Pei Jue was a man of exceptional shrewdness. Listening to Pei Shaohuai’s somewhat ingratiating words, within the span of a few breaths he had pieced together five or six parts of the entire scheme.
He gave a cold snort and said, “Luck, nothing more.”
“Does Granduncle think good fortune came first, and then the right wager was placed — or that placing the right wager is what brought the good fortune?”
“You had best keep placing correctly.” With that, Pei Jue folded the interrogation document, left the imperial prison, and set off to return to the palace to report.
From his position on the punishment rack, Pei Shaohuai watched Pei Jue walk toward the prison gate, his silhouette growing longer and longer — and felt a measure of both regret and relief.
Regret that among a hundred careful plans, one had been careless — he had let slip a flaw in front of the old fox. Relief that the one who discovered the flaw was Pei Jue.
Who said a black blade has no heart? Hold any cold blade long enough, and it will warm.
……
After reporting to the Emperor, Pei Jue departed the palace and rode his carriage back to the residence where he had temporarily settled.
Past the Zhengyang Gate, the carriage entered a bustling main street.
This year was one of the provincial examinations in autumn. As it was already into summer, a great many scholars had come to the capital early, taking up lodgings in the city to prepare in peace. The figures of students came and went frequently on the street.
Passing a stretch of tall pavilions and tiled establishments, the clear sounds of strings and flutes rose into the air, and the voice of a singing girl carried on, long and gentle, chanting from a brief lyric that had been set to music — one verse finished and then repeated from the beginning.
Every word and line was mellifluous and refined in tone. What she sang was not the longing of flowers and moonlight, but of mountains, rivers, clouds, and towers.
All of it was of the style known as Cloud-Between lyrics.
Pei Jue was well on in years, and was not the sort to indulge in pleasures of the flesh. Yet he knew well enough that the establishments of pleasure had, in former times, favored the singing of tender, entangled verses full of sultry charm. The change in their usual manner was because the patrons had “suddenly” become infatuated with Cloud-Between lyrics — and the patrons’ infatuation existed because the Prince of Huai held Cloud-Between lyrics in high regard, and treated with respect and ceremony scholars who excelled in composing them. It was with “Cloud-Between lyrics” that the Prince of Huai had been drawing to himself a retinue of advisors and private counselors across the south of the Yangtze.
Now this wind had blown all the way to the capital. The Prince of Huai had not yet arrived, and yet the Cloud-Between lyrics had already begun to be sung.
Pei Jue held both hands within his wide sleeves, eyes closed in quiet repose — yet Pei Shaohuai’s words would not stop circling through his mind: “What officials ought to hear is not fawning flattery, but the voice of the common people.”
Cloud-Between lyrics were not wrong in themselves. What was wrong was the scholars who used them to ingratiate themselves with the powerful, seeking shortcuts by which to prove their so-called talent.
The sounds of strings and flutes gradually faded. Pei Jue’s mind had not yet settled. At that moment, the carriage passed by a stretch of inns where many of the scholars sitting for the examinations had taken up lodgings.
Suddenly, from outside the carriage came the sound of papers scattering in cascades — Pei Jue lifted the carriage curtain just in time to see sheets of paper raining down from the upper floors of the inn, drifting to cover the ground in layers, as passersby scholars reached down to pick them up and read.
“Pei the Just Official is innocent!” From somewhere above, a scholar’s voice rang out — and then a chorus of voices answered, swelling into a roar that shook the ears.
“Serving the people is no crime!”
A handbill drifted lazily into the carriage. Pei Jue picked it up and read — its opening line was, “The ship is about to sink.”
Written on the paper were the very words Pei Shaohuai had spoken before the assembled court.
Pei Shaohuai was no obscure figure. He was the triple-crown laureate of the Yiyou year, the North Scholar who had become a paragon for scholars throughout the land. His petition of ten thousand names had been posted outside the Chang’an Gate. His accomplishments had appeared in the official gazette for three consecutive issues — and yet here he was, inexplicably reduced to a prisoner.
Pei Jue had his driver bring the carriage to a halt in a narrow lane. He listened as the cries swelled louder and louder. He watched as one essay after another by the North Scholar was scattered from the floors above. He saw the Prefectural Magistrate of Shuntian arrive with his officers to suppress the disorder, conducting searches through the inns one by one, arresting those accused of stirring trouble. And he saw the young scholars, dressed in their blue-robed scholar’s garments, standing straight-backed and unyielding even as they were seized.
A thousand, ten thousand, carrying it forward — as long as one in the end succeeds, that is the achievement of them all.
“Even imprisoned, even should his soul depart under the blade, nothing can silence his voice.” Pei Jue murmured.
Even without the Emperor’s protection, was what unfolded before him now not, in its own way, a kind of triumph?
……
By the time Pei Jue returned to his residence, the sky had already begun to darken.
Standing at the base of the stone steps at the entrance was a figure in a blue robe — and if not for the white hair on this person’s head, Pei Jue might have thought his aging eyes were playing tricks and that he was seeing the silhouette of Pei Shaohuai himself.
Hearing the carriage approach, the figure turned — a face etched with worry and worn with age. It was Pei Bingyuan.
In the evening wind, uncle and nephew faced each other across a distance of more than ten zhang.
Pei Bingyuan hurried forward. When he reached him, he opened his mouth, but could not bring out the word “Second Uncle” — three generations of their family had been at odds, the two branches of the household had barely any dealings, and distance had long since grown between them. They were uncle and nephew, yet there was no warmth of uncle and nephew between them.
“You need not make it difficult for yourself,” Pei Jue said, sensing the reason Pei Bingyuan had come to wait for him. “Inside, he has only suffered surface injuries. He has not been put through any real hardship. For now, there is no immediate danger to his life.” He spoke as he climbed the steps, preparing to go inside.
Then he added one final word: “He asks that you all take good care of yourselves.”
Pei Bingyuan hurried after him, pressing for more: “Boyuan, is he…”
“Only His Majesty knows.”
Perhaps it was what he had seen and heard along the way that had softened something in Pei Jue — for just before entering the door, that man of cold iron allowed his tone to ease, and with his back to his elder nephew, offered this quiet consolation: “Go back. That is all I know… He has his own fate to fulfill. What you ought to do is take care of yourselves, and not cause him added trouble.”
“Thank… Second Uncle.”
“I say this not because he bears the surname Pei, and not because I bear the surname Pei either.”
The door shut with a sharp bang and was locked.
Pei Bingyuan stood in a daze before the vermilion gate and cupped his hands in a bow. Then he hurried back to the Earl’s estate, eager to bring Boyuan’s words to the family. “He has his own fate to fulfill” — all the way home, Pei Bingyuan turned his Second Uncle’s words over and over in his mind, and a flicker of hope rekindled in his heart. Boyuan would surely come out of this unharmed.
……
The following day, at the county office of Daxing County.
The scholars who had “stirred trouble” on the street the day before were brought before the court. The students refused to kneel, saying, “Among us are not a few who hold the title of Recommended Man, and at the very least we carry the title of Cultivated Talent. By the rules of our station, we cannot be made to kneel, and we may not be subjected to punishment.”
And so this interrogation became a debate between the magistrate of Daxing County and the scholars.
The magistrate pleaded earnestly: “You all carry the hopes of your hometowns, having traveled great distances to come to the capital — yet instead of cherishing this rare opportunity and studying diligently for the examinations, have you perhaps forgotten why you came to the capital in the first place?”
They had come for the autumn provincial examinations in the eighth month.
The magistrate wished to reduce the matter to nothing, and make nothing of nothing.
Immediately someone retorted: “Daren sat for examinations for many years before finally claiming a place on the golden list, and now occupies the seat of a parental official, bearing the hopes of the people. Could it be that, with power now in hand, Daren has forgotten why he once studied, and why he sought to become an official?”
“Crack!” The gavel struck the table. The magistrate erupted in fury: “Outrageous! Gathering in disorder and openly defying a court official — two offenses to be punished together. Drag them down, every one of them, and give them twenty strokes each.”
The assistant magistrate beside him said quietly, “Daren, to administer a caning to scholars who hold academic titles requires the Prefectural Magistrate’s approval before it may be carried out. Daren should reconsider.”
The magistrate replied quietly, “Compared to losing their lives, what are twenty strokes? If the Prefectural Magistrate finds fault with it, I will bear the blame.”
The full hall of scholars was given their caning, drawing the citizens of the capital to crowd around and watch.
……
Word of the scholars being flogged spread outward. Pei Ruoying rushed from the marquis’s residence to An Qing Hall.
“Why has Madam come?” the several senior female physicians asked.
Since the trouble at the Earl’s estate, Pei Ruoying had not been to the medical hall for some days. Today she arrived with a look of exhaustion and worry etched into her face — a sight that truly moved the heart.
Her eyes were still somewhat swollen and red.
The senior physicians felt that Madam ought to remain at the estate and rest quietly for a time.
“Women who stay shut inside their chambers only end up wiping away tears with their handkerchiefs — and that accomplishes nothing.” Pei Ruoying went directly to the medicine counter and began preparing and grinding medicine, saying, “A door that was opened with such difficulty cannot be allowed to close again in a single day.”
Even the scholars outside understood this — and she, as Shaohuai’s elder sister, having grown up alongside him, how could she not?
The senior physicians looked at one another, unable to make sense of Madam’s words that seemed to begin in the middle of something, and could only hurry in to help, asking, “What medicine does Madam wish to prepare?”
Pei Ruoying gave her instructions: “Go and call the others in as well. Prepare more wound medicine, or remedies for bruises and injuries — as much as can be made, the more the better… When it’s ready, have the estate’s manservants send it to the scholars.”
In this summer heat, if flesh wounds were not treated promptly, the infection of wounds could take lives.
Preparing and sending the medicine was not solely because the scholars had spoken out for Shaohuai — it was also because changing the way people think is even harder than healing the sick.
Shaohuai had managed, with great effort, to change the way of thinking of at least some people. She could not allow a single punishment to chill their hearts.
……
……
Alongside the storm caused by the scholars came the great event of the Prince of Huai’s arrival in the capital.
On the day they entered the imperial city, the entire imperial boulevard was cleared until not a single stall remained — and even so, when the great procession of men and horses entered the city, they could barely fit. The line of carriers bearing gift crates stretched like a great dragon. Raozhou was a place of abundance, and the congratulatory gifts the Prince of Huai had prepared for his imperial father were far too numerous — no fewer than nine thousand and more crates in all.
With such an imposing display of grandeur, allowing the Prince of Huai to bring so many people into the capital not only demonstrated the prince’s strength, but also announced to all the officials the Emperor’s generosity and indulgence toward the Prince of Huai.
The entire capital knew the Prince of Huai had come. No one remembered that the Eastern Palace remained under confinement, and no one paid any mind to its state — as though the matter of replacing the heir had already been decided.
What followed was the Prince of Huai busy making the rounds, paying calls on senior officials and engaging them in “casual conversation.” He first sent six calling cards to the Yang estate, then six invitation cards — all without any reply or response.
Old Master Yang refused to see him. Grand Secretary Yang went so far as to claim illness and absent himself from court.
If the Prince of Huai wished to bring down the Yang estate, he would have to devise another approach entirely.