Dark clouds veiled the moon. A breath of night wind moved soundlessly through the palace courtyards, swaying the copper sparrow-bell hanging beneath the upturned eave of the hall — green with verdigris, patched with rust.
Its chime rang out, fitful and intermittent, borne on the wind. In the deep of night within this inner palace, the sound that reached the ear was piercingly mournful.
Even the Female Official Chen, standing watch at the bedside inside, heard it — and seeing the flames of the few remaining candles before her gutter and waver, she was seized by a sudden, creeping dread.
She looked over at the bed.
Jiang Shi had been sleeping without waking for three days now. These past several days, the female members of the family — including the Empress Dowager, the Empress, and others — had been taking turns here to watch over and tend to her.
Ningfu had already been keeping watch for many days and refused to leave even for a step. Only in the small hours of the night, utterly exhausted, had she been persuaded to lie down on an additional simple bed set up to the side.
She wore a tired expression, and even now was deep in sleep.
Female Official Chen rose and moved with quiet steps to the hall door, instructing the palace attendants in a low voice to fetch a ladder and climb up to remove the bell.
As she was giving this instruction, a low, indistinct voice came from inside the hall. “It has always been there without trouble — why would you want to take it down?”
Ever since Prince Qin and his wife had left the capital, Jiang Shi had grown steadily weaker in spirit and in body over the course of the year. Recently she had fallen into an unbroken sleep, waking only to open her eyes briefly at intervals before sinking back into slumber.
Like a candle burned to its end, on the verge of going out. Jiang Shi did not have long. Both at court and beyond it, everyone knew this, and all were waiting for that final moment to come.
This was the first time in these three days that she had opened her mouth to speak.
Female Official Chen quickly returned to the bedside. She saw Jiang Shi still lying in the same position, eyes closed — but unlike before, her eyelids were moving faintly. Clearly the mournful sound of the wind-bell had startled her awake. She asked in a soft voice how she was feeling. Receiving no reply, she was just about to go summon the imperial physician again when she saw Jiang Shi raise her hand faintly.
Female Official Chen understood that she meant there was no need.
She pressed down the wave of grief rising in her heart and stood quietly at the bedside.
The night wind continued, and the copper bell rang again, ding-dong, ding-dong, the sound drifting and faint. Jiang Shi still lay with eyes closed, listening — or so it seemed, or perhaps fallen into some deep reverie. After a moment, when the bell-sound stilled, she asked quietly, “How many days have I been sleeping?”
“Your response, Grand Empress Dowager — nearly three days.”
Jiang Shi slowly opened her eyes. She told them to help her sit up, saying she wanted to go outside and take one look at the crabapple tree she had transplanted herself in the courtyard many years ago.
Whether from last winter’s frost or from some sympathy with the failing of its keeper, that old tree had died this year and would never bear flowers again. It was spring deep into the season, yet there would be no blossoms.
Female Official Chen would only help her sit up and lean against the pillow, and advised her to wait until the next day to go outside.
Jiang Shi said, “My spirits are good right now. Have the attendants bring a chair, carry me out, and that will be that.”
Female Official Chen said, “The wind is strong outside. Your Highness should remain in bed and rest.”
Jiang Shi fell quiet. After a moment, she gave a low sigh. “The old tree has died, and that is why you will not let me see it — is that not so?”
Li Hui’er was awakened by the sound of the two women talking. She opened her eyes and saw that Jiang Shi, who had been sleeping without waking for so many days, had now roused — and what was more, appeared to be quite alert and clear-minded. At first overjoyed, she then recalled the saying about a dying flame flaring bright, and heard her speak so. Grief welled up all at once; she forced back the tears threatening to burst from her eyes and leapt from the bed, rushed to the neighboring courtyard, broke off a branch from a crabapple tree in full bloom, and brought it back, placing it in Jiang Shi’s hands. Putting on a brave smile, she said, “Great-Grandmother, may you live ten thousand years! Look — I have brought you flowers. Once Great-Grandmother is well again, I will accompany you to see them!”
Jiang Shi took the branch and breathed in its fragrance, smiling. “How beautifully it has bloomed…”
Before she had finished the words, her hand trembled. The flowering branch fell to the floor at the bedside, and her entire person leaned back, sinking helplessly against the pillow.
“Grand Empress Dowager!”
“Great-Grandmother!”
Female Official Chen and Li Hui’er cried out together, and flung themselves forward to support her.
Jiang Shi slowly opened her eyes again. She fixed her gaze on Li Hui’er and said quietly, “Hui’er, Great-Grandmother is going to leave. After this, Great-Grandmother cannot protect you anymore. Before your fourth Uncle and Aunt return, the Prince Duan Consort will look after you. In the future, if a suitable family comes along, you should…”
“No! I am not going anywhere! I want to stay with Great-Grandmother forever! Wherever Great-Grandmother is, Hui’er will go!”
Li Hui’er, overcome with grief, sprawled over Jiang Shi’s bedside, sobbing quietly, tears streaming down her face.
Jiang Shi stroked her hair with gentle tenderness, let out a sigh, and told her to go out first, leaving Female Official Chen to stay.
Li Hui’er, knowing she must have things to entrust to Female Official Chen, did not dare delay. With tears still falling silently, she walked out, pausing to look back with every step.
…
In the East Pavilion of the Changqing Palace, Li Chengyu sat alone behind his writing desk, just returned from visiting the patient at the Penglai Palace, deliberating over the several new candidates for the post of western region Protector-General that Chen Zhude had recommended to him a few days prior.
According to the imperial physicians, his formal great-grandmother Jiang Shi had only a matter of days left.
As long as she died, an imperial edict would immediately be dispatched to the western regions, summoning his imperial uncle Li Xuandu back to the capital to observe mourning.
If he refused to return, that would give Li Chengyu reason to move against him.
If he returned, he would not be allowed to leave the capital alive.
This plan had been taking shape in Li Chengyu’s mind for a long time. Seeing that it was on the verge of being put into action, he was somewhat excited, and felt as though a weight had been lifted from him — a sense of ease unlike any he had felt before permeating his entire body.
He also began to understand, at last, what Mingzong had felt in his time.
Although the area outside the Penglai Palace had long been blanketed with his secret watchers — where not even an ant could crawl out without coming under surveillance — Li Chengyu still felt as though his hands were bound. All along, it had been as if an invisible rope constrained him, preventing him from acting freely.
He had waited so long. Now Jiang Shi was finally on the verge of departing.
Li Chengyu could scarcely contain his impatience.
He was the Emperor. He wanted to act as he pleased and do what he wished.
For instance — how to deal with his imperial uncle.
He pushed down the surge of excitement rising in his chest, his eyes moving once more over Chen Zhude’s memorial. He noticed the first name listed at the top, and that recalled something to mind. He summoned a palace attendant and ordered that the Southern Command General Cui Xuan be brought into the palace at once.
Cui Xuan answered the summons and came in. Li Chengyu pushed Chen Zhude’s memorial toward him and smiled. “He recommends you as the next Protector-General of the western regions. Do you have any inclination to take up the post?”
Cui Xuan glanced at the memorial and replied with deference. “General Chen flatters me. This subordinate can brandish a blade and kill when needed, but of matters beyond the passes, he knows nothing. I do not know why General Chen has such a high opinion of me that he lists this subordinate as his first choice.”
Li Chengyu burst into laughter. “Let me tell you then — he fears you will seize his power, and so he recommends you to go beyond the passes. Naturally, to avoid being seen through by me, he has to list several other candidates as well, to give an appearance of impartiality.”
Since the Emperor had ascended the throne a year ago, he had worn a perpetually dark expression, and the palace attendants serving him closely all feared him greatly. It was the first time they had ever seen him laugh so openly; not one of them was not inwardly startled.
Li Chengyu finished laughing, and fixed his gaze on Cui Xuan. “From your words, you are not willing to go?”
Cui Xuan replied, “I am grateful to Your Majesty for enlightening me. As to whether this subject goes or does not go — it is entirely at Your Majesty’s discretion.”
Li Chengyu was clearly very pleased with this reply, and smiled. “Cui Xuan, you are the trusted man of my heart. Among all the officials at court, I trust only you. How could I listen to another’s slanders? Even if I truly were to send you — that would only be because there was no one else, and only you could assist me. As the situation stands today — favorable as it is — why would there be any need to send you? You guard the capital for me, do well what I entrust you with, and that is enough!”
Cui Xuan thanked him.
Li Chengyu waved his hand. “Summoning you into the palace so late — it is because I suddenly thought of something. I commanded you to investigate the whereabouts of the Prince Chu’s grandson. How is the progress?”
Cui Xuan’s mind conjured the image of a certain figure.
He had no direct evidence, but through instinct and extensive covert investigation, he was nearly certain: on that night of slaughter, when the Prince Chu’s grandson had mysteriously disappeared, it must be connected to that person.
In truth, no evidence was necessary. He only needed to transfer his suspicion into this young Emperor’s mind, and that person would not know a moment’s peace. Unless that person was willing to abandon all ambition and submit to destruction without resistance — otherwise, what would follow would certainly be chaos throughout the realm.
He was indifferent to chaos or no chaos.
It was simply that he did not yet feel the present moment was the best time to stir up that hornets’ nest.
He knelt and asked for forgiveness. “This subordinate is incompetent. Despite searching in many directions, there has been no progress at all. I beg Your Majesty to grant this subordinate more time. If there is still nothing to be found, I will accept my punishment!”
Li Chengyu was somewhat disappointed, but did not show much of it, and nodded. He then asked about another matter. “A few days ago I received a secret report and forwarded it to you — the one about the Imperial Gardens Attendant, or some other person connected to that side. What progress has been made?”
“That side” referred to the Penglai Palace, as Cui Xuan well understood. He replied, “Your Majesty need not worry. This subordinate has had men watching day and night, including the people around him. As long as there is any movement, none of it will escape this subordinate’s eye.”
Li Chengyu’s expression was grim. “When the Jiang family was at the height of its power, it was said they could summon half the troops of the realm. You may have heard this saying. A centipede dies but does not fall stiff. What I worry about is not one mere Imperial Gardens Attendant — but whether, in the capital, and beyond the capital, there may be other Imperial Gardens Attendants lurking in hiding. I do not want you to flush out only this one. I want you to root out the entire vine for me! You must attend to this matter earnestly, with not a moment’s negligence!”
Cui Xuan acknowledged the order.
Li Chengyu paused a moment, as though reflecting deeply on something. His expression gradually cleared, and then he said abruptly, “Cui Xuan, I wonder — what is your guess? If my imperial uncle receives the edict I issue calling him back to the capital to observe mourning — will he return, or will he not?”
Cui Xuan dropped his gaze, his tone flat and even. “This subordinate knows too little of Prince Qin to dare venture a guess.”
Li Chengyu gave a cold laugh. “I am also very curious…”
Before he had finished the words, a palace attendant outside announced himself and entered quickly, kneeling to report that a message had just been received from the Penglai Palace — the Grand Empress Dowager Jiang Shi was in critical condition.
Li Chengyu’s heart lurched sharply.
His great-grandmother was truly about to go!
In that moment, to say there was no grief whatsoever would not be entirely true. But the faint thread of grief had not yet had a moment to be felt before it was replaced by a different kind of tension and excitement.
He started to his feet, closed his eyes, composed himself, and immediately went in the imperial conveyance to the Penglai Palace. When he arrived, he saw that it was not only himself — the Prince Duan, the Director of the Imperial Clan Court, Guo Lang, and more than ten other imperial clansmen and court officials had also received the summons and were already there.
Everyone was waiting outside Jiang Shi’s bedchamber. Seeing him appear, they all bowed in greeting together.
Li Chengyu led the group inside in a hurry, and learned at once that Jiang Shi had already passed.
The Emperor led everyone in weeping, and after performing the kneeling obeisance before the bed, Female Official Chen spoke: the Grand Empress Dowager had a final edict.
She produced an imperial decree.
“From the time I was established as the Empress of the Supreme Ancestor, until now, nearly sixty years have passed. As I near my return to heaven, I still remember the deathbed wishes of the Supreme Ancestor Emperor — repeated and fervent — to repel foreign enemies and bring peace to all frontiers.”
“The deepest wish of my half a lifetime has been not to fail in what my late husband entrusted to me. Yet to this day, the frontiers remain unsettled, and the Eastern Di tigers and wolves are not yet dead. I have considered this at length, and find I have no face to meet the Supreme Ancestor. Therefore, after my death, no elaborate burial shall be conducted, no interment in the earth. My remains shall be placed in a coffin and kept to rest beside the Supreme Ancestor’s mausoleum. This I hereby declare to my children and descendants: when the day comes that the frontiers are pacified and the long-standing enemy is destroyed — that day shall be my day of burial.”
The great hall fell into absolute silence.
Everyone was stunned beyond measure. At first they looked at one another in disbelief — no one could have imagined that Jiang Shi, in her final moments, would arrange her own affairs after death in such a way. Then, as they recovered, the sound of weeping swelled and fell, one after another, resonating throughout the hall.
Li Chengyu stood rigid, his entire body stiff, and even forgot to perform the expected gesture of grief. When he returned to the Changqing Palace, he could no longer contain himself. In a fit of wild fury, he lifted his foot and delivered a powerful kick — sending the heavy writing desk crashing over.
Brushes, inkstones, paper, and memorials, along with the large and small imperial seals, all scattered and clattered to the floor in utter disarray.
The palace attendants turned ashen and trembled, all kneeling on the ground, not one of them daring to take a single breath.
A small drawer fell open, and from it rolled out a jade bracelet of deep water-green color.
Li Chengyu’s eyes locked fixedly on the jade bracelet on the floor, his face iron-dark, the muscles of his eyelids twitching without cease.
He stepped across the floor strewn with memorials, walked over, and picked up the bracelet. His thumb stroked its surface — smooth and warm as a woman’s delicate hand. He turned it in his fingers for a while, and at last the expression on his face slowly, gradually stilled.
He closed his eyes, let out a long, slow breath.
Jiang Shi was gone. From this day forward, he would have no more misgivings — this was the greatest good news. Even if he could not move against his imperial uncle just yet, she — it was time to take her back!