“Little Seven~!”

“Sixth Brother~!”

Outside the half-pavilion wall in the imperial garden, two voices, joyful as fools, shattered the suppressed atmosphere around the small pavilion. His Majesty, whose mood had already been sour, froze at the sound, coughed dryly a few times, and asked, “Who is making such a racket over there?”

Zhang Minwang hurried over to report, “Your Majesty, it’s Sixth Prince and… old Seventh over there.”

He glanced toward the south gate, and His Majesty could only sigh helplessly.

Few in this world could put up with the antics of that little immortal Sixth Prince and his endless nonsense—the old guards were about the only ones who could stand it.

Sixth Prince seemed simple and honest on the surface, but in truth he was the best at telling good from bad. If someone’s attitude toward him was only superficial, he would never easily approach them.

No one knew exactly when it started, but the person Sixth Prince most loved to seek out was that Guan Si’er from the seventh guard.

In Qingling’s words, it was just one fool matched with another fool in the family—might as well let it be.

He’d also said, “Could His Majesty possibly find Sixth Prince another fool to play with? Who else in this world could listen to him ramble on about immortal nonsense for two hours every day?”

Thinking it over, there truly wasn’t anyone else, and from then on His Majesty stopped asking about it.

Besides, his good friends were meeting next door—no one had known His Majesty would be discussing state affairs in the imperial garden today, so it couldn’t really be counted as an offense.

Outside the half-pavilion, Meng Dichen and his four chief enforcers knelt on the ground pleading guilty, along with several ministers connected to the case of Qing Buyi’s assassination attempt on Tan Shiyuan, their faces heavy, heads bowed, eyes fixed on the ground.

In truth, it wasn’t Jiu Si Tang’s fault. No matter how thorough the plan, Meng Dichen could never have imagined that Madam Zhong would poison her own son. Thinking of it filled him with grief and fury—in his heart he had already cursed the Tan family a thousand times over.

Right now, was capturing Qing Buyi and bringing her to justice the most urgent matter? No! What mattered most was Daliang’s dignity—every means possible had to be used to restore it.

A young eunuch rushed in, kneeling outside the hall to report: “Reporting to Your Majesty, Master Siku of Huguo Temple, the newly appointed sect leader of the Northern Martial Sect’s Twelve Gates, is outside the palace requesting an audience.”

Meng Dichen, still kneeling, flinched at these words, his hands quietly clenching into fists.

His Majesty, however, laughed upon hearing this. “They’ve come to see me? Ha, how amusing. Back when I was Commander-in-Chief, I had plenty of free time, yet they never paid me any mind. And now? Now I hardly have the leisure for it. Wu Lang, you may rise first.”

Meng Dichen quietly let out a breath of relief, thanked him, and stood.

Birds chirped in the garden. His Majesty rose, meaning to offer his ministers some words of comfort, but what came out of his mouth instead was a stream of complaints: “These past days, I too have wondered in private how Qing Buyi came to be this way. When I first raised my army, the Southern Martial Sect helped me many times over—I have kept your kindness in my heart. Qin She’s contributions, do you think I don’t know? But the state has its laws, the family has its rules, and under the law…”

He was preparing to launch into a long speech when, from beyond the wall, came another burst of barely-contained excited voices.

“Wow! So much!”

“What’s this compared to what my father has? He can’t even use it all. Look, is this one right?”

“Yes, yes, exactly, this Yise Tang paper. Thank you, Sixth Brother.”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing! We’re brothers, no need to mention it. Take it back and use it as you please—if you run out, just tell me…”

Hearing there was a thief in his own household, His Majesty could not let it go, and ordered Zhang Minwang: “Bring them here. He’s only just learned a few characters and already he dares to use my Yise Tang paper? You—go fetch his brother too, and that little scoundrel of mine. What does he mean, ‘plenty of it’? I don’t even have that much Yise Tang paper left myself!”

Zhang Minwang hurried off, suppressing his laughter.

Watching him leave, His Majesty finally waved a hand and said, “That’s enough for today. Wu Lang, go fetch Zhen’er… Whatever happened in the past, however unworthy the Tan family may have been, now that the person is dead and the lamp extinguished, still—go pay respects. After all, when I passed through Zicheng in the old days, I once ate a meal she prepared with her own hands. Who could have guessed it would end like this…”

As the ministers took their leave and departed the imperial garden, Meng Dichen looked into the distance with genuine sincerity, silently thanking Sixth Prince from the bottom of his heart—and, yes, that unlucky Seventh Guard as well.

Everyone had their own role to play. Of them all, She Qingling understood his place best—the son he raised had never once overstepped his bounds with Jiu Si Tang. Meng Dichen was not a petty man, and his impression of the Chief Guard’s estate was, in fact, quite favorable.

Chen Dasheng had no idea his younger brother had taken the blame for Jiu Si Tang. When he heard the summons, he was momentarily stunned—these days he was arranging matters concerning covert scouts, living in a small courtyard in the outer palace that belonged to his foster father.

Hearing His Majesty suddenly call for him, he glanced at the table, found a covered box, placed some intelligence reports he had prepared inside, and hurried toward the imperial garden.

Carrying the box, he followed behind Zhang Minwang toward the half-pavilion, and as he drew near he saw his own Little Seven and Sixth Prince kneeling on the bluestone ground.

The autumn air was cool and windless. Chen Dasheng glanced sideways at the knees of these two unlucky souls, saw thin cushions placed beneath them, and quietly let out a breath of relief before presenting the box before the throne.

Just the sight of the box gave His Majesty a headache. He didn’t treat Chen Dasheng as an outsider, and his first question was: “What has Qingling been doing at home these past few days?”

Chen Dasheng answered honestly, “Reporting to Your Majesty, nothing much, same as always in the palace—reading, painting, occasionally taking a walk. Though this morning my father mentioned that winter will be arriving soon, and quite a few of the chickens and ducks he raises have died recently. Worried about the cold, he’s currently at home directing the servants to build shelters.”

Emperor Wu, listening, said with great envy, “Hmph, listen to that—what a carefree life! Now look at the life I lead, ah, there’s no comparison…”

Chen Dasheng pressed his lips together and smiled, then turned to glance at the pair of unlucky souls.

Afraid he might plead on their behalf, His Majesty pointed at the incense burner on the table and said, “Never mind those two. Let them kneel until this stick of incense burns out.”

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng naturally didn’t dare intercede. A man of few words, he simply attended His Majesty’s side, watching him leaf through a thick stack of secret reports newly delivered by the scouts.

There was a great deal of important material. After reading for a long while, His Majesty stopped on the details concerning the Tan family’s poisoning of Madam Zhong and asked, “After all this trouble, how did Madam Zhong manage to run to Yandu and cause chaos—was it because she received a secret letter from this Wu Xiu? This I cannot understand. The Wu family has already fallen from grace—why would this Wu Xiu still try to prop up their patron?”

Chen Dasheng replied without a trace of personal emotion: “Reporting to Your Majesty, the Tan family once promised the Wu family they would rise again. In exchange, the Wu family handed over their ancestral secret techniques and gave up generations of family wealth to fund the Tan family’s rise. And yet, though the Wu family’s eldest daughter was the principal wife, she was always confined to the rear quarters and never respected. As for this Wu Xiu, he is already crippled.”

Having seen this sort of thing often enough, His Majesty was unsurprised. “That does sound like their family’s style. But in the end, the heavens see all.”

He set the documents back in their original place and pointed at the box; Zhang Minwang hurried over to take it away, leaving ruler and minister alone to talk in the half-pavilion.

His Majesty said, “As for the Tan family’s affairs, I no longer wish to look at them these days.”

It was, frankly, tiresome.

Chen Dasheng acknowledged this, but His Majesty continued, “As for the Northern Martial Sect’s intention to submit and pledge allegiance—Jiu Si Tang has petitioned several times about it, yet what they report doesn’t quite match your own account.”

Having finished speaking, His Majesty stood and walked off with his hands behind his back. Chen Dasheng followed a step and a half behind. As they passed the two unlucky souls, he noticed the open box beside Little Seven was full of xuan paper.

Once they had walked some distance away, Chen Dasheng spoke in a voice not loud, but pitched just enough for His Majesty to hear clearly: “Since my lord ascended the throne, there has been no matter you have not personally overseen. It is through your tireless devotion that our great Daliang has achieved this flourishing beginning. You placed me in charge of the scouts precisely because you saw that my heart holds no division between the northern and southern factions of the martial world. My heart has no allegiance—that was true then, and it will remain true hereafter.”

His Majesty nodded, satisfied. Walking further, he came upon a lotus pond as still as dead water, and stopped with a sigh. “Ever since your two generals’ heads were found here, I ordered every lotus root in this pond stripped out, down to the last one. Just last year, when your father was reviewing the palace records, he mentioned this place more than once. Do you know what the emperor who once lived here loved most?”

Chen Dasheng shook his head.

His Majesty laughed. “They were much like me—confined to this courtyard. After the morning court, most days they’d take a palanquin to the shrine to burn incense, then feed the fish in this very pond, take a boat out on this very pond, compose poetry beside this pond, chat idly with consorts along its banks. The former dynasty left behind a full hundred volumes recording every outfit worn each day. Ha, and now I’m not so different—all day changing into one new set of clothes after another, though no one ever sees them. I can’t travel far, so I just wander round and round this pond, day after day…”

Chen Dasheng, an honest man, thought for a long while before saying plainly, “That does sound rather dull.”

His Majesty nodded vigorously at this. “Exactly! In the old days, when your father was still stuck in this wretched garden with me, at least he could bicker with me. But once he left—hmph! I became some kind of flood-beast, a monster no one cared to understand. Those who want nothing from me don’t think of me at all; those who want something never truly regard me…”

This outburst of complaints made it clear His Majesty had been under considerable pressure lately, and with Qingling away, he’d fallen into the petty suspicion typical of rulers, finding fault with everyone in sight.

Since entering the palace, this was the first time Chen Dasheng had witnessed His Majesty punish Sixth Prince. He asked carefully, “Your Majesty, I notice Little Seven has a box beside him?”

At this, His Majesty’s complaints vanished at once. He turned, scowling, and asked Chen Dasheng, “I say, Choutou, your household has gotten quite bold—everyone knows now that things are being smuggled out of the palace. Did you know?”

Chen Dasheng was taken aback, blinking. As an honest man faced with such a situation, he had only one response: stay silent and let the other person say what he wanted.

His Majesty, used to this dull manner of his, didn’t wait for a reply before continuing irritably, “That little troublemaker conspired with Sixth Prince to steal my Yise Tang paper! Did you know that?”

“Impossible!” Chen Dasheng retorted with confidence. “Little Seven wouldn’t have the nerve.”

His Majesty had known he’d say exactly that, and complained, “He himself might not, but my Sixth Prince certainly does—and you’ve all spoiled him rotten. He’s barely learned to read a handful of characters, hasn’t finished a single book, yet already he knows fine things when he sees them. Daring to use my Yise Tang paper!”

Chen Dasheng glanced at the pitiful figure kneeling in the distance, and after a moment’s thought, said to His Majesty, “Your Majesty, in truth, Little Seven wasn’t seeking the Yise Tang paper for himself. If I’m not mistaken, he wanted it to please Master Ruian.”

“Gong Ruian?” His Majesty blinked in surprise. “What business does Little Seven have with him? How did he end up mixed up with the Fengchi Scholar? As I recall, that Master Gong has only been in the capital a few days?”

Chen Dasheng nodded with a sigh. “Reporting to Your Majesty, I too have been looking into this matter these past days. I had hoped to find solid proof before reporting to you, but since Little Seven has already gotten himself into trouble today, I’ll beg for leniency on his behalf. Little Seven is, truly, quite pitiable. Please forgive him this once.”

His Majesty was baffled. “Pitiable? What’s pitiable about him? Don’t tell me there’s some hidden story here?”

Chen Dasheng nodded. “Ah, there is.” He gestured toward the distance, and a young eunuch soon brought over a chair and set it by the edge of the lotus pond.

Chen Dasheng helped His Majesty sit, and when His Majesty waved for him to sit as well, he settled cross-legged on the bluestone slabs at the pond’s edge and said, “Your Majesty may recall, some time ago, Little Seven kept suffering from that heart ailment?”

Only then did His Majesty recall the matter, and he ordered, “Ah, I’d truly forgotten. Tell those two little scoundrels to stop kneeling—send them both into the pavilion to practice their characters. However much Yise Tang paper they took, that’s how many pages of characters they’ll write. If they don’t finish today, no dinner for either of them.”

Once the young eunuch had gone, His Majesty turned serious. “Don’t tell me Guan Si’er’s heart ailment involves something else I don’t know about?”

Chen Dasheng nodded solemnly. “There is, Your Majesty. Do you recall the day Little Seven first fell ill with this heart ailment? Our household went to the palace to fetch the physician on duty, and at the time, we also saw the senior tutor from the Imperial Academy—he too had sent someone to fetch a doctor, saying that Master Ruian had also fallen ill with the same ailment.”

His Majesty pondered this, then nodded. “That’s right, I remember that happening.”

Chen Dasheng sighed. “I would not dare deceive Your Majesty—I only recently learned of Little Seven’s origins myself. He told me that he is, in fact, the illegitimate son of Zhao Dongjin, headmaster of Ningjiang’s Hezhao Academy…”

His Majesty’s habitually narrowed eyes suddenly went wide.

Chen Dasheng continued, his voice heavy with sympathy, “My Little Seven was unwanted from childhood, abused and mistreated by the servants, raised alongside the livestock. Anyone in that household could beat or scold him as they pleased. He barely survived to grow up before the steward there sold him off to a slave trader…”

His Majesty drew a sharp breath, staring at Chen Dasheng in shock. “Such a thing happened?”

But Chen Dasheng, looking at His Majesty, wore an expression full of puzzlement as well. “Your Majesty, I find something odd about this matter. You see, ever since Master Gong arrived in the capital, he and Little Seven began falling ill together—when he sickens, Little Seven sickens; when he aches, Little Seven aches too; when Little Seven suffers, he too feels unwell.

Little Seven told me that the first time he met Master Gong, in Laixian, the man was startled and alarmed, saying that he and Master Gong’s second son looked exactly alike…”

The more His Majesty listened, the more astonished he grew, and he slowly rose to his feet.

Chen Dasheng also stood, a hint of mystery crossing his honest face. “You see, Your Majesty, once I grew suspicious, I sent people to investigate. Just yesterday the scouts brought back word, and upon hearing it, I became even more thoroughly confused.

That Zhao Dongjin of Hezhao Academy and Gong Ruian, though they studied under the same master, are not close at all—in fact, in Ningjiang, when it comes to learning and character, everyone would name Fengchi Master Gong Ruian first, and only then Zhao Dongjin. Privately, the two do not get along and have no dealings with one another. This only deepens the mystery…”

His Majesty paced in a circle a few times, then turned to Chen Dasheng with a serious expression. “I have turned this matter over in my mind, and there remain quite a few gaps in the details.”

Chen Dasheng bowed. “Precisely so. There is still a second group of scouts yet to return. In time, sooner or later, the truth will come to light. What I fear most is that my speculation proves correct—for then this would be a truly tragic affair.”

His Majesty drew another cold breath, and after long thought, instructed, “If this matter is as you suspect, it must not be widely publicized. It requires quiet, careful investigation. Our dynasty has only just weathered the scandal of Madam Zhong murdering her own son, which has already damaged public morals. If Ningjiang’s two great academies now produce another scandal of moral corruption, it would become a disgrace for all of Daliang…

I have done nothing wrong, and yet I am made to bear the blame for these immoral wretches. Should some earth-shaking calamity strike, it would be taken as proof that my own corrupt virtue has angered heaven and earth! The common people would never stop to consider whether I was wrongly blamed.”

Chen Dasheng nodded gravely, and after receiving the decree, sat with His Majesty by the pond a while longer. Finally His Majesty said softly, “In this world, no earthquake, no calamity, is worse than the human heart. If this matter is true, then Little Seven… is truly pitiable. He should have been a phoenix child born into a scholarly family of books and ink—who would have imagined it would come to this. Fortunately he met you, and Qingling, and now, at least, he has me to stand behind him. Such a clever child… you may rest easy. Whatever happens, I will not let him suffer this loss.”

Chen Dasheng knelt to offer thanks on Guan Si’er’s behalf.

His Majesty had him rise and sighed helplessly, “Hmph, go home and ask your father—all those pitfalls the two of us fell into in the old days, all those treacherous men we encountered time and again, more often than not they were scholars. These past two years the court ministers have had plenty to say about my establishing Jiu Si Tang—do you think I don’t know it? But when difficult matters arise, I still prefer to rely on Wu Lang and you. That’s precisely the reason. Those types who look every bit the refined gentleman, elegant and dignified on the surface—when they have some hidden agenda, there’s no scheme too vile for them to employ…”

Chen Dasheng’s face was full of sympathy, and once His Majesty had finished, he said, “Indeed it’s just as you say. Little Seven himself, lately, I don’t know what’s gotten into him—he’s always chasing after rare stationery to bring to the Imperial Academy. You wouldn’t believe it, every time he comes back he’s beaming, endlessly going on about ‘Master this’ and ‘Master that.’ It makes my heart ache just to hear it.”

“Ah, the bond between father and son—it runs in the blood, no matter what. Look at how mischievous Sixth Prince turned out; we were separated for so many years, yet the moment we met, we grew close instantly. This too must be heaven’s design—after such hardship, good fortune has finally come.”

Having said this, His Majesty stood and strolled back toward the half-pavilion with Chen Dasheng.

Inside the half-pavilion, Guan Si’er and Sixth Prince lay sprawled together, scowling as they practiced writing large characters. Guan Si’er had never been one for books, and being made to sit and study was his greatest dread.

As he wrote, he sensed someone beside him and looked up to see His Majesty. Guan Si’er dropped his brush at once, knelt, and begged forgiveness: “Your Majesty, I was wrong.”

His Majesty looked at his face, then at the crooked, shapeless characters scrawled on the desk, and his expression softened with affection. “Alright, get up. Cough—lately, weren’t you feeling unwell?”

Ever the clever one, Guan Si’er immediately clutched his chest and began to frown theatrically. His Majesty couldn’t help but laugh, kicking him lightly. “Enough playing tricks. If your own household’s paper isn’t enough for you, how many sheets could you possibly need? Did you have to ask Sixth Prince for it? You’ve got a mouth on that face of yours—why not just ask me yourself? Fine, that’s enough for today. Next time you pull something like this, you’ll see how I punish you.”

Guan Si’er was overjoyed, glanced at his older brother, and seeing no displeasure there, offered his thanks earnestly.

Seeing that Guan Si’er was off the hook, Sixth Prince too looked delighted and tried to set down his brush, only to be scolded by His Majesty: “This has nothing to do with you! You spendthrift—whatever he doesn’t finish, you’ll finish for him…”

The poor little immortal was struck as if by a thunderbolt, and his brush trembled in his unsteady hand.

Watching Chen Dasheng lead the still-dazed Guan Si’er away, His Majesty called out to stop them. “Wait. Someone, bring him two more sheaves of Yise Tang paper, and also bring the Ge ink I’ve been keeping—give him two sticks of that too, and find him some good brushes as well. Poor thing, when has he ever seen anything fine? All this fuss over a few sheets of paper…”

The little immortal looked at His Majesty with great grievance, thinking, Father, one day you’ll drive this son to become a rebellious demon-child, and then you’ll regret it.

Guan Si’er offered thanks, but His Majesty said with a face full of affection, “Your brother tells me you’ve made great progress lately—that you’ve been going to the Imperial Academy often to seek instruction from Master Gong?”

Guan Si’er was utterly stunned—how could he possibly have been seeking instruction? But since his brother had already said so, he couldn’t very well contradict him in front of the Emperor, and so, tearfully, he had no choice but to accept it.

Deeply gratified, His Majesty stroked his beard. “The Fengchi Scholar is a man of great virtue and unmatched learning among Confucian scholars. Since you wish to study, you must rein in that grasshopper heart of yours and learn properly from him, cough.”

And so, Guan Si’er left carrying two sheaves of Yise Tang paper, plus two sticks of Ge ink from his future in-laws’ household. He didn’t dare mention that he certainly wasn’t short on that particular item—after the affair with the Ge family, anyone in Yandu with even a bit of Ge ink in hand had made a fortune.

Even though the Ge family’s formula now belonged to the imperial household, Ge ink made in the palace, however fine, still could not be called true Ge ink.

Chen Dasheng parted ways with him at the palace gate. At first Guan Si’er trailed listlessly behind his brother, carrying the box.

Chen Dasheng scolded him: “You wanted good paper—don’t we have any at home?”

Guan Si’er, already full of grievance, looked up and said, “Brother, how was I supposed to know Sixth Prince stole the paper?”

Chen Dasheng snapped at him, exasperated, “Stole, my foot! You just happened to catch a lucky break, and I won’t pretend otherwise—who knows how much he’s taken over the years. It’s only natural for Sixth Prince to take his own father’s things, but it’s different for you. You’re the one who got caught in the crossfire. Just accept it. Sixth Prince has always done as he pleases—next time, be more careful.”

Guan Si’er nodded helplessly, and followed a few steps behind his brother before hearing him say with obvious annoyance, “Why are you still following me?”

Guan Si’er was about to lose his mind. “Going home?” he said, looking up.

Chen Dasheng pointed at the box and scolded him, “Don’t you dare bring that stolen loot home—do you want your teacher to scold you to death? Wasn’t this meant for Master Gong? Off you go, then.”

Without waiting to see whether Guan Si’er agreed or not, he climbed into the family carriage and left.

After all these years, this was the first time his brother had abandoned him like this. Guan Si’er’s heart ached with desolation, and pouting the whole way, he trudged off toward the Imperial Academy.

Master Gong had no lectures that day, and was discussing the matter of student enrollment with a newly arrived tutor at the Imperial Academy. According to word from the Ministry of Rites, starting next year, admission to the Imperial Academy would require a rank of fifth grade or above, or being the grandson of a commandery duke, or the great-grandson of someone ranked third grade or above.

Guan Si’er walked in just as this was being said and spoke up at once: “That can’t be right. His Majesty never said any such thing. Right now the court can barely fill its own ranks, and they want to add restrictions?”

The moment Guan Si’er spoke, Master Gong felt a pang in his heart. He leapt up at once and turned to him. “Ah, you? What are you doing here?”

Already out of sorts from being abandoned by his brother, Guan Si’er felt even more wronged hearing this, and with a trace of temper he’d never shown before, he held up the box and said, “Are you tired of me too, then? I—I brought this for you. Once I’ve dropped it off, I’ll be on my way.”

Master Gong denied it at once: “How could that be! Impossible! I couldn’t be happier to see you—you’re leaving already?”

An unexpected pang of tenderness struck him; he couldn’t bear to see the boy go, and so he took the box, setting it aside without even looking at what was inside, then reached out and pulled the tutor beside him forward. “Come, don’t rush off yet. As it happens—he, this is—Ji Dongyu, Master Benkun, he’ll be teaching the Secondary Rites here, you, you…”

It wasn’t that Master Gong couldn’t speak clearly—it was only that every time he saw Guan Si’er, he turned into this fluster, needing a long while to connect the thoughts in his head to the words in his mouth.

The tutor Ji looked back and forth between the two of them, puzzled, and finally asked, “Fengchi? And this—which young master of your household might this be?”