Two months later.

The autumn rains had been unrelenting.

Rain had fallen without pause from the end of the sixth month all the way through the beginning of the ninth, and Chang’an was shrouded in a pervasive dampness.

A sedan chair drew to a halt outside Xiankelai. The attending servants hurried forward, raising oil-paper umbrellas and lifting the curtain. Shen Xiao stepped out in a dark raven-blue roundneck casual robe and crossed the threshold.

Officials of the Great Ye dynasty were fond of riding horseback — civil and military alike, most rode to morning court. It projected an air of imposing authority. A sedan chair? That was a woman’s privilege.

Yet Shen Xiao preferred the sedan chair. It rode smoothly and steadily, and from the outside one saw only a relaxed, unhurried figure — but the moment the curtain was lifted, a pair of sharp, compelling eyes would fix directly upon you. That contrast made his entire person seem all the more keen and austere, his every movement bearing the commanding dignity of one who had long been steeped in the very center of power.

So when Shen Xiao rode in a sedan chair, there was nothing effeminate about it whatsoever. On the contrary, it gave him an air of one who, with hands tucked in his sleeves, directed the great affairs of the realm from a leisurely remove.

Shen Xiao shook the water droplets from his robe and made his way up to the third floor. As he passed by the Jinyu Pavilion, he paused briefly. The private room had not been opened for a long time now — Princess Pingyang had recently been keeping to her residence, lying low to recuperate from her injuries.

The last time he had seen her had been two months ago, when he visited her estate under the pretense of tending to her health while actually working to draw the Seventh Prince into their fold.

Two months had passed since then. He wondered how she had been of late — her hand injury should have healed by now.

After joining forces with Li Shu, Shen Xiao had come to understand that when she said she had money, she meant it without any false modesty. She had so much money she could have kept ten thousand idle hangers-on fed without batting an eye.

Xiankelai itself was backed by her investment, and behind many of the well-known taverns and shops in Chang’an lay the shadow of Princess Pingyang’s silver.

She loved money, so she worked tirelessly to earn it. She loved power, so she worked tirelessly to climb.

It was precisely because Xiankelai belonged to Li Shu that Shen Xiao had been meeting here with the Seventh Prince for these past two months.

After all, Xiankelai was busy and bustling every day — a gathering place for officials and nobility. The more people there were, the less conspicuous the two of them could be, blending into the crowd.

Shen Xiao drew his gaze back from the Jinyu Pavilion, turned through several corridors, and entered an inconspicuous private room.

He pushed open the door. Li Qin was seated by the window playing chess. Upon seeing Shen Xiao arrive, he promptly set down his piece and came forward with great warmth and deference.

Shen Xiao returned the courtesy. After sitting and taking a cup of tea, he went straight to the point as was his habit: “There is a matter I wished to raise with Your Highness, which is why I presumed to arrange this meeting.”

“The position of Chief Secretary in the Ministry of Revenue’s Henan Bureau is currently vacant. Does Your Highness have any candidate in mind to recommend?”

Li Qin shook his head. “I have none. Is it not the Crown Prince and Second Elder Brother who are presently contending for that position?”

Some time ago, the Chief Secretary of the Ministry of Revenue’s Henan Bureau had retired due to old age, leaving the post empty. The Second Prince naturally sought to place his own man in it to consolidate his grip on the Ministry of Revenue, but the Crown Prince would not let the opportunity pass either, wanting to install an Eastern Palace man there to crack open a foothold within the Ministry.

The Ministry of Revenue had become a battlefield between the two factions — the eye of the storm in court — and the fighting was fierce.

Shen Xiao said, “They are fighting over it because the position is extremely important, which is precisely why we cannot afford to let this opportunity slip by. Whether it is the Second Prince or the Crown Prince, both of them favor their own people, and neither of the candidates they have recommended to His Majesty possesses any genuine talent.”

In recent days, the Secretariat had been nearly buried in memorials over this single post, with subordinate officials from both sides filing recommendations in rapid succession. But upon reviewing them all, Shen Xiao found that not one of the recommended candidates was a person of real ability.

If they had truly recommended men of great talent, Shen Xiao would have admitted he could not compete and would not have let the Seventh Prince involve himself. But since their sole aim was to seize power, the men they were pushing forward were nothing but empty vessels — all wine sacks and rice bags.

When Shen Xiao brought the memorials before Emperor Zhengyuan for review, the Emperor’s brow furrowed and he approved not a single one — making clear that His Majesty was equally displeased.

Displeased. Then all the better to recommend someone pleasing, and to give the Seventh Prince his first opportunity to distinguish himself before the Emperor.

Li Qin asked, “You have a suitable candidate?”

Shen Xiao nodded. “The Chang’an Prefecture has a granary supervisor by the name of Gui Zhi. Has Your Highness heard of him?”

Seeing Li Qin shake his head, Shen Xiao said, “It would not be unusual that Your Highness has not. He holds the rank of junior sixth grade, lower tier, and has spent his career handling miscellaneous affairs at the Chang’an Prefecture yamen.”

Li Qin asked, “Does Senior Official Shen have a prior acquaintance with him?”

Shen Xiao shook his head. “I do not know this Official Gui personally. After the severe drought in the Guanzhong region, every county submitted memorials detailing the disaster conditions. Among them was one from Official Gui, in which he accounted for grain expenditures down to the individual — written in extraordinary detail, with not a single figure in error. That is what gave me a favorable impression of him.”

Li Qin nodded. “It seems he is a man of talent.”

“Indeed.”

Shen Xiao continued, “In my assessment, a man of such ability is capable of carrying the responsibilities of the Chief Secretary position in the Ministry of Revenue. He is by far superior to anyone recommended by the Crown Prince or the Second Prince. He has been in the granary supervisory post for over a decade now, earning the highest rating in every performance review — and yet, simply because he lacks family connections, he has never been promoted. He has squandered many years in vain.”

How many more officials like Gui Zhi lay unknown within Great Ye? Men of evident talent, yet condemned to obscurity simply because they lacked powerful families.

His Majesty had elevated Shen Xiao precisely to show more such officials that there would come a day when they too would be recognized and raised up.

“However,” Li Qin said, hesitating slightly, “the Crown Prince and Second Elder Brother are battling fiercely over this position. If I put forward a recommendation without warning, I fear it will arouse their suspicion.”

Li Qin had spent so many years treading carefully that this sudden call to step forward left him looking ahead and behind with uncertainty.

Shen Xiao urged, “Your Highness, caution is a virtue — but you must remember that keeping a low profile is merely your means, not your end. The end is to act when the moment is right. The time has come. Go ahead and submit the memorial. The Second Prince has lost the Emperor’s favor and poses little threat. As for the Crown Prince —”

Shen Xiao turned to look out at the endless rain beyond the window and said coolly, “The Crown Prince will certainly bear resentment, but he is unlikely to have any mind to deal with you for the time being. Torrential rains have struck both Guanzhong and the Henan Circuit; the Yellow River will not stay quiet. The Crown Prince is still overseeing the Ministry of Works — this matter alone will consume his full attention.”

Shen Xiao turned back and fixed his gaze on Li Qin: “Act when the moment is right. Heaven itself is bestowing this favorable timing. Not a single such opportunity can be wasted. Wherever they are too preoccupied to look, you must seize the chance to strike and erode their power. By the time they finish dealing with what is before them and turn their attention back to you, you will have fully stretched your wings — and will no longer be someone they can casually manipulate.”

Act when the moment is right.

Li Qin finally grasped the true meaning of Shen Xiao’s strategy. He was hidden in the shadows; his power was small — and so he could all the more keenly focus on what was before him. Whereas the Crown Prince’s power was too vast, too much to oversee.

That was his opportunity.

Li Qin had been cautious for many years, and confined for many years. Now that Shen Xiao had come to his aid, he felt truly that they had found each other too late.

Li Qin nodded. “This Prince understands. But this Prince has never been in contact with Gui Zhi, and he is not your friend either. After we recommend him, will he serve us?”

Shen Xiao shook his head. “My intention in recommending him is not to make him serve Your Highness. In truth, Gui Zhi spent years in obscurity without ever attaching himself to powerful families — that alone proves he has a backbone of his own. A man like that cannot be made to serve anyone.”

*

“Elevating Gui Zhi serves three purposes: first, it aligns with His Majesty’s desire to promote men of humble birth — you are helping to ease the Emperor’s concerns; second, more men of humble origin will learn of this and come to know that Your Highness recognizes and uses talented people wisely; third, the Crown Prince draws on the great families, and by putting forward someone of common birth, we are directly suppressing the Crown Prince’s influence.”

“A single action with three effects is already more than enough. To further demand Gui Zhi’s absolute loyalty on top of that is simply our own greed.”

Li Qin was persuaded by Shen Xiao’s argument and nodded. “You are right — I was too impatient.”

Shen Xiao quickly added, “Winning hearts and minds is only human nature. Once Your Highness has built a reputation, people will come to you of their own accord. There is no need to rush at this moment.”

“Furthermore, you need not be in any hurry to submit the memorial yet. My understanding of Gui Zhi is purely on matters of governance, but as for who he is in private — even whether he has secret partisan ties — that I cannot say with certainty.”

Li Qin understood Shen Xiao’s meaning. “I understand. We must first investigate him. After all, if we recommend him and he later turns out to have some fault, I too will be implicated. I will have my elder sister Pingyang help me look into it — her network of contacts is wide and her people in the shadows are many.”

Shen Xiao’s strength lay in the open — skilled in court politics. Li Shu’s strength lay in the shadows — skilled at laying traps and gathering intelligence.

Li Qin clearly understood the strengths and weaknesses of each, and in so doing was quietly revealing a quality of a ruler: the ability to put people to their proper use.

Shen Xiao said, “Yes. Let the Princess look into him first. If there is nothing of concern, Your Highness may then proceed with the recommendation.”

Hearing Li Qin bring up Li Shu on his own, Shen Xiao’s heart gave a small, involuntary stir, and he found himself asking, “Has Your Highness visited the Princess recently?”

Li Qin shook his head.

Though they were siblings, their relationship had previously been distant. They saw each other only a few times in the course of a year, and so it was difficult to visit too frequently now without attracting attention.

Upon hearing this, Shen Xiao lowered his eyes. Though his face betrayed nothing, there was a faint, barely perceptible trace of disappointment.

Two months since he had last seen her.

They were partners, yet he was an unrelated man outside the family — the occasions on which he could properly see Li Shu were pitifully few.

Shen Xiao clenched his palm. He was deeply dissatisfied with the current state of affairs.

He raised his eyes to look at the Seventh Prince and said, “Your Highness, it is indeed inappropriate for you to visit frequently — but the Seventh Princess Consort is perfectly free to call upon Princess Pingyang’s residence regularly. Ladies visiting one another raises no eyebrows, and all the more so since the Princess is convalescing — it is entirely natural for a younger sister-in-law to come and pay her respects.”

“These past two months you have been building strength and cultivating connections, with little need to call upon the Princess. But if you are to recommend Gui Zhi, you will begin drawing attention. The Princess is astute, and has spent many years navigating the court — there is real benefit in consulting her views regularly.”

Shen Xiao’s expression was entirely grave, entirely proper, entirely restrained — as though not a single private thought occupied his mind, and everything was done out of pure, high-minded concern for the Seventh Prince.

Although — once the Seventh Princess Consort had finished calling upon Li Shu, it would be rather helpful if you could keep me informed of what she has been up to lately in her residence.

Li Qin naturally fell in line with this and promptly agreed.

With the matter concluded, Shen Xiao took his leave first. He had a great deal to attend to at court and had scarcely had a moment to breathe these days.

After Shen Xiao departed, Li Qin sat alone in the private room for a while, playing out the rest of the chess game by himself.

He admired Shen Xiao greatly. The man was a genuine talent — should he one day truly ascend to the throne, he would certainly place Shen Xiao in a position of great importance.

There was, however, one thing Li Qin could not quite understand: how had a man like Shen Xiao come to join forces with his elder sister Pingyang?

The two of them were simply not the same kind of people.

Though they were both equally cool and composed, equally sharp and shrewd, equally skilled in court intrigue, and though their aims aligned — their methods were entirely different.

His elder sister Pingyang played court politics by favoring unorthodox and surprising moves, and her methods were rather ruthless. The scheme she had devised for the Crown Prince — the grain-in-lieu-of-money affair — had exploited the Guanzhong drought without the slightest regard for the suffering of the people, purely to drive the Second Prince into a dead end.

Her methods were all the work of shadow schemes, always digging traps for others.

But Shen Xiao was different.

Shen Xiao believed in walking the upright path. When he had first entered official service, he had impeached Li Shu — and yes, it had partly been to make a name for himself, but Li Shu’s failure to address the drought was genuinely an impeachable offense. That was the kind of man Shen Xiao was: even in seeking power, everything he did was an open strategy. The advice he gave the Seventh Prince never included suggestions to form partisan alliances, and even in advancing Gui Zhi, it was purely because Gui Zhi was talented — not as a means of winning personal loyalty.

This was simply an unbridgeable gap in values. Princess Pingyang’s eyes were fixed solely on power — yet Shen Xiao, alongside power, held fast to much else besides.

After all, Li Shu had grown up in the shadows from birth. But Shen Xiao had walked ever forward into the light. They were truly not the same kind of people.

Then — how long could a partnership so seamless in appearance actually last?

Li Qin wished to rule, and so he naturally needed to give more thought to the balance of power among his subordinates. Should these two ever come into conflict, how would he mediate between them so that the ship would not sink?

Li Qin furrowed his brow, placed a piece on the board, and began to deliberate.