With this proof in hand, Wang Dafu reported the full truth to the Emperor and proposed recalling Zhù Ying to court. One of the nine most senior officials, sitting at home for a month over a baseless rumor — it was unseemly.

The Emperor also felt that a month behind closed doors was enough to offset some of Zhù Ying’s discourtesy at court.

Du Shi’en had put it well: “Among all the court’s officials, the Court President is one who can get things done and knows how to get them done.”

Right — time to haul her back to get things done! The past month had been the hottest of the year, and the Emperor felt he was gradually gaining some understanding of state affairs. But using his officials still felt awkward. He also understood that his people from his days before ascending the throne had loyalty but limited ability. The Eastern Palace’s staff were mostly assembled by the late Emperor to prop up the facade — and they were not very useful either.

To govern the country, he still had to find capable and willing people from the existing lot.

Looking around, he felt Zhù Ying should be among them. Though she had never sworn undying loyalty, during the palace upheaval Zhù Ying had stood firmly in support of the Eastern Palace.

The Emperor believed that Zhù Ying had made a mistake, and this was a very good opportunity to take her into his confidence. This way, among the nine senior officials, he would have one who truly listened to him! As the saying goes — a worn tool does not do good work. A “dutiful child” who showed emotional reaction — she was reassuring to use.

Before, Zhù Ying always gave him a sense of immovability — like facing a sheer cliff with nothing to grip. After ascending the throne, many of the officials felt a bit like that. “Firm as a mountain, still as a deep pool” sounded reliable, but it also made people hard to get close to. Now it was different — the Emperor felt he had found what Zhù Ying “sought,” and that opened up room for negotiation.

The Emperor quickly issued an order: “What are you doing with someone else’s family letters? Return them. Tell her — the most insufferable summer has already passed; now that the heat-relief season is here, she should come back.”

Wang Dafu quickly agreed and passed it to a censor, Yu Qingyuan, who was sent to the Zhù estate — first to deliver the letters, then to convey the Emperor’s “verbal edict.”

Yu Qingyuan received the order and arrived at the Zhù estate, announced the conclusion, and the two of them looked out at the blinding white glare of the sun outside. It was just the sixth month — the heat was intolerable.

Who said summer was over?

Zhù Ying respectfully received the family letters. She invited Yu Qingyuan to have some chilled drinks to cool off, then exchanged a few casual words with him.

Yu Qingyuan said, “Guan Qing is dead, and many matters have died with him, leaving no one to testify. His mother’s death had something suspicious about it — it was Shi Junior Minister’s wife’s maidservant who spotted it. The case was therefore merged and the two investigated together. But the events took place inside their own home, and the family members would not dare say much. We all estimate it is likely connected to Guan Zongming. A pity the person is dead and cannot speak; Guan Zongming swore by heaven and earth up and down. But a person has died — there must be a murderer. Do you think…”

Zhù Ying nodded. “True. Most likely it’s… oh! You can’t bring a son’s charges against a father. But the mother met with an untimely end, so he wanted to do something that would draw attention? But what does that have to do with me? Guan Zongming killing his wife is strange too — if he genuinely wanted to show loyalty, he should have acted at the time of the palace upheaval last year.”

“That much I don’t know,” said Yu Qingyuan. “Later the Guan family maidservants were brought in and interrogated. One of them said that at the time of the incident, only Guan Zongming and his wife were in the room.”

“She’s a servant — the fact that she said that much is already commendable.”

Yu Qingyuan spread his hands: “Indeed! And the deceased First Young Madam was also her mistress. Tsk!”

“What was the conclusion?”

“Guan Zongming ran an ill-governed household and additionally plotted against his wife. He was permitted to redeem his official rank and title in place of punishment. As for the maidservant — the Court of Judicial Review said it wasn’t safe to send her back to the Guan family, so they had the Guan family issue a written deed of emancipation. True to the character of those you’ve trained — they always show some compassion. As for you — you suffered all this for no reason.”

Zhù Ying kept feeling there was something else behind all this, and she truly could not understand Guan Qing’s logic of “father killed mother, therefore go impeach the Court President for his parents being dead.” There was no cause-and-effect connection. If she wanted to get revenge on the Guan family, he wouldn’t escape it either, and that wouldn’t necessarily lead anyone to investigate his mother’s cause of death. Surely he couldn’t have been trying to invite an enemy to take revenge on his whole family in order to give them all a way out?

“Xian Elder also says it’s odd,” said Yu Qingyuan. “Wang Chancellor also says it’s odd. By the way — the Chancellor says it’s time for you to come back, and not to be so presumptuous before the Emperor again.”

“Understood.” Zhù Ying rose to her feet and received this last remark standing.

“Then I’ll take my leave!” said Yu Qingyuan.

“Safe travels.”

Once he was gone, Zhù Ying read through both letters, confirming they were in the two elders’ handwriting, then looked carefully at the paper and the ink to confirm they were of recent composition.

Her parents were all right — she should go back to court.

Zhù Qingjun and Xiang Le were still in Wuzhou and hadn’t returned. Zhù Ying had assigned Zhù Qingjun tasks to complete, and Xiang Le’s wife and children were back in his hometown — spending more time at home was only right.

She had Zhù Yin bring out her court robes. Zhù Ying went to look in on the tabby cat dozing in the corner. In the heat, it too didn’t seem inclined to move. It lay there listlessly, looked at Zhù Ying once, and then closed its eyes again.

Zhù Ying held a basket above it and measured. “This is bad! How did you get so fat? You won’t even fit in your bed anymore! Feed it less from now on!”

Zhù Yin draped the robe over the clothes rack and said, “Yes~”

The tabby cat’s ears twitched, and it suddenly perked up, arched its body slightly, and looked up at Zhù Ying.

“First switch to a bigger basket,” said Zhù Ying. “Otherwise you won’t fit.”

The cat settled back down with aggrieved indignation on the nearest cushion, spreading itself out so completely it covered the whole cushion. Zhù Yin laughed. “Ha — what a fatty.”

The tabby cat let out a plaintive “mrrrow.” Zhù Yin said, “I can weave a bamboo basket right now — it’ll be ready by tomorrow morning.”

“Good. There’s no rush — just remember to do it. If it doesn’t work, go buy one. It got fat on its own; no harm in making it a little uncomfortable tomorrow too.”

The tabby cat dared feel anger but dared not voice it — it let out a low, aggrieved whimper and spread itself even flatter.

Zhù Yin put the court robe away neatly, then found the waist sash, ivory tablet, and so on. She held the bamboo tablet against the plump cat to gauge the length, fixed in her mind the size for the new basket, set the tablet down, and went out.

Zhù Ying gazed at the purple-and-red court robe on the rack, her mind elsewhere. Her parents were getting on in years; she was unwilling to spend the years ahead separated from her closest kin by great distances. She still had much she wanted to do — and yet as one of the nine highest officials in the land, with power far greater than before, she also faced greater malice directed at her and was far less free.

Her wings were not yet full enough to shelter her parents and enjoy their company.

She absolutely refused to choose between “realizing her ambitions” and “caring for her parents.” She wanted both!

It was time to return to court.

…

The next morning, Zhù Yin handed over a bamboo basket, one size larger, lined with two layers of old cloth. Master Hu scooped up the tabby cat and dropped it in: “It’s gotten heavier again.”

Zhù Ying asked Zhù Yin, “Were you up late making this?”

“Not at all!” said Zhù Yin cheerfully. “We always make things in our spare time to keep from getting rusty. There happened to be one half-finished already — I found one the right size and just finished it up. Didn’t take long.”

Turns out it was done in passing.

Everyone had a laugh at the fat cat’s expense; the cat was very indignant and scratched Master Hu’s sleeve loose at the seam. Master Hu pressed it back down into the bamboo basket.

Today was not a major court audience, but Zhù Ying still had to attend court.

While waiting in line outside the palace walls, she greeted familiar faces as she always had. The Chancellors arrived later; Leng Yun and the others came first. Leng Yun smiled. “Not bad! You look sharp — just a little thin.”

Zhù Ying spread her arms. “Summer slimming — the waist sash only needs tightening by one notch.”

“You look well,” said Chen Meng.

“Of course,” said Zhù Ying with a smile. “I’m in a good mood.”

“Good news at home?” asked Chen Meng.

Zhù Ying nodded happily. “Letters from Wuzhou — and letters from Wuzhou don’t come easily.”

A cough from Zheng Xi. Zhù Ying looked over to see him striding forward with measured steps, looking her up and down, and saying, “Fairly composed.”

Liu Songnian had just arrived and, hearing this, said, “Composed, is he? Threatening people in open court.”

“Exactly,” said Zhù Ying. “My mask slipped — I’m no longer putting on airs.”

This left Liu Songnian so vexed he went off to complain to Wang Yunhe.

The “younger set” laughed heartily behind their backs. Noticing that Zheng Xi seemed to have something to say to her, Leng Yun waved his hand and drifted off to find Hou Leng; Chen Meng also went off to chat with acquaintances.

“Bian Xing’s case is settled,” said Zheng Xi. “Did you hear?”

“I heard — no serious harm done to him.” Though she was supposedly behind closed doors in reflection, she was kept well informed about conditions outside, especially at the Court of Judicial Review. Su Zhe and Lin Feng had to report to Liu Songnian’s estate daily and came back each evening to recount the day’s events. Zhu Tai still went to the Court of Judicial Review every day and came back to describe everything. Zhù Lian continued going out to tend to business matters, bringing back the latest news from the streets. Plus, Xiang An was still busy managing affairs, and the flow of new intelligence never slowed. Zhù Ying apart from resting for a month, had not missed a thing. And with more time, she had also gotten more practice in her physical training — hence looking a little thinner.

Bian Xing’s case had been concluded three days prior; she knew about it the very evening of that day. As they say, officials tend to take a little here and there — Bian Xing’s takings were on the larger side. When Leng Yun left the post, he had given Bian Xing a refurbished prefect’s yamen — the initial renovation alone had cost a great sum. Adding everything else he had pocketed, the fact that no great disaster occurred was due entirely to him still coasting on old reserves.

When Lin Zan reported this upward, Leng Yun heard it and exploded: “What?! He ate through everything I left behind?! That rotten dog! What a wastrel!”

Leng Yun looked left and right for an ally, then noticed Lu Taichang, who had been there before him as a prior predecessor in the post. He pulled Lu Taichang over: “The treasury you left me was full, and when I departed, I built new storehouses to hold the winter wheat reserves. And this wastrel squandered everything the two of us worked for!”

What a fury!

Lu Taichang did not react with particular anger. The provinces were like this — one term after another, sometimes better, sometimes worse. As long as one’s own conscience was clear. Lu Taichang stuck to the facts: “The people have suffered for it! Such a man acts wickedly and the common people will think the Son of Heaven himself has abandoned them. Your Majesty — please dispatch an envoy to proclaim to the people that this was not the court’s intention.”

Leng Yun was not so calm; he had served as an official for nearly thirty years, and his most impressive accomplishments were in the south! Leng Yun was heartbroken, and nearly — right there at court — demanded that Bian Xing be hit with an additional charge on top of the rest.

The final verdict was dismissal from office, with the shortfalls on the books demanded back from him. Charges that should have resulted in imprisonment were also redeemed. Out of respect for his age, he was dismissed and sent back to his native place. His son was not so fortunate — the son had not yet entered the civil service, so he received a genuine flogging and exile, without permission to redeem his sentence with copper.

What Bian Xing’s wife had said was not entirely wrong — Mu Chengzhou, the Emperor’s maternal uncle, was also no paragon of clean governance, and he was not touched.

“Duan Shi has filed a petition with the Jingzhao offices requesting a separation of property and an independent household,” said Zheng Xi.

Zhù Ying raised an eyebrow. Zheng Xi gave a mocking laugh. “I am not so petty as to take revenge on a married-out daughter of the Duan family. She has property of her own; she says she does not wish to drag down her husband’s family. I approved it. The Bian family kept her son and she could not fight it, so she didn’t force the issue. For a Duan family member to finally exercise some sense — otherwise, with a large amount of property in hand and the Bian family in such straits, well…”

That would just be the family eating her out of house and home, Zhù Ying thought.

“She thought of this solution,” said Zhù Ying. “She’ll most likely manage to protect herself.”

“Before that one in the Guan family died,” said Zheng Xi, “she had been making frequent visits there on her husband’s family’s behalf. That one in the Guan family panicked, afraid you would hold a grudge and retaliate against them, and so she decided to strike first.”

Zhù Ying thought: …I am completely wronged here! I didn’t even strike Shen Ying! Why would I bother with her?

“How did you find that out?” she asked.

“The Guan family’s maidservants need to register their household with the Jingzhao offices.”

Zhù Ying finally managed to piece together a rough chain of “cause and effect,” but still found it baffling that anyone could think in that way. What did I want to do to you? I had nothing to do with you!

“Don’t worry about her,” said Zheng Xi. “She’s harmless now. Here — go stand where you belong.”

Zhù Ying shook out her sleeves. Leng Yun was over in the queue waving at her; Zhù Ying walked briskly over.

…

At today’s court session, Zhù Ying attracted many glances — but not one person brought up her affairs. It was as if she had never been “away” for a month.

The session ended peacefully. The Emperor did not try to confer titles on more of his sons, grant his old associates additional offices, or raise his son-in-law directly to a senior post.

None of that happened — he had become far quieter.

After the main business was concluded, Zhù Ying stepped forward to apologize to the Emperor.

“You suffered an injustice,” said the Emperor. “I am aware of the whole matter.”

“I too was at fault,” said Zhù Ying. “I do not regret standing up for my parents — but I was young and hot-headed, and I said at court what was truly in my heart. This should not have happened. The matter of parents — I handled correctly. The matter of the Emperor — I ask Your Majesty to punish me.”

“How could I punish a dutiful child?” the Emperor asked.

Zhù Ying still insisted on requesting punishment: “I did not seek a reckoning before because I was still awaiting news of my parents. Now that my wish has been fulfilled, I ask Your Majesty to pass sentence. Otherwise it is not sufficient to show the court’s proper order.”

“How could I punish a dutiful child?” the Emperor repeated.

The two went back and forth for a good while. The Emperor said that her period of reflection behind closed doors had been repentance enough. He made a token gesture, adding a fine of a few strings of copper as punishment. For an ordinary person, such a sum would be quite painful — for someone like Zhù Ying, it was exceedingly light.

Court concluded. The Emperor then retained Zhù Ying for a further audience.

Zhù Ying rarely had the opportunity for a private audience with the Emperor. Though at this moment Du Shi’en and a number of eunuchs and palace ladies were present at the side, this still counted as a private audience.

The Emperor bade Zhù Ying be seated. Zhù Ying first did not sit, but solemnly gave thanks to the Emperor for having allowed her to send someone to inquire after her parents rather than summoning the two elders to the capital. Then she gave thanks for the Emperor’s earlier visit by Du Shi’en, with gifts as reassurance.

She said, “At that time I was overcome with apprehension. It was only with Your Majesty’s guidance that I gradually found peace.”

“Sit down and speak,” said the Emperor.

Once Zhù Ying was seated, the Emperor looked over this young President of the Court of Judicial Review. He was rather pleased. Zhù Ying’s fair complexion and beardless face gave him the impression of “youth” — and youth represented not yet being fully set in one’s ways; there was still room for him to shape her into “his own person.” Young. Which meant she was not one of the old men — not yet completely calcified. He still had room to cultivate a “loyal subject of his own.”

The Emperor said, “Since the end of last year, you’ve been run off your feet without a rest. With one month at home, have you recovered?”

“Yes.”

“You were resting while there was no shortage of matters at court.”

“I am ashamed, Your Majesty — you attend to ten thousand affairs of state.”

The Emperor suddenly said with a trace of melancholy, “What do I have to be busy about?”

“Why does Your Majesty say this?”

The Emperor complained, “My words — no one listens to them. The edicts I issue are constantly returned for revision. I have rewarded those with merit, and I have also… the treacherous have been punished. I have not indulged in widespread massacre. I have not commissioned great palaces. I have not favored treacherous ministers. Why does it still come to this?”

As he spoke, he watched Zhù Ying intently. Zhù Ying knew that this was no longer a moment for evasion. The Emperor before her — he had already caught a faint taste of what it meant to be Emperor.

“I was born in the countryside,” said Zhù Ying. “I never studied the classics and histories in my youth; I am far from the way of the sages, and closer to the way of the Legalists. Therefore I dare not speak rashly before my sovereign and father.”

“Speak without fear,” said the Emperor. “There will be no offense taken.”

“I dare not speak of the way of the ruler,” said Zhù Ying. “I have not read the classics properly, and I do not understand. Nor does Your Majesty need to hear the way of the minister from me. Your Majesty is older than I am, and I have no life experience to teach Your Majesty. What I can offer is only what I have seen with my own eyes.”

“Speak,” said the Emperor.

“When I came to the capital, I was only twelve or thirteen. At that time, the late Emperor was of an age similar to Your Majesty’s present age — perhaps a few years older, but not by much.”

The Emperor nodded.

“Yet at that time,” said Zhù Ying, “the late Emperor had already held the throne for twenty years. Your Majesty’s reign is only in its first year. Forgive this blunt speech — though of the same age, Your Majesty has somewhat less experience. Many things are simply a matter of time, and one’s hands becoming practiced. Right now, it is about this little amount of time.

“When I first came to the capital, I was a mere Evaluator at the Court of Judicial Review — the lowest rank. I encountered the Gong treason case, the impersonation-of-the-condemned case, and saw so many old case files and so many absurdities. I understood how to handle them, but none of it was my place to do anything about. A whole pond of fish, I reached in and scooped twice without catching anything. So I stepped back and went to cut bamboo to make a fishing rod.”

“Weaving a net, not a rod?” the Emperor asked with a smile.

“To cast a net, you need a boat,” said Zhù Ying. “I had no net — a pole was enough.”

The Emperor sighed. “I already have white hairs. I’m afraid I don’t have twenty years.”

“That’s impossible to say,” said Zhù Ying. “One day’s work, one day at a time. Accumulate the days and piece them together — that’s how the years are built!”

The Emperor laughed. “What if I said right now I wanted to promote my son-in-law?”

“Then first give the son-in-law an assignment,” said Zhù Ying. “For example, Shi Chancellor is still overseeing the construction of the imperial mausoleum. Your Majesty must be concerned about the late Emperor’s resting place. Once that is done and he comes back…”

The Emperor clapped his hands: “Excellent! You are so secretive — if I don’t ask, you would never say a word! And when you do say something, it comes out like a riddle or a koan. I truly don’t know what is in your heart, and still less who you feel close to.”

“I have always been loyal to Your Majesty,” said Zhù Ying.

“A loyal subject and a dutiful child,” said the Emperor. “Off to your Court of Judicial Review! Without someone at the head, those people can’t work smoothly.”

Zhù Ying rose: “Shi and Lin, the two officers, are diligent and faithful — they managed the Court of Judicial Review’s affairs perfectly well. I take my leave.”

She bowed deeply, took three steps back, turned, and departed.

The Emperor watched her retreating figure and fell into thought. He had previously spoken with Wang Yunhe, Shi Kun, and Liu Songnian — at first they too had spoken in platitudes, the kind about not altering the father’s ways for three years and so forth.

Later, pressed further, Liu Songnian had said one sentence: “Your Majesty — at present, can you actually change anything?”

He couldn’t! No wonder they said three years! He hadn’t understood until now.

Shi Kun had told him: “Please, Your Majesty, first cultivate virtue and draw close to virtuous ministers.” With Liu Songnian’s words as a foundation, the Emperor understood the flavor of that. But still, they had not taught him what specifically to do. Regarding the son-in-law, they said he was still young. And don’t compare yourself to the late Emperor — do you really think you surpass him?

Wang Yunhe had said, “The people are the root of the state — please, Your Majesty, first love your subjects.” This was the kind of thing Wang Yunhe would say. How to love them? Lighten taxes and reduce levies? Those words would need to carry weight first. Wang Yunhe taught him patience, to observe in stillness which among the officials were useful, to first select people, then get things done. But that still required time.

By comparison, Liu Songnian was the more endearing and direct of the lot. With Zhù Ying, cornered and pressed, she had sounded a bit like Liu Songnian. The Emperor felt somewhat grateful to Guan Qing — if that young man hadn’t stirred up a fuss, Zhù Ying would never have faced a difficult moment, and the Emperor would never have found this opening.

The Emperor thought to himself: Zhù Ying may not be Confucian — but she’s not exactly Legalist either, is she?

Du Shi’en had been standing quietly in attendance throughout. Only when the Emperor rose did he follow. The Emperor stood before a curio shelf and reached out to take down a jade-carved dragon boat, saying, “Tonight send someone again to Zhù Ying’s home — take this to her.”

“Yes.”

…

Zhù Ying returned to the Court of Judicial Review. The warm welcome that followed need not be described in detail.

That evening back at home, Du Shi’en arrived. Du Shi’en brought not only the jade boat in its brocade box, but also some gold, silks, and precious items — a full cartload, all gifts from the Emperor.

“This is… far too much,” said Zhù Ying.

“His Majesty says,” said Du Shi’en, “that you had to pay a fine of copper today too — don’t put yourself out.”

“That would never happen,” said Zhù Ying.

Du Shi’en declined her red envelope. Zhù Ying said, “Even if you won’t accept it, those who’ve come all this way in the heat still need a cup of tea at the very least.”

Du Shi’en then let his young apprentice accept a red envelope from Xiang An’s hands.

The two exchanged a few more words; Du Shi’en departed to report back. Zhù Ying held the jade boat that shimmered with deep luster, and thought: Time to board the ship.

She placed the jade boat carefully in her room to be kept safe.

The next day, the Emperor did indeed say that his son-in-law was now old enough that it was time he learned to take on burdens for the Emperor. He was dispatched as Shi Kun’s assistant for overseeing the construction of the imperial mausoleum.