When Ming Huashang heard Wei Zhu’s words, she was, to speak plainly, not particularly surprised. She exhaled slowly and said with an inscrutable tone: “We have said time and again that all we want is a peaceful life, yet this group of people will not leave us be. What did he say?”
The panic, fury, and fear Wei Zhu had anticipated on the Princess of Yong’s face did not appear. She was unnervingly calm, and the words “will not leave us be,” spoken with a weariness shot through with a strange, cold edge, only made Wei Zhu’s heart pound all the harder.
Wei Zhu lowered her head — she had absolutely no desire to involve herself in the scheming and backstabbing within the imperial family — and spoke plainly: “The old Feng patriarch had money and wanted power, with a single-minded wish to transform the Feng household’s standing. Originally he had intended to back Prince of Yong, but Prince of Yong refused to accept the Feng household’s overtures. At that point, Prince Qiao sent people to Shangzhou to gather information about Prince of Yong, and through these exchanges the old Feng patriarch ended up making contact with that side.”
Prince Qiao was also an old acquaintance of theirs. In the second year of Shengli, the Crimson Phoenix Gate bloodshed had claimed the lives of Crown Prince Yide, Li Chongrùn, and Princess Yongtai’s husband because they had gossiped about the Zhang brothers — reportedly denounced to the Zhang family by the Crown Prince’s younger half-brother, now Prince Qiao, Li Chongfu. Afterward, Li Chongfu had fallen out of favor with Empress Dowager Wei, and when the Empress Wei came to power she had banished him to Junzhou as Prefect, forbidding him from ever setting foot in Chang’an. But Empress Wei was still not reassured by Li Chongfu’s presence there, so she had sent Li Huazhang to Shangzhou — a region near Junzhou — to serve as Prefect, ostensibly to keep watch over Li Chongfu, but in reality to exile Li Huazhang from the center of power.
Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang both saw through Chang’an’s intentions with perfect clarity, and they were too weary to bother about it — they left Chang’an exactly as Empress Wei and the Emperor had wished. Ming Huashang had believed that all people have hearts of flesh, and that now they had come to Shangzhou, the Li imperial family would at last be at ease. Yet the proverb held: though a tree wishes to be still, the wind will not cease. The struggle for imperial power refused to leave them alone.
Ming Huashang asked mildly: “What was he trying to learn about Prince of Yong?”
Wei Zhu lowered her eyes further: “He was trying to learn whether Prince of Yong… had received instructions from the Empress to move against Prince Qiao.”
Ming Huashang let out a cold laugh and found it deeply ironic. Back in Chang’an, Empress Wei had suspected Li Huazhang and heaped all manner of lofty titles upon him to exile him to a remote prefecture; and here in the provinces, Prince Qiao also had to suspect whether Li Huazhang was in league with the Empress. It was clearly Li Huazhang who had made it possible for their dynasty to exist at all — without him, they would not even have made it past Han Jie, let alone sat upon this throne.
Ming Huashang asked: “What did the Feng household say?”
“I do not know… only that the old Feng patriarch communicated with that side for some time, but Prince Qiao was unwilling to accept the Feng household readily unless the Feng household killed Prince of Yong as a pledge of loyalty.”
“What a pathetic wretch.” Ming Huashang was ordinarily understanding and accommodating, so these blunt and ungracious words were a rare departure for her. Her voice was cold: “If Li Chongfu had any real backbone, he should have gone to Chang’an and killed Empress Wei and Princess Anle — the ones who truly wronged him. What does any of that rotten mess within their family have to do with Li Huazhang? He simply takes advantage of the fact that Li Huazhang has a gentle temperament and knows Li Huazhang would not harm him, doesn’t he?”
Wei Zhu could sense that the Princess of Yong’s mood was very poor at this moment and became even more careful, treading gently: “Prince Qiao did truly intend to march on Chang’an. In the eleventh month, intelligence reached Junzhou that the Emperor had fallen gravely ill and that the Empress and Princess Anle were in control of the palace, refusing to allow anyone to see the Emperor in person. Prince Qiao was concerned for the Emperor’s welfare and planned to kill Empress Wei and Princess Anle and purge the court of its corrupting elements. But to travel from Junzhou to Chang’an, Shangzhou is a necessary passage. Prince of Yong is known for his integrity and has a fine reputation throughout the realm — Prince Qiao knew he could neither win Prince of Yong to his side nor afford to bear the charge of harming a loyal and virtuous official. So he wished to use the pretext of an accident or a supernatural explanation to kill Prince of Yong, pass through Shangzhou, and march directly to Chang’an.”
By Ming Huashang’s understanding of Prince Qiao, this was exactly the kind of thing he was capable of. Prince Qiao and Empress Wei harbored a grievance that could never be undone. The only reason the Empress had not yet had Prince Qiao killed was out of deference to the Emperor. The moment the Emperor died, how could Empress Wei possibly spare the man who had caused the death of her own son? If Prince Qiao did not rebel, the Empress and Princess Anle would drive him to his death anyway — so he might as well take the initiative. Perhaps he could seize the throne and enjoy the ten-thousand-league realm with its supreme power.
Therefore, regardless of Li Huazhang’s actual reasons for coming to Shangzhou, he was doomed to become a sacrificial pawn in the internal struggle between Empress Wei and Prince Qiao. Fate had brought together the ambitious schemer, the old Feng patriarch, and the frustrated, thwarted wasted prince, Li Chongfu — one wanting to win glory by backing a future emperor, the other wanting to become emperor himself. The two had struck a deal with one another. The old Feng patriarch furnished money and effort and, not hesitating to stake the Marquis Pearl on the scheme, wrote and staged the entire performance of the Saint of Thieves attempting to steal the treasure.
Actually, on the very first day they arrived, Ming Huashang had found it peculiar: the old Feng patriarch claimed he had woken up to find a letter pinned to his own bedside, but judging by the depth and angle of the blade mark, the dagger had clearly been thrust in by someone standing directly at the bedside. At such close range, could the person in the bed truly have remained asleep?
Sure enough — as she had suspected — there was no Saint of Thieves. No outsider had ever appeared in the Feng household. From start to finish, the whole affair was the old Feng patriarch’s own self-directed performance. Using the Saint of Thieves as a pretext, he had invited Li Huazhang to become involved. Then three days later, he had deliberately locked the Marquis Pearl away in the high tower, insisting on personally guarding his treasure with no one remaining by his side.
He had even specifically opened the windows so that the people below could clearly see him. According to the old Feng patriarch’s plan, just before midnight the second Feng son would set off fireworks in the garden to draw Li Huazhang’s attention to the back of the estate. When everyone turned back to look up at the tower, the old patriarch would cry out from the window, claiming he had just been accosted by the thief who had seized the Marquis Pearl from him. He would then open the treasure chest before the crowd — the Marquis Pearl having long been transferred by him to the hidden compartment in the walking stick — and the unsuspecting onlookers would believe the Stargazing Tower had truly been robbed.
By fabricating a nonexistent thief, the old Feng patriarch had successfully cast himself as a victim. People always have a special sympathy for victims and would naturally drop their guard. The old patriarch would then point out that the thief had escaped through the hidden passage. Knowing Li Huazhang’s character, he would certainly pursue the matter personally, and the Feng household, as the host family, could naturally demand to accompany the pursuit. This way, the second Feng son could lead his guards — the mountain bandits in disguise — down into the hidden passage alongside Li Huazhang.
The hidden passage was narrow and confined; the enemy knew the terrain while their own side did not, and even if Li Huazhang had brought official soldiers, they could not exploit a numerical advantage in that space. Yet the second Feng son was familiar with every turn of the terrain, and could bide his time at leisure. Li Huazhang would not be on guard against anyone behind him, and so the second son could exploit the chaos to launch a surprise attack, directing the bandits to kill Li Huazhang. Emerging afterward, he could then claim that while pursuing the thief, Prince of Yong had been killed by the Saint of Thieves — died in the line of duty. This way, both the theft of the Marquis Pearl and the killing of Prince of Yong could be laid at the feet of a thief who had vanished without a trace for many years, the Feng household would keep the Marquis Pearl intact and successfully pledge their loyalty to Prince Qiao, making gains on every front.
The old Feng patriarch’s calculations had been exceedingly clever. But he would never know that the seeds of evil he had sown long ago would inevitably bear fruit upon himself one day. Wei Zhu, who had watched and read people with great acuity, had guessed the plan of the old Feng patriarch and the second son. She had used their own arrangements against them and killed the old patriarch through their own trap.
Wei Zhu knew the Feng household intimately. She knew the eldest son was arrogant and the second son was weak — even if the authorities came to question them, neither would tell the truth, and this was the opening she had left for herself. Wei Zhu moved back and forth between the two branches of the household, subtly stirring conflict, and imperceptibly guided each of them into giving testimony that served her interest.
The eldest Feng son harbored deep resentment toward his father and had no genuine desire to avenge him — and on top of that, the tea he had delivered himself had contained the sleeping draught. Out of a guilty conscience, the eldest son had destroyed the evidence and stubbornly insisted the tea contained nothing. In so doing, he had, in effect, covered for the true culprit — Wei Zhu. As for the second Feng son, he had followed the old patriarch’s instructions in the attempt on Prince of Yong’s life, but Prince of Yong had emerged unharmed and the old patriarch had died first. The second son, completely robbed of all initiative, could only rigidly follow the original plan and insist that the Saint of Thieves had come the previous night, with no idea of how to adapt to the changed circumstances.
The two Feng brothers, with hearts pulling in opposite directions, were picked off one by one by Wei Zhu. She killed the second son first, then the eldest, while the two branches of the household remained entirely oblivious to one another, regarding each other as enemies, and never realizing they had merely done Wei Zhu’s bidding all along.
Had the case not been investigated by Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang, the authorities would likely have concluded it was an accident or the work of mountain bandits — entirely unaware that the real culprit had been hiding in plain sight among them.
What seeds you sow, such flowers shall bloom. The Feng household had brought this upon itself — it was karma, just retribution without fail.
But how innocent was Li Huazhang? He had sincerely and wholeheartedly broken the Feng household’s case for them, yet the Feng household had harbored intentions to harm him. He had devoted himself wholeheartedly to the welfare of Great Tang, giving up power and willingly withdrawing to Shangzhou — yet neither the Emperor nor the imperial princes could trust him. What had he done wrong? On what grounds was he being calculated against in this manner?
The more Ming Huashang thought, the colder her heart grew. The first time she had experienced the struggle for imperial power, it had been heartrending and terrifying. But by the second and third time, nothing remained but exhaustion. Those princes and princesses took their turns on the stage, repeating the same slaughter over and over — but in the end, what had any victor actually gained? A nation torn and ravaged, a court where no one dared speak the truth, a family so thoroughly decimated that its members could only regard each other with hatred?
Was it worth it?
Ming Huashang had no intention of dwelling on this, because she knew that were she to put this question to Prince Qiao, Empress Wei, Princess Anle, Princess Taiping, or any member of the imperial family at all, every single one of them would answer without hesitation: yes, worth it.
That was a curse more sorrowful than the Marquis Pearl.
Compared to all of that, Ming Huashang preferred to do something practical. She had been tolerating these fools for a long time. Li Huazhang was a righteous and principled man who asked for nothing in return and sought only a clear conscience, but she was not. She was a person of no great ambitions, who simply wanted to lie low and eat and drink in peace. She had never had any intention of fighting with anyone for anything — but if someone disrupted her life, she would spare no effort to deal with that person.
Ming Huashang asked: “When did Prince Qiao issue the order?”
“The end of the eleventh month.” Wei Zhu answered carefully, trying to read something from Ming Huashang’s face — but that charming, pretty face, like a figure from a New Year’s print, was a picture of serenity, as still as an autumn lake.
If Wei Zhu could have known what Ming Huashang was thinking at that moment, she would have been frightened half to death. In truth, Ming Huashang was not entirely cut off from the flow of news in Chang’an. The Xuan Xiaowei’s copper lockbox delivered intelligence to her daily via carrier pigeons, but white pigeons had stopped arriving in recent days. She had been preoccupied with the case and had not paid it much mind — but thinking back on it now, this was perhaps not because the Xuan Xiaowei in Chang’an had been negligent. Something may well have happened that made it impossible for them to gather intelligence as usual.
Whatever could stop Xuan Xiaowei agents — either the Chang’an base of operations had been uprooted entirely, or the city was under martial lockdown with agents unable to leave, causing the delay.
No warning signals had come from the bases in Luoyang, Yizhou, or elsewhere — which meant it was the latter. The only thing severe enough to warrant sealing off entire city gates and streets, outside of a coup, did not bear contemplating.
The purge after the Zhongjun coup had barely passed, and now Chang’an had experienced another coup? Ming Huashang’s thoughts turned rapidly. She had already guessed that the Emperor’s condition was not favorable — in that case, it made sense that Prince Qiao was in a hurry to raise troops.
Ming Huashang remained expressionless and said: “Apart from those mountain bandits, what other parties did the old Feng patriarch make contact with?”
“None.” Wei Zhu paused and added, “At least none that I know of.”
Wei Zhu had a grudge against the Feng household and had no reason to lie. It appeared that within Shangzhou at present, things were still safe. Ming Huashang let out a small breath of relief — only for her heart to tighten again almost immediately.
The old Feng patriarch was a merchant and his foundations were shallow, but Prince Qiao was not. The world was never short of ambitious schemers — a group of people like the old Feng patriarch, all hoping to win glory by backing a future emperor, must surely have gathered around Prince Qiao already. The Feng household had no soldiers, but Prince Qiao did. Once Prince Qiao received no reply from the old Feng patriarch, he would naturally guess that the Feng household plan had failed — and at that point, he would certainly raise an army and march on Shangzhou. Yet Empress Wei was deeply wary of Li Huazhang, which meant that Shangzhou’s military forces were extremely thin and could not muster sufficient troops in a short time.
Shangzhou was safe for now — but how much longer could that safety last?
Ming Huashang gestured for Wei Zhu to be taken away, then sat alone under the lamplight for a long while, deep in thought. She used a coded signal to summon one of the Xuan Xiaowei shadow guards and said: “Issue the Azure Dragon Order.”
The shadow guard was startled to hear this and could not help saying: “Commander, the Azure Dragon Order is the highest-level mobilization order — it can only be used in a time of dire emergency.”
“I know,” Ming Huashang said. “This is precisely such a moment.”
The shadow guard received the order and departed. Shortly after, a brilliant flower of light bloomed in the sky — Ming Huashang knew that at this very moment, the towns and villages surrounding Shangzhou would also be setting off fireworks in turn, the emergency summons spreading outward like a beacon fire. How many would answer the call was a matter for Heaven to decide.
After attending to matters of manpower, Ming Huashang called in a guard from the Prefect’s residence and asked: “How has Prince of Yong’s bandit-suppression effort been going?”
At that very moment, in the depths of the mountain forest, the sounds of hoofbeats and battle cries intertwined, and torches lit the trees until they flickered like underwater weeds, their shadows swaying. A spray of blood splattered across the white snow. A constable wiped the flecks of blood from his face and called out: “My lord, we’ve caught one of the bandits — the others fled in that direction.”
Li Huazhang sat upright on horseback, using his elevated vantage point to track the movements of Dong Hai and his companions, and issued calm orders: “Second squad, move east — continue to tighten the encirclement.”
He had barely finished speaking when the sound of fireworks burst out behind him. Li Huazhang noticed the sound came from the direction of Shangzhou city and involuntarily turned his head. Then his ears sharpened, catching the faint sound of a bowstring being drawn. He immediately turned back — only to see faint glints of cold light streak past the fading glow of the fireworks and disappear into the midst of the bandits. Several people near Dong Hai collapsed in an instant.
Li Huazhang sensed what this meant and slowly looked upward. Sure enough, he found a person crouched halfway up a tree, whose angular features still carried a familiar cold sarcasm: “You lost focus in the middle of a bandit hunt. If this were an assessment, you’d be getting a serious demerit.”
Li Huazhang paused briefly and gave a faint smile: “I didn’t notice you were hiding in the forest — I should have had a demerit recorded from the very beginning.”
The newcomer raised an eyebrow, seeming to smile slightly: “Losing to me — that’s understandable. So you’ve finally found something you lose to me in.”
An ambush hidden in the forest! The constables drew their bows and tensed in wariness, but seeing how familiarly Prince of Yong spoke with the figure in black, they could not help but feel puzzled. One of them asked: “Prince of Yong, this is…?”
“This is an old acquaintance of mine — pay him no mind,” Li Huazhang said as he urged his horse forward. “Continue to encircle Dong Hai. I am going to suppress the bandits — what about you?”
Xie Jichuan gave a low whistle for his horse, not even glancing in any particular direction as he leaped from the treetop. A black horse surged out of the shadows and, with perfect timing, caught Xie Jichuan as he descended. He casually reined in the reins and said with studied nonchalance: “I have nothing better to do anyway. I’ll come along and take a look.”