Deep in the mountains the forest was still, and snow fell across the sky without end. Within the trees, a tense chase was underway. The bandits were taking losses one by one and fell back fighting. Dong Hai had gone red-eyed with killing and rallied the few remaining trusted men he had, desperately tearing an opening in the encirclement.

What they did not know was that this gap had been left by Li Huazhang deliberately. The moment Dong Hai and his companions believed they had escaped with their lives and before they even had time to rejoice, they discovered that this path led to a cliff — with only roaring river waters waiting below.

The bandits had no time to curse their luck before arrows rained down on them from the rear. Dong Hai was struck by three arrows. He had swaggered through the world his whole life, and now he was dying in this miserable, suffocating fashion at the hands of government soldiers. Brimming with grief and fury, he let out a long howl to the heavens and hurled himself from the cliff — choosing to plunge into the river and die rather than be taken prisoner by the authorities.

The soldiers finished counting the heads and ran to report from the rear: “Prefect, except for Dong Hai, all remaining bandits have been put down.”

Li Huazhang gave a quiet nod: “Good. Detach one squad to the base of the cliff and search the river for Dong Hai. The rest stay here to settle affairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

The soldiers received their orders and dispersed to their tasks. Even in such harsh conditions, the scene was busy yet never disorderly — everything proceeded in good order. Xie Jichuan watched in silence, and when he finally spoke his tone was predictably cutting and sardonic: “It seems these past six months weren’t spent entirely on sightseeing and pleasure trips — you did manage at least to drill your troops. So you truly intend to stay here and play Prefect?”

“Why not?” Li Huazhang said mildly. “This is the work that actually matters. It is far more useful than sitting in Chang’an listening to that saccharine flattery and vapid, self-indulgent posturing.”

Xie Jichuan narrowed his eyes: “Are you mocking me?”

“I had no such intention,” Li Huazhang replied with equanimity. He glanced at Xie Jichuan. “What, have you started writing poems and inscriptions of empty praise for people?”

Xie Jichuan gave a cold laugh, too disdainful to dignify that with an answer. Li Huazhang knew perfectly well that Xie Jichuan, even if starving to death, would never do such a thing — but they had somehow become accustomed to speaking this way to each other, so that even with good intentions they still had to trade a barb or two.

It had been so long since he had seen Xie Jichuan that Li Huazhang had expected the two of them to feel a certain distance. And yet the moment he saw Xie Jichuan, words of disdain emerged from him perfectly naturally, and Xie Jichuan was just as he had always been in his younger years — still so cynical and sardonic.

Li Huazhang looked out at the flickering points of torchlight scattered through the mountain forest and felt the night wind pass through his cloak — as though those were the rolling years of upheaval washing over him. He paused for a moment and spoke quietly: “What has happened in Chang’an?”

Xie Jichuan had appeared in the dead of night on the outskirts of Shangzhou, keeping off the main roads, traveling without an escort, dressed in night-dark clothes, and deliberately making his way through unpopulated areas. His every action made it plain that this was a journey no one could be permitted to know about.

Xie Jichuan was also gazing up at the pitch-black sky. He pulled his collar tighter and said, dripping with grievance: “This godforsaken place of yours is absolutely freezing. Not like Chang’an — even if the snow piles up three inches, chicken and fish left on the windowsill can sit for a month without spoiling, and indoors a simple fire basin keeps everything warm.”

Li Huazhang was about to say that if Xie Jichuan was thin-blooded he should stop blaming the geography — but suddenly he paused, sensing something. “What are you trying to say?”

Xie Jichuan curled one corner of his mouth the barest degree, and his voice dissolved into the wind, seeming even colder than the snow: “In the middle of the eleventh month, the Emperor suddenly stopped holding court. Empress Wei mobilized the household troops of various residences — five thousand men in total — to be stationed within Chang’an, commanded by separate Wei family nephews and cousins. She then ordered the Deputy Director of the Secretariat Wei Yuan to conduct inspections of the city’s six main streets, and dispatched Ren Yao leading five hundred soldiers to march swiftly to Junzhou — against whom, it needs no saying. After that, she promoted her own trusted followers to the rank of co-administrator of the Secretariat and the Chancellery, raised Shangguan Wan’er’s lover to co-administrator of the Two Councils, and Princess Anle’s favorites were also appointed to key positions. In the latter half of that month, her grip on Chang’an grew increasingly severe. The city gates were sealed. No one was permitted to leave. Imperial guards were stationed at every major thoroughfare. The inner palace was placed under strict guard; passing through the palace gates required Empress Wei’s personal token. The imperial physicians who entered the palace were all locked inside — not a single one came back out. By the end of the month, she had her people bring Prince Wen into the palace. By the time I left the city, Prince Wen had still not come out.”

Prince Wen was the Emperor’s fourth son, Li Chongmao, only sixteen years of age. The Emperor had fathered four sons in total, and nearly all of them were dead. The eldest legitimate son, Li Chongrùn, had been beaten to death. The second illegitimate son, Prince Qiao, Li Chongfu, had been discarded. The third illegitimate son, Li Chongjùn, had staged a coup and been killed. The fourth son, Prince Wen, was the youngest and the last who could still be installed as heir to the throne.

Empress Wei’s decision to keep Prince Wen within the palace could not but raise troubling questions about her motives.

The light in Li Huazhang’s eyes chilled, degree by degree. His complexion was fair, and the black cloak snapped and billowed with the wind as though it might tear him away into the endless snowstorm. Only his eyes burned bright with an unwavering fire — shining like two floating flames in the dark night: “Has anyone seen the Emperor?”

Xie Jichuan’s chin was buried in his collar, pale and lean, translucent as glass. His voice was so detached it bordered on ruthless: “On the sixteenth day of the eleventh month, after morning court, no official in attendance had seen the Emperor in person since.”

Li Huazhang’s brow furrowed, and he had already guessed at the possibility: “Are you saying the Emperor has already passed away, and the Empress is harboring treacherous ambitions — concealing his death and not announcing his passing?”

Xie Jichuan let out a faint scoff: “More than that. I suspect the Emperor did not die a natural death — that he was poisoned by Empress Wei and Princess Anle.”

Li Huazhang had prepared himself for the worst outcome and still had not anticipated this development. He knitted his brow, incredulous: “Has Empress Wei gone mad? She is the Empress and Princess Anle is a princess — all their power derives from the Emperor. What possible advantage does killing the Emperor give them?”

Xie Jichuan shrugged: “Who says there’s no advantage? This way they can emulate Emperor Zetian and ascend the throne themselves.”

Li Huazhang’s brow arched, his expression growing increasingly difficult to put into words. Indeed — control the military, seal off the capital, promote trusted allies, keep a wary eye on the prefects of outlying regions. Everything Empress Wei was doing now was a perfect mirror of the groundwork Emperor Zetian had laid before she deposed the emperor and proclaimed herself ruler. But one cannot engrave marks on a boat and expect the river to stay still — the reason Emperor Zetian had been able to proclaim herself empress was not because she had done these things. It was because she was Wu Zhao.

If Empress Wei believed that by retracing Emperor Zetian’s steps she could become a female emperor in the same way, that would be laughable in the extreme.

Li Huazhang asked: “So what is the purpose of your visit?”

Xie Jichuan turned his head. Of all the time they had been face to face, he finally directed his gaze fully at Li Huazhang. He fixed his eyes on him — on this “close friend” his father had designated for him — and Li Huazhang met his gaze with equal composure. Xie Jichuan stared at him for a long moment, then said, word by deliberate word: “No matter how cold Chang’an gets, a corpse cannot be preserved for long. By my reckoning, any day now Empress Wei will announce the Emperor’s death, install Li Chongmao as Crown Prince, and after the mourning period ends, have him ascend the throne. But Empress Wei is dreaming of ascending the throne herself and would never allow Li Chongmao to hold real power — Li Chongmao is destined to die at her hands sooner or later. You are the son of Crown Prince Zhanghuai — you have both the hearts of the people and the esteem of the realm. While the Emperor lived, you could not contest the throne with your uncle. Fortunately, he has finally died. Empress Wei and Princess Anle have abused their power and thrown the governance of the realm into disorder — Chang’an is already rife with grievances. If you raise your banner, the Prefects and military governors of the surrounding regions will surely rally to you. Lead troops to Chang’an, kill Empress Wei and Princess Anle, and the court officials will compete to proclaim you Emperor. This is the best opportunity you will ever have to reclaim the throne!”

Li Huazhang listened and then fell silent for a long while. Between them, only the wind and snow swept past with a hushing sound. After a moment of stillness, Li Huazhang clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the edge of the cliff, looking down at the surging river waters below, and said: “Do you know what sort of people these mountain bandits are?”

Xie Jichuan, disliking the cold near the cliff’s edge, had no desire to approach it, and stayed where he was with an impatient look: “Your brains froze over out here in Shangzhou? You said yourself they’re mountain bandits.”

“No — one could say they are the private troops of a wealthy local landowner. I don’t know the specific details, but it’s not hard to guess: this time, they were acting on secret orders from Prince Qiao to kill me.”

Xie Jichuan raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, still unable to see the connection between this and going to Chang’an: “Then all the more reason to move quickly. Prince Qiao has sent men to kill you — that means he has already received news that the Emperor’s situation is dire. You need to get to Chang’an before him and kill Empress Wei. As long as you are the first to proclaim yourself Emperor, he becomes a rebel and traitor.”

Li Huazhang let out a soft sigh. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking out over the vast wild mountains and the boundless dark sky, and said: “I understand everything you are saying. But if I leave, and Prince Qiao rebels, what is to become of the people of Shangzhou, Junzhou, and the regions in between? Prince Qiao was willing to recruit someone like the old Feng patriarch — which shows he is arrogant, obstinate, and ruthless. The advisors and generals gathered around him will all be opportunists who stop at nothing for power, people just like the old Feng patriarch. These people, carrying the banner of imperial authority, will inflict untold suffering upon the common people — I cannot allow a catastrophe like this to go unchecked.”

Xie Jichuan could not suppress his urgency: “There is an order of priority to all things. Once you are Emperor, there will be time enough to deal with Prince Qiao and compensate Shangzhou and Junzhou. You must think of the realm as a whole — Shangzhou and Junzhou are neither prosperous nor strategically vital. Can they possibly matter more than the throne?”

“Thinking of the realm as a whole — then what is the realm?” Li Huazhang turned back. Behind him was the heavens filled with falling snow, his black cloak billowing wildly in the wind, and yet his expression was perfectly serene, his face clear and fine-featured, his eyes bright and lucid — like a divine figure descending from the nine heavens, gazing downward with sorrowful compassion, a cold and poised gravity about him, as though he might at any moment ride the wind away. “Emperor Zetian once told me: the realm belongs to the people — not to the Li family. What the people need are not politicians who scramble for power, but clean officials who truly do the work, feel the people’s pain, and can bring ordinary people a good life. At one time I despised Emperor Zetian’s manipulation of power — but when I personally brought about her fall, I was grieved to discover that my own kinsmen had plunged Great Tang into even greater turmoil and suffering. I cannot govern what others choose to do. But at the very least, I must ensure that wherever I stand, the Li family does not fail the people of this land.”

Xie Jichuan was silent for a long while, then said: “But if you were Emperor, perhaps you could bring benefit to even more people.”

Li Huazhang’s gaze was steady and burning, and even of himself he was relentlessly unsparing: “A man who cannot even protect the people under his own governance in a single prefecture — who would trust such a man to bring benefit to a greater multitude? If I abandon Shangzhou, knowing full well that armed conflict will break out here and yet doing nothing, and instead rush to Chang’an in the dead of night to seize the throne — when that day comes, I would have no face to stand before my father, before Emperor Zetian, or before Emperor Gaozong in the afterlife.”

Li Huazhang had even invoked Crown Prince Zhanghuai by name — Xie Jichuan knew there was no possibility of Li Huazhang coming with him to Chang’an to seize the throne. A tangle of emotions surged within Xie Jichuan. In that instant, he suddenly understood the feeling his father must have had in the Eastern Palace all those years ago, when he had urged Crown Prince Zhanghuai to strike first and kill the Empress Consort, thereby eliminating the threat once and for all — and the Crown Prince had only looked at him in calm silence before ordering him never to raise the subject again.

Blood ties were a strange and powerful thing. Father and son had never even met, yet their temperaments were remarkably alike, and the paths they chose were identical down to the last step.

Neither was blindly loyal or foolishly dutiful — on the contrary, both were intelligent, diligent, and deeply learned. They had made their choices with clear eyes and full deliberation, consciously forsaking the broad and brilliant road in order to walk that thorny, doomed path they knew would be full of hardship.

Such people — one did not know whether to call them idealists, or simply fools.

The two of them stood apart, separated by half a cliff’s width, neither willing to yield. The wind swept the snow in gusts between them. Xie Jichuan spoke first. His face was so pale it nearly merged with the dark, but the words he spoke were sharp and direct, cutting straight to the point: “But by staying here — can you actually stop Prince Qiao from rebelling?”

The conflicts within an imperial family could not be halted by a reluctance to see people suffer. Faced with the choice of rebellion or death, Prince Qiao had no room to back down. Shangzhou had neither soldiers nor wealth, and could not raise troops on short notice. With only Li Huazhang alone — and perhaps Ming Huashang within Shangzhou city, along with a handful of scattered irregular forces — how could they hold off the fierce armies Prince Qiao would bring to bear?

This time it was Li Huazhang who fell into silence. After a brief pause, his voice was steady and resolute: “Effort determines the outcome.”

The outcome was not his to choose. Whatever it took, he would stop Prince Qiao from raising troops.