Character Index
Cao Shuyi: Wife of the Third Prince and mother of Zhou Chenqian.
Zhou Kuang: The Third Prince and one of the primary contenders for the throne.
Zhou Chenqian: The Third Prince's only son.
Zhou Yunqi: The Fifth Prince, he is currently absent from politics (at least openly) due to the precarity of his maternal clan.
Xiang Daozong/Qu Boyong: Lord of the Xiang clan, he previously sought to reinstate his clan's status and succeeded by Kayla's interference.
Liang Hongfei/Hu Qing: Lord of the Liang clan, he previously worked for Kayla as a retainer.
Zhou Mingda: The Sixth Princess, her maternal clan is prominent among the steppe tribes, elevating her own status. She is wheelchair bound and suffers from chronic illness.
Governor Huang: The governor of Shengzhou, a crucial province in the border region.
Zhou Xianchun: The Seventh Prince and one of the primary contenders for the throne.
Liu Boyue: The Seventh Prince's childhood friend and strategist.
Zhou Shu: The Sixth Prince and the Emperor's favorite son, now deceased.
First and Second Princes: Oldest sons of the Emperor, their mother was the deposed Empress. If their mother's status had remained stable, one of the two, likely the eldest, would have become the undisputed Crown Prince.
Consort Chen: Xianchun's mother, she was a serving maid who became a Consort after the Emperor took interest in her.
Wei Guang: The Imperial Edict Bearer and Kayla's godfather.
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Cao Shuyi walked into Kuang’s study, glancing about.
“Qian’er,” Cao Shuyi called as she moved further into the room.
“Over here, Sister-in-law,” Yunqi greeted her from where he sat on Kuang’s couch.
“Mother!” Chenqian wriggled out of Yunqi’s lap and pattered over to hug his mother’s knees.
“There you are, I was looking for you two,” Cao Shuyi said, turning her gaze to Yunqi. “Where’s your brother?”
“Third Brother stepped out into the garden with a guest,” Yunqi said, giving her a meaningful look. Cao Shuyi got the hint. It was either someone from the palace, or someone who wanted to switch over from Xianchun’s faction. Anyone else would have been comfortable speaking before the Fifth Prince, knowing him to be in the Third Prince's closest confidence. She turned her attention to Chenqian instead, patting the boy’s hair.
“Chenqian wasn’t bothering you again, was he?” Cao Shuyi asked.
“Not at all,” Yunqi replied.
“I wasn’t! Uncle was telling me the story of Emperor Guangwu of Han! We’d just gotten to the part where he’d ascended to the throne!” Chenqian protested.
Cao Shuyi and Yunqi exchanged a look of amusement.
“Alright then, how about you come and help your mother out instead? Save the rest of the story for another time,” Cao Shuyi said lightly. She reckoned that it had been over half an hour already, if Yunqi had gotten that far, and Kuang’s meeting was likely to end soon.
“But mother,” Chenqian whined.
“Go help your mother out, Qian’er. I’ll tell you the rest another time,” Yunqi urged. Pouting, Chenqian acquiesced.
“We’ll be off then, Yunqi,” Cao Shuyi said. “Say goodbye to your uncle.”
“Goodbye, Uncle.” Chenqian waved his short arm vigorously as he was led away.
Yunqi’s smile faded as they disappeared from sight, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. The eunuch from the palace had come under great secrecy, but Yunqi already had some idea what this was about.
Wenyuan…just what happened? Yunqi shifted uneasily, waiting for Kuang to return. It didn’t take much longer for the Third Prince to come back.
“Brother,” Yunqi greeted him anxiously.
Kuang gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t look so nervous, Yunqi, the sky won’t collapse on us that easily. It’s just an update from the palace on Wenyuan. He went to see Father earlier and stirred up quite the fuss.”
Yunqi leaned forward with a small frown. “What do you mean?”
“Wenyuan is quite talented in many regards, but his greatest talent seems to be dealing with Father,” Kuang said.
“Father actually agreed to intervene on his behalf?” Yunqi asked. He had hoped that would be the case, but given the Empress Dowager’s powerful position, Yunqi had half-expected the Emperor to sit this one out.
Kuang nodded. “Father is raising both Wenyuan’s position and title–he will be dual-appointed to Director of the Imperial Investigation Bureau in addition to being Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, and he will be made a Duke on top of all that. There will be quite a stir at court once the news is released.”
“What–To that extent?” Yunqi asked in shock.
“Indeed. Father let Wenyuan into his personal quarters, and sent away everyone else. They spoke for a little while, and this is the result. That cousin of ours moves faster than a prized horse from the Western Regions,” Kuang said.
“Do you think Father already had the intention to do that or did he make the decision impulsively?” Yunqi asked.
“Who knows? Knowing Father, it may very well be the latter, but that might not necessarily be the case. Neither Xiang Daozong nor Liang Hongfei could have been reinstated without Father’s tacit approval. It’s possible that Father wanted to do this from the start, and Wenyuan’s persuasions may have only moved the process along faster.” Kuang shook his head slightly, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he stared out the window. “This greatly strengthens the neutral faction, but it’s yet to be seen if it will come at our expense.”
Yunqi lowered his eyes, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“But I suppose we’ll get to test Wenyuan’s attitude soon. How he interacts with Mingda will tell us more than any promises of his,” Kuang said. He glanced at Yunqi, who was quietly staring into his lap.
“What’s the matter, Yunqi?” Kuang asked.
“I apologize, Brother.” Yunqi reluctantly lifted guilt-ridden eyes to meet Kuang’s gaze. “I was the one who recommended this course of action to Wenyuan. I felt sympathetic for his plight, and thought that this might alleviate his pressure somewhat, I just didn’t expect him to be this successful.”
Kuang stilled. The silence stretched out for an awful moment. Kuang’s face was impassive, but that didn’t stop Yunqi’s insides from twisting with misery. He knew full well how much trouble he brought to Kuang–the Shu clan was more of a deadweight than an asset, and so was Yunqi. No matter how much Kuang and his supporters pretended otherwise, Yunqi knew, at the bottom of his heart, that Kuang barely gained anything from the alliance. Instead, it was Yunqi and the Shu clan that desperately needed Kuang’s victory to drag them out of the tar pit.
I shouldn’t have done anything. Our position is already this bad and I’m still making more of a mess. Damn it, why didn’t I just sit still and wait it out?
Kuang smiled, and the crushing anxiety lifted from Yunqi’s rib cage.
“Well, I suppose we all tend to underestimate Wenyuan’s ability to wriggle his way out of predicaments,” Kuang said lightly, as though he were talking about an amusing escapade.
“I’m sorry,” Yunqi said quietly.
Kuang reached over and clapped a hand onto Yunqi’s shoulder blade.
“Don’t trouble yourself over this, Yunqi. Wenyuan is a clever man, he probably would have thought of this himself sooner or later. Thanks to your actions, we still have him in our debt–if he had achieved this without any help on your part, we would have gained absolutely nothing,” Kuang comforted him. Being off the hook filled Yunqi with as much relief as guilt, the emotions mixing together disconcertingly in his stomach.
“Thank you, Brother. You’re as broad-hearted as always,” Yunqi replied.
Kuang gently squeezed Yunqi’s shoulder. “And you’re as softhearted as always,” Kuang said. “You’ve been like this since you were a child.”
Sensing that Yunqi was growing uneasy again, Kuang gave him a smile.
“I’m not rebuking you, Yunqi. Kindness is a virtue, is it not said that if a ruler rules with kindness, there will be none who can oppose him throughout all under heaven? Should someone try to take advantage of that, I am more than capable of handling it for you. That being said, Wenyuan…”
Kuang breathed out through his nose, a sharp glint in his eyes as he spoke. “Our cousin is not the pitiful little puppet that he used to be. Your sympathy for him may very well come back to bite you.”
“I understand,” Yunqi replied. “It’s just that…he has helped me in the past, as you’re aware of. More so than sympathy, I am envious. Him and I were both trapped by the circumstances of our clans, but he is the only one who has managed to make something out of it. Me, I’m still where I started.”
“You and the Shu clan will be fine. I promised I would ensure your safety, and I’ll carry through on that no matter what,” Kuang assured him.
“Thank you, Brother.” Yunqi smiled at him with genuine gratitude. Without Kuang, Yunqi wasn’t even sure if he would have survived this long.
It’s not that I don’t wish for Kuang’s help, I just wish I had more say in my own survival, Yunqi silently lamented. He had once had ambitions as well, but they had long since faded into the pathetic neediness of someone clinging to life. At times, Yunqi found himself consumed with resentment at his circumstances and at himself, often when he was alone, lying awake at night.
Not as though I have a right to feel that way, especially with how much favor Third Brother has shown me. Yunqi mentally chastised himself for the ingratitude.
“Then what are our plans, now that Wenyuan is taking a step up in life?” Yunqi asked.
Kuang sat down next to him, leaning into the seat. “Well, we should match his pace now, shouldn’t we? If he seeks to build a power base in the border region as a Duke, it wouldn’t do to just have a Governor as an ally. Yunqi, what do you think of bringing General Yan into the mix?”
Yunqi stilled for a moment before he chuckled, shaking his head. “An excellent idea.”
“Perfect, I hoped you would say that,” Kuang replied.
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“Damn it!”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
The tea table was flung across the room, where there was the unmistakable sound of splintering wood. Liu Boyue quietly watched in the corner as Xianchun raged on. The Seventh Prince was livid at the news from the palace, almost exactly as Liu Boyue expected he would be.
Once, Liu Boyue would have been one of the only two people who could successfully talk Xianchun out of his rage. Liu Boyue had taken a small amount of pride in the fact and at his closeness to the prince–but these days, the distance between the two of them had grown. Even though Xianchun had once more drawn Liu Boyue into his confidence, the prince was no longer as open and unreserved around Liu Boyue, their easy companionship no longer a given.
“It’s outrageous–Outrageous! Just how biased can Father be?!” Xianchun shouted.
Liu Boyue was glad the room was duly soundproofed as Xianchun let out a string of curses. It wasn’t so much jealousy at the promotion that had set the Prince off, that much was clear from a bystander’s point of view. It was the benefit of the doubt that the Emperor gave, the seemingly unconditional favor that never seemed to run dry for Wenyuan, that had the Seventh Prince so enraged. It was also, Liu Boyue suspected, the underlying reason for Xianchun’s fixation on Zhao Wenyuan.
Unfortunately, the reason had only become clear to him after he had lost favor with the Seventh Prince, and was no longer in a position to offer sincere remonstration.
“Such power-grabbing would never be permitted in anyone else, never! Killing the Grand Duke could be said to be in the country’s interests, and even reinstating Xiang Daozong was understandable! It was self-preservation after all, one couldn’t begrudge a man that much. But what about Hu Qing? That so-called Liang Hongfei? Wenyuan created the perfect alibi for himself and his men, but the whole thing has his name painted all over it! And Father doesn’t even so much as blink! Instead he rewards Wenyuan for it!” Xianchun snarled.
He whirled towards Liu Boyue, his eyes alight with anger.
“Who else? Tell me, who else, in the history of this dynasty has been afforded such favor?!”
“No one,” Liu Boyue replied.
Xianchun ground his teeth, the sound audible even across the room.
“It’s possible that the Emperor doesn’t truly intend to promote him, my prince. Save for dealing with the Treasury, neither promotion has been set in stone. He’s spread the news over the palace, yes, no doubt to make the court panic, but His Majesty may very well be using this to galvanize Wenyuan without any real intent of following through,” Liu Boyue offered as meager comfort.
Xianchun shook his head, immediately rejecting the idea. “No, he would never do that to Wenyuan. He would do it to plenty of people, but not Wenyuan.”
It was hardly a new tactic for the Emperor. Plenty of consorts had stories of how the Emperor hinted at promotions in rank or wanting to have a child with them in order to get his in-laws to do as he wished. The First and Second Prince also had often been on the receiving end as well, the title of Crown Prince dangling just out of reach for them as the Emperor led them around by their noses. A few neutral officials had come and gone, braving the court’s fury with the belief that the Emperor had their back, only to be discarded without a blink.
But the prince was certain, with a surety that didn’t bear arguing with.
“Wenyuan is different,” Xianchun said. “Father has always…He’s always treated Wenyuan differently from any of us. Only Sixth Brother was favored quite as much, and after he died, there hasn’t been anybody else.”
There was a dark anger that bordered on grief in Xianchun’s face that sparked concern in Liu Boyue.
“My prince,” Liu Boyue said softly, scrambling for words to offer up. Xianchun spared him the trouble, continuing on through a tightly clenched jaw.
“Even when my mother was still a favored consort, Father was distant towards me. No matter how I tried to please him, he would only give some offhanded praise at most. But towards Wenyuan…good heavens, now that was a different story altogether! There was this time when I was walking with Mother in the palace and saw Father off in the distance–I was still very small back then, but I still remember that scene as clear as day. I wanted to call out to Father, but Mother held me back. The two of us just stood there, silent and awkward in the shadows, watching like we were dumb and mute as Father walked out from his quarters with Wenyuan on his shoulders. He was laughing so happily that I barely even recognized him!”
There was a raw hurt to the Prince’s face now that Liu Boyue hadn’t seen in a long time, not even when Consort Chen’s murder had been revealed to him by Zhao Wenyuan. It was the pain of an injured beast, one that inspired fear instead of pity.
“Mother never said a word about it, but she squeezed my hand so hard that it bruised. She didn’t even realize it until afterwards. She was upset, I’m sure, but her disappointment couldn’t have lit a candle to the humiliation I felt! It’s been years since, almost two decades now, but that scene is still right behind my eyelids!” Xianchun snarled out the words, as humiliated by the memory as by admitting to it.
“My prince, that’s all long in the past now,” Liu Boyue offered a little helplessly. “Wenyuan is now an official of the court and not just some coddled child the Emperor is free to dote on. Favor alone won’t get him nearly far enough.”
Xianchun whirled on him with flashing eyes. “Are you kidding me? I also thought this shit was over! But do you see this?! Even if Grandmother’s the one pulling the strings, all it takes for Wenyuan is one meeting with Father, and all the problems are solved and promotions on the way! It’s like there’s no limit to Father’s favor for him!”
“It’s not about favor, my prince, it’s about power,” Liu Boyue replied firmly. “Who else can be a better representative for the Emperor’s interests than Wenyuan, his maternal nephew? He has no claim to the throne and thus poses no threat. He has no other backing but the Emperor, and his entire platform relies on being loyal to the throne–once that falls apart, he loses everything. You, however, will always have your Imperial blood to fall back upon. Why begrudge a sword its sharpening?”
Xianchun was quiet for a long time, halfway mollified by Liu Boyue’s sincere words. After a while, he gathered himself.
“Now what? Personal feelings aside, he poses more of a threat now. What do we do about it?” Xianchun asked.
“We must quietly observe, my prince. Zhao Wenyuan is at the height of favor, it’s not wise for us to openly go against him at the moment. On the other hand, we can make the most of this–focus our energies on carving out the largest piece of the power vacuum that will be left by the investigation into the Grand Duke, as well as whatever the Emperor unleashes Wenyuan on next. The Emperor’s favor you might not have, but his throne you might,” Liu Boyue said. “It’ll be a mad scramble for power, and we must come out on top.”
Xianchun heaved a heavy sigh, the worst of his rage past him now. “A sound course of action. I will do as you say, Boyue, but I won’t forget the humiliation of being used as a stepping stone. I treated Wenyuan with sincerity, but his heart has never been aligned with me from the start.”
Liu Boyue politely withheld his That’s-what-I've-been-saying-all-along and nodded along.
“There will be a day when Father’s benevolence for Wenyuan runs out, and at that time, he better fucking watch his back,” Xianchun said coldly.
Something about the threat sent chills down Liu Boyue’s spine. The prince had changed since the Grand Duke’s death, he realized, and not into a better man, but certainly one more suited for the throne. Liu Boyue didn’t know whether he was happy or upset at the development, and said nothing further in response.
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By the next day, the news had reached the Ministry of Justice. Two of the lower-ranking officials stood by the desk of a third, discussing the matter with a removed interest.
“There’s word that Lord Zhao will climb even higher,” Secretary Zhang said idly. “Who knows? He might even end up at the rank of Grand Duke after all.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised at that,” Secretary Lu replied. “He is the Emperor’s nephew after all.”
The two of them exchanged an amused glance. To their side, the youngest official of the group knitted his bushy brows together.
“Well, he certainly has a head start,” Secretary Lu grumbled. “Even that Imperial Edict Bearer treats that young little Lordling like he’s the most brilliant man to be born, but tell you what? If I had a family background like that? I could do just as well.”
“Not to mention he’s going to become the Khagan’s son-in-law, soon enough,” Secretary Zhang added.
“Yes, that too,” Secretary Lu said knowingly.
“Then it’s just as well that he’s promoted, it’ll reassure the Khagan all the more,” Secretary Song said, breaking his silence. The two older men glanced at him in open surprise. Secretary Song had been so quiet that they’d all but forgotten his presence.
“Certainly, yes, but that means the Emperor’s favor will be going to a man who’s tied to a foreign country,” Secretary Lu said. “Divided loyalties and all that, you know? One can’t help but worry.”
Secretary Song’s frown deepened.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything by that,” Secretary Lu hastily added, remembering that Secretary Song’s mother was a Persian woman. The younger man was visibly of mixed descent; hardly a rarity in the capital city, but much more so for a man from a quiet town like Secretary Lu was. Secretary Song didn’t seem to notice the slight at all.
“It’s not just his background, he doesn’t act like a noble,” Secretary Song said.
“What?” Secretary Lu asked in confusion. “Oh, I was just joking about that, you know.”
He began to feel a little uncomfortable, finding Secretary Song’s indecipherable expression unsettling.
“What do you mean?” Secretary Zhang asked, not having any such fear and being rather eager to see what the enigmatic young man really thought.
“Lord Zhao doesn’t think like a noble at all,” Secretary Song said with firm finality, as though he had already made up his mind on the matter. “That’s why he’s valued by the Emperor, or he would have remained a Secretariat forever. But I do wonder, the Emperor’s promoting him even after such a blatant grab for power as the installing of Lord Liang. Is it really because of the Khaganate?”
“What else can it be?” Secretary Zhang asked. But Secretary Song had retreated back to his paperwork and refused to be drawn into elaborating his response. The moment the workday was over, Secretary Song went home to write a letter to the Zhao household, politely asking for an audience with its Lord.
The Lord in question was no less busy, hard at work haranguing her godfather in a lengthy letter. It wouldn’t be sent out until the next day, but Kayla had already spoken with Wei Guang briefly. What she was writing was just to drive the point home.
Kayla had already communicated her message to him clearly enough–the Empress Dowager wanted Wei Guang’s head on a pike, but Kayla had refused and gotten both of them out of the sticky situation. None too subtly, she had hinted that he was now in her debt, for both leaking information to Xianchun and for Kayla’s refusal to betray him.
One way or another, it seemed to her that Wei Guang would only sit still if he were dead, and only remember his loyalties to anyone other than the dynasty itself if his obligations were constantly being thrown in his face.
Well, who am I to question his needs? She was more than happy to accommodate–by constantly reminding him of their alliance and what lay at stake for him via a sustained harassment campaign of letters and visits. Kayla had already queued up several letters for the duration of her absence so that Wei Guang would be receiving practically a letter a day for the two weeks or so.
Straight-forward and obtuse as the method was, it took little effort to accomplish yet resulted in great returns, leaving her plenty of time and energy to direct towards what she actually wanted to focus on.
For one, it meant Kayla had plenty of excuses to send her people in and out of Wei Guang’s house on a regular basis, and further cemented the alliance between the two in the eyes of the court. If Wei Guang wanted to make yet another deal behind her back, he would have to spend a lot more effort in convincing the other party to go along, and even more in keeping things hidden from Kayla.
Try if you want, old man, but I won’t make it easy for you.
Cackling quietly to herself, Kayla finished writing the letter and sealed it with her stamp.
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Cultural Notes
汉光武帝/Emperor Guangwu of Han: Given name Liu Xiu, he was an Emperor of the Han Dynasty, he restored/founded the Eastern Han after the dynasty had been usurped by Wang Mang (the guy from the dogblood incident). He started his life as a relatively unremarkable, albeit intelligent young man. After Wang Mang's short-lived dynasty began to crumble due to internal unrest, Liu Xiu joined his older brother Liu Yan's rebellion. They eventually joined up with other rebel leaders, and it was expected by many that Liu Yan would declare himself Emperor, giving his charisma and forceful personality, but others wanted a leader easier to control, and made the weak and impressionable Liu Xuan (Liu Yan and Liu Xiu's cousin) the Emperor. Soon after that, the until-then mostly overlooked Liu Xiu played a key role in the Battle of Kunyang, which was a major blow to Wang Mang's administration. Yunqi's story to Chenqian would have ended here, but after the Battle of Kunyang, Liu Xiu continued to fight on the frontlines, while Liu Yan remained at the base among the leadership. However, the newly self-declared Emperor Liu Xuan grew fearful of Liu Yan's popularity and had him killed. In the aftermath, Liu Xiu did not retaliate but instead emphasized his loyalty and managed to survive. After the rebels took power in the capital, Liu Xiu (who was now trusted by Liu Xuan) was sent to Hebei (North of the Yellow River) to crush the opposition there. Instead, after gaining control over the region, Liu Xiu declared independence and went on to crush Liu Xuan's administration and quell opposition from various other factions across China.
天不会塌/The sky won't fall down: A Chinese saying that means "it won't be that bad", or that no matter how bad it gets, it won't be the end of the world.
西域宝马/Prized horse from the Western Regions: Horses from nomadic Central and Western Asia were greatly prized in Ancient China and often priced at exorbitant prices due to being bred for long distances and high speeds.
心胸宽广/Broad-hearted: An Ancient Chinese proverb that means to be open-hearted or to have a big heart, not minding small offenses and being able to see the bigger picture.
王者行仁政，无敌于天下/[If a] King carries out humane administration, he will be unrivaled in all under heaven: An Ancient Chinese quote from the 盐铁论/Salt and Steel Debates, a series of debates carried out on economic reforms in the Han Dynasty. It essentially means that kindness cannot be defeated.
静观其变/Quietly watch things develop: An Ancient Chinese proverb meaning to observe and wait your chance rather than jumping in impulsively.
正值盛宠/At the height of favor: An Ancient Chinese phrase referring to someone who is on the receiving end of a great deal of favor. This often is used in two contexts, with officials and the Emperor, and with women and their husbands. Alternatively, a combination of the two with consorts and the Emperor.
Persians in the Tang Dynasty: Intermarriage between ethnic groups, including with foreigners, was much more common in Ancient China than many people think. There were a great deal of Persian merchants in China, as well as Persian or half-Persian officials. Members of the Sassanian royal family in Iran had also fled to China during the Arabic invasion of Sassanid Persia. On that note, there was also a sizable Arabic Muslim community in China starting from around the Tang dynasty, and many officials and merchants were known to marry Persian, Turkic, or Arabic women.