The room was utterly still — occasionally one heard the clear porcelain clink of the Emperor lifting his teacup, and the soft rustling sound of Xu Lingyi turning the pages of the memorials.

Chen Bozhi stood there with eyes lowered, gazing at his nose, nose at his heart — the picture of deference. Yet in his mind, he was turning over the events of the day.

He had come to the capital on imperial summons to report on his work. After discussing the canal transport affairs, the Emperor had kept him in the inner study to speak further — a signal honor, and naturally he had complied with all humility. But he had not expected to encounter Marquis Yongping waiting outside the study door, and still less had he expected that the Emperor would address the Marquis by his courtesy name with such easy familiarity… A deep wariness had stirred in his heart at that moment.

He had long heard that Marquis Yongping had been overbearing and reckless in his earlier years, that the Emperor had looked on him with disfavor, and that even the Crown Prince had kept his distance. It was fortunate that the Marquis had been perceptive enough to read the times, and these past years had kept himself in check, not daring to overstep — he had even cited illness to excuse himself from the grand court assemblies — and so had avoided bringing about a serious error. Later, with the emergence of renowned commanders such as Fan Weigang, Jiang Yunfei, He Chengbi, and Li Ji, the luster surrounding Marquis Yongping had been worn away by time, and only then had the Emperor’s resentment toward him gradually cooled.

The two of them were, in ordinary circumstances, one a capital official and the other a regional official — north and south, with no real dealings between them. He had not expected that one trip to the capital by his son would result in the boy being slapped in the face by Xu Lingyi’s youngest son, Xu Sijin. Not only that — Xu Sijin had been vicious about it: more than thirty men had accompanied them, and over twenty had been severely injured, the least of whom would need a year or two to recover. When he had first heard this, he was deeply alarmed. His son had been scared out of his wits and fell ill upon returning to his lodgings in Yanjing, and even to this day was still frequently jolted awake by nightmares…

He had thought of the Crown Prince, smashed an inkstone in rage, and then decided to swallow his pride. He had asked his good friend Gu Yan from the Hanlin Academy to act as mediator — as long as the Xu family was willing to offer an apology, he would have a way to save face, and the matter would be over. He had not expected Marquis Yongping to turn a deaf ear and refuse to take the bait, while Xu Sijin, for his part, made a name for himself overnight — the sons of Yanjing’s noble families competed to befriend him, and throughout the New Year holiday the visitors came in a steady, unbroken stream.

One general achieves renown, and ten thousand bones are crushed to dust.

Xu Sijin chose whoever he liked to step on — that was his own business. But he should never have dragged his son into it… If they did not get a proper accounting out of this, what face would his son have to show himself in Yanjing’s world from here on?

When Gu Yan wrote to him with his grievances, he came to see clearly: if one wished to argue the rights and wrongs of this matter, it could not be done without the Emperor’s support.

With that thought, he quickly stole a glance at the Emperor.

The Emperor’s face was unreadable as still water — nothing could be discerned.

His heart sank.

First the Emperor had addressed Marquis Yongping with intimate familiarity by his courtesy name; then he had let the Marquis see the censors’ memorials… The former could still be explained away — Marquis Yongping was the Emperor’s wife’s younger brother, and the two had been close since the days of the private household; perhaps it was merely force of habit. But letting him see the censors’ memorials was tantamount to telling the Marquis who was impeaching him…

The thought flashed through his mind in an instant, and he felt as though a cold sweat were breaking out on his brow.

Could the Emperor’s intention be to ask them to reconcile?

Chen Bozhi’s mind raced.

If the Emperor truly intended this, then what form that reconciliation should take was a very significant question.

The medical expenses and such could all be waived… but Marquis Yongping must personally come to call and inquire after the sick; and Xu Sijin must offer an apology to his son… After that, he could even bring generous gifts and call upon the Marquis to express his gratitude… But further social dealings would be unnecessary — who knew which string of the Emperor’s that might pluck. Some things could be left to develop gradually… such as observing what the Crown Prince’s true feelings were toward this uncle of his…

While Chen Bozhi was weighing all this, Xu Lingyi had finished reading most of the memorials.

The Emperor suddenly spoke: “What have you to say for yourself?”

“This subject is filled with dread,” Xu Lingyi immediately knelt, “I had also heard of the matter described in the memorials. I was greatly alarmed at the time and summoned Xu Sijin to question him. Jin Ge’er said he was in a teahouse when he heard and saw someone bullying a father and daughter who sang for their living, and got into a conflict — he did not know who the other party were. I immediately had people look into it. I was told that although Commissioner Chen’s son was confined to bed, he had not been left crippled in all four limbs as the memorials claimed. I had originally intended to send a steward to Huai’an, but then I recalled our ancestors’ decree that no official of the capital was to cultivate relations with officials of the regions, and so I abandoned that plan. I only sent someone to make discreet inquiries — to see whether Commissioner Chen’s household here in Yanjing had any guards who had been injured, and so on — but neither the neighbors on the left nor the right knew of any such incident, and after that no one from the Commissioner’s household came to us to demand an accounting.” His voice dropped lower. “In the more than ten years since I retired from public life, there have been all manner of rumors of one kind or another from time to time. Each time it has been Your Majesty who spoke up for this subject. This time I thought no differently…” A note of grief crept into his voice.

What an eloquent reversal of right and wrong.

Chen Bozhi gave a cold inward laugh and looked toward the Emperor.

The Emperor’s face showed a trace of reluctance to be harsh.

He felt a sudden chill.

“Your Majesty,” Chen Bozhi said, voice soft and tone deferential, “the fault in this matter was originally mine. I thought of how Marquis Yongping had subdued the Miao territories and pacified the northwest — he has rendered great service to the realm — and so when this small matter arose between our children, I chose not to trouble the Marquis…”

By invoking Xu Lingyi’s past deeds — deeds that the Emperor found cause for unease — he was subtly reminding the Emperor of what made Xu Lingyi extraordinary. The Marquis appeared docile as a cat right now, but only because the Emperor had been keeping him suppressed. Should that pressure be lifted, he might well become a tiger once more.

Once the Emperor heard such words, even if he wished to help, his inclination would surely cool several degrees.

But before he could finish, Xu Lingyi had already cut in with urgency: “So it seems Xu Sijin truly did strike your son? Is he all right? The memorial says he has been left crippled…” His expression had already become one of deep distress. “Is that really true?”

Chen Bozhi’s expression also became very uncomfortable.

An official represented the dignity of the court — the court, in selecting its men, prized not only talent and scholarship, but also an imposing appearance. If he were to claim his son had been left crippled, his son’s prospects for a future official career would be ruined, and even the newly conferred title of Garrison Commander-in-Chief Commissioner might be exploited by those with ulterior motives and ultimately revoked. Yet if he were to say his son was perfectly fine, would that not imply that all those memorials were fabrications — and further, that it was an admission that his son had been harassing the singing father and daughter…

He caught a swift glimpse of the Emperor from the corner of his eye.

The Emperor was leaning forward with the air of one attentively listening.

Chen Bozhi dared not hesitate for an instant: “My son has not, in fact, been left crippled…”

“Good, good!” Xu Lingyi interrupted him once more. “If he had truly been left crippled, your son’s future would have been ruined, and our Jin Ge’er would be absolutely beyond absolution.” His manner was one of profound relief.

The Emperor also nodded: “The child being well is what matters most.”

Chen Bozhi had not risen to Grand Canal Transport Superintendent by being a simple man.

He knew he could press the matter of the child no further. To do so would only make it seem that his son was unfit for great responsibility. The only avenue left was to press hard on the savagery of Xu Sijin’s methods.

“He is my only son, and I have placed all my hopes in him. During the years I spent restoring the Huitong Canal, I kept him always at my side. He has been through wind and rain — he is a man who has known hardship.” The Emperor had conferred the fourth-rank title of Garrison Commander-in-Chief Commissioner on his son because of Chen Bozhi’s meritorious service in clearing the Huitong Canal. By alluding to this subtly, he hoped the Emperor would remember his contributions and thereby feel a deeper contempt for Xu Sijin’s conduct. “I fear that of the guards who accompanied him — more than thirty men in all — over twenty of them will likely be unable to care for themselves from now on…”

The Emperor looked startled, and glanced toward Xu Lingyi.

Xu Lingyi also appeared very much surprised.

“This is astonishing news!” He quickly turned his gaze to the Emperor, his expression one of genuine bewilderment. “When I had the boy brought to me and questioned him about this matter, I also sent a steward to investigate. The steward reported that he had four personal attendant boys with him at the time, along with six household guards. It was the New Year season and there was much to be done at home, so of the six guards only one had real ability — the others were merely passable. As for the attendant boys — all sixteen or seventeen years of age. Since I had hired Jin Ge’er a martial arts instructor, they had been waiting on him during his lessons and picked up a move or two along the way… three, ten guards…” The implication was plain: Chen Bozhi was grossly exaggerating.

After several exchanges, Chen Bozhi had developed a keen sense of Xu Lingyi’s talent for seizing every opening — he had been on guard against just this question. He kept his composure and replied steadily: “I too found it remarkable. Those more than thirty men had escorted my son all the way to Yanjing without a single mishap along the road…” His implication: that the Xu household harbored fighters of formidable ability whom Xu Lingyi still described as merely “passable” — proof that in these past ten-odd years of apparent docility, the Xu family had been harboring hidden ambitions.

“Your Majesty,” Xu Lingyi said, turning to make a bow to the Emperor, “in this subject’s humble view, might it not be worth asking those in charge of Shuntian Prefecture or the Five Wards Military Commission to look into this? When I questioned Jin Ge’er at the time, Jin Ge’er and his attendant boys didn’t have a single scratch on them, and he said the young man harassing that singing girl had only three or four guards with him. That seemed reasonable to me at the time — otherwise I would not have taken his word for it. Now Commissioner Chen says his son is quite unharmed, yet among the more than thirty guards who accompanied him, over twenty are severely wounded… Could there have been a mix-up? Perhaps what we are each describing was not even the same incident.”

Chen Bozhi was in turmoil inwardly, his lips pressed tightly together, fearful that if his composure slipped he might say something improper before the Emperor. And so when Xu Lingyi finished speaking and the exchange fell momentarily cold, it was a beat before he replied: “Even if I were mistaken, surely the Censorate would not be mistaken as well? If the Censorate were mistaken, that would be the crime of deceiving the Emperor.” His tone was stiff and unyielding.

The Emperor watched Chen Bozhi, trembling with suppressed fury, and quietly sighed inwardly.

Everyone said Xu Lingyi was something of a slow and clumsy speaker — that was because he said so little these days. In the time of the late Empress Wu, he had once talked the Empress into complete silence… At this thought he found himself remembering the days of the private household before his accession… There had been a period when he dared not venture outdoors at all. Relying on his father-in-law to manage external affairs, he had entrusted the sole task of passing messages in and out to Xu Lingyi, who was then only eight or nine years old. It seemed as though from that time on, the man had grown quieter and quieter… Yet somehow he had gradually grown accustomed to Xu Lingyi’s silence — otherwise he would not have been troubled to see this man subjected to an endless barrage of censor attacks, and resolved to deal with the matter at its source.

Now it seemed he had perhaps been too clever by half.

“Chen Bozhi, since neither child was truly harmed, I say this matter ends here.” The Emperor frowned, looking visibly pained. “In the coming days I intend to issue an edict for the opening of the Baita River — I need you to focus on the greater good, and not let those censors keep dragging this sideways.” He looked toward Xu Lingyi and frowned once more. “Yinghua is to pay one thousand taels of silver in medical compensation to Commissioner Chen.”

—