Of all those at this banquet, there were probably not many who had any appetite to eat — except for Ming Huashang. She ate to her heart’s content, and after returning to Duke Zhenguo’s manor, the siblings walked toward the courtyard, talking as they went. Ming Huashang asked: “Second Elder Brother, why do you think Her Majesty broke up Commandery Princess Yongtai’s marriage and made her marry Wu Yanji?”
Forcing the imperial princes to take wives from the Wu family — that Ming Huashang could still understand. But princesses and commandery princesses did not inherit the throne; why would she go to such lengths? Ming Huazhang was quiet for a moment, then said: “Perhaps because she wishes the Li and Wu families to become utterly inseparable.”
A few days earlier, that polo match had seen Commandery Prince Shao leading a team against Prince Wei’s — on the surface it was nothing but a game, but fallen leaves foretell the turning of autumn. From the atmosphere of barely contained hostility on the field, the Empress Regnant had read the fierce dissatisfaction of the Li family — toward the Wu family, and toward herself.
She could still suppress this while she was alive, but what about after her death?
Watching herself grow old and feeble, her final days approaching, she had to start planning for what would come after. Since time immemorial, the swiftest and most effective way to draw two families together and dissolve their enmity had been the joining of marriage.
But if she only took one Wu woman as Crown Prince’s Consort, or arranged a marriage for Li Chongren, it would be simple enough for the Li family to discard the Wu woman once they had the throne — there was no need to doubt the ruthlessness of men in such matters. But if the Li and Wu families were joined as in-laws in both directions — with the Crown Prince’s daughters and nieces all marrying into the Wu family, even bearing children surnamed Wu — then even if the Crown Prince ascended to the throne in the future, what could he do to his sons-in-law and grandsons? Kill them?
Only by binding the Li and Wu families together so tightly that their descendants were intertwined — your blood in mine, my blood in yours — could she maximize the chances of the Wu family’s survival. If she, who had wielded power for a lifetime and become the first female emperor in history, were to see her clan slaughtered wholesale by the new dynasty’s emperor after her death, her imperial title even stripped from her and her bones scattered to the winds — what had been the point of being emperor at all?
She would have been nothing but a laughingstock added to the pages of history.
She could not overcome the will of the people and the tide of events; she had no choice but to pass the throne to the Li family. But she needed to ensure the Wu family would not be purged after her death. Otherwise, once the Wu family was annihilated by the new emperor, the next step would be to tarnish her reputation; the step after that would be to refuse to acknowledge her reign.
The Li family’s power did not derive from her, but from Gaozong and Taizong. Only the Wu family would spare no effort to uphold her name, her status, and her achievements. If the Wu family endured, she endured; in protecting the Wu family, she was protecting her own posthumous honor and legacy.
Ming Huashang sighed and said with feeling: “Second Elder Brother, I think being part of the imperial family is not good at all. When one’s position is low, nothing is within one’s own control — one does not even have the right to refuse. And once power is obtained, one gradually becomes the very person who will not allow others to refuse. Fighting and scheming like this — what, in the end, do they gain from it all?”
After Ming Huashang finished speaking, Ming Huazhang was silent for a long while. She looked up in surprise: “Second Elder Brother?”
Ming Huazhang came back to himself and smiled at her, saying softly: “Perhaps it is simply because from the moment of their birth, they were already unable to extricate themselves.”
Ming Huashang thought about it and supposed that was true, and said with sincere feeling: “How fortunate that I am just an ordinary person. In this life, having enough to eat and drink and my family by my side is enough.”
Ming Huazhang paused and asked: “Is that truly all?”
“Yes. I have only one mouth and one body — what good are rare delicacies and silks and brocades beyond counting? You cannot take them with you when you die. As long as life is peaceful and the family is together — that is enough.” Ming Huashang asked: “Second Elder Brother, what about you? What are your wishes?”
He? Ming Huazhang thought for a long time, then laughed at himself: “It seems… I have none.”
There were only responsibilities that had to be fulfilled — no desires that truly came from his own heart.
“What?” The placid Ming Huashang was astonished, and pressed further: “Second Elder Brother, you have studied civil and martial arts so thoroughly — and yet you have no wishes? How have you persisted all this time?”
Ming Huazhang looked at her clear, bright eyes and was briefly lost in thought before saying: “I suppose it has been the belief that, as an elder brother, I must set an example.”
In a simple, modest courtyard to the west of Chang’an, Su Yuji was also sighing to Su Xingzhi about the palace banquet: “I used to think that noble ladies all lived lives free of worry, and that princesses and commandery princesses lived lives of divine ease that I could not even imagine. I even envied them for not having to toil for a living. But today I finally understand — in truth, their lives are not so good after all.”
Su Yuji’s own life was indeed constrained in many ways. She could not freely buy beautiful skirts or splendid jewelry, could not have servants at her beck and call, could not do as she pleased. Yet when she spent money, she needed no one’s approval, and she did not need to worry that a life going perfectly well might suddenly be interrupted — that she might be dragged away and required to marry a stranger.
Though the Su family was materially poor, she had her grandmother’s love and her elder brother’s protection, could read and study in peace, could go out and run freely. She lived far more freely than those commandery princesses and county princesses.
Su Xingzhi heard this, yet felt no joy at all. He took hold of Su Yuji’s hand and said, full of remorse: “It is my own uselessness — I cannot provide you with the best life.”
Su Yuji shot him a look of exasperation and gave his forehead a hard poke: “There is no end to enjoyment in this world — what is ‘best’? I think the life we have now is already very good. Stop standing here being idle and go back to your books. You are due at the Censorate in a few days — you cannot let people look down on you.”
As an elder brother, Su Xingzhi was bossed about by his younger sister in this way, yet he took no offense — he had a look of complete familiarity with the situation. Su Xingzhi took a few steps, then stopped and asked: “Yuji, what do you think of Ming Huashang?”
“A young lady who appears careless and unlearned, but is in fact shrewd and perceptive.”
“And Ming Huazhang?”
“An arrogant and aloof elder brother who treats Ming Huashang rather well.” Su Yuji looked at him in surprise, suddenly wary: “Why are you asking about them?”
Su Xingzhi seemed to hesitate for a long while before asking: “If…”
He wanted to ask: if he had deceived her, would she still find the Su family’s life good? But facing Su Yuji’s clear, bright gaze, he truly could not bring himself to say it. In the end he let out a sigh, shook his head, and said: “It is nothing. I am going to prepare my documents.”
Su Yuji watched Su Xingzhi until he disappeared from view. When she finally lowered the curtain, her expression had turned somber.
What had Su Xingzhi meant by those words? He was paying far too much attention to the Ming siblings. Could it be that he had feelings for Ming Huashang?
·
After the Ministry of Personnel’s assessments were complete, the grand celebrations of the imperial examinations drew to a close. Chang’an was quietly abuzz with talk of the Li and Wu families’ betrothals, but Duke Zhenguo’s manor had no attention to spare for the movements of the commandery princes and commandery princesses — the entire manor’s focus was fixed squarely on the Second Young Master.
Ming Huazhang had reported to the Capital Prefecture and was now formally installed as Deputy Prefect. But just as Old Madam Ming had feared most, Ming Huazhang had barely entered the Capital Prefecture when he met with a thorny matter.
Outside Pude Temple on the outskirts of the city, a female corpse had appeared. Had it been merely a female corpse there would have been nothing remarkable — in a city as vast as Chang’an, murder cases might not occur every day, but the appearance of a dead body was truly nothing unusual. The alarming thing, however, was that the woman’s lower legs had been violently severed with a blade, and her shin bones were nowhere to be found.
This method of killing immediately brought to mind a string of sensational murders from four years ago. At that time, three women had met with violent ends — one was a beggar woman, and another pair consisted of a mistress and her maid. All of them had had their shin bones removed, and the state of the bodies had been too horrific to behold.
That mistress and maid were the daughter and servant girl of a government official. The daughter had gone to the temple to burn incense, taking her maid along, but when the curfew was nearly upon them they had still not returned. Her father had sensed something was wrong and sent household servants to search for them at the temple. The bodies were found in the hills behind the monastery. The official was furious, and mobilized his connections to petition the court for a thorough investigation — the affair had caused an enormous stir at the time.
Regrettably, despite the authorities spreading a vast net for half a year, the perpetrator had not been caught. The Prefect of the Capital had resigned on account of this failure, and subsequent Prefects had also investigated periodically, but none had made any progress. As Capital Prefecture officials came and went in succession, the case was sealed away among the unsolved archives and quietly forgotten.
Chang’an had something new happening at every moment, and gradually even the common people forgot that there remained on the loose a killer who murdered people and carved out their bones. This year the Empress Regnant had moved the capital, followed in quick succession by the imperial examination procession, the inscription on the Wild Goose Pagoda, and the Furong polo matches — who in Chang’an would still remember the bloody crime of four years past?
Then a woman, her flesh and blood a mangled mess, appeared on the outskirts of the capital, lying on a thoroughfare frequented by travelers. Many people entering the capital — ordinary folk and merchants alike — had seen her in plain sight.
Public outcry erupted instantly. Talk that the serial killer had resumed his murders spread and grew more fevered throughout the capital, and in a short time all of Chang’an was gripped with fear. Families with daughters and sisters dared not let any woman go out unaccompanied; rumors ran rampant through every lane and alley, even escalating to talk of demons and divine retribution.
The Empress Regnant took the matter very seriously and ordered the Capital Prefecture to conduct a thorough investigation, directing the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice to follow up and supervise.
Four years ago, even with a vast net cast across the entire city, the perpetrator had not been found. Now the case was to be reopened under the scrutiny of countless watching eyes. The most recent crime scene had been disturbed by the stream of people entering the city, and most of the evidence and those who had handled the original cases from four years ago had long since been lost. Any clear-eyed observer knew this was a scorching hot burden — at the very least, it would earn one a severe reprimand; at worst, one might lose one’s post. With the fate of the former Prefect of the Capital fresh in everyone’s memory, the new Prefect was unwilling to touch it, and passed the matter on to the newly installed Ming Huazhang.
Ming Huazhang was the Deputy Prefect of the Capital, nominally the Capital Prefect’s deputy. His star was rising high in Chang’an, and his superior, citing the name of “tempering through hardship,” had handed this case over to him — no one could say a word against it.
Old Madam Ming was furious enough to be half dead upon hearing the news. She was about to invoke her connections to extract Ming Huazhang from the affair when he stopped her, saying: “Grandmother, your grandson has entered the Capital Prefecture, and must shoulder the responsibility of being a parent official to the people of Chang’an. Even if the Prefect had said nothing, I would have requested to involve myself in this case. That the Prefect has entrusted me with full authority over it is a sign of his faith in me.”
Old Madam Ming’s fury was beyond the reach of Ming Huazhang’s attention now. He immediately threw himself into the investigation, running back and forth within and outside the city. After examining the latest crime scene, he had the old case files from four years ago retrieved, and personally led men to the sites of the four-year-old murders.
In official circles, considerable sympathy was felt for this Deputy Prefect Ming. Young and handsome, from the background of a ducal manor, and the second-highest scorer in the Advanced Examination — under normal circumstances, this was the very definition of a man blessed by heaven. With just a touch of luck, a meteoric rise would have been within easy reach.
But he had just missed that touch of luck, having been assigned to the Capital Prefecture and running into a murder case on only his third day in the post. Those in the know shook their heads inwardly, sensing that this rising talent of Chang’an would most likely founder right here.
On the streets of the Eastern Market, Zhao Cai accompanied Ming Huashang on a shopping excursion, grumbling all the way: “My Lady, the Capital Prefect has truly gone too far. This was originally an old case from four years ago — it should be investigated by the Capital Prefecture’s own veterans. The Second Young Master has only just entered the Capital Prefecture; he was not even in Chang’an four years ago. What does any of this have to do with him? They must be jealous of the Young Master and deliberately pushing this case onto him. How shameless!”
Indeed, everyone could see that the Capital Prefect was foisting the burden onto a newcomer. But what could be done? The Capital Prefect was Ming Huazhang’s superior; such were the rules of officialdom. If you could not rise to the challenge, you could only step away.
Ming Huashang said: “Have faith in Second Elder Brother. From the very beginning, when he chose the Capital Prefecture, it was because he wanted to reform entrenched abuses and exonerate old grievances. The Prefect’s intentions may be dishonorable, but for Second Elder Brother, this is what his heart has always been set on.”
Zhao Cai was still indignant: “Is this not just bullying us openly? We are Duke Zhenguo’s manor — how grand we used to be! It is only that we have fallen somewhat in these past two years, and still they scheme against us. A tiger fallen to the plains is tormented by dogs.”
Ming Huashang was quite unperturbed. Duke Zhenguo had once been a trusted aide of Crown Prince Zhanghuai — for as long as the Empress Regnant had been in power, Duke Zhenguo’s manor had been kept in obscurity for just as long. Now it could only use its noble title to awe the common people.
Everyone in official circles knew that without any real power behind it, Duke Zhenguo’s manor had long since become an empty shell. Ming Huazhang was the only member of the Ming family in recent years to gain access to real authority — without question, he was the hope of the manor’s revival, and it was inevitable that others would set their sights on him.
This barrier would have to be crossed sooner or later. The Capital Prefecture handled cases large and small; the perpetrator was either caught or not caught. In its own way, it was actually better than the Censorate — which appeared clean and respectable but in reality depended entirely on personal connections.
Zhao Cai was still chattering on. Ming Huashang ignored her. She walked into a shop that sold flatbread pastries, smiled at the proprietor and said: “Lamb liver pastry — the liver eight parts done, no scallions, extra garlic.”
The proprietor glanced up at her and smiled: “My Lady, the weather is growing colder. Would you not like a little ginger to warm yourself?”
“Then add a little — cut it into shreds, please. I do not like flavors that are too strong.” Ming Huashang looked at the proprietor with a smile.
“Of course.” The proprietor called back in acknowledgment, deftly making the pastry, and asked: “To eat here or to take away?”
“To take away.”
The proprietor acknowledged this, briskly pulling out a sheet of oilpaper to wrap it. Ming Huashang handed over copper coins; the proprietor rummaged in the change drawer, then handed her the pastry and change together.
Zhao Cai instinctively moved forward to receive them, but Ming Huashang blocked her: “I will take it.”
Ming Huashang took the pastry herself. The proprietor called out the customary auspicious parting phrase as a matter of course, and no further words were exchanged. Ming Huashang walked out of the shop, bit into the hot, steaming lamb liver pastry, and sighed inwardly once more.
She truly disliked lamb liver. Next time they arranged a meeting, could they switch to a different flavor?
Lately, rumors of a serial killer in Chang’an were running rampant, and Duke Zhenguo did not dare allow Ming Huashang to go out alone — wherever she went, he had a troop of guards accompany her. Ming Huashang came out of the food stall, and the guards swarmed forward: “My Lady, where else would you like to go?”
Ming Huashang shook her head: “Nowhere else. Let us go home.”
The guards let out a collective breath of relief and quickly ushered Ming Huashang onto the carriage. Upon returning to the manor, Ming Huashang sprawled bonelessly on the daybed, lazily flipping through a leisure book to pass the time, while sending the maids away. Zhao Cai and the others were long accustomed to this, and filed out, closing the door behind them.
Ming Huashang rested her chin in her hand in an idle, languid fashion and finished the last pastry, having already decoded the cipher on the slip of paper.
She lit the candle, burned the slip of paper that the food stall proprietor had slipped into her palm when handing over the pastry, and silently repeated the mission that the Xuan Xiaowei had just issued.
Secretly investigate the serial bone-removal murder case. Find the perpetrator as soon as possible.