Hearing this, Pei Ming let out a scornful laugh. “Some old acquaintance at the Astronomical Bureau? The man Lord Shan sought out is a Taoist priest, isn’t he? Two years ago, when the Third Young Master fell into the water, you went to him to cast a divination for His Highness too, and what did he say then? Oh right — he said it would summon the most vicious ghost in this world, and that His Highness would suffer total ruin from then on. And how did that turn out?”

As it happened, Prince Ling’s fortunes had only grown better and better these past years — if not for the Fifth Prince’s return to the palace, he would already have become the undisputed candidate for the position of heir.

Seeing that Pei Ming refused to believe in such things, Shan Wenxuan hurried on: “It’s true! My Taoist brother’s divinations are extremely accurate. The year before last, when old Master Pushe took a new wife, my Taoist brother said this new wife would suffer bloodshed this spring — and sure enough, two months ago, she really did die in a difficult childbirth. So many people in Jinling would pay a fortune just for one reading from him, and even then he wouldn’t necessarily agree!”

“Lord Pei, Lord Pei!” Seeing Pei Ming turn and walk dismissively out of the teahouse, Shan Wenxuan hurried after him a few steps. “I’m truly not exaggerating to alarm you! This time I spent nearly ten thousand taels of silver just to persuade my Taoist brother to cast a reading for His Highness. He warned me again and again that this calamity facing His Highness is extremely grave — even he cannot resolve it. If it can be avoided, there is still a sliver of a chance of survival. If not, I fear His Highness will meet an end so terrible that not even his bones will remain.”

“Please help me — go tell His Highness, ask him to see me!” Shan Wenxuan said. “At the very least, pass along my Taoist brother’s reading to His Highness, and beg him not to act rashly!”

By now the two had already walked out of the teahouse.

Seeing Shan Wenxuan’s stubborn refusal to give up until he got his way, Pei Ming had no choice but to placate him patiently: “All right, I understand. But His Highness has other pressing matters today, so I can’t keep pressing for an audience. I’ll come by again tomorrow morning and relay your Taoist brother’s reading to His Highness.”

Hearing this, Shan Wenxuan let out a small breath of relief, but he still wasn’t entirely at ease. Seeing Pei Ming’s carriage parked by the roadside, he climbed in alongside him, meaning to press a few more words of caution.

As Pei Ming rode toward the palace, he listened to Shan Wenxuan’s chatter with half an ear.

In truth, no one understood better than he why Prince Ling had chosen this moment to raise his army.

Back when he and Luo Fuyou had first come to serve under Prince Ling, the prince had still been a powerless imperial son with almost no one to call upon besides Chai Ping.

So how could a matter as grave as treachery with a foreign power possibly have been accomplished by Prince Ling alone?

Pei Ming and Luo Fuyou had just returned from the northern steppe, and it was through trusted contacts they had cultivated there in the past, working together with Zhaoyuan, that they had passed messages back and forth between Prince Ling and the Daman tribe’s Second Prince.

And the reason Prince Ling had turned to treachery in the first place, when traced back to its root cause, was precisely because of the Fifth Prince.

Now that the Fifth Prince had returned to the capital, regardless of whether Emperor Zhaoyuan moved first against Cheng Chang or against Prince Ling, so long as Tian Ze was the one who eventually ascended the throne, Prince Ling would have only one road left — to ruin.

Therefore, only by raising his army now might he win himself any chance at survival.

And Pei Ming, as Prince Ling’s ally in the treachery of years past, shared his fate entirely, and naturally supported his cause of “purging the emperor’s side.”

By the time they reached the Sui Palace, Shan Wenxuan was still babbling on beside him about ghosts and omens.

Pei Ming got down from the carriage and walked with him toward the government offices. At a fork in the road, he patted Shan Wenxuan’s arm with the back of his hand, then pointed up at the sky and said with a laugh: “Lord Shan, it’s broad daylight — where would a vicious ghost come from?”

The Ministry of Works had been busy of late, but now that Mingyin Temple had been fully repaired and the mountain’s temporary palace restored to use, there was little left to do. Since the Fifth Prince’s return to the palace, the various offices had grown restless, and official business had grown slack along with it. Pei Ming, his mind on “the great cause,” went through the motions at the office until noon, then went to the Ministry of War to discuss “state affairs.”

On the way, he passed by the Ministry of Rites and happened to run into Cheng Chang.

The heir to the princely title was, as always, accompanied by a large retinue, dressed in rich brocade robes that radiated nobility — yet his complexion was poor, pale tinged with a bluish cast, his left hand supporting his right, which hung low and limp, as though he were unwell.

Seeing Pei Ming, Cheng Chang nodded slightly and said, “Minister Pei,” before walking past.

After Pei Ming had finished the proper courtesies and taken his place, he called over a nearby clerk and asked: “What’s wrong with the Young Prince?”

“Reporting to Lord Pei, His Highness’s old head ailment has flared up again, and his right hand has also been injured.”

Pei Ming knew of Cheng Chang’s head ailment.

The year before, just before the fire at the Imperial Guard Bureau, Cheng Chang had taken several days’ leave from his duties because of this very ailment, and had once even fainted at the Censorate.

Why would it flare up again now, of all times? Such terrible timing.

Recalling Cheng Chang’s gaunt, deathly pale face just now, Pei Ming couldn’t help but think back to Shan Wenxuan’s superstitious chatter along the way.

He didn’t believe in such things, but he couldn’t help joking to himself — they said gods and demons often had an otherworldly bearing, and with that noble yet ghastly look of his, the Third Young Master really did resemble some fierce spirit from the underworld.

Pei Ming found an acquaintance at the Ministry of War and relayed Prince Ling’s wishes, then sent someone to the Privy Council to find Pei Lan, before returning to the Ministry of Works.

By the time dusk had fully settled, Pei Lan finally arrived at the Ministry of Works and bowed to Pei Ming: “Father, you wished to see me?”

Pei Ming closed the file in his hand and stood up: “We’ll talk on the way.”

Father and son rode home together in the same carriage. Along the way, Pei Ming asked Pei Lan: “Lan’er, have you finished the matter I asked you to handle the other day?”

Pei Lan was silent for a long while before answering: “I have roughly twenty thousand troops at my disposal. I’ve had them mustered and counted these past few days.”

Pei Ming nodded: “Give the order. Muster the troops.”

Hearing this, Pei Lan fell silent again, and after a long while, only gave a soft “Mn.”

Inside the carriage the lamplight was dim. By its faint glow, Pei Ming glanced at Pei Lan.

He understood this son of his — somewhat wayward, somewhat prone to grand, unrealistic ambitions, though having been raised and taught by the Old Matriarch in his childhood, he still had some sense of right and wrong when it truly mattered. Fortunately, his temperament wasn’t overly proud, and he did not dare defy his father.

“In three days, the Fifth Prince will be restored to the clan register at Mingyin Temple. That is when we will ‘purge His Majesty’s side’ for him,” Pei Ming instructed further.

Pei Lan again gave only a soft “Mn.”

Before long, they reached the Pei Mansion. Pei Ming called over a servant and asked after the Old Matriarch’s condition that day.

Ever since her quarrel with Pei Ming the last time, the Old Matriarch had fallen so ill she could no longer rise from her bed. The prescription the physician had written included a sedative to induce sleep, so she now slept through most of the day and night.

But this was for the best — if she could sleep through it, she would worry less, and worrying less, she could recover better.

Learning that the Old Matriarch had only woken once that day and spoken no more than three sentences in total, Pei Ming couldn’t help but feel a twinge of concern.

But then he thought again — once the great cause was accomplished, there would be plenty of time to show her filial devotion. Since his mother clearly did not wish to see him at present, he chose not to go and make himself unwelcome, and instead sent Pei Lan in his place to fulfill his filial duties.

Taking leave of Pei Ming, Pei Lan walked alone toward the Old Matriarch’s warm chamber.

The chamber was pitch dark, lit only by the faint glow of a charcoal brazier — the old woman, sensitive to cold, had a fire lit even on summer nights.

Pei Lan pushed open the door and called softly: “Grandmother.”

After a long moment, a trembling voice came from the bed: “Lan’er has come.”

Pei Lan lit a candle, walked to the bedside, and took the Old Matriarch’s hand: “Yes, your grandson has come.” Then he instructed the two maids beside the bed: “You may go now. I will attend to her tonight.”

The two maids acknowledged this and withdrew.

Pei Lan waited quietly in the room until the sound of their footsteps had faded, then set the candle aside, carefully shut the door and windows once more, returned to the bedside, and helped the Old Matriarch down from the bed, settling her into a seat in the outer room.

Leaning on her cane, the Old Matriarch let out a long, weary sigh after a good while: “Speak.”

Pei Lan said: “It’s been decided. Three days from now.”

The Old Matriarch’s gaze sharpened, and she said in shock: “So… he’s really going to raise troops?”

Pei Lan nodded.

The shock in the Old Matriarch’s eyes turned to grief, and she struck her cane hard against the floor: “What a cursed calamity!”

Who was the Old Matriarch, after all? She had once commanded battlefields for years, the foremost fourth-rank female general of her generation at court.

As early as when the Third Young Master had been attacked at the Pei estate’s water pavilion, she had already suspected that Pei Ming might have secretly allied himself with some prince. Later, when Pei Lan, acting on Pei Ming’s instructions, had secretly hidden Yun Luo’s letter and denied the Marquis of Zhongyong’s household any chance to have their case reopened, her suspicions had been all but confirmed.

How lamentable — she had served the state with utmost loyalty her whole life, only to have given birth to a son who was this reckless, glory-seeking, unable to tell right from wrong.

The Old Matriarch had spent two years earnestly trying to dissuade Pei Ming, but he had refused to listen. Now, all she could do was abandon the son to save the grandson — to protect Pei Lan.

The Old Matriarch thought: however foolish Lan’er might be, she had raised him herself after all. Of all the many descendants in the family, who were mostly scholars, only Lan’er had trained in the martial arts, and he was the one most like her. So even if Pei Ming would not listen to her, Lan’er surely would.

Having made this decision, the Old Matriarch had pretended to be gravely ill, so that Pei Ming would send Pei Lan to her bedside daily to fulfill his filial duties, and secretly had Pei Lan report to her everything happening in the outside world.

She had never expected that Pei Ming would truly go so far as to raise an army in rebellion.

For a moment, grandmother and grandson fell silent together. After a long while, Pei Lan said: “Two days ago, the Third Young Master came to see me and told me the truth of how the Marquis died in battle on the northern frontier back then.”

“What is it?” the Old Matriarch asked.

“He said,” Pei Lan paused, “it was because Prince Ling and Father conspired with the enemy.”

The Old Matriarch was stunned, then struck her cane down hard: “I knew it! I knew it! No wonder he’s so obstinately blind to reason!! How did the Pei household end up with such a wretched scoundrel?!”

“But your grandson did not truly believe the Third Young Master,” Pei Lan quickly added. “The Third Young Master is no upright man either. As far as I can see, his own rebellious intentions are no less than Prince Ling’s — who’s to say he isn’t just trying to stir up trouble between us?”

Yet even as he said this, Pei Lan couldn’t help but recall the cold, cutting look on Cheng Chang’s face that day.

Cheng Chang had even told him plainly, with open candor: “I am indeed trying to stir up trouble. But as for the truth of the matter — does General Pei really not understand it clearly? When Zhaoyuan betrayed us back then, and over ten thousand men died on the northern frontier, General Pei personally went to the frontier and witnessed the devastation there with his own eyes.”

“Your grandson… intends to investigate the matter fully first, before deciding what to do next,” Pei Lan said. “Even if — even if it means going against Father, I ought to remain loyal to His Majesty. I cannot, in the end, fall into the Third Young Master’s trap.”

“Investigate fully? They’re raising their army in three days — how much time do you have left to investigate?” the Old Matriarch asked.

As she spoke, she suddenly gripped Pei Lan’s hand tightly: “Lan’er, your grandmother has a way.”

She said, word by word: “Go find A’Ting.”

“A’Ting?”

“Yes. Of all people, the Yun family of the Marquis of Zhongyong’s household is the most loyal and upright and steadfast. At a juncture such as this, only she can point you toward the right path.”

“But A’Ting and the Third Young Master—”

“Your grandmother trusts her,” the Old Matriarch said. “Go and invite her here. Let your grandmother speak with her herself.”

Pei Lan gave a bitter smile: “Grandmother knows well enough — ever since… ever since A’Ting and I broke off our engagement, no matter how many times I’ve invited her, she has refused to come to the Pei household again.”

This was true. Both last New Year and this one, Pei Lan had called at the Marquis of Zhongyong’s household, hoping for nothing more than that Yun Xi might come visit the Old Matriarch.

But every time he called, he was turned away at the door — either Yun Xi was not in, or she brushed him off with some excuse about being too busy.

“Then have the physician prescribe your grandmother a strong dose of medicine,” the Old Matriarch said. “Go tell A’Ting that your grandmother’s life is nearly at its end, and that in her final hours, she wishes to see her one last time.”

“How could I do that? Grandmother’s health is already failing day by day — what if a strong dose proves too much for you to bear? Let your grandson think of some other way.”

“What other way is there to think of!” the Old Matriarch said urgently. “At a moment of life and death like this, once the palace coup breaks out, there will be bloodshed beyond counting. Never mind that Prince Ling will be defeated — the entire Pei household will be implicated as accomplices. And if he does succeed in his ‘great cause,’ would you dare, from then on, to guard the frontier as a man who once conspired with the enemy? Rest assured — until I see your unworthy father repent, your grandmother will not draw her last breath!”