From the Thirteen Princes’ Ward to the imperial palace, the carriage rolled for just under half an hour before at last reaching Danfeng Gate. It entered through a side gate, made its way along the inner passage, and after another quarter-hour’s journey the carriage finally came to a stop.

The Hanyuan Hall lay just ahead.

A junior eunuch had been waiting there already. Seeing Princess Pingyang’s carriage arrive, he rushed forward at once. “This subject pays his respects to Princess Pingyang. The princess is finally here — the Emperor has been asking after you all morning.”

Li Shu stepped down from the carriage and followed the junior eunuch forward.

Along the Dragon Tail Road, several dozen paces on, then up a flight of white jade steps — and she arrived at the outer courtyard of Hanyuan Hall.

Armed guards stood at attention every ten paces along the gallery outside the hall. The junior eunuch had just led Li Shu to the entrance when, before any announcement could be made, the sound of a fist striking a table rang out from within — followed at once by the crash of objects sweeping off the surface: tea cups, ink stones, writing brushes all clattering to the floor in one great tumble.

Li Shu’s heart gave a start. Father Emperor’s temper was formidable today. Better to wait outside a little while first, rather than walk straight into the fire.

But just as Li Shu had taken her place to wait, the Emperor’s trusted personal attendant, the senior eunuch Liu Cou, came out of the hall. He was holding the shattered remains of the tea cup with careful, cautious hands. The moment he saw Li Shu standing outside, he looked as though he might weep with relief.

“My lady, you’ve come!”

Li Shu asked quietly: “What has set Father Emperor into such a rage?”

Liu Cou lowered his voice: “The Emperor is angry with Grand Counselor Zheng. Grand Counselor Zheng submitted a memorial, and after the Emperor had read only the first two lines, he flew into a fury — slamming tables and throwing things. This old servant doesn’t know what the memorial said.”

Li Shu gave a knowing nod. “I see.”

Grand Counselor Zheng Pushe served concurrently as Left Grand Counselor and as Minister of Personnel. The subject of a memorial capable of provoking this sort of upheaval right now could only be one thing — the appointment of a certain person.

That would be the newly-placed top scholar, Shen Xiao.

Shen Xiao — still not even in office yet, and already managing to throw the whole court into chaos. Once he did take office, he would probably upend the heavens entirely.

Li Shu said to Liu Cou: “Please, senior eunuch, have someone prepare a fresh cup of tea.”

Liu Cou immediately complied, ordering a new cup of tea to be brewed.

The junior eunuch eased the hall doors open in silence. Li Shu stepped inside.

Hanyuan Hall was grave and still. Emperor Zhengyuan sat propped on his hand, expression darkened, face grim. The writing table before him was in disarray, but the palace attendants behind the heavy curtains all knelt in silence with held breath — not one daring to come forward and tidy the mess.

Li Shu moved forward quietly and dipped in a curtsy. “Your subject-daughter pays respects to Father Emperor.” She set the cup of tea on the desk.

At the sight of Li Shu, the Emperor’s expression eased slightly. “Sparrow is here?”

Li Shu smiled. “Yes — it has been too long since I dined with Father Emperor. I’ve been missing the flavors of the imperial kitchen terribly, so I’ve come to cadge a meal. Father Emperor mustn’t mind that I eat too much.”

Li Shu was a cold person — even her smiles were usually sardonic ones. It was rare for her to say something so playfully endearing, and the Emperor was quite charmed by it and let out a laugh. “How much can that little frame of yours possibly eat?”

The stiff, oppressive atmosphere in the hall finally loosened somewhat. Li Shu quietly let out a breath of relief. Being close to the emperor was like being close to a tiger — even with her long-standing favor, she had to maintain the utmost caution every single time. She made a subtle gesture to the attendants, who hurried forward to clear away the damage.

Li Shu slid the tea cup a little closer and said: “Here, Father Emperor, have a sip of tea and calm your temper. You are always so even-tempered ordinarily — who on earth is bold enough to have made you so angry today? Do let me have a look.”

Emperor Zhengyuan took the cup and, with a cold laugh, pushed a memorial across the desk toward her. “Who is so bold? None other than our esteemed Left Grand Counselor Zheng!”

Ordinarily, the inner court was not permitted to involve itself in affairs of state — this rule applied not only to the empress and imperial consorts but to the princesses as well. Yet ever since Li Shu had demonstrated extraordinary political acumen at the age of fifteen, Emperor Zhengyuan had grown extremely fond of discussing state affairs with her, and she was the only princess in the palace permitted to handle official memorials.

Li Shu picked up the memorial and read through it rapidly.

Grand Counselor Zheng was… truly formidable.

The edict was one Father Emperor had drafted that very morning, stating that the new top scholar Shen Xiao was exceptionally talented and was to be specially appointed as a Reviewing Censor in the Chancellery. Yet the memorial had come back from the Chancellery with Grand Counselor Zheng’s direct rejection — arguing that the post of Reviewing Censor in the Chancellery was a fifth-rank position held by close attendants of the Emperor, and that bestowing such a favor upon Shen Xiao — a man of common birth — was far too great an indulgence.

Grand Counselor Zheng’s proposal was that there were vacancies for county magistrates in many places in the Lingnan region, and that it would be most fitting to send the talented top scholar there to season himself in local governance for three to five years.

Li Shu read it and gave an inward shake of her head. Though the Chancellery did have the authority to reject imperial edicts, this was hardly a rejection — it was a slap across the Emperor’s face.

The post of Reviewing Censor in the Chancellery was only fifth rank, but its authority was considerable: it oversaw the review of court memorials and the re-examination of edicts from the Secretariat. If Shen Xiao took that position and held it firmly from the start of his career, his future in office would be limitless.

But how could Grand Counselor Zheng permit that? If Shen Xiao gained a foothold in the Chancellery, who knew how many more commoners would come clawing their way up after him? Would the vast court of Great Ye have to step aside and yield its positions to commoners?

Grand Counselor Zheng would not merely block Shen Xiao from entering the Chancellery — he meant to banish him from the capital entirely, sending him off to some desolate land to serve as a county magistrate, and there to let his career quietly rot. That way, all the world would know: even with an imperial examination in place, even if a commoner managed to climb up through it, Grand Counselor Zheng could raise his foot and kick that top scholar right back down into the dust.

This memorial was not really about one man’s appointment. It was about commoners and noble families.

Thinking this through, Li Shu felt an involuntary surge of sympathy for Shen Xiao. A man of common birth trying to rise in a court packed wall to wall with noble families — it was nearly impossible. No wonder he had been willing, three years ago, to cast aside his pride and serve as her companion. It wasn’t that he wished to debase himself. There had simply been no other road left to him.

However sharp one’s talent, however fierce one’s ambition — this world would not give him an inch of leeway.

Li Shu couldn’t help but breathe a soft sigh.

Emperor Zhengyuan asked: “Sparrow, have you finished reading? What do you think?”

Li Shu did not answer immediately.

The Crown Prince’s orders were perfectly clear — she could not afford to give Shen Xiao any good posting, or she would offend the Crown Prince. And yet the Emperor’s preference was equally clear — he admired Shen Xiao and wanted to make him a symbol of how commoners could succeed, a counterweight to the powerful noble clans.

Whose side should Li Shu be on?

She could not afford to offend the Crown Prince — the Cui Family stood with the Crown Prince, and from the day she had married Cui Jinzhi, she had been bound to the Crown Prince’s ship. But she could not afford to offend the Emperor either — everything she had today was given to her by Emperor Zhengyuan. Without him, she would still be that unloved concubine’s daughter withering in a forgotten corner of the palace.

Li Shu sat in silence, and for once found herself at a complete loss for what to do.

Emperor Zhengyuan spoke again: “Sparrow?”

At that very moment, the hall doors were pushed open. Liu Cou bent low and came forward to announce: “Your Majesty, Grand Counselor Zheng is here.”

The Emperor, whose mood had only just been coaxed toward something lighter by Li Shu, pulled his face back into its stern lines at once. But an emperor maintained dignity — he could not let his feelings show — and so the expression quickly dissolved into one of studied composure.

Li Shu knew this was official business and moved to take her leave. But the Emperor said: “We are all family here — no need to step away.”

Li Shu inwardly muttered her objections. Family? That was a rather tenuous connection.

Grand Counselor Zheng’s granddaughter was the Crown Princess — but Li Shu was only a concubine-born daughter. Where was the link between her and the Xingyang Zheng Family?

Father Emperor was clearly keeping her here because he feared the discussion with Grand Counselor Zheng might grow heated with no one to intervene, making it difficult to end gracefully.

Li Shu could only steel herself and stay put.

By the time her thoughts had run their course, Grand Counselor Zheng had already walked in. He was over seventy years old, his gait shuffling and unsteady. In that purple-robed official’s robe, he looked thin and hollow — the cloth hanging loose on his frame, making him appear all the more ancient and diminished. There was something almost sorrowful about the sight.

And yet no one dared underestimate him.

The Xingyang Zheng Family — a noble clan of pure and distinguished lineage for over three hundred years. How many dynasties had crumbled during that time, and still the Zheng family remained unshaken. Wars had destroyed countless lives, and still the Zheng family endured and flourished. When the Great Ye dynasty was first founded, if not for the Zheng Family’s full support of the founding emperor in his rebellion, the one sitting on the dragon throne might never have been a member of the Li royal house.

For all that Grand Counselor Zheng appeared old and frail, within that chest beat a heart of shrewd, calculating precision.

Grand Counselor Zheng came trembling forward and bowed to the Emperor: “Your Majesty.” Then to Li Shu: “Princess Pingyang is also present.” Li Shu returned the greeting with a polite smile. A junior eunuch brought forward a small round stool and helped him to be seated.

Grand Counselor Zheng wore an expression of unruffled detachment, his voice aged and worn. “Your Majesty, this old subject would like to speak about the matter of the new top scholar Shen Xiao.”

Emperor Zhengyuan’s expression betrayed nothing. He gave only a brief sound of acknowledgement to indicate he was listening.

Grand Counselor Zheng continued: “Your Majesty has spoken in the edict of Shen Xiao’s talent — yet this old subject believes that all those of great talent tend to have a proud nature, and pride must be tempered. So this old subject and his colleagues in the Chancellery discussed the matter and concluded that if he were placed directly into the Chancellery as a Reviewing Censor, the favor shown would be excessive — and would only inflate Shen Xiao’s already considerable arrogance.”

“There are vacancies for county magistrates in many parts of the Lingnan region. The top scholar has great talent — why not send him there to be seasoned in local governance? Let the years forge his mettle and character. In three to five years, if he has achieved real results, Your Majesty can summon him back to the capital and entrust him with a position of importance.”

Li Shu gave an inward snort. Officialdom had this one virtue at least — no matter how devious the scheme lurking behind the words, the words themselves were always dressed in impeccable virtue and high purpose.

Tempering his character?

Lingnan was a wild and uncivilized place where the law’s reach was barely felt — it was where people were banished. To say he would be recalled to the capital in three to five years was all very well, but Grand Counselor Zheng could easily pull a few quiet strings at any time and Shen Xiao would spend the rest of his days marooned there.

Ten years at a cold window of study — and all of it worth less than one man’s casual words.