Cheng Chang left the cell, returned the case file and wooden box to their place, and the wardens standing nearby, seeing the displeasure on the third young master’s face, didn’t dare say a word.
Leaving the Ministry of Justice, he looked up to find it had begun to snow.
The snow came down fiercely, great goose-feather flakes as if they’d been building up since the start of winter, and now that the clouds could no longer bear the weight, they poured it all down at once.
The world turned white with falling snow in an instant. Farther off, a few high-ranking court officials seeking an imperial audience were being stopped outside the palace gates by Palace Command guards, each having his fish tally checked one by one. They seemed unable to bear the cold, sleeves drawn in, stamping their feet in place.
Cheng Chang watched for a moment from a distance, and was about to leave when someone called out behind him, “Third young master.”
It was the clerk from the Ministry of Justice who had greeted him that morning.
“Lord Wei from the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau came to the office looking for you just now, third young master. Learning you were interrogating a suspect, he said not to disturb you, but this humble official thought that since Lord Wei was looking for you specifically, it must be something important, so I came especially to let you know.”
Cheng Chang was taken aback. “Lord Wei?”
“Wei Jie, my lord.”
Cheng Chang remembered now—Wei Jie, Commander of the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau, General of Loyal Valor.
The Imperial Bodyguard Bureau, put plainly, was much like the Embroidered Uniform Guard of the Ming dynasty in another world—answering only to the Emperor himself. For someone like Wei Jie to come looking for him, it almost certainly had something to do with imperial orders, which explained why the clerk had gone out of his way to inform him.
Since crossing over, Cheng Chang had seen Wei Jie at a few court banquets—he only remembered him as a man with sweeping brows, an unkempt, scraggly beard, an air of someone none too reliable in his work, and a fondness for drink.
Cheng Chang asked, “What does Lord Wei want with me?”
“This humble official doesn’t know,” the clerk said, then added with a smile, “though it’s likely about the old Marquis of Zhongyong’s case.”
Though the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau served only the Emperor, most of the cases they handled—save for the most highly classified ones—were still recorded in the files of the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review. As a clerk of the Ministry of Justice, he could naturally guess as much.
“When you first went missing, third young master, the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review had combined your disappearance case with the old Marquis’s case for joint investigation. Now that you’ve returned, the disappearance case has been closed, and what remains of the old Marquis’s case has been transferred to the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau,” the clerk said. “I hear it’s on His Majesty’s own orders, insisting the Bureau give you a proper accounting, third young master.”
Cheng Chang had been hunted down precisely because he’d gone digging into the wrongful case of the old Marquis. By now, the shadow guards who’d tried to kill him were either dead or had vanished without a trace—the only lead left was this case of the old Marquis.
But Cheng Chang understood that Emperor Zhaoyuan ordering the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau to investigate the old Marquis’s case wasn’t necessarily meant to give him any real accounting. More likely, he simply wanted a plausible cover story on record for why a princely young master had been ambushed and nearly killed—something that could quietly fade into obscurity given enough time.
Cheng Chang had no idea what Emperor Zhaoyuan was truly thinking. His attitude had always been ambiguous—shielding both Prince Ling and Prince Yun on one hand, while clearly displeased with both sons on the other. But with his health failing and his one remaining young prince only six years old, far too young to bear the weight of the throne, how exactly did he plan to resolve the succession problem?
Never mind. Whatever the Emperor was thinking, it had nothing to do with him.
Cheng Chang said, “Then I’ll go over to the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau.”
“No need, no need,” the Ministry of Justice clerk said hastily, stepping in front of Cheng Chang as he made to leave, with an awkward smile. “Lord Wei, when he couldn’t find you just now, third young master, said he had nothing better to do and went off to the palace tavern for a drink instead.”
Cheng Chang paused. High court officials reported for duty and left at fixed hours—what time was it even now, that he’d already gone drinking outside the palace?
The clerk continued, “But you needn’t worry it’ll delay the Bureau’s business, third young master. When Lord Wei came by, he happened to run into Captain Yun, who was here reporting to the Ministry of War—isn’t she from the Marquis of Zhongyong’s household? So Lord Wei had someone invite Captain Yun over to the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau first.”
Cheng Chang asked, “Yun Xi?”
“Yes, that’s her—the eldest young lady of the Marquis’s house,” the clerk said. “The old Marquis’s case is complicated, and it’s been shelved for years now, so the Bureau likely has quite a bit to ask Captain Yun. You can always go another day, third young master, it’ll be just the same.”
With that, he turned back into the office to fetch an umbrella and handed it to Cheng Chang, then pointed up at the sky. “It’s terribly cold today. You’re of noble health, third young master—better to head back to the mansion early.”
Cheng Chang held the umbrella and walked along Xuanyuan Road toward the side gate of the palace. The snow had grown heavier, drifting thick and wide, blowing straight into people’s faces. Outside the side gate, a few carriage drivers waiting for their masters crouched together, blowing on their hands to keep warm, one of them saying, “How did it suddenly start snowing like this, no warning at all.”
“Right, it was clear just yesterday, and now suddenly this cold. Should’ve brought a padded jacket if I’d known.”
“Who could’ve predicted Heaven would pull a stunt like this? My master didn’t even bring a thin cloak when he left this morning—he must be freezing his bones off in the office right now.”
“Young Prince—”
Cheng Chang was listening thoughtfully to their chatter when he suddenly heard Sun Haiping’s voice.
He glanced over to see Sun Haiping running toward him carrying a hand warmer, panting. “Young Prince, you’re already done with your business! I’ll have the carriage brought around right away.”
With that, he handed the hand warmer to Cheng Chang.
“No need,” Cheng Chang said. “I still have something to attend to.”
Sun Haiping asked, “What’s up? Young Prince, what could be so urgent on such a freezing cold day?” Then he patted his chest, claiming credit. “Don’t worry, before I came to bring you the hand warmer, I already got some help tying up that blind fool Zhang Dahu—guaranteed he won’t be causing trouble at the Marquis’s mansion.”
Cheng Chang said, “I’m going to the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau.”
“The Imperial Bodyguard Bureau? That’s a long way off!”
But Cheng Chang didn’t explain further, and holding his umbrella, headed back into the palace.
The Imperial Bodyguard Bureau’s offices were located near the White Tiger Gate on the western side, outside the main palace grounds, but taking the palace’s inner passageways would be faster.
The snow came down in bursts, sometimes heavy, sometimes light. By the time Cheng Chang arrived at the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau, he saw from a distance a long line already formed outside the offices—more than ten people in the queue, some dressed like household servants, others like farmhands, all manner of appearances, mostly common folk.
Puzzled, Cheng Chang stepped forward to ask. One man looked him up and down and asked, “You’re not with the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau, are you?”
Though Cheng Chang wore official robes today, he had a fur cloak draped over top and no official cap, his ink-black hair simply gathered into a bun with a jade hairpin—there was nothing about him to reveal his status.
He said, “No.”
“Then if you’ve got business with the Bureau, you’ll have to wait in line like the rest of us. Once the officer up front”—the man pointed toward a long table set up outside the office—”takes down your name and origin, he’ll let you in.”
Cheng Chang said, “I’m here looking for someone.”
“Same thing,” the man said, gesturing at the people before and behind him. “I’m here looking for work. He’s here to ask about a case. See that one over there? Wearing an official’s robe with the rank badge—seventh rank, apparently, sent by some official up top to fetch something. Even he’s standing in line. Point is, once you’re at the Bureau, you play by Lord Wei’s rules.”
Cheng Chang: “…”
Well then. In this age of peace and prosperity, with the Emperor delegating so much authority, these close attendants of the throne had apparently gotten so bored they’d started running their own front-desk reception and open recruitment.
As the third young master of Prince Cong’s household, Cheng Chang could technically have simply announced himself and been welcomed inside without delay. But at heart, he was still a man from the twenty-first century, believing in equality for all, unaccustomed to relying on privilege for every little thing. So he held his umbrella and made his way to the very back of the long line.
The two clerks receiving people at the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau worked efficiently enough, and it wasn’t long before it was Cheng Chang’s turn.
“Name?”
“Cheng Chang.”
“Which characters?”
“The ‘chang’ from ‘daylight prolonged’—er, the ‘chang’ meaning bright morning, from the phrase about the clock and constant progress; and the eternal-sun kind of ‘chang.'”
Though Cheng was an imperial surname, it was common enough throughout Great Sui, and since the third young master’s given name wasn’t widely known to the public, the clerk thought nothing unusual of it.
“Age?”
“Twenty.”
“Place of residence, where are you from?”
“From Jinling. I live… in Wuyi Lane, in the eastern part of Jinling.”
The clerk’s brush paused. He looked up at Cheng Chang, startled. “You live in Wuyi Lane? Isn’t that where Prince Cong resides? Are you his neighbor?”
Cheng Chang: “…Mm.”
His father lived in the Sifan Courtyard within the princely mansion, and he himself lived in Fufeng Studio—neighbors, in a manner of speaking.
“Where do you serve?”
“The Censorate.”
“What business brings you here?”
“…Looking for someone.”
“All right then, go wait inside. When the officer in charge comes by, he’ll show you where to look.” The clerk, looking over the record he’d just written, found it increasingly odd—a man from Jinling, surnamed Cheng, neighbor to Prince Cong, and serving at the Censorate?
Where exactly did the third young master of Prince Cong’s household serve again?
The clerk suddenly shot up from his seat.
“C-come back!”
Cheng Chang had just closed his umbrella and was heading inside when he heard the clerk call out, and turned around to ask, “Something else?”
Earlier, with the heavy snow, he hadn’t gotten a clear look at the man’s face. Now, looking closely, the fellow before him looked like something out of a painting—who else could it be but the third young master?
“Th-third young master.” The clerk froze for an instant, then immediately dropped to his knees, panicked. “This humble one didn’t recognize your esteemed presence, and was disrespectful just now—please forgive me, third young master, please forgive me—”
It was hardly his fault for not recognizing him—who could have imagined that the third young master of Prince Cong’s household would come stand in a long line at the Imperial Bodyguard Bureau in such heavy snow?
The third young master had been harmed by someone, had survived against all odds and returned to Jinling, and word had it that His Majesty, moved with tender concern for him, already planned to name him heir apparent to the princedom come spring. Once named heir, he’d be the future prince in truth—a genuine young prince of the highest standing. From then on, anyone who encountered him would have to address him as “Your Highness”—an exalted status indeed, one that ordinary people could ill afford to offend.
The clerk’s sudden kneeling drew the attention of several officials from within the office, who came out to see what was happening. Recognizing Cheng Chang, they all knelt alongside the clerk at once. One of them, having finished apologizing, mustered the courage to step forward and ask, “May this humble official ask who the third young master has come to the Bureau to find?”
Cheng Chang was silent for a moment. “I’m looking for Captain Yun.”
“Captain Yun is currently attending to business over at the Martial Elegance Hall. This humble official will go announce your arrival right away.”
“No need,” Cheng Chang said.
He hadn’t expected his arrival to cause such a stir.
“I’ll just wait here a moment.” Glancing at the officials and the clerk still kneeling nearby, he said, “Everyone, please rise.”
“But the third young master can’t possibly wait out here,” the official said, startled. Hearing Cheng Chang’s words, it seemed he genuinely intended to wait personally for Captain Yun to finish her business. In such freezing, snowy weather? “This is the outer office—we haven’t even had time to light the charcoal braziers since winter set in. Third young master, please, come inside, come inside.”