Character Index
Wei Guang: The Imperial Edict Bearer, deceased.
Zhou Ying: The previous Emperor, also known as Emperor Xuanzong (his posthumous title).
Zhou Yunqi: The Crown Prince and incumbent Emperor.
General Yan: Commander of the reinforcements sent to Chuluo Khagan.
Chuluo Khagan: Khagan of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate, Ashina's father.
Hu Qing/Liang Hongfei: Lord of the Liang clan and Oversight Officer for General Yan's troops.
Xie Rengui: A talented young farmboy who became one of Hu Qing's retainers. Went north with the oversight committee.
Zhou Kuang: The Third Prince, deceased.
Heli: The teenage chieftain of the Pugu tribe. Asked Kayla for help in killing his nephew, which was carried out in General Yan's camp.
Geleng: A Pugu warrior who had been part of Hu Qing's escort.
Dulan: A Pugu warrior, Geleng's friend.
Tuhezhen: The deceased nephew of Heli, he was twice his uncle's age and a threat to the young chieftain's power.
Sima Qi: The second poison tester arranged for Kuang, he had been away at the time of the prince's death and was put under arrest.
Li Que: A Senior Investigator.
Cao Shuyi: The Third Princess Consort.
Ju Shou: Kuang's primary poison tester. Was forced to help kill Kuang.
Zhou Xianchun: The Seventh Prince, now an Archduke (technically a higher position).
Liu Boyue: Xianchun's loyal friend and strategist.
Sun Ruhui: Right Secretariat of Justice, Kayla's supporter.
Chen Caichun: Chamberlain of the Court of Judicial Review.
Zhou Chenqian: Kuang's five-year-old son, also an Imperial prince through his father.
General Shu: Yunqi's maternal grandfather, was ordered to commit suicide.
Shu Yunsong: Yunqi's maternal uncle, one of the conspirators. Deceased.
Shu Yunzhi: Yunqi's maternal uncle, was ordered to commit suicide.
----------------------------------------
Wei Guang wasn’t the only elderly official to pass away after Emperor Xuanzong’s death.
Even at the end, he took away a few more obstacles with him, Kayla noted grimly.
None of the deaths were questioned–it was almost natural, even virtuous, for these old men to die so soon after their Emperor. It spoke of loyalty, and it gilded the reputation of their households a little bit more.
None of this interfered with the coronation of the new Emperor. After giving his condolences and sympathies, Yunqi prepared to take the throne.
Nothing could be allowed to happen, nothing allowed to change in those last seven days before the transition of power was complete.
Kayla made sure of that.
She ended up in charge of Wei Guang's funeral, despite his abundance of estranged nephews. Yet his kin were more than happy to leave things to her as the godson, and Kayla ensured that Wei Guang’s rites were decent and yet quiet enough to avoid drawing too much attention. The genuine grief she felt upon receiving his letter had been as brief as it had been unexpected. This wasn’t for any lack of gratitude towards what Wei Guang had done, but simple necessity.
Wei Guang had left her with the burden of his sacrifice to make the most of–his death meant that they had a ready scapegoat for any doubts or suspicions about the Emperor’s death. The price for that, Kayla would gladly pay.
He shouldered everything for the past, and now I have to shoulder everything for the future.
It was her job to support Yunqi through the troubles ahead, and Kayla could only hope she would do a better job than Wei Guang had done for Zhou Ying.
We’ve notified General Yan already, and Chuluo Khagan as well. Now we’ll just have to wait and see how our allies react.
She left with brisk steps as the funeral came to an end, silently reviewing the tasks ahead. There was a strange sensation in her chest that Kayla would only later identify as loneliness.
----------------------------------------
Despite the full-hearted attempts of the Investigators and the Tiele, it was only three days later that General Yan finally received the news. For one, there had been several battles in the meantime that left their long-distance communications in shambles. More than that, there had also been some confusion at the capital, a costly fuckup where someone in the Ministry of War hadn’t yet lifted the embargo on information heading out of the borders. The most remote outposts and commanders hadn’t even received the news of the Emperor’s death yet.
That official was swiftly removed from his post and sent packing home to his rural village in disgrace, and everything was swiftly set right again.
So it came to be that General Yan received the delayed news all at once–the Emperor’s death, the three refusals of the Crown Prince, and the upcoming coronation. The Investigator who told him the news, having heard it five times through a communication device with poor connection at full volume before being sure of the events, spoke with a mildly dazed expression.
“The Crown Prince will ascend to the throne in four days' time,” the Investigator said. “I mean the Emperor will–the–the new Emperor–”
“I get it,” General Yan cut him off. “Thank you.”
The flushing Investigator hastily made his escape.
Inside the tent, Hu Qing waited until the messenger had left to share a smile with General Yan. The commander didn’t return it.
“Now that the new Emperor’s been decided, the worst is over,” Hu Qing said confidently. “The Duke must have worked things out somehow.”
General Yan frowned pensively.
“Yes, everything’s all set with the new Emperor, but he did it without our help.”
“What does that matter? You wouldn’t want someone marching on the capital except in the worst of circumstances, and maybe not even then,” Hu Qing pointed out.
“Do you know what politicians are best at?” General Yan asked.
“Lying,” Hu Qing replied.
“No, there’s something they do even better than that.”
“What?”
“Discarding useless pieces.”
Hu Qing’s smile faded as he swept his gaze up and down over General Yan.
“Be prepared for anything,” General Yan said grimly. “I might not retain my command if the new Emperor sold favors to other military officials, but I won’t stand down without a fight. He won’t feel safe having insulted me, and he’ll find some excuse to destroy me sooner or later.”
“What, you’d stand in opposition to the Emperor?” Hu Qing asked in alarm. “That’ll make all of us traitors along with you!”
“Providing that I will take care of my men, I’ll do whatever I have to do,” General Yan said grimly. “Even if it’s the Emperor’s wishes that I’m going against.”
“He’s the highest commander of the military,” Hu Qing said. “Nothing good can come of refusing his orders outright–at the very least, it would be insubordination, at worst, it could be seen as treason.”
General Yan went quiet, the way he increasingly did as the campaign went on. They had seen decent success, and every night the General could be seen standing at the lookout, frowning as he surveyed their environment. Of everyone at the camp, probably only Xie Rengui could guess what the General was thinking, and Xie Rengui remained firmly silent, as if saying it out loud would make it true.
Treason, Hu Qing realized the truth that Xie Rengui had been trying to avoid. General Yan’s considering treason.
“If it comes to that,” General Yan paused slightly, fixing his stern gaze on Hu Qing. “I’d rather not have to kill you.”
A cold pit opened up in Hu Qing’s stomach. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that the smidge of camaraderie between them was anything more than it was, but for the first time since he’d arrived, Hu Qing realized just what he had signed up for.
Wenyuan couldn’t have even imagined things would go this far, Hu Qing grimly thought to himself with a sinking heart. Since when has General Yan been considering this option?
In hindsight, it was probably since the capital had gone into shutdown after the Third Prince’s death. Back then nothing was certain or clear. They hadn’t even known that their most-favored candidate had died.
He made the deal with the older brother, not the younger one. And no one knows for sure just where Wenyuan stands with the new Emperor. It’s not like I can’t understand, but if General Yan rebels, what happens to Wenyuan’s position in the capital? Or would it already be too late by that time?
He silently cursed the messenger for bringing so little information from the capital.
Do I try to stop General Yan? Or do I preserve my life for the future? “Rather not kill you”? He’d behead me without a second thought if it came to it.
It was probably futile either way.
“The same goes for me as well,” Hu Qing finally replied to General Yan’s threat.
General Yan’s eyes widened and then narrowed in the same breath. He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head.
Sensing that he was dismissed, Hu Qing bowed his head slightly and left the tent.
----------------------------------------
Dulan approached his friend, hoping that Geleng would be in a better mood today. The two of them had known each other since they became warriors of the Pugu tribe, and worked side by side as proud Tiele men for years. Though in recent years, that meant serving Chieftain Heli, a boy barely old enough to grow fuzz on his jaw, but in time, Dulan was sure that the chieftain would become a master they could be proud of.
But ever since Geleng had gone on that escort trip to bring the Wu oversight committee to General Yan’s camp, he had been acting strangely. Geleng seemed to be on the verge of telling Dulan what was wrong several different times, but each time failed to spit it out.
Today, Dulan was out of patience. Had the Turks been rude? Had the Wu officials from the capital been demeaning? Had Geleng seen the horrors of war up close and had been affected? Geleng had gone with that young man they’d met last time–Hu Qing, or rather Lord Liang, as he was known these days. Plenty of people liked that Hu–Liang guy, but Dulan had retained his doubts. The young man had lives on his hands, that much was for sure. But those lives hadn’t been taken in battle. A dishonorable sort, but Hu Qing had been from the capital, so Dulan had held his tongue.
Whatever it was about the journey that affected Geleng so badly, Dulan wanted an answer.
Dulan scanned Geleng’s face, frowning.
“Come now my friend, what bothers you?”
Geleng sighed. “Ever since I returned from the Eastern Turkic Khaganate, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
“About what?” Dulan prompted patiently.
“When I was escorting the Wu officials over, on my way back…” Geleng fell silent for a long moment. “Dulan, what do you think of our chieftain?”
“What? Chieftain Heli? What about him?” Dulan asked, surprised at the sudden turn of topic.
Geleng frowned pensively. “If, by chance…”
“Yes?” Dulan prompted him, a little less patiently this time.
“Tuhezhen…” Geleng trailed off again.
“What about him?” Dulan asked. Had the man’s accident left a scar on Geleng’s heart? Had it scared him or something?
“The accident he was in,” Geleng began and did not finish speaking.
Dulan waited magnanimous for about half a minute before losing patience altogether.
“For Tengri’s sake, what about Tuhezhen? What about the accident?! Just spit it out!”
Geleng only shook his head. “If it’s true, then it’s an atrocity! Tuhezhen is the chieftain’s nephew, the only surviving son of his uncle!”
“What?” Dulan stared at Geleng in confusion. “What do you–what do you mean?”
Geleng seemed to suddenly realize he had said too much and hastily walked away.
“Hey?! Geleng! Gelen–this guy is seriously–!” Dulan cut himself off in frustration.
He stilled as he thought back over the conversation.
“Come to think of it, Tuhezhen was a pretty skilled rider,” Dulan muttered. Yet a man like that, who had been in the saddle since he was still a tiny boy, had fallen off a horse and died?
And in the camp of Duke Zhao’s ally too.
Geleng’s hesitation suddenly began to make sense. Dulan stared after his friend’s retreating back, the first seeds of doubt taking root in his house.
“No way, was it not an accident after all? Then Chieftain Heli–”
A cold chill ran down his back. The boy wasn’t even a man yet and already a kin-killer.
And with whose help?
The identity of the Wu officials made that more than clear enough.
The chill froze into full-blown panic.
They couldn’t leave things like this. The fate of the Pugu tribe, the fate of the Tiele, Heli had stained all of them with sin. And worse–he had used an outsider from the capital to do it.
A man like that was unworthy of being Chieftain.
“Geleng! Geleng, wait!” Dulan turned and sprinted after his friend.
----------------------------------------
In the outskirts of the capital, two men walked side by side. Both were a little awkward, the older one bearing a small bundle and the younger a travel pack. Though he had but light luggage, the younger man would have been eagerly eyed by hungry thieves and robbers if not for his gait, one that a practiced eye could easily discern as that of a skilled fighter.
Sima Qi bit his lip, realized he was doing so, and hastily stopped.
Li Que stopped his steps in the shade of a tree and turned to Sima Qi.
“I’ll send you off here,” Li Que said.
“Thank you for coming all the way here, sir,” Sima Qi said, hesitating before he blurted out his question. “Is it really alright for me to leave?”
“Yes, the Emperor will declare a general amnesty once he is coronated anyways. He simply worries that the Third Princess Consort might do something drastic in her grief, so he’s letting you go early,” Li Que assured him.
Li Que assessed the younger man, suddenly feeling a surge of pity. Sima Qi had been a full-fledged Investigator for only one full year, having spent his late teens in training. One of the talented orphans picked up by some old Investigator addicted to the wine flask, he had emerged a shining gem from the ignominy of his background. It had been one of the reasons why Li Que had suggested him for the task of the Third Prince’s poison tester.
He was talented, and he had no background. The perfect candidate if things went well, the perfect scapegoat if they did not.
Li Que wondered how much Sima Qi knew of all this, or rather how much of it he had realized–the young man had been overwhelmed in his excitement upon being selected for the job.
In any case, the brightness had faded from Sima Qi’s eyes. Despite his young age, there was now an air of haggardness about him.
“You’ve suffered a great deal, Sima Qi,” Li Que said quietly.
Sima Qi teared up despite himself. “No, there’s not much I can complain about. This was my fault.”
Even if the Director had shielded him from interrogation or punishment, Sima Qi knew his guilt. He had let the most promising prince of the nation die, and with it, the certainty of their future. How many millions of people would die in the future because Sima Qi had been an idiot? Or was even thinking that way a dishonor to the new Emperor? Sima Qi didn’t know anymore. He only knew that he was now dragging at least two corpses behind him, their weight dragging on his ankles.
Why had Ju Shou done it?
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Sima Qi doubted he would ever find out. The man had died in silent agony, stifling his groans until the very end. But it didn’t matter now–
Li Que’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“Don’t think that way. The Director’s already secured the culprits, and he’s certain of your innocence. Are you doubting his judgment?” Li Que asked sharply.
Strangely, those words cleared his mind. Sima Qi’s hands shook with relief as he wiped at his face, shaking his head.
Li Que sighed, placing a comforting hand on Sima Qi’s shoulders.
“The Director wished for me to prepare you a send-off drink in the old tradition,” Li Que said gently. “The ancients used to send off their friends with decorated cups of wine. After sharing a drink, the friend took the cup with them to use as funds on their trip.”
Sima Qi nodded uncertainty, not knowing enough history to agree or disagree.
Li Que unwrapped his bundle, removing a beautiful cup. He filled it with wine from a flask at his hip and handed it over.
Sima Qi gasped as he took it. From touch alone, he could tell that the cup was made of solid silver, though it was covered with a glaze of some sort that hid its value.
“Drink,” Li Que urged him.
Sima Qi obediently downed the drink. He minced his lips together as something solid clattered against his mouth, nearly going into his mouth. Wiping wine off his chin, Sima Qi looked at the cup quizzically. His eyes widened in shock and he gaped at Li Que.
Li Que nodded encouragingly. Sima Qi glanced back down at the empty cup, in which a finely crafted gemstone now sat at its bottom.
“Sir, this is too much! Words cannot express my gratitude–”
“Thank the Director. He was the one who arranged all this. He would have given you gold instead, but silver is easier to broker without attracting the wrong attention,” Li Que said, sighing again. “Have a safe trip, Sima Qi. It is a pity that you have to leave the capital even though you’re so promising….but take heart! Life goes on, and things will get better. You’re still young, settle down somewhere and start a family. Be well, Sima Qi.”
“Thank you!” Sima Qi bowed deeply to Li Que and then towards the direction of the Director’s household.
“Then I’ll be off,” Sima Qi said in a small voice. Li Que nodded encouragingly, watching as the young man walked away.
Sima Qi went over to the stable Li Que had told him about and received a horse without trouble. Almost in a daze, he got into the saddle and rode out from the capital gates. As the capital grew distant behind him, his mind slowly cleared bit by bit until it shone like a polished blade.
I’ll be back someday, he promised himself. And then…in any case, I won’t be this way forever.
He tugged on the horse’s reins and took off at full speed.
----------------------------------------
Xianchun sat before his desk with his face drawn, fingers drumming on the papers before him.
“What on earth does Fifth Brother want?” He asked in exasperation. “My household is the best location for a temple? That’s ridiculous! He even said that it was fine and that he would find a different location, but he hasn’t even ordered the Astronomers to recalculate after so many days!”
Liu Boyue winced. “He expects you to offer to move,” he replied.
Xianchun let out a harsh laugh. “He makes me an Archduke, then asks to demolish my house…truly he’s feeding me a date and then slapping me in the face! Let go of the past? He’s done no such thing!”
“Indeed. But we have no choice but to accept it,” Liu Boyue warned him. “Your pride now is not worth your future.”
Xianchun let out a huff. “Future? We have no chance now. It’s all decided.”
“We have no chance yet,” Liu Boyue objected.
“What do you mean?”
“Think of the next generation instead, my prince. The selection of the next Crown Prince. And if anything goes wrong…the selection of a regent.”
Xianchun frowned at that. “Boyue, I won’t entertain any such plans against Fifth Brother. He’s the Emperor. It would be treason!”
“Of course not, my prince, but life has a funny way of arranging things. The man who had no chance at the throne has become the Emperor, with all the obstacles in his way disappearing without his lifting a finger. Such unexpected fortune is unlikely to last for long. Talk of superstition aside, imagine the toll that such changes take on the body. There have been plenty of Emperors who took the throne unexpectedly and yet lived for decades, but the personality of the Emperor is what determines that. And the Fifth Prince, gentle-natured and sensitive as he is…how well do you think he would fare?”
“The way you say it, one would almost have to feel sorry for Fifth Brother,” Xianchun said with a note of sarcasm.
Liu Boyue nodded unblinkingly. “Perhaps so. Fate can be cruel in inventive ways.”
Plenty of Emperors died early, especially the wise ones. No one could agree on why that was the case, and in the end, the consensus simply decided that the heavens were envious of such talents.
He waited for the words to sink in. Xianchun’s frown transformed subtly, and Liu Boyue knew that the prince had been convinced.
“If–” Xianchun began to say. “If, I’m saying if Fifth Brother dies before his heir is of age…”
He gave a small pause.
“Even then, would he choose me as regent?”
“Why on earth not?” Liu Boyue asked in surprise.
“He can choose his Empress, or even Wenyuan,” Xianchun said.
“The Empress can always be disqualified somehow,” Liu Boyue said. “If the court accuses her of following in the steps of Empress Dowager Lü, it won’t be long before she’s dead or stepping down by her own will. As for the Duke…well, I suppose your brother might be more at ease choosing someone who could not become Emperor, but in the end, once he is dead, then the matter of the regent is left to the court.”
Xianchun breathed out slowly through his nose. “Is that so.”
Liu Boyue waited a moment for the prince–now an Archduke, something that Liu Boyue kept forgetting after all those years of calling Xianchun a prince–to collect his thoughts.
“Moreover, my prince, there is another factor at play,” Liu Boyue said.
“What?”
“Our relationship with the Eastern Turkic Khaganate,” Liu Boyue said. “If relations ever sour…then he would be on the blade’s edge far more so than anyone else.”
Xianchun’s eyes narrowed.
“Indeed. We’re friends with the Eastern Turks for now, but who knows what tomorrow may bring?”
“Indeed,” Liu Boyue echoed, a dark look flickering through his eyes.
The Emperor may have been decided, but this was far from over yet.
----------------------------------------
Sun Ruhui entered the Zhao household with a strange sense of premonition in his heart, one that only doubled when he saw that Chen Caichun was here as well.
“Chamberlain Chen,” Sun Ruhui said, trying to keep the uneasiness from his voice. “Is everything well?”
“Yes,” Chen Caichun replied, her fingers twisting nervously in her robes even as her face remained calm. “And you, sir?”
“Very well,” Sun Ruhui said. So neither of them knew why they were here. Resigning himself to whatever came next, he entered the Duke’s study with Chen Caichun right behind him.
The Duke stood up to greet them, a friendly smile on his face. Nothing about his demeanor suggested anything out of the ordinary though it had been weeks since he had last contacted either of them.
And now he calls us over so suddenly. Sun Ruhui didn’t see this ending well.
“Thank you for coming, it is good to see you both,” Wenyuan said. “Please, sit down.”
“It is our honor,” Sun Ruhui said. “And have you been well, my lord?”
“As well as one can be,” Wenyuan said, dismissing the topic with a small wave.
Uncertainly glancing at each other, Sun Ruhui and Chen Caichun sat down.
Wenyuan folded his hands on the desk with a thoughtful look on his face that wasn’t directed at either of them. They waited for him to speak, but Wenyuan was silent for a long moment before breathing in sharply.
“Well, the reason I called you both here today is to make this clear. From now on, you are free from any and all obligations to me.”
He spoke with a note of finality in his voice, as if that were the end of the conversation.
Sun Ruhui started in alarm.
“My lord?!”
Almost as if surprised he had objected, Wenyuan gave a befuddled smile.
“It isn’t anything wrong with either of you, of course. I’ve chosen the path I will walk, and I know that it isn’t something you two will be comfortable with. Rather than force you two to warp your natures in order to follow me, I rather preserve two officials of virtue for the dynasty,” Wenyuan said.
Sun Ruhui felt as if the graying sky above had come crashing down. Everything was achingly clear now, and it made him feel sick at heart.
So you did kill the Emperor, he realized. Oh my lord, how could you have made such a choice? Killing your grandfather was understandable, but your liege as well? If you had chosen loyalty over filial piety, how could you renege on that? Do you even know how people will remember you in the future should there even be the slightest suspicion? How could the Crown Prince have chosen this?
Sun Ruhui closed his eyes, helplessness washing over him.
No, it’s not that I can’t understand why he did it. But I can’t accept it. I’ve always been loyal, I’ve always known to be grateful and strove to repay kindnesses. But to choose this course of action towards the person who helped you the most…
He thought of how he had first met Wenyuan in the building that would become the Court of Judicial Review. The image of that day, only a few months prior but feeling like a lifetime ago, filled his heart with affection and something almost akin to grief.
Next to him, Chen Caichun came to the same realization.
So that’s how it is? The Emperor’s death really wasn’t natural after all…Her eyes flicked to Wenyuan’s face, scrutinizing his remorseless expression. But so what? Is that reason to push us aside for the shallow facade of our virtue instead of what our true duty is?
Loyalty, that was a good excuse for most of the people who did nothing.
What I owe, I owe to the people of this country who have paid my salary through their taxes. They lack the ability to affect what happens to them, but shouldn’t we as officials at least have the duty to intervene on their behalf? If the Emperor’s mental state had already deteriorated to the point where the nation was endangered, why shouldn’t they take action?
“My lord, you don’t need to consider us to that extent,” Chen Caichun said aloud.
Wenyuan stilled, then loosened as if he were glad to be finally out in the open.
“It’s not like that, Chamberlain Chen,” he said gently. “I’m not saying this out of consideration for you. Rather it’s for myself—no, for this country.”
He went on in a banal tone that made the words all the more piercing.
“I don’t know what I’ll have to do from here on, or how far I’ll have to go. But if I become a monster that I can’t even recognize…” Wenyuan trailed off before finally meeting her eyes. “Then I need you two to stop me.”
A thrill ran through Caichun’s heart. It wasn’t fear or excitement for what lay ahead, but rather thrill in the understanding that she had chosen the right man to follow.
She’d had her doubts, but they slowly faded now.
To intervene when the nation’s endangered on the people’s behalf…he’s included himself in that category as well.
Silently, she pledged her support far more whole-heartedly than she ever had before.
Sun Ruhui was still half-submerged in grief for the man he had once placed such high hopes on.
He welcomed Wenyuan’s words with a little relief, but much greater despair.
I wish we hadn’t come to this, but he’s right. We’ve helped to put him in this position. If it ever comes to that, then it’ll be our responsibility to remove him.
“If that is your intention, then I do not dare to disobey,” Sun Ruhui said. “My lord, please be well. We will pray for your success.”
“Yes, my lord, please take care,” Chen Caichun said.
Wenyuan smiled, giving them a small nod.
The two bowed deeply towards Wenyuan, each imprinting the man’s image in their hearts, one with satisfaction and one with grim determination. They slowly backed out of the room and left the household without another word.
Both knew that it would be the last time they entered the Duke’s study.
----------------------------------------
The day of the coronation finally arrived after seven days of anxious anticipation. The nation had held its breath, unsure if some last-minute disaster would throw them all into chaos. But instead, the days passed uneventfully, until the morning sun was shining brightly upon them all on the morning of the Emperor’s coronation ceremony.
Crowds had formed near the palace and in the markets before dawn, all waiting for the loud bells and trumpets that would announce the Emperor’s official ascension to the throne.
Mothers and wives in ragged clothing waited anxiously for the announcement of a general amnesty, old men murmured amongst each other about the coronations they had seen in the past. Children curiously tried to run around and take in the sights, only to be sharply drawn back to their parents’ sides.
Investigators and City Guards were stationed throughout the city, and had erected barriers here and there as means of crowd control. A red-faced City Guard directed the flow of excited people with multicolored flags. He flushed a little with embarrassment as a young child laughed and pointed at him.
Banners flew from rooftops, the more exquisite ones commissioned by wealthy merchants and the relatives of officials, flapping in the wind alongside handcrafted ones by humble housewives and laborers. Some entrepreneurial spirits were selling drinks and snacks, others toys, and found themselves encumbered by so many customers that they sold out within minutes. They would roll up their things and go, only to be replaced within seconds by someone else who saw the same opportunity.
A wealthy Persian merchant was handing out small trinkets, to the exasperation of City Guards who had to ensure crowd safety. Giggling prostitutes scattered petals from half-cloistered balconies of teahouses, and young men subtly tried to wrap arms around their beaus in the crowd, only to have their hands playfully slapped away by their embarrassed girlfriends to the titters of onlookers.
Everyone had put on their best clothes, and countless costumes and colors intermingled in the crowd. Here a Sogdian man with a beautiful blue-eyed little girl laughing on his shoulders, there a Turk with his Persian friend. A Tianzhu woman holding the arm of her husband, her brown forearms decorated with countless golden bracelets. A Han woman with her hair done up, fabric flowers pinned to her graying tresses. Goryeons, Khitans, Tieles, Funanese, countless merchants and immigrants milling with the crowd. Here and there, an Arab trader, a few veiled women of indeterminate origin, a rare Roman who smiled graciously as his exotic clothing was tugged at by the tiny hands of curious children.
Finally, the murmuring crowd fell silent as there was the distant sound of instruments–the ceremony had begun. The quiet was soon broken by raucous cheering that drowned out any other sound. It went on until the instruments had fallen quiet and the bells began ringing in earnest, and continued for long after as well. Many would walk away with dazed smiles and hearing that wasn’t quite the same again, but no one would forget that day, save for some small children who would only be told, years later, that they had been at the market for the Emperor’s coronation.
In the palace, the mood was far more solemn, suitable for the stately occasion.
Officials dressed in their ceremonial robes stood in neat rows in the grand courtyard of the Outer Palace, their heads slightly bowed as the rites proceeded. The Emperor offered his prayers to the heavens, and then slowly proceeded towards the Imperial Hall. He traversed through his officials and climbed the steps of the Imperial Hall, where the Imperial throne had been placed.
Yunqi walked through the officials, each step slow and sure. He walked past Zhao Wenyuan. He walked past Xianchun and the young Chenqian, too young to fully understand the ceremony.
Yunqi stepped onto the stairs of the Imperial Hall, slowly ascending its heights. With each step, the ceremonial robes of the Emperor weighed heavier on him. A strange haze descended over him bit by bit, almost as if he were in a dream. He knew that he needed to stare forward and not turn his head, but all the same, he saw them there, half-specter, half-illusion.
Yunqi climbed past the faces of his grandfather, of his uncles, his mother. He inclined his head ever so subtly as he stepped past his father. He walked past his older brothers one by one, their bodies shining translucent in the glowing rays of the sun.
He approached where Kuang stood next to the throne, looking almost as vivid as he had in life. Kuang smiled, and as Yunqi reached the throne, disappeared along with everyone else.
He turned, facing the sea of officials below. Those who had desired the throne were gone now, leaving him alone on that coveted seat.
He scanned the court, an inexplicable emotion welling in his chest.
What lay ahead of them?
Yunqi didn’t know. He didn’t know how he would shoulder the trials and tribulations ahead, only that he had to. It was what he owed, not just to his loved ones, but also to his people.
I’ll make it worth it, Yunqi silently promised.
“Bow to His Majesty the Emperor!” The Minister of Rites shouted, his voice managing not to crack despite his nerves as the ceremony master.
“May His Majesty live for ten thousand years!” The court spoke as one voice, kneeling to the ground and bowing their heads to the ground. They straightened, still on their knees, and bowed their heads again twice before rising to their feet and repeating the process twice more.
Among them, Kayla bowed her head for the ninth time before the new Emperor as the coronation ceremony finished. The courtyard rippled as the officials rose to their feet, raising their eyes to the throne to take in their new Emperor.
After so much tribulation, a new era was upon them—a fresh start paid for in blood.
Kayla took in the man standing before the throne, the almost-statuesque grace he exuded from afar.
Yunqi, whose kindness and ruthlessness went hand in hand. Yunqi, who made the most reasonable choices regardless of his own emotions. Yunqi, the one who would decide the fate of this nation and its people.
She tried to chisel the image in her mind. It was the picture of her success, the goal she had been working towards for so many long and difficult months.
The handsome new Emperor, resplendent in his ceremonial robes. The magnificent sight of the entire court bowing before a single man.
The end of the battle for the throne.
----------------------------------------
The hundredth and twenty-second year of the Wu Dynasty, the Fifth Prince of Emperor Xuanzong, Zhou Yunqi ascends to the throne as the sixth Emperor. He is congratulated and hailed by neighboring nations throughout the four seas.
The Emperor grants a general amnesty to the kingdom and consecrates a temple in the capital for the peace and prosperity of the country. He creates a new era to commemorate the start of his reign—by the name of Tianyou (Heavenly Protection).
–《Book of Wu, Fourth Volume》
----------------------------------------
Cultural Notes
三次三让/Three refusals: A tradition often used to demonstrate politeness, consideration, and humbleness. Some Emperors have used it to show that they're not just power-hungry.
Pugu tribe: One of the Tiele tribes. Being nomadic tribes, most Tiele who followed the traditional lifestyle were accustomed to horseback since as young as infancy while still straddled on their mothers' backs.
手上有人命/Have lives on his hands: A Chinese phrase for someone who has committed murder or manslaughter.
大赦天下/General amnesty for the entire country: A common act for Emperors to do on major occasions. This can be to show his filial piety by declaring a general amnesty in honor of a sick Empress Dowager (to accrue positive karma), when he is crowned, or on major occasions such as the crowning of a Crown Prince, etc. These amnesties were important because punishments were often rather harsh, and given the inconsistency of communications, local areas were likely to have misjudgements/overly harsh punishments. Amnesties served as a protective measure to some extent by undoing some damage done by faulty legal systems. Sometimes restrictions would apply, such as for extremely violent criminals, etc.
送别酒/Departing wine: It was common to share drinks with a friend before sending them off (don't ask me about the safety of drunk horse-riding, I wouldn't know). However, the tradition Li Que mentions was far from common. Rather, it was mentioned in some stories of people who were sending off those who had been exiled or sentenced, and thus couldn't outright give them money, instead having them take the wine cup/flask with them with either a) the vessel itself being expensive, b) something expensive at the bottom of the cup/flask, c) both.
The temple in Xianchun's house: This was discussed some chapters ago, but Kuang once swore that he would raze Xianchun's household and build a temple there in the midst of his rage, and Yunqi has decided to honor that. He arranged for the Astronomers to calculate the best site of a new temple, and to find that it coincides perfectly with where Xianchun currently lives.
打一巴掌给个枣/Slap you in the face and then feed you a date: The Chinese equivalent of the carrot and the stick.
英年早逝/Die early in one's best years: An Ancient Chinese phrase used to lament someone who died before old age.
天妒英才/The heavens are jealous of great talents: An Ancient Chinese phrased used to lament someone talented who died too young.
吕后/Empress Dowager Lü: One of the most notorious Empress Dowagers of Ancient China, she was the first Empress of the Han Dynasty and essentially went on a rampage after her husband's death, killing several of his sons and her husband's consorts. She was famous for dominating court politics until her death. Being compared with Empress Dowager Lü was a pretty heavy accusation.
知恩图报/Know to be grateful and strive to repay kindnesses: An Ancient Chinese proverb.
Sogdia: An Ancient Iranian civilization. Had a significant diaspora in China during the Tang dynasty.
天竺/Tianzhu: The Ancient Chinese term for parts of the Indian subcontinent.
Goryeo: An Ancient Korean kingdom.
Khitan: The predecessors of the Manchurians, they resided Northeast of China and during the Tang Dynasty were often caught in-between the Tang and the Turks.
Funan: An ancient kingdom in modern-day Cambodia.
Romans in the Tang Dynasty: Here it refers to Byzantines, or the Eastern Roman Empire, which did have trade with the Tang.
三跪九叩/Three kneels and nine bows of the head: One of the most ostentatious shows of respect.
陛下万岁/May His Majesty live for ten thousand years: An Ancient Chinese phrase, equivalent of "God save the king".
四海/Four seas: An Ancient Chinese term that basically means "from everywhere".
Era names: The system used for year identification and numbering in Ancient China. A motto would be chosen based on the situation of the time, and the years would be counted as "first year of ___" all the way until a new era, upon which the count would start again at one. You can look at Japan for a modern-day continuation of this practice. Era names were a symbol of power and also of legitimacy, and the lower numbers (as opposed to maybe the 271st year of the dynasty) probably made it easier to unify the year count across the country given that good chunks of the population were uneducated.
天佑/Tianyou(Heavenly Protection): An era name that means Heavenly Protection.
吴书/Book of Wu: I named the official historical chronicle of the Wu Dynasty according to the tradition where historical records of each dynasty were named as Book of __, such as 汉书/Book of Han, 魏书/Book of Wei, etc. These chronicles were expected to be pretty accurate and bjective, as historians were often chosen to be people who stubbornly wrote what they saw even under threat of death.
----------------------------------------
End of Book 2