In the blink of an eye, it was the end of March. Once the Grain Rain solar term passed, the land grew thoroughly warm. Along the banks of the Qinhuai, the drooping willows turned a deep green like rolling waves, and the peach and plum blossoms bloomed in a blaze of color.
Early one morning, Fang Furan spread out a sheet of white rice paper in the small pavilion at the side estate, intending to copy out a passage from the Lotus Sutra from memory. She had barely written a few lines when a gentle voice sounded behind her: “Furan.”
It was Prince Ling.
Fang Furan’s brush paused, and she turned to look at him. “Your Highness didn’t go to the palace today?”
“No,” Prince Ling said with a smile. “Today’s a rest day. I’m handling business here at the side estate.”
Though imperial princes weren’t supposed to grow too close to court officials in private, if one truly wished to build a faction, there was always a way.
This side estate belonged to Prince Ling’s household, and its location was cleverly chosen—the front gate connected to the main residence, while the side gate opened onto a teahouse. So whenever an official wished to see Prince Ling, all he had to do was go “have tea” at the teahouse.
Ever since that night when she’d broken with Yun Xi, Fang Furan had been unable to eat or sleep properly. Only while copying sutras could she find any peace of mind.
Seeing the dark circles heavy under her eyes, Prince Ling felt a pang of tenderness and said, “Go on and copy your text. I’ll just sit here with you.”
The passage Fang Furan was copying from memory was the “Parable” Zai Ni Mei Shao Dian Hua Deng – Chapter of the Lotus Sutra. Her handwriting was still as lovely as ever, though after years of hard labor at the Marquis’s mansion, thick calluses had formed on her finger joints and fingertips.
Prince Ling remembered that when he’d first met Fang Furan, her hands had had almost no calluses at all.
Back then, he had accidentally knocked down the sutra scroll she’d been copying for the Empress. Come Qingming Festival, he had waited at the mouth of the corridor outside Ci Yuan Palace until Fang Furan came out after paying her respects to the Empress, then stepped forward to call to her: “Miss Fang.”
He then handed her a thick scroll of copied sutra text. “I knocked down your sutra copy before. Here’s another one, to make up for it.”
Fang Furan had paused for a moment, then taken it and slowly leafed through it. He had copied the very same passage she had—the tenth chapter, “The Teacher of the Dharma”—the line “If for an entire kalpa one constantly harbors ill will” written with flying, forceful strokes, as sturdy and vigorous as pine.
Fang Furan couldn’t help saying, “Your Highness’s calligraphy is excellent.”
Prince Ling smiled. “Not as good as yours.”
Fang Furan shook her head. “Your Highness is too modest. It’s Furan who falls far short of Your Highness.”
Neither of them had been in any hurry to leave at the time—after all, with one being an imperial prince and the other a noble young lady, being seen meeting privately like this would hardly have looked good to others.
A breeze passed by from time to time. Fang Furan put away the sutra scroll and smoothed her windblown hair, asking softly, “In a few days, the officials and their families will be accompanying His Majesty to Baiyun Temple to pay homage to Heaven. Will Your Highness be going as well?”
“No,” Prince Ling replied after a moment of silence.
Ever since he’d handled the Chai family case and displeased his father the emperor, he hadn’t been summoned by him for a long while.
So for occasions like this, the Imperial Noble Consort had always been unwilling to let him attend.
Hearing that he wouldn’t be going, Fang Furan seemed briefly lost in thought, then gave a soft “Mm” and prepared to take her leave.
Prince Ling suddenly asked, “Will you be going?”
Fang Furan nodded slightly. “I will.”
Prince Ling smiled faintly. “All right. I understand.”
On the day of the ceremony at Baiyun Temple, after Fang Furan had finished chanting sutras alongside the other officials’ family members and noble ladies, she headed alone with her personal maid toward the quiet meditation quarters, when suddenly someone called out to her: “Miss Furan.”
Fang Furan turned to look—it was Prince Ling.
She was startled. “Didn’t Your Highness say you wouldn’t be coming?”
Prince Ling said with a smile, “I went and pleaded with Mother Consort.”
At the time, Fang Furan hadn’t thought much of this remark.
It was only much later that she learned the Imperial Noble Consort wasn’t actually Prince Ling’s birth mother—she saw him as a burden and had never liked him. And for someone like Prince Ling, coming to plead before the Imperial Noble Consort just for the chance to see her once would have cost him no small amount of his pride.
…
Watching Fang Furan finish copying out a full scroll, Prince Ling said gently, “Furan, in a few more days, the former members of the Fang household will arrive in Jinling.”
“Truly?” Fang Furan was in the middle of washing her brush and froze at the news.
“Your two half-brothers have run into some trouble along the way and may arrive a bit later, but your concubine-mothers and the Fang household’s former steward and servants should reach Jinling around the beginning of April. I’ll take you to see them then,” Prince Ling said.
Fang Furan was about to ask what trouble her two half-brothers had run into, when a guard came to report, “Your Highness, the officials have arrived.”
Prince Ling nodded and said to Fang Furan, “The discussion today might run late. If you’re tired, go rest early—no need to wait up for me.”
The officials visiting the prince’s side estate today were among those Prince Ling trusted most deeply at court. Leading the group were three men: Pei Ming, the Minister of Works; Luo Fuyou, Academician of the Bureau of Military Affairs; and Shan Wenxuan, Vice Director of the Secretariat.
Years ago, Pei Ming had served as a prefect in the northern frontier, and later, recommended by the Marquis of Zhongyong, Yun Shuguang, had come to Jinling along with Luo Fuyou.
But the officials of Jinling were an exclusive lot, and seeing that the two of them had real ability, worked to suppress them at every turn. As a result, both men remained stuck without advancement all the way until the late Crown Prince’s death.
After the late Crown Prince died, Luo Fuyou quickly realized Prince Yun was incapable of great things, and that when the day came to contend for succession, he would likely be no match for Prince Ling. Taking a gamble, at a time when no one thought much of Prince Ling’s prospects, Luo Fuyou pulled Pei Ming along and defected to Prince Ling’s side.
Things had been difficult for the group at first, but with Yao Hangshan’s downfall and Prince Yun’s collapse in recent years, and with Emperor Zhaoyuan’s strength gradually failing, the situation had become quite favorable indeed.
Yet on this particular day, everyone who arrived at Prince Ling’s side estate wore heavy expressions, especially Shan Wenxuan, the Vice Director of the Secretariat, who paced back and forth in the main hall with furrowed brows. The moment he saw Prince Ling, he rushed forward. “Your Highness, this is terrible. I’ve heard that last night His Majesty privately summoned General Xuanwei and Guard Ning. The two of them have already reported to His Majesty that the Marquis of Zhongyong may have died due to enemy collusion back then, and said they’ve found a witness among the Daman tribe. His Majesty has already secretly ordered a thorough investigation into the case.”
Prince Ling was always calm in the face of trouble, and found it most tiresome when his subordinates panicked at the slightest disturbance. His brow furrowed slightly as he sat down at the head of the hall and asked flatly, “So, Councilor Shan, what do you suggest we do?”
“This… naturally we should quickly send someone to assassinate the witness. Once the witness is dead, General Xuanwei and Guard Ning will have no way to accuse Your Highness.”
Prince Ling said nothing.
This Shan Wenxuan really was an incompetent fool.
If not for the sake of the powerful position he held, why would he keep such a useless man under him?
Luo Fuyou glanced at Prince Ling and rose. “Your Highness, I would actually argue that this witness General Xuanwei brought back from the Daman tribe isn’t something to fear.”
“If this witness truly had useful information, they could have gone straight to the palace to accuse Your Highness the moment they stole the northern frontier defense map. Yet if His Majesty hadn’t asked, they wouldn’t even have mentioned the matter of enemy collusion. Why is that?” Luo Fuyou said, glancing around at the assembled officials, then answering his own question. “It’s because this witness in their hands doesn’t actually know much of the real truth and cannot implicate Your Highness. The real crux of this case still lies with the Fifth Prince.”
“Only by finding the Fifth Prince can they restore the truth of what happened back then—that’s the first point.”
“More importantly, no matter how much reservation His Majesty may have toward Your Highness, in the end you are still his son. With Prince Yun now incapable of taking on great responsibility, you alone within the palace remain capable of inheriting the throne. His Majesty’s recent inclination to grant power to the Third Young Master is only because he still holds a shred of hope of finding the Fifth Prince. General Xuanwei surely understands this well—if the Fifth Prince cannot be found, no matter what happened in the past, His Majesty will certainly protect Your Highness in the end.”
This was no exaggeration.
Just a year ago, after Prince Yun’s downfall, seeing little hope of finding the Fifth Prince, Emperor Zhaoyuan had already begun letting Prince Ling hold power freely.
But at the beginning of this year, Wei Jie had suddenly come forward to report that the Fifth Prince, Cheng Xu, was very likely in Jinling, reigniting His Majesty’s hope.
That was why, after Cheng Chang’s return, Emperor Zhaoyuan, knowing how to make good use of talent, had quickly granted him power.
Cheng Chang had originally held only the Censorate. Even with all of the former young prince’s former loyal followers now submitting to him, his forces still weren’t enough to rival Prince Ling’s.
But after Cheng Chang returned to Jinling, he’d quickly stormed into Prince Yun’s residence and persuaded Prince Yun to form an alliance with him.
However foolish Prince Yun was, after a whole year he’d finally come to understand: he’d been used by Prince Ling all along, having toiled for Prince Ling’s benefit throughout, and he hated Prince Ling far more than he hated Cheng Chang.
Unfortunately, with Yao Hangshan already fallen and his own reputation utterly ruined, Prince Yun had no chance of a comeback, so he handed the Court of Judicial Review, which fell under his jurisdiction, over to Cheng Chang.
Though Prince Yun’s consort and Prince Yun himself were not on good terms, the two of them were still bound together by shared interest, especially after the birth of their daughter shattered any remaining hope tied to imperial succession. They had no choice but to have the loyal followers Prince Yun had cultivated within the Ministry of Justice submit to Cheng Chang’s command as well, in order to deal with Prince Ling.
Cheng Chang had always possessed decisive resolve, and quickly consolidated power over all Three Judicial Offices into his own hands. Combined with Emperor Zhaoyuan’s intent to use him to check Prince Ling’s power, granting him some authority, he soon found himself standing in a stalemate against Prince Ling.
But the fundamental reason Cheng Chang was able to hold such power came down, in the end, to the Fifth Prince.
He was a stopgap measure Emperor Zhaoyuan was using while waiting for the Fifth Prince’s return to court.
And Emperor Zhaoyuan wasn’t afraid of him, because generally speaking, when a prince held power to this degree, he wasn’t far from rebellion—or at least, from what the emperor would consider rebellion.
Moreover, when Cheng Chang had earlier accused Prince Yun, Emperor Zhaoyuan had deliberately shown some weakness, planting in the hearts of the court officials both wariness toward Cheng Chang and the suspicion that the Third Young Master might one day rebel.
Once the Fifth Prince returned to court, Emperor Zhaoyuan could use Cheng Chang to deal with Prince Ling, and once Prince Ling was dealt with, if Cheng Chang refused to relinquish power, it would be simple enough to charge him with a crime and have him executed.
But if the Fifth Prince never returned, then only Prince Ling would remain to inherit the throne.
In that case, even if Cheng Chang harbored murderous intent toward Prince Ling, if he dared act against him, that alone would constitute rebellion, and Emperor Zhaoyuan would certainly not side with him.
So even though Prince Ling’s current opponent was Cheng Chang, the crux of the whole matter still lay with the Fifth Prince, Cheng Xu.
As long as the Fifth Prince didn’t return, Prince Ling could remain in an unassailable position—unless… Cheng Chang truly intended to become emperor himself.
Luo Fuyou continued, “That’s why I believe Your Highness needn’t worry at all about this witness General Xuanwei found among the Daman tribe, and certainly shouldn’t send anyone to assassinate them. If the attempt were to fail, wouldn’t it only make us look guilty of wrongdoing? Better to let him come forward boldly—whatever he says, simply ignore it. The most important thing right now is to find the Fifth Prince first and deal with him before anyone else does.”
“The Fifth Prince is currently in Jinling. If we search household by household, surely he can’t be that hard to find. If he’s not among the painters, then look among the scholars—after all, he’s just barely come of age, around twenty-one or twenty-two. How many young men of that age could there possibly be in all of Jinling?”
After hearing Luo Fuyou out, Prince Ling gave a slight nod, then, noticing Pei Ming’s grave expression beside him, asked, “Minister Pei, what’s your view?”
This Minister of Works had always been a man who thought several steps ahead. Asked for his opinion by Prince Ling, he pondered for a long while before saying, “Reporting to Your Highness, this official believes Lord Luo’s reasoning is quite sound.”
“However,” he paused, “Lord Luo’s proposal is all premised on our being able to find the Fifth Prince first.”
He turned to address the room. “But allow me to ask you all—what if we can’t find the Fifth Prince first?”
If that were the case, once the Fifth Prince returned to court, Prince Ling would become the greatest threat to his ascension.
Emperor Zhaoyuan had never much liked Prince Ling to begin with—at that point, Prince Ling would likely be the very first one he sought to eliminate.
Pei Ming looked around at the assembled officials. “You are all Your Highness’s most loyal supporters, sworn to uphold him unto death—so I’ll speak plainly and without reservation.”
He clasped his hands and bowed toward Prince Ling. “May I ask how many troops Your Highness currently commands?”
Prince Ling didn’t answer, but he had already guessed what Pei Ming was about to say.
“If I’m not mistaken, the troops currently under Your Highness’s command amount roughly to the Investigation Bureau, the Capital Garrison, General Xuanwei’s forces at the Western Hills camp, and a few others—altogether seven men’s worth of command. Add to that the troops under my son, General Pei Lan, and the total still falls short of a hundred thousand.”
“Naturally, a mere seventy or eighty thousand troops aren’t enough to stand against the entirety of Jinling’s forces. But as the saying goes, the pavilion closest to the water enjoys the moonlight first—if we seize the initiative, position ourselves ahead of time, and act before the palace guards can react—”
He made a chopping motion with his hand, like a blade.
The entire hall fell utterly silent in that instant, everyone present hardly daring to breathe.
After a long moment, someone finally spoke up in a low voice from where he sat: “Does Lord Pei mean… regicide?”
The moment the words “regicide” left his mouth, everyone present felt a chill of fear.
But if Emperor Zhaoyuan found the Fifth Prince, what other path would remain open to them?
Having weathered years of court politics, everyone present had, to some degree, already considered this possibility—no one had simply dared to voice it aloud.
Pei Ming smiled and softened his phrasing. “It needn’t be called regicide—really, it’s simply ‘purging the emperor’s side of corrupt influences.'”
Except that, in the chaos of “purging the emperor’s side,” swords and blades have no eyes, and sometimes there simply isn’t time to save His Majesty, who ends up unfortunately killed by the “traitors.” Such things happen often enough.
Pei Ming said, “Of course, we needn’t necessarily take this path. This old official merely wishes to remind you all—once the Fifth Prince returns to the palace, we will be facing a dead end.”
“But in the period right after his return, before he has any foothold at court, that will be our last, and best, opportunity.”
“I’ve already calculated this carefully. Even with the Third Young Master and the Marquis of Zhongyong’s household constantly guarding against Your Highness, their combined forces amount to no more than forty-odd thousand troops. Even adding Wei Jie’s Imperial City Bureau forces, it still wouldn’t be enough to stand against Your Highness.”
“As long as we plan and deploy our forces ahead of time, unless the Fifth Prince can conjure an army out of thin air, once the banner of ‘purging the emperor’s side’ is raised, no matter which of them we’re talking about, it will be an inescapable net closing in—there will be no escape for any of them.”