this Princess has no intention of dealing with you. This Princess wants to watch you destroy yourself. You should know that gaining the Second Prince’s favor is a fortunate thing… but it is also an unfortunate one.”

Though she spoke such cold words, a breath of warm air rushed straight to Shen Xiao’s ear. Shen Xiao involuntarily stepped back a half-pace. He looked up and saw Li Shu smile at him with the expression of a person thoroughly enjoying the spectacle — waiting to be entertained.

Those limpid, penetrating eyes, uncommonly without any of their usual mockery or cold indifference, held a slyness like that of a cat.

The carriage started forward, its wheels churning up a trail of dust as it departed.

*

Li Shu cast one last glance back at Shen Xiao standing by the roadside, then lowered the carriage curtain.

Shen Xiao.

She mouthed that name in silence — and beyond the coldness, there was a measure of admiration.

If Shen Xiao wanted to rise, to climb to a sufficiently high station, he had two options: attach himself to the Crown Prince, or attach himself to the Second Prince.

But behind the Crown Prince stood the great and ancient aristocratic clans, whose eyes were set high — they could not be bothered to associate with someone of common birth.

And so Shen Xiao’s only remaining choice was the Second Prince.

Lately the Second Prince had been fretting over the matter of “substituting grain for money.” With no grain in Guanzhong, the only path before him was to levy grain from the aristocratic clans. But the levying of grain was a thankless task that would make enemies of everyone — who was best suited for such a role?

It was precisely at this juncture that Shen Xiao, an eighth-rank official of common birth, had brazenly submitted a memorial impeaching Princess Pingyang — a member of the Crown Prince’s faction.

And so the name of Shen Xiao had entered the Second Prince’s field of vision.

Shen Xiao, who on his very first day in office had dared to impeach Princess Pingyang — that kind of courage was exactly what was needed to levy grain. And he happened to be of common birth, with absolutely no ties to the aristocratic clans.

He was the ideal candidate for the task of levying grain.

Shen Xiao’s timing in the impeachment had been well chosen — and so had his target.

As for Li Shu — from beginning to end, she had been nothing more than Shen Xiao’s stepping stone into the Second Prince’s service.

Shen Xiao was clever — but in the court, who was not a consummate master of their craft?

The Second Prince had his own deep purposes in bringing Shen Xiao into his service.

If the grain levy succeeded, it would be proof of his own gift for recognizing talent. If the grain levy failed… then Shen Xiao would be the one held responsible for the unrest in Guanzhong.

Li Shu leaned back against the cushioned headrest, languid and at ease. For the next three months, she could sit back in comfort and watch the show unfold.

*

The sedan chair moved smoothly on, carrying Shen Xiao to the gates of a brand-new residence.

This was Chongren Ward. After the Thirteen Princes’ Ward, it was the second closest ward to the imperial city — and therefore one of the most expensive areas in Chang’an.

The residence before him was only three courtyards deep, and could not compare with the grand estates of the royal and noble houses. Yet it was complete in every detail: a flower hall, a study, the main chambers, and the side rooms were all present; and rarer still, the surroundings were quiet and tranquil — artificial rockeries, a pond, a garden with a pavilion, all delicately elegant in their small scale.

The servants sent by the Second Prince had already put the place in order. Now the steward stood beside the stone lion at the entrance and offered a respectful bow to Shen Xiao inside the sedan chair. “This servant greets the master.”

The curtain swayed as Shen Xiao stepped out of the sedan chair, nodded to the steward.

He tilted his head back slightly; his gaze came to rest on the freshly carved characters “Shen Mansion” above the gate. He was silent for a long moment — then at last he withdrew his gaze, lifted his foot, and crossed the threshold of his new home with measured, deliberate steps, slow yet resolute.

Every gift fortune bestows in the open has its price secretly stamped upon it — yet Shen Xiao knew that what he had gained today was because tomorrow, he would have something to give in return.

He would be used by others — deployed as a sharp blade amid the thick, stifling quagmire of the court.

But it did not matter. He was willing to be used — so long as it meant securing a foothold at court.

He would climb ever upward, scaling to the heights above all others, to stand at the very summit of the court.