Everyone at the Court of Judicial Review knew Gong Jie’s name — no one was unaware of him, and no one was unacquainted with how difficult he was to deal with. Zhù Ying, however, had only ever glimpsed him from a distance on those occasions when she saw him at the Court of Judicial Review; she had never spoken with him or met him face to face. The moment Zheng Xi said he was taking her along, Zhù Ying’s heart immediately quickened: “Me?”

Zheng Xi said with certainty: “Yes, you. Come along.” With that, he rose to his feet, called two junior clerks to follow, and together they headed toward the prison.

Zhù Ying was dumbfounded. When she had suggested interrogating Gong Jie, she had meant for Zheng Xi to go — she herself had never entertained the thought of doing it.

Gong Jie’s exploits were the stuff of legend within the Court of Judicial Review. This man had served as Chief Minister for over a decade, and he had a consistent talent for driving the presiding judges to their wits’ end. Being reduced to tears was considered getting off lightly — there were also those who had been tricked into giving away information, and others who had been lured into making insinuations that aroused suspicion and ruined their careers.

Cases like these were too numerous to count.

He also clung stubbornly to his claim that while “there may have been certain instances that were not entirely frugal, there was in truth no disloyalty in my heart.” Countless gold, silver, jewels, deeds to houses, and deeds to land had been unearthed from his home, and all of it fell under what he described as “not being entirely frugal.” Yet the twenty-year-old enmity was real enough — otherwise, there would have been no grounds to imprison him, and the Feng and Shen families would never have been summoned back.

From the bits of news Zhù Ying had pieced together, she deduced that this case must contain some inner secret that could not be spoken openly — for even Yang the Sixth of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, with his exceptionally well-connected ears, knew nothing of it. Nor had anyone let anything slip in the idle chatter among her colleagues at the Court of Judicial Review.

She was no fool! She had absolutely no intention of having any kind of deep engagement with Gong Jie herself. When there was trouble to be had, let someone taller bear it — pushing it onto one’s superior to take the blow was always the right move. Zheng Xi looked so composed and sure of himself; he would certainly be able to handle it!

Zhù Ying’s feet had rooted themselves to the ground. It was only when Zheng Xi noticed she hadn’t followed and urged her a second time — “What are you standing there dazed for?” — that she moved.

Zhù Ying pointed at her own nose: “Can I really do this?”

Zheng Xi said: “Haven’t you always had a very bold spirit?”

Zhù Ying said: “This task has always been handled by you. I’ve never done it before — I’m afraid of making a mess of it.” They didn’t have a single genuine ledger in their hands. To bluff Gong Jie, a certain level of skill was required. You’d have to make a man as crafty and seasoned as this one believe he had no trump cards and no way out.

Zheng Xi gave a light laugh: “Get yourself over here.”

Zhù Ying had no choice but to comply, and together they made their way to the Court of Judicial Review’s prison.

The prison was just as it had always been, and the prison warden was the same man she had seen last time, bent at the waist as he welcomed them in. Zheng Xi did not venture deep inside but gestured for Zhù Ying to go ahead. Zhù Ying pointed at her own nose again and silently mouthed: “Me?”

Zheng Xi nodded: “Go and tell him.”

Zhù Ying’s eyes went wide. She never in a thousand years would have guessed that “come along with me” meant exactly what it sounded like — that “you’ll get to meet Gong Jie” also meant exactly what it sounded like, and not “we’ll appear together.”

Zheng Xi sighed: “Do you think he’s someone easy to deal with? It has to seem like it slips out from you unintentionally.”

It took Zhù Ying a moment to work it out: Zheng Xi had crossed paths with Gong Jie many times, and because of that, the man would be on guard around him. She glanced again at Zheng Xi, who was simply waiting for her to move.

If that was how it was — she could do this!

She gave a nod, smoothed out her clothes, and said to the prison warden: “Lead the way.”

The warden bowed low and, keys in hand, went to unlock the door to Gong Jie’s cell. Zhù Ying stepped carefully inside.

……

It was a comfortable cell, as prison cells went. The Court of Judicial Review dealt exclusively with serious offenders — either the cases were severe or the offenders were of considerable standing — and as long as no one was deliberately targeting you, the conditions were tolerable enough. Gong Jie was a man whose case was both severe and whose status remained fairly elevated; he occupied a single cell. Now that the weather had turned cold, he had a sleeping mat, a blanket, and a brazier.

There was a table, chairs, a lamp, and bathing implements, and the sight of all of this made Zhù Ying more than a little envious: there’s no denying the difference rank makes — when I was in the capital prefectural prison, even my single cell wasn’t this well-appointed!

She kept her head slightly bowed, her steps a touch stiff. A few paces from Gong Jie she paused, looked over at him, and said: “Oh. Still alive, then. Fine — let’s go.”

Watching this young person put on such an artless, childish performance, Gong Jie smiled without a sound. Far too clumsy — sending a newcomer in to put him off his guard and pry a few words out of him? Had Zheng Xi truly exhausted all his tricks?

The prison warden gave Gong Jie a slight bow: “Are you well, sir?”

“Don’t talk to him too much — the old rascal is absolutely rotten!” Zhù Ying said rapidly to the warden. “Besides, he’s nearly finished anyway.”

As if afraid Gong Jie might bite her, she rushed on: “Let’s go quickly!”

Gong Jie finally gave Zhù Ying a single syllable: “Oh?”

Zhù Ying looked over at him again, her eyes going wide. She pressed her lips together hard, then turned her head away and asked the warden: “How has he been eating?”

The warden replied: “Three meals a day, fully in accordance with regulations. One bath per month.”

Zhù Ying said: “Give him something better to eat these next two days — and get him a clean set of clothes. Have him bathe.”

The colour in Gong Jie’s face shifted slightly. But Zhù Ying said nothing more. She gestured to the warden, and the two of them walked out.

After they had left, Zheng Xi asked: “How did it go?”

Zhù Ying said: “I didn’t say anything. I’ll have the prison warden go back and say it. Prepare hot water for bathing, clean clothes, good food.”

Zheng Xi understood immediately, and laughed with a curse: “You clever little creature!”

Zhù Ying then turned to the warden: “In a little while, once you’ve got everything ready, tell him that his case is nearly closed — that evidence has already been found. Tell him His Majesty had it burned, and the court’s officials wept with gratitude. Be respectful to him. He’s about to be finished, and soon you’ll have a much lighter time of it.”

A quiet pleasure stirred in the warden’s heart. For ordinary convicted officials there were family members, fellow townsmen, acquaintances, and all manner of connections through which the warden could still be compensated. In Gong Jie’s case, there was by now nothing left to extract, and only hard work remained — far better to live a lean, simple life with fewer burdens.

Before long, the warden led two jailers in with the items. A short while later, a faint sound came from inside: “What?!”

Then the voice dropped. In just a moment, the warden came hurrying out, bowed to Zheng Xi, and said: “He is asking for paper and brush. He wants to write something. He wants to see you, my lord.”

Zheng Xi and Zhù Ying exchanged a glance. The joy in each other’s eyes was plain to see. Zheng Xi waved his hand and waited for nearly half an hour before going in with the two junior clerks, signalling to Zhù Ying to wait outside.

Gong Jie had washed and dressed himself neatly. He sat upright at the table, and the wine and dishes that had been set out had been pushed to one side, untouched. The surface before him was clear. He looked at Zheng Xi and said with a shadowed face: “When I first set eyes on you years ago, I could see you were the sort of material that makes a Chief Minister. You have indeed proven capable.”

Zheng Xi treated him with the same composure and courtesy as before the case had broken: “You are too kind. Truly capable men are not in short supply — there are plenty of them in the deep mountains and old forests. What is rare is one who gets the chance to enter the hall and serve as a pillar. I would not dare entertain such ambitions for myself. I hear you wished to see me?”

“Did you get your hands on it?”

“Yes.”

“Read it?”

Zheng Xi gave a faint smile: “That is hardly something I would be fit to read. It’s better not to. No doubt His Majesty feels the same. When you know the source of the trouble, the best course is to cut it off at the root — why let it branch into further complications?” He signalled the junior clerk to rearrange the wine and dishes and said, “We have been acquainted for many years. Allow me to drink a cup with you.”

Gong Jie said: “There’s no need. Bring ink and brush!”

Zheng Xi looked at him in puzzlement. Gong Jie gave a cold laugh: “His Majesty is getting rather too bold — isn’t he afraid of cutting out the wrong root?”

“Oh?”

Gong Jie said quietly: “Even without him pressing for this, I would have written it. And you had better know certain things too. Otherwise…… His Majesty’s years are no longer few……”

There was something wrong in those words. Zheng Xi sharply uttered: “Watch what you say!” His expression shifted through several states before he finally ordered someone to bring paper and brush.

He glanced at Gong Jie once more, then Zheng Xi swept out of the room. Gong Jie gave a soft laugh. He raised a hand that trembled slightly and began to write, and as he wrote, his hand grew steadier and steadier. Zheng Xi then ordered that good food continue to be brought in, and that another lamp be added to the room. That day, Zheng Xi did not return to his residence; Zhù Ying did not return home either. Several people alongside them kept going through the night without rest.

Zheng Xi issued orders requiring the entire prison to be sealed off from all outside communication — nothing was to be allowed in from outside, no noise was to be permitted to pass in, and Gong Jie was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.

Gong Jie wrote in a single sustained burst through half a day and an entire night. By early the next morning, his eyes were red from exhaustion yet he refused to stop. Zheng Xi said to Zhù Ying: “You keep watch here. Do not allow anyone to come near.” He had to attend morning court!

Zhù Ying had already been up through the night and was only now beginning to feel the cold. She stamped her feet and said: “Don’t worry. Unless His Majesty himself comes in person.”

Zheng Xi said: “Even that is hard to predict.”

Not long after Zheng Xi left, Gong Jie finished writing inside and called out from within: “Zheng the Seventh, come in!”

Zhù Ying thought to herself: his rise to Chief Minister wasn’t undeserved — there’s real ability there. To remember accounts this clearly at his age, and to push through an entire night writing this much.

She walked in herself to collect what Gong Jie had written. Gong Jie slumped back in his chair and looked at her. In an unhurried tone, he said: “Young person — no need to fear me.”

A look of undisguised astonishment flashed across Zhù Ying’s eyes. The ink needed to dry, and to store the statement properly the pages had to be stacked one by one. In collecting them, she inevitably caught a glance — and at just that one glance, Zhù Ying was shocked: this was not a ledger! The characters on it she could read, and what they described was Gong Jie and certain officials of the court planning together how to be prepared to support a new emperor in the event that the current one “had an incident.”

This was an enormous joke gone horribly wrong!

Zhù Ying said in a low voice: “Lord Zheng has gone to morning court. Wait for him to come back and speak with you in person.” Clutching this stack of papers, she did not dare let them leave her body for a single moment. She merely instructed the prison warden to send hot water for Gong Jie to bathe.

……

Zhù Ying clutched this stack of scalding confessions and waited for Zheng Xi to return. Twenty years ago, the struggle for the throne — the Shen and Feng families had suffered such tremendous calamity, Minister Chen and his father-in-law’s family had cut themselves off from one another as if cleaved apart. Now, twenty years later, in the contest for succession to the throne, how many more lives would be fed into the fire? How many people would suffer the way Huajie had suffered? How many children would be sacrificed the way the Matchmaker Wang’s daughter had been?

She didn’t dare let her thoughts go there.

In this life, the higher one’s position, the more one must understand the meaning of fear.

After morning court, Zheng Xi had also hurried to arrange the Court of Judicial Review’s business for the day — everyone was to return and await his orders!

Then he rushed straight back to the Court of Judicial Review’s prison.

Zhù Ying’s face was sober as she handed him the stack of papers: “Congratulations, my lord. Something enormous has happened.”

Zheng Xi, seeing not a trace of a smile on her face, knew something was amiss. He opened the papers and took a sharp, cold breath: “No wonder.”

“And the ledger?”

Zheng Xi shook his head. He first studied the contents Gong Jie had written — reading everything carefully and thoroughly. The document listed a number of names, each with reasons attached. Gong Jie, for reasons unknown, had always been on bad terms with the Eastern Palace, feeling sure that once the Crown Prince ascended the throne, nothing good would come to him, and had consistently sought to work against the Crown Prince. Zheng Xi went through the list and found neither his own family nor his maternal uncle’s family there — his close relatives were all still safely accounted for. More distant relations were another matter, and those were unavoidable, but he had no intention of singling out their names.

In that case, however, there was still no trace of the ledger connected to the Prince of Gaoyangcommandery’s household.

Zheng Xi furrowed his brow: “This can’t wait any longer. Go and tell my maternal uncle — there’s no time to wait for the ledger. This matter cannot be suppressed. Tell him to proceed exactly as he had originally planned. Tell him to say: the matter of the theft at home has only just been resolved, and he has come to present himself immediately and confess.”

Zhù Ying said: “What if we tried another bluff?”

“Do you think he’d fall for the same trick twice?”

Zhù Ying said: “Give me two pages from what you have. I’ll take them to show some of the other detained suspects, bluff them — “

Zheng Xi considered it briefly and said: “Excellent. Be careful.” He named two of the suspects and said: “They are the most likely to know about the secret ledger. I’ll wait for you here.”

He took Gong Jie’s confession and went back into the prison. Looking through the wooden bars of the cell door, he saw that Gong Jie had already stretched out on his bed and fallen asleep, the table beside him strewn with the remnants of his meal. Afraid he had died, Zheng Xi hurriedly ordered a jailer to open the door and check — and found him sleeping soundly on his bed, pleasantly full after a good meal and drink.

Zheng Xi did not leave. He had a chair brought and sat outside the cell door, waiting for news from Zhù Ying.

This was Zhù Ying’s first time ever presiding over an interrogation. Though she had read some procedural guidelines on how to conduct questioning, she had never actually carried one out in practice. However, if it wasn’t Gong Jie she was facing, she wasn’t especially nervous — and now she had solid evidence in hand, so even if she couldn’t extract anything, it wouldn’t matter.

She wasted no time. She chose a clean cell and said: “Bring both of these men to me!”

The two were not officials of any kind. They had been arrested as Gong Jie’s most trusted household stewards — one named Gong Xi, the other Zhao Jin. At the sound of rattling chains, Zhù Ying rubbed her face and set her expression into something stern. The jailers pushed the two men in front of her and shoved them down to their knees. Zhù Ying noted that both looked far less presentable than Gong Jie — they had a somewhat mouldy, shut-away appearance — but when the two of them lifted their heads and looked at her, there was a hint of contempt in both.

Zhù Ying barked: “How dare you look down on me?!”

The jailers also joined in with shouts of rebuke.

Gong Xi said: “We would not dare.”

And then everyone fell silent. A jailer quietly prompted: “Lord Zhù?”

Zhù Ying said: “I’m thinking. Oh — state your names!”

Gong Xi and Zhao Jin both had a look of mockery about them, and they knelt with their heads lazily tilted back, not speaking. Only after the jailers shouted at them several more times did they give their names. Though they were imprisoned, they were not monitored as strictly as Gong Jie, and they could still hear the jailers chatting casually near their cells. “Lord Zhù” was apparently a newly arrived junior assessor named Zhù, of the junior eighth rank, someone whose position would have been beneath even their notice back when they used to receive visitors bearing gifts at Gong’s household. In the jailers’ talk, he was a young simpleton — put his head down and laboured away, got his tongue beaten down by a colleague called “Centipede Su” more times than anyone could count and just bore it, and was nothing more than a dumb donkey turning a grinding wheel for Zheng Xi. Now that they saw him in person, they confirmed this impression. The two of them had spent considerable time at Gong Jie’s side and were seasoned judges of men. There were many kinds of officials, and many kinds of people. Some were formidably skilled with documents — could write essays that conveyed an appearance of sharp competence — but put them to actual practical work and they were nothing but fools. Scholars of that type were especially abundant.

After the names were given, Zhù Ying followed the Court of Judicial Review’s interrogation procedure step by step, asking such questions as “Do you know your crimes?” and so forth.

Naturally, not the slightest thing was extracted.

Even the jailers couldn’t bear to watch. Out of some sense of duty to the court’s dignity, they maintained a semblance of order for her. Zhù Ying played the part of the bookish fool for a good while before finally saying: “Oh! Right — there’s one more thing!”

Only then did she personally take two of the pages Gong Jie had written and show them to the two men: “What about you two — are you going to confess or not?”

Gong Xi and Zhao Jin were taken completely off guard. Their faces went ashen: “What? The master, he — !”

Zhù Ying carefully folded the two pages back up, and in a steady, deliberate manner said: “Lord Zheng is interrogating him; he sent me to question you. Lord Zheng says — which of you will speak faster?” She let her eyes travel between the two of them with an air that suggested she didn’t quite understand what the question implied.

Gong Xi and Zhao Jin scrambled to speak first: “I’ll talk!”

Zhù Ying tilted her face upward as if trying to recall something. The two men grew desperate with urgency, and then they heard Zhù Ying say: “Separate them into different cells, give them paper and brush, and see who finishes writing first. Oh — there is still that one ledger you haven’t surrendered yet. The one that wasn’t seized before. State where it is. Write it all out.”

Gong Jie himself had already confessed — what was the point of them holding out any longer? If Gong Jie named them too, what use would they be at all?

The two men couldn’t wait to drag the jailers along to fetch paper and brush for them!

……

Zheng Xi sat with great patience outside Gong Jie’s cell, turning through the confession page by page, committing every detail to memory. Gong Jie had not yet woken inside when Zhù Ying returned.

Zheng Xi did not rise from his seat. He narrowed his eyes: “How did it go?”

Zhù Ying said: “Got the address.” Hoping that Gong Xi and Zhao Jin could produce the entire ledger from memory was out of the question, but they had provided the location where the ledger was being kept, and also mentioned some concealed assets. The remaining details about the conspiracy — what they knew of it — she left them to write out slowly.

Zheng Xi glanced at the address and said: “Go to my residence. Request to see my father. Ask him to take charge of the matter.” He tore off one of his personal seals and told Zhù Ying to take it to Lord Zheng’s residence.

Zhù Ying asked: “And what about the Prince’s household?”

Zheng Xi said: “Everything to be handled at the old man’s discretion.”

Zhù Ying handed the two pages back to Zheng Xi and turned to run.

She left the palace gate and first found Lu Chao, who was standing guard outside. She showed him the small seal and said: “Lord Zheng has sent me back to the residence at once.”

Lu Chao saw the seal and asked no further questions: “Take my horse.”

Zheng Xi’s carriage was of too high a rank — it would invite unnecessary complications for a junior official like Zhù Ying to ride in it, and in any case a carriage was slower than a horse. Zhù Ying rode the horse to the Zheng Marquis’s residence and, presenting Zheng Xi’s seal, gained an audience with the Marquis.

The weather being cold, the Marquis had not ventured out that day and was at home smashing through the thin ice on the garden pond to do some fishing. After a long while, not one fish had been caught — he had only reeled in the stem of a withered, rotted lotus leaf — and he was furious, bellowing: “Where are my fish?! Who has been sneaking in to scoop out my fish and eat them?!”

The household steward at his side offered a long-suffering consolation: “It is winter right now……”

“Nonsense! Fish can be caught at any time of year!”

Just as he was making this noise, Zhù Ying arrived.

The Marquis dropped the troublemaking at once, tossed his fishing rod aside, rose, and said: “Bring him to the study to see me!”

In the Marquis’s study, Zhù Ying presented the seal and said: “Gong Jie has confessed.”

“Oh?” The Marquis leaned slightly forward. “What was found? What is to be done?!”

“The original intention was to bluff him into revealing the secret ledger. Unexpectedly, what was bluffed out was a scheme to overturn the Eastern Palace. We used his confession to bluff his most trusted servants, and that bluffed out the location of the secret ledger as well. Lord Zheng sent me here to await your instructions and to ask that you make the arrangements. The Prince’s household too — he asks that you handle that.”

The Marquis needed only a moment’s thought before calling out: “Tang Shan!”

A strapping middle-aged man came bounding in. His bearing had a certain resemblance to Jin Liang’s, and he wore a great, full beard. The Marquis said: “Take twenty men. Go out with this young Zhù and do as he says. Little Zhù — go and seize whatever can be seized!”

“Yes, sir.”

Zhù Ying and Tang Shan set off together, with the Marquis’s voice following behind: “Someone come — send for the Marchioness.”

Zhù Ying and Tang Shan made hurried introductions, Tang Shan assembled his people, and twenty men stood in neat formation. Zhù Ying had the address in hand. The place was a small temple somewhere within the city, and the secret ledger was hidden inside one of the Buddha statues. Tang Shan kicked aside a monk who tried to block their way; Zhù Ying reached out to steady the man, then stepped forward and lightly tapped one of the statues. She pulled a lever, reached inside, and felt around. The statue was hollow, and within it, fashioned in the shape of the body’s internal organs, were gold and silver trinkets; the secret ledger was hidden within, pressed flat against the inner wall.

She withdrew the ledger. The monk’s face had gone ashen. Zhù Ying reached into another statue and drew out a small box. She opened it — and inside was a sworn oath document, written out and sealed with all parties’ marks.

Zhù Ying thought to herself: splendid — everything committed to writing and signed off on, presumably as protection against any one party turning informant. Now, as it happened, the whole lot had been swept up in one go.

Tang Shan gave a low command: “Tie them all up!”

Zhù Ying flipped through the ledger. Very good — she could only make sense of a small portion of it. This was the ledger, all right. She found the entry for the eldest son of the Prince of Gaoyangcommandery, flipped through it, memorized the other parts she could understand, tucked the ledger away, and said: “Too much commotion today — it can’t be kept quiet. Elder Brother Tang, return to the residence for now. I need to take this to the Court of Judicial Review, or we can’t account for the items if they’re not in the Court’s hands.”

Tang Shan said: “Very well.”

“Please spare me a few more men — I’m afraid of something going wrong on the road, and I need people to travel with me.”

Tang Shan said: “Very well.”

The two parties separated. Zhù Ying arrived safely at the palace gate, hurried back to the Court of Judicial Review, and handed over the ledger and the sworn oath to Zheng Xi. Zheng Xi said: “Excellent!”

Zhù Ying said nothing, waiting for what instructions would follow. Zheng Xi also fell silent. He first studied the sworn oath document carefully, then went slowly through the ledger. Time slipped quietly by. Zheng Xi was no merchant or man of commerce, but he could grasp at least the broad outline of an account book, and that much was sufficient. He let out a long breath. Meanwhile, on the other side, a jailer brought over the confessions from Gong Xi and Zhao Jin. Zhù Ying accepted them and passed them to Zheng Xi. Zheng Xi flipped casually through them, found nothing of great consequence, and handed them back to Zhù Ying, who went through them herself and then organized and put them away neatly.

A good while more passed. The cell had grown increasingly dark.

Zheng Xi finally said: “Nearly enough. Wait for me here.” He took Gong Jie’s handwritten statement and the secret ledger and went in person to see the Emperor.

……

Zheng Xi had endured an entire day and night of exhaustion; fatigue was visible in his every feature. Yet upon reaching the outer hall, he still summoned his full composure, preparing to present himself before his imperial maternal uncle in the best possible form. And it so happened that his own maternal uncle was already inside with the Emperor, tears streaming, teeth gritted, voicing his condemnations of Gong Jie: “How could he dare? How could he have such audacity?! To encounter a man like that — not counsel restraint, but instead to stir up disorder and drive wedges between family!”

The Emperor said: “Is he some sort of addict?! He just loves meddling in other people’s affairs!”

Zheng Xi had timed his arrival perfectly. He dropped to his knees right there, offering up both items: “Your Majesty!”

“Speak!”

Zheng Xi said: “Owing to a theft at the household of the Prince of Gaoyangcommandery, Your Servant carried out a brief inquiry and, unfortunately, discovered certain matters.”

“I see.”

“Your Majesty, in following this thread, Your Servant traced it to some further matters. As the affair is of grave consequence, Your Servant did not dare let it proceed carelessly, and therefore confirmed certain details in secret first. The Prince himself was unaware.” He asked the Emperor to first read Gong Jie’s deposition and the sworn oath document, then to look at the secret ledger.

Having read the deposition and sworn oath, the Emperor was already incandescent with rage. When he turned to the ledger, the matter seemed in comparison not quite so severe. He glanced at the Prince of Gaoyangcommandery and said: “Rise. Ah — fathers all face the same sorrows……”

The Prince of Gaoyangcommandery did not rise. He knelt and pleaded: “That rebellious son cannot be spared — he will only become a source of further trouble. Yet the tender love a parent bears for a child…… Your Servant begs His Majesty’s grace, that the rebellious son be permitted to die with his body intact!”

The Emperor waved a hand: “That is a matter within your own household.”

The Prince of Gaoyangcommandery wept, and took the opportunity to also petition that his youngest son be designated Heir Apparent: “To set the old mother’s heart at ease.”

The Emperor said: “Very well.” He also told Zheng Xi he was “a good child” and that he had “worked hard” and other such things. Zheng Xi prostrated himself with a choked voice: “Your Servant’s heart is in turmoil — I do not know how to tell my mother.”

The Emperor’s thoughts turned to that “twin” of his sister, and something in his heart softened: “What is there to be troubled over? The things we have lived through and seen — what haven’t we endured? You are still young. Once this matter is settled, I shall give you a few days’ leave to spend with her.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Your Servant will return immediately to conclude the case.”

The Emperor said: “Go then. Whatever people you need, whatever matters you must enquire into — proceed as you see fit. Say that I have sanctioned it.” He then said to the Prince of Gaoyangcommandery: “You too should go and set your household in order. And I must set mine in order as well.”

It was only then that the Prince of Gaoyangcommandery rose from his knees; having knelt so long, he nearly fell again. Zheng Xi extended his arm slightly, then drew it back, exercising great restraint as he watched his maternal uncle. The Prince got to his feet and clasped his hands in thanks to the Emperor, looking as if he had aged several years. The Emperor was deeply moved and said: “You and I have been ruler and subject for many years, and yet we have both encountered such affairs.”

He commanded an attendant to draft an edict on the spot, designating the Prince’s youngest son as Heir Apparent and ordering preparations to begin for the ceremonial accessories, seals, and processional regalia. The Prince of Gaoyangcommandery gave his thanks once more.

The Prince left first. Zheng Xi remained behind to report to the Emperor on how he intended to proceed with the investigation, and also said that he was young, and since this matter now involved several other senior officials, he respectfully requested that the Emperor appoint officials of greater seniority and members of the imperial clan to manage the matter jointly.

The Emperor said: “Those men? What a waste of the years they’ve lived — serving in the same court as this man all along and never noticed a thing. You handle it!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Zheng Xi thought to himself: that is as good as passing the test.

—