Yan Lang entered the palace to acknowledge his offense, removing his armor and surrendering his sword at the Mingguang Gate before he arrived. He happened to arrive at the hour of the midday meal, and Song Lan set out a small banquet at Liudan Pavilion, inviting Luowei to join them.

Before the food had even been served, Yan Lang was already kneeling in the hall and beginning to describe the affair of Wang Fengshi with tears and a choked voice.

“When Your Majesty made your northern tour this spring, you passed through the city of Gela’er and must know its importance — it is the northern army’s main grain depot. The northern barbarian tribes know this as well, which is why they launched a night raid. Gela’er city is easily defended and difficult to attack; it should never have been in danger. Yet who could have known — seeing the situation turn dire and reinforcements not yet arrived, Wang Fengshi, the defender, was on the verge of opening the gates and surrendering. Fortunately this servant’s men arrived in time…”

The men Song Lan had dispatched to Beiyou to investigate the matter had not yet returned, and even if he harbored doubts about Yan Lang’s account, he had no evidence; he had no choice but to wave his hand and bid him rise.

Yan Lang beamed and stood, then immediately began joking and bantering with Song Lan in his familiar way — one moment asking whether “Your Majesty and Your Highness have missed this servant,” the next saying the mutton in the imperial kitchen was excellent and quite rivaled that of the northwest.

Luowei watched a vein twitch at Song Lan’s temple as he maintained an air of serene calm in conversation with Yan Lang, inwardly amused. She barely endured until the midday meal was over; Song Lan, thoroughly talked to dizziness by Yan Lang, said to let him return home to rest first and come back to report in the evening.

Luowei saw Yan Lang out of the palace. The two of them walked along the long, flanking corridor before the Mingguang Gate, a long train of palace attendants following far behind them.

Yan Lang raised his head and sighed: “The palace city is truly vast and sky-high — having been away so long, I find I am even unacquainted with it.”

With palace attendants behind them who surely included the Emperor’s informants, Luowei knew his words held hidden meaning and smiled lightly: “You spent these years in Beiyou, of course it would feel unfamiliar.”

Yet Yan Lang said: “Though it feels unfamiliar, the wild geese have carried letters north and south year after year, and the heart has not changed. Does Your Highness still recall — when we were young, you and His Majesty and I once climbed the Eastern Mountain to bow to the moon on the night of the full moon? In those days we were young and fresh-faced, our hair black and our cheeks bright. Though the years have passed and the Eastern Mountain has become a wasteland of graves, the bond of those days — it is something I can never forget, and must never forget.”

Luowei felt her eyes grow suddenly moist. She raised her head to look at the somewhat dim and yellowish sky, and murmured: “Even though the Eastern Mountain has become a wasteland of graves — you still cannot forget?”

Yan Lang looked at her profile, and with rare seriousness answered: “This servant will never forget.”

“In these years I have always wondered — why, given the same bond, can some people never forget while others discard it like a worn sandal,” Luowei pulled back her gaze and looked ahead, sensing she had let herself become a little too unguarded, and quickly reined in her wistful expression. “It has only been a few years — it can hardly be called unfamiliarity. If His Majesty does not summon you, go home and rest; let my elder brother go and keep you company over drinks.”

Yan Lang laughed his agreement heartily: “Excellent, excellent.”

After seeing him off, Luowei took a different path to walk through the palace city. Attendant Li looked at the sky with mild concern and said: “Your Highness, I fear rain today — the sky is this yellowish color.”

Luowei shook her head without speaking and sent everyone away. Those dispatched by Song Lan needed to go and make their reports; the rest were glad for the leisure. In the end only Attendant Li remained at her side, along with an inner attendant recently reassigned back to her — Zhang Suwu, who had been familiar with her even before Song Lan’s enthronement. When she was formally established as Empress, she had transferred him to serve in the library, and only now had called him back.

Attendant Li was innocent and guileless, but Zhang Suwu was sharp enough to understand her exchange with Yan Lang. He pulled gently at Attendant Li’s sleeve and took a few steps back, following quietly behind her.

A breeze carried the distant fragrance of lotus blossoms. The willow catkins that had swirled through the palace city had long since vanished with the passing of spring.

The carefree days of youth seemed like only yesterday. Atop the Eastern Mountain had stood the old estate of the Duke of the Yue Kingdom; on the seventeenth of the eighth month, he had hosted a birthday banquet, and the young people had run without restraint through the hills and fields, plucking osmanthus and drinking wine. In those days their parents were still alive, their friends were all around them, and they had been happy from the heart.

Later the Duke of the Yue Kingdom’s descendants were implicated in a crime and moved away from the Eastern Mountain; of all those who had attended that festive banquet, barely any remained. Those who did were utterly changed. The Eastern Mountain had suffered a great wildfire and then became a wasteland of graves on the outskirts of Biandu. Rumor had it that on the night of the Ghost Festival, people had seen eerie green foxfire there.

When she counted it up, though Luowei and Yan Lang had exchanged letters all these years, they had met in person rarely. The matters she was now undertaking were too dangerous; the slightest misstep would bring ruin upon all those connected to her. This was why she had spoken of “unfamiliarity.”

Yet Yan Lang had not hesitated — only said “I will never forget.”

With relatives and old friends gone, and close companions scattered to the four winds, hearing such unwavering devotion — beyond the feeling moved, she also felt some alarm. Luowei walked through the palace city in the rising wind, and suddenly thought of Ye Tingyan, thought of him taking an oath at the peak of Xiuqing Temple, saying “this heart of mine is this sincere” — words were so deceiving; she did not know how much of that moment of unusual openness had been real.

Then she thought: had he not had that moment of openness that day, had she not been moved, and they had properly discussed the matter of the lotus flower banquet in an orderly way — perhaps when he saw that the inscription beneath the bronze cup was not the one originally planned, he could have reached out and wiped it away. As things stood, Yu Qiushi had seized the opportunity, discovering not only Yan Luo’s identity but also making clear that Ye Tingyan had thrown in his lot with her.

Yu Qiushi suspected that she already knew the truth of what had happened in those years. This scheme had failed; there would be another. Song Lan had wavered before, but now suspicion had taken root in him. If she did not act decisively, she feared she might yet be turned against by Yu Qiushi.

Two years of preparation on all sides — and now she had a ready weapon like Ye Tingyan. She could wait no longer. Luowei thought this with cold detachment, then suddenly noticed a faint tickle at her nose — from some puff of wind, the last of the willow catkins had brushed past her lips.

*

On the third day of the fifth month, in the fourth year of Jinghe, General Yan Lang, Pacifier of the North, returned to the capital after slaying Wang Fengshi, the garrison commander of Gela’er City. Though his account was detailed, the Censorate still charged him on two counts — “disrespect toward a superior” and “wrongful exercise of military authority” — pointing directly at the Yan family’s arrogance in wielding military merit. The Emperor spoke in his defense and provisionally ordered Yan Lang to remain in the capital. Yan Lang received the imperial decree, declined all visitors, and kept his gates shut.

Luowei knew that Wang Fengshi had originally been a pawn planted by Song Lan and Yu Qiushi within the northern military. She had sent word to Yan Lang to “find an opportunity to return to the capital,” and had not expected him to be so bold as to directly slay Song Lan’s appointed officer.

If he were to return to the capital and Wang Fengshi remained in the north, he would always be a hidden threat within the Yan family’s army. The risk taken now, though great, was not a poor strategy for cutting out the root. Song Lan’s cultivation of informants within the military was not easy work; and with a “return to plead guilty” as cover, Yan Lang had a legitimate reason to come back to the capital.

After Yan Lang had shut his gates, wild rumors began circulating through the streets — that the entire Yan family were loyal subjects of unimpeachable integrity; that their slaying of the rebel commander without awaiting the imperial order had been an act of sheer necessity when the foreign enemy struck, and should not be condemned.

On the fifth day of the month, Zhuque transferred the prime suspect in the case of the attack on the Empress to the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review for joint deliberation. Twelve palace attendants were detained. In the end, the primary instigator was identified from the testimony of an addled individual; both human and physical testimony were complete and presented to the throne for the Emperor’s consideration.

Officials in the Three Judicial Offices spoke privately: according to what the chief minister had said, the suspect in the assassination attempt on the Empress appeared to have an additional identity — but the Emperor kept tight-lipped and forbade further discussion. The case was thus concluded with a ruling of “a Feng woman from Yuezhou,” with all persons involved to be dealt with by the Empress. After reviewing the testimony, the Empress said nothing further and issued an edict for the Three Judicial Offices to proceed according to law. The court and the public applauded.

The Emperor placed the instigator — Princess Imperial Ningle — under house confinement at her residence but had not yet issued a formal decree. Strangely, the princess had not spoken a single word in her own defense.

When Ye Tingyan entered the princess’s residence together with the Zhuque guards, he found Song Zhiyu had already dismissed all the attendants from her household. She sat in the courtyard in plain dress, playing the qin. He leaned against a tree and listened for a while; he could make out that she was playing “The Glory of the棠棣Blossoms.”

He waved the others back, then went and sat composedly across from the princess. Song Zhiyu raised her eyes and looked at him — her gaze surprisingly calm: “Did His Majesty send you to kill me?”

Truthfully, Ye Tingyan had not anticipated that things would go this smoothly: “If Your Highness were to send a petition declaring your grievance, His Majesty might reopen the investigation into this case.”

Song Zhiyu tilted her head and looked around, then only dared to continue once she saw there was no one nearby: “He will kill me sooner or later. I have anticipated this day. Sooner or later — what difference does it make?”

Had she not said this, Ye Tingyan would not have dared confirm with certainty whether the “Lament for the Jintian Guard” had been her genuine sentiment or a scheme plotted with Yu Qiushi and Song Lan. After she said it, he lifted his eyes, knowing he had bet correctly.

In order to extricate Luowei from all connection to Qiu Xueyu’s entry into the palace, he had to find a “culprit” for the affair — and this culprit would necessarily be found among those he sought to avenge. The reason it was Song Zhiyu, beyond that addled palace attendant’s word “princess,” was his own deduction:

Song Lan and Yu Qiushi had colluded in the Thorn of the Tang Case, then used the hunt for its culprits as a pretext to eliminate those in court who had been close to Crown Prince Chengming — to leave no loose ends. But launching mass killings immediately upon ascending the throne was not in keeping with proper rule; he needed to push public opinion from behind.

So Song Zhiyu had been pushed forward, and her poem “Lament for the Jintian Guard” had built more than enough momentum for them.

Had they backed someone other than Song Lan, perhaps she would still have found a peaceful end. But Ye Tingyan felt he knew Song Lan altogether too well by now.

It was not that Song Lan was unwilling — it was that he could not afford to be. If one day he held power firmly in his grip, every person who had known the truth of that case in those years — especially the masterminds: Yu Qiushi, Lin Kuishan, Lu Fengying — plus Princess Imperial Ningle, who had rendered him assistance then — he would not spare a single one.

When Lu Heng died, he had not yet been certain. After plotting the spring hunt affair, Ye Tingyan had gone privately to the Ministry of Justice and found that the Lin father and son, whose lives Song Lan had ordered temporarily spared, had already died in prison.

At that moment he had suddenly understood Song Lan’s motive in needing him.

One reason was that using Luowei to deal with Yu Qiushi had been too risky; it had been unavoidable before, but now he sought someone to replace her. Another was that he also wanted to quietly dispose, one by one, of those who had known the truth at the time — and so Ye Tingyan’s pursuit of vengeance and his own effort to cut out the roots coincided, against all odds, in the same direction.

This was why all his actions had gone so smoothly. Taking advantage of Song Lan’s distraction, he had pinned an absurd old crime on Song Zhiyu, and the Emperor had naturally welcomed such a result — he had not even asked an extra question.

Song Zhiyu’s present state was surely the result of having finally reckoned with Song Lan’s coldness.

What a pity that the Grand Preceptor, deeply mired in it all, had still not worked this out.

And Ye Tingyan was curious too — once all these people were removed one by one, would Song Lan deal with Luowei the same way?

Was Luowei making preparations in advance, seeking to seize power because she had seen through his intentions?

He was suddenly jolted from his thoughts by a sharp, simultaneous snapping of qin strings. He came to himself to find Song Zhiyu with ten deep cuts in her palms from the strings, seemingly unaware, leaning over the qin in a near-maddened state and laughing: “Back then… back then…”

She raised her head and looked at Ye Tingyan — she seemed not to care who he was — and said softly: “When I was young, my arts, poetry, and calligraphy were truly no inferior to Su Xu’s. I always thought — just because she was the daughter of a great minister and the Crown Prince’s betrothed consort, Counselor Gan and Master Zhengshuo took no notice of my talents. Could even standing in the snow before their doors fail to earn a glance from them?”

Xu — the character of the name by which Luowei was addressed in girlhood, for her verse-composing gift. Ye Tingyan’s brow creased faintly. He was about to say something when Song Zhiyu raised her head again, ran her blood-stained hands through her hair, and said to him: “My lord — have you come today bearing an imperial decree to sentence me to death?”

Ye Tingyan answered calmly: “This servant today bears a decree asking whether Your Highness pleads guilty. Your Highness is of noble blood — she cannot be brought to the Ministry of Justice or to Zhuque. She must at least be given some dignity.”

Song Zhiyu gave a ghastly smile and asked: “Does His Majesty have any further words for me?”

Ye Tingyan watched her, with some measure of compassion in his eyes: “His Majesty advises Your Highness to be sensible.”

Upon hearing the word “sensible,” Song Zhiyu ran her finger along the broken strings, and slowly curled her hand into a fist.

From the corner of his eye, Ye Tingyan caught sight of it and suddenly realized — her qin was the birthday gift he had given her in those years, the one called “Burning Paulownia.” When he had returned from the spring tour of Jiangnan, he had brought gifts for every one of his brothers and sisters.

He stared fixedly at the blood welling from Song Zhiyu’s palm, feeling a faint ache in his heart. Song Zhiyu did not notice his gaze and merely murmured to herself: “Had I known it would come to this…”

Song Lan had sent him today to question her at the princess’s residence — but for a routine questioning, why would he have had to exert himself to send him? He held civil official authority and had done fine work managing cases in Zhuque; clearly he was headed for the path of a powerful minister. That Song Lan had sent him, of all people, made plain that he did not wish to leave Song Zhiyu alive.

When instructing him before his visit, Song Lan had said unhurriedly from behind the incense screen in Qianfang Hall: “If imperial sister refuses to meet her end willingly, then counsel her to be sensible. We are very occupied and truly exhausted. Let this matter be concluded as soon as possible.”

His meaning was clear: Song Lan was currently too pressed for time to attend to this matter. Since he believed it had been Song Zhiyu who harbored resentment against Luowei, and since Song Zhiyu had not made any defense, he assumed it was indeed so.

With so many things tangled up at once, if she were brought before the Three Judicial Offices, who knew what waves it would stir. Better to have her die at her own residence — easier to account for publicly, as well.

In the end, whatever Song Zhiyu’s silence about the Thorn of the Tang Case since those years, no matter how she had kept her doors shut — he could not leave someone alive who knew what had happened.

Ye Tingyan reached out to touch the broken strings, thought for a long while, and finally decided to ask her what role she had played in the Thorn of the Tang Case. But before he could speak, Song Zhiyu fixed him with a steady look and said: “I want to see Su Xu.”

Fearing he had not understood, she added: “Please convey this to His Majesty — Ningle is willing to meet her end, but her last wish before dying is to see the Empress once more, to show her remorse.”

Ye Tingyan looked at her with an expression full of meaning: “As for the matter of sending the Qiu woman into the palace — Your Highness has nothing else she wishes to argue?”

Song Zhiyu said: “If not this, there would be something else. I have nothing to argue.”

She tidied the hair behind her ears again and said calmly: “Tell His Majesty exactly this: what he worries about, I will naturally keep to myself. As for seeing the Empress — it is merely a fixation of my heart. If this wish cannot be fulfilled, Ningle cannot meet her end willingly.”

He left Zhuque guards behind and went into the palace to report. Against all expectation, Song Lan was silent for a moment, then spoke and granted it.

“Imperial sister is a child of the imperial house. If she were openly tied to the matter of the Empress being attacked, a wave of trouble is unavoidable. This is a summer of many affairs; once she has seen the Empress, administer the poisoned wine.” Song Lan knocked absentmindedly on the memorial in his hand and instructed: “On the Three Judicial Offices side, send the involved palace attendants to deal with it. Once the autumn comes, imperial sister will have died of illness — that is how to conclude this matter.”

“And also…”

He set down the memorial and, after hesitating a good while, said: “You follow the Empress there — and observe what sort of manner those two display toward each other.”

Ye Tingyan did not quite understand, but agreed nonetheless: “Yes.”

*

It was a midsummer morning. The dew had risen and gone; the sky was the color of jade, with faint, filmy clouds. When Luowei stepped into Princess Ningle’s residence, what she saw was a strange tableau.

Song Zhiyu had apparently sat at the qin all night; her complexion was drawn and wan, and all ten fingers were crusted with blood that had dried to a deep dark crust. Kneeling at her side was a young man — evidently her inner attendant.

The day before, she had dismissed everyone in the household; only this one had refused to leave.

Hearing people approach, the Zhuque guard standing to one side finally rose and dragged the young man away with a cold expression. As he was taken, he continued his furious protestations; seeing Luowei, he did not even think to show deference: “Your Highness — Your Highness! Why do you let them harm her…”

Luowei acted as though she had heard nothing. She sat in the place where Ye Tingyan had sat the day before and said: “I hear you wanted to see me.”

She gave Ye Tingyan a quick sideways glance; he understood and dismissed everyone, though he kept his position some ten paces away. From here, it was nearly impossible to make out words, but one could see the expressions of both people — Luowei would not let him listen, but he was indeed curious what “manner” Song Lan had wanted him to observe.

Song Zhiyu glanced at Ye Tingyan standing to the side, and gave a contemptuous smile: “I hear the case of mine was handled by this beloved new minister of Song Lan’s. Just now I noticed the closeness in the way you two look at each other — is he your intimate confidant?”

Luowei was not startled; not even her hand flinched: “Your eye for things is as sharp as ever.”

“After imperial brother died, you certainly transformed yourself,” Song Zhiyu said with a laugh. “It suits you better this way — at least you’re candid. Much better than the way you were before, all concealment and then acting the innocent.”

Luowei said evenly: “You wanted to see me — what is it you want to say?”

Song Zhiyu asked in return: “Have you nothing you want to ask me? I was afraid that after I was gone, you would toss and turn, regretting you had not come to ask me — that is why I risked everything to summon you here.”

“The one who sent A’Fei into the palace was Shu Kang — you knew that perfectly well. Why accept the blame?” Luowei said calmly. “Let me guess: over these years you have thought it through — you were deeply involved in those events of that year, Song Lan cannot let you live, and sooner or later he will have you killed. He has found such complete evidence and testimony; fighting to the last would be futile. You are tired of waiting for death day after day, and so you might as well give yourself a quick end — is that not so?”

Song Zhiyu’s eyes went wide: “Counselor Gan used to say you were clever, and I always refused to admit it — but today I am forced to admit it.”

When she finished speaking, she leaned close and stared at Luowei’s face, lowering her voice: “Wait — you have long known who was truly behind the Thorn of the Tang Case? Oh my — Song Lan was still telling me to ‘be sensible.’ He was certain I would not dare say it to your face.”

“No — he sent these trusted guards here precisely to use me to test whether you know — and it seems your days are not so easy, either. But Song Lan does not know that his trusted man has already become your intimate confidant. What a wonderful web of double deceptions — Su Xu, you were truly born to live among the imperial family and match wits with them.”

Luowei blinked at her, and said in a gentle, unhurried voice: “Indeed — otherwise how would I deserve the name ‘clever’?”