By the time Li Jingui arrived, Zheng Aman was already hanging in midair, swaying. In that moment, he felt he must be dead already.
He suddenly didn’t want to call out to him anymore. Having climbed out of mountains of corpses alongside His Majesty, even that hadn’t felt as difficult as what Aman was facing now—an entire household of men, half the house sentenced to death, while a hundred or so women and girls struggled at the frontier.
How could they resist? There was no resisting.
He heard Aman shout from the air: “I wish to ride the wind home—home, but where is home, ha ha ha…”
Only now did Li Jingui realize just how vicious that single gesture from the old Empress Dowager had truly been.
Someone struck him hard on the head. Li Jingui turned, startled, to find His Majesty glaring at him in fury: “Why are you just standing there? Save him!”
The courtyard grew louder and more crowded by the moment. People climbed up to the third floor. The Eldest Princess sobbed so hard she nearly fainted.
The sound of tearing cloth grew louder. Zheng Aman stood frozen, staring up at the sky, and with the final tear, his face relaxed into an expression of release—and then he was falling.
Gu Hongyun caught the swaying Zheng Aman as he fell and brought him safely to the ground.
Yang Lingyao stumbled down from upstairs. Ever since her mother had passed, she had endured in silence—unable to cry, unable to resent. Any excess of grief brought the nursemaids at her side to caution her: the princess must think of her two younger sisters and must never let a trace of resentment show…
The words were never spoken plainly, but she understood all the same—her mother had been a criminal, and if she wept, it would look like resentment toward the sovereign.
Thankfully, Brother Aman had always been by her side, and the two of them had relied on each other to survive.
Now, finally, she had her chance. Finally, she could cry.
The Eldest Princess, Li Lingyao, rushed down the stairs and stumbled to a stop in front of Zheng Aman.
His Majesty had been about to crouch down and offer a few words of comfort, but his own daughter shoved him aside. Then came the child’s anguished wail: “Brother, how selfish of you—how could you leave alone? How dare you not take me with you? There’s no point living anyway, so let’s just go together…”
Torches blazed throughout the courtyard, and everyone stood frozen. Li Jingui, not wanting anyone to witness Aman’s humiliation, ordered everyone to withdraw.
Emperor Wu, Yang Zao, stood in silence watching the two pitiful children. Yes, he knew they suffered. But who in this world did not suffer? Who did not struggle?
No one knew how much time passed before a soft voice spoke quietly at his ear: “The road of exile is so treacherous—how is it that news keeps reaching Aman’s side without fail?”
His Majesty turned. It was the Fifth Prince, Yang Ying.
“Why have you come?” His Majesty asked flatly.
The Fifth Prince’s heart clenched, though his expression showed only concern. “My own sister, my brother-in-law—such a grave matter. Your son… your son did not think it through carefully…”
His Majesty’s own heart was heavy, and he had no wish to say more. He patted his son’s shoulder. “Go and see to it. Arrange for Aman to enter the palace. His mind is unsettled—send him to your young uncle’s prayer hall for a time.”
As for when he might come out—likely only after autumn, for execution.
Yang Du saw his father off, then arranged for the dazed, grief-stricken Zheng Aman and the Eldest Princess to enter the palace.
By the time the sky had barely begun to lighten, Chen Dasheng and Chang Lianfang finally arrived, having just gotten word.
Li Jingui sat cross-legged before the gate of the princess’s mansion, staring unmoving at the deep blue, painted brackets above.
Chang Lianfang went over and stared into his eyes for a long while before his gaze finally cleared. He looked at Chang Lianfang and said, “Aman’s death would be a release.”
Chang Lianfang slapped him across the face, sending him staggering onto the steps.
Li Jingui lay on the ground laughing for a while, then began to sob.
Chen Dasheng thought of the once-brilliant, spirited Zheng Aman, and felt that this man now lived in an endless night—no matter how he struggled, there was no escaping it.
The unrepaired gate of the princess’s mansion slowly swung shut.
The three of them watched the gate in silence, until at last the Fifth Prince, Yang Du, emerged through the crack in the doorway. Seeing them, he smiled.
He walked straight up to them, and without regard for propriety or dignity, simply crouched down where he stood. He let out a long sigh first, then said, “At our age, we can’t interfere in matters at court. But I do have a rather shabby idea that might just break this deadlock.”
Chang Lianfang and Li Jingui’s eyes both lit up, and they turned to the Fifth Prince at once.
The Fifth Prince wiped his face and, after a long pause, said, “I did say it was a shabby idea—you still want to hear it?”
Li Jingui swallowed and stared at his face. “Tell us.”
The Fifth Prince glanced around, and only once he judged it safe did he speak. “I’m only afraid you won’t be willing to part with it.”
Chang Lianfang grew anxious. “What is there we wouldn’t part with? Aside from our lives, which aren’t even ours to give—I have to live for my wife and children—anything else, just say it.”
Li Jingui nodded. “That’s right, that’s right. As long as Aman has some hope of a future, my life doesn’t matter. I’ve got nothing and no one to leave behind—giving it up means nothing to me…”
So many children sent as hostages to His Majesty’s side, drifting and uncertain, had endured every hardship together. In the end only these three remained. If, in a time of peace, they lost Aman too, none of them would ever be whole again.
The Sixth Prince looked at the two of them with envy, then turned to the expressionless Chen Dasheng. He suddenly asked, “If it cost no lives, only some worldly possessions, would Marquis Chen be willing to help Aman?”
Chen Dasheng spread his hands calmly. “As long as it doesn’t go against my father’s teachings or the laws of the state, Fifth Prince, just say the word. Aman and I aren’t especially close, but he is Little Huar’s brother.”
Which makes him my brother too.
The Fifth Prince gave a thumbs up, scratched his chin, and said, “The merit rewards my father bestowed that day—are all of you willing to part with them?”
At this, everyone’s faces showed astonishment.
Chen Dasheng, startled, said, “The merit reward coins? Mine were buried with my father and elder brothers…”
The Fifth Prince froze, wiped his face, and sighed. “Then there’s no other way. When my father bestowed those rewards that day, didn’t he say the coins could redeem one degree of guilt? The elders of the Zheng family are beyond saving, but Aman’s peers and younger cousins could still be spared—reduce their sentence by one degree, enough to have them exiled to be near their family. If a few people help shoulder the burden for Aman, plus a settlement allowance, I think this matter could be resolved.”
Everyone fell silent. After a long moment, Li Jingui slapped his thigh. “Right! How could I have forgotten those? I have two gold coins and one iron one.”
He said this, then looked at Chang Lianfang without a trace of reluctance. “What about you?”
Chang Lianfang thought it over. “One gold, four copper.”
These two had received their coins far more simply than Chen Dasheng—theirs came one per accomplishment, while Chen Dasheng’s family had traded a single coin for a single life.
Even so, though the coins had come easily enough to them, each one had been earned with someone’s life. Yet now, with just a word from someone else, as long as it could help Aman, they gave without the slightest hesitation.
The Fifth Prince felt both envy and jealousy.
Having settled on the amount, he looked at Chen Dasheng and said, “Then, Marquis, I’ll have to trouble you to deliver these to His Majesty. Honestly, none of us princes have as much standing before His Majesty as you do these days.”
Chen Dasheng nodded. “You flatter me. It can be done—but will His Majesty allow it? I’m only afraid that once this door is opened, many families will have things to offer.”
Wouldn’t that undermine His Majesty’s intent to purge the court, and waste all the effort he and his father had put in?
The Fifth Prince chuckled quietly at first, then burst out laughing. When he finished, he stood and patted Li Jingui’s shoulder affectionately. “Gentlemen, people are not all the same. Do you think everyone in this world is like you? Precisely because you know these rewards can save a life, they become all the more precious.”
He turned to leave, but after a few steps turned back and bowed to Chen Dasheng and the others. “Gentlemen, out of regard for my sincerity, please don’t let word of this get out. Do what you can to keep it quiet.”
Li Jingui hurriedly stood, straightened his robes, and bowed solemnly. “The Fifth Prince need not worry. Such great kindness—the three of us will never dare forget it.”
The Fifth Prince, without further courtesies, glanced at Chen Dasheng, who stood off to the side with a calm expression, smiled, and turned to head toward Lotus Lane.
Once he’d left, Chang Lianfang patted his head and sighed. “In this world, it seems anyone is sharper than the three of us.”
Chen Dasheng glanced sideways at him. “Why would you need to be that sharp? If those merit rewards were taken out, what would you say to the old Marquis?”
Chang Lianfang drew a breath, then laughed self-deprecatingly. “Brother, you worry too much. He gave up caring long ago.”
Chen Dasheng patted his shoulder. “Fine. Go make a list later—try to find honest, sincere branches of the Zheng family to help save. If anyone’s too deeply implicated, don’t even mention them. Otherwise, even if His Majesty allows it, my old man with that temper of his won’t.”
Li Jingui nodded and went home with Chang Lianfang, each to prepare what was needed—no more to be said of that for now.
As for the Fifth Prince, once he left Lotus Lane, he rode all the way to a Daoist temple outside Yanjing city.
He arrived at an inconvenient time—the master inside was at his devotions—so he didn’t disturb him, and instead went alone to a small hall behind the temple. He entered, lit incense, and sat cross-legged beneath the table, gazing quietly at a memorial tablet for a long while without speaking.
No one knew how much time had passed before an old, stern voice scolded him from behind: “If your uncle were alive, he would never have let you take such a risk. This is a time for cultivating yourself—why must you trouble yourself with unnecessary matters?”
The Fifth Prince looked at Liu Zhenzhi’s memorial tablet and answered firmly, “Grandfather, my uncle said the same thing that day. He said my talent was ordinary, my thinking simple, my actions rash, and my maternal family weak—if I wanted to live a long life, I should aim to become a carefree, idle prince… But this is what I chose to do instead. Yet things didn’t turn out as they thought. What did my uncle do wrong? A man devoted wholly to scholarship, and because of someone like me, he lost his life for no good reason. It… it truly wasn’t worth it.”
The old Daoist’s head was full of white hair, and after losing his beloved son he had aged even further. He too wanted to light incense, but his hands trembled as he took it, breaking several sticks.
Once he finally managed to set the incense properly, he looked at the tablet. No tears fell, but his nose ran. He laughed at himself, wiped his nose, and walked over to his grandson—a prince—patting his shoulder. “But your uncle didn’t say it that way to me at all. Your uncle said our Adu has a heart for justice, is open and generous by nature, a righteous gentleman born and bred—the one among all the princes most like your father…”
Yang Du’s heart ached unbearably, and he wrapped his arms around his grandfather’s legs, weeping silently.
He did not see that the old man, utterly spent of hope, stroked his grandson’s head while staring at his own son’s tablet, his eyes burning as though he meant to set the entire world ablaze…
At that moment, within the Daliang palace, His Majesty stood with his hands behind his back, gazing bleakly at the sky beyond the palace walls, his heart heavy with desolation. Zhang Minwang came stumbling over to offer congratulations. “Congratulations, Your Majesty. Many congratulations.”
Emperor Wu said nothing, only looked at the old eunuch.
Zhang Minwang swallowed and looked up with a smile. “Your Majesty, today the Imperial Medical Bureau made their rounds checking the pulses of the consorts in every palace. Did you know—by this time next year, you may well have four more little princes…”