Character Index
Hu Qing/Liang Hongfei: Lord of the Liang clan and Vice-Censor.
Tao Qian: Kayla's retainer and bodyguard.
Lin Yaoguang: The Grand Duke's money launderer, or so he claims.
Chujiao/Jing Shuyou: Formerly Wenyuan's maid and childhood sweetheart, Xiang Daozong's cousin.
Xiang Daozong/Qu Boyong: Lord of the Xiang clan.
Zhou Hong and Zhou Yong: The deceased First and Second Princes.
Lin Jie: Former Attendant Censor, a brilliant man who was murdered on the brink of uncovering a dangerous truth.
Zhou Xianchun: The Seventh Prince.
Zhou Kuang: The Third Prince.
Zhang Wuxian: Attendant Censor and friend of Lin Jie.
Chen Caichun: A Chamberlain of the Court of Judicial Review, Kayla's supporter and advisor.
Liu Boyue: Xianchun's friend and strategist.
Zhou Yunqi: The Fifth Prince
Cao Shuyi: Wife of the Third Prince.
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Hu Qing vaulted over the garden wall, storming past the flabbergasted guards of the Zhao household. One of the guards recognized his face and hastily held out a hand to stop his coworkers. They uneasily stood down, watching as Hu Qing’s robes swished around a corner towards the Duke’s office.
“Is it alright to let him go in like that?” One of the guards asked in a whisper.
“It’s fine, we’d be more likely to get in trouble if we try to stop him,” his colleague whispered back. Glancing in the direction the man disappeared in, they shuffled back to their posts.
Hu Qing stopped short as he got to the door, catching sight of his old acquaintance Tao Qian.
“The Duke’s in a meeting,” Tao Qian mouthed at Hu Qing.
He nodded back and withdrew to a corner, hiding his presence. Shortly after, a small old man left the room, a look of grim victory on his face as he trotted down the hall. To Hu Qing’s surprise, the man turned and met eyes with him.
He noticed me? Hu Qing kept his expression indifferent as the man passed by and left.
He shared a wary look with Tao Qian.
“Lord Liang is here to see you,” Tao Qian called into the office before tactfully taking his leave.
“Hu Qing,” Wenyuan called in greeting as Hu Qing entered. There was a strange look on the Duke’s face that made Hu Qing hesitate before crossing over to his usual seat.
“My lord, who was that just now?” Hu Qing asked.
Wenyuan smiled unpleasantly. “Lin Yaoguang. My grandfather’s money launderer, or so he claims. He’s offering me the Grand Duke’s money, and information on the First and Second Prince’s deaths.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He claims that he feared being dragged out by my investigations,” Wenyuan said, leaning back in his seat. “But I doubt it.”
“What are you going to do then?”
Wenyuan gave a small shrug. “I’ll take what I can get. He asked for a twenty percent commission on the money and a magical oath of protection, but that’s hardly difficult to get around. I do need the money. And more importantly, the information.”
“But can the information be trusted? It seems strange to me that he’s showing up at a time like this. Sure, he can exchange a lead to reduce your animosity towards him, but I don’t believe that he’d take a risk like this unless he had something to gain from it. And I’m not just talking about a twenty percent commission, he already has all the money,” Hu Qing said.
“I know. But he has information on the Grand Duke’s dealings that can be dangerous to me. No matter his trustworthiness, I need to keep him under control for now. Plus, the Emperor’s relying on me to find the killers. He calls me over everyday, he’ll know if I’m making no progress. I don’t know this fucker’s intentions, but if there’s a lead, I’ll have to look into it.”
“Do you think it’s a trap?” Hu Qing asked.
“I don’t know. Most likely, yes. Things are never just that convenient without careful design,” Wenyuan remarked. “But, well…I have my own ways of turning the trap against the hunter.”
“A magical oath, huh?” Hu Qing muttered. Wenyuan chuckled, barely able to stop himself from bursting into laughter.
“I am going to kill him,” Wenyuan said, mirth tinting his voice. “I am going to make him regret this within an inch of his life. I swear it.”
Hu Qing nodded, subtly examining Wenyuan’s face. Despite the wide smile of amusement, there was rage in the Duke’s eyes.
“I can get the information out of him and have him dead within the hour,” Hu Qing offered.
“No, it’s alright. Let’s indulge him. Why not? He’s the one who asked for a magical oath!” The sentence ended in a snarl.
The pressure’s getting to him, Hu Qing noted, careful to keep the realization off of his face.
“But never mind that. What happened with you?” Wenyuan asked. The dark anger in his eyes had disappeared as quickly as it had emerged.
Hu Qing shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, uh, Jing Shuyou came to find me.”
“Chujiao? Why? What for?”
“She wants me to marry her,” Hu Qing said stiffly.
Wenyuan was silent for a moment, surprise written over his face.
“Did she say why?”
“To bind Xiang Daozong to you, apparently.”
Wenyuan nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “Do you think her sincere?”
Hu Qing scowled. He didn't like it, but the answer was clear. “Yes.”
“And what do you think of the proposal?” Wenyuan asked. The Duke’s tone was carefully neutral.
“I don’t know what to think,” Hu Qing confessed. He gave Wenyuan a helpless look. “Is this beneficial to us or not? It is, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. Xiang Daozong is the only other nephew of the Emperor who can neither be posited as a threat to the throne nor overlooked in terms of peerage. As long as he remains unfettered, the neutral faction will always have a backup.” Wenyuan paused, his expression clouding over with worry. “Just like how the palace always had a backup before. But now with the First and Second Princes dead…”
He shook his head, cutting off the train of thought.
“But beneficial or not, this is your life. Marriage isn’t child’s play. Think if you can accept this arrangement, and think it over properly. If you can’t, then refuse,” Wenyuan finished.
Hu Qing sighed. “Well, as the head of house, I’m expected to marry anyway. If it’s all politics, then I’d rather a match that benefits us. But I’m not sure about this. I mean, that woman is…”
Even as he said it, he could see that it was an unnecessary concern. Wenyuan had no lingering feelings for Chujiao save for nostalgia.
“You needn’t worry about that,” Wenyuan said blandly. “Chujiao is important to me, but only as a family member. I’d like to see her happy, but let’s be honest–Xiang Daozong isn’t really the most capable head of house, and given her previous tenure as a serving maid, it’ll be hard to find her a good match of the same status. And knowing Xiang Daozong, he won’t settle for less. She’ll end up miserable unless she takes matters into her own hands.”
“But she’s offering her own cousin up to us,” Hu Qing muttered. “She was definitely sincere, unless she had full mastery of her expressions, but I’m not sure how trustworthy she is.”
Wenyuan’s entire being seemed to quiet for a moment, a look of melancholy crossing his face.
“Offering the Xiang clan to us, huh? She knows me too well. She knows it’s for the best.”
The Duke’s eyes flashed with the same dark rage as before, this time with a more desperate edge.
“If she wants Xiang Daozong alive, then yes, she should certainly be offering him up to me on a plate. I won’t suffer to have Xiang Daozong gain the fisherman’s benefit from my ruin. I don’t care if it’s petty or selfish–if people can drop me the second I’m in danger because they know there’s another nephew of the Emperor to latch onto, they fucking will! I can’t have that! To have a sword hanging over me is bad enough, to have that sword be the man I reinstated myself? I can’t accept it. If I’m to die, I won’t let Qu Boyong live to laugh down at me!”
“Of course not,” Hu Qing replied quietly.
Wenyuan deflated. “I’m sorry, you’re not the one I’m mad at. Everything just seems to get on my nerves these days.”
There were dark circles under his eyes, Hu Qing noted sympathetically. The Emperor was relying on Wenyuan for not just emotional support but also political support. Hu Qing doubted that Wenyuan had gotten a single full night of sleep since Lin Jie’s death.
“It should bother you. If Xiang Daozong’s a threat, then he needs to be dealt with. No one would blame you even if you wanted him dead,” Hu Qing pointed out incredulously. He made the decision almost instantaneously. “I’ll marry Jing Shuyou.”
Wenyuan’s face creased with concern. “Hu Qing, are you really alright with this?”
“It’s fine. My career is also in the balance, isn’t it?” Hu Qing said. “This suits our needs perfectly, it allows me to gag the family elders' nagging, and it’s the best match Jing Shuyou can make on short notice. Why not?”
Wenyuan relaxed slightly. “Well, if you’re sure,” he said hesitantly.
Why wouldn’t I be?
Chujiao’s taunts pricked at the back of his mind.
What does she know? There’s no one else in this world who would show such indiscriminate favor towards me. Who other than Wenyuan would worry about my feelings when there’s such a golden opportunity at stake?
He resisted the urge to grind his jaw. The only reason why I was able to choose this path was because someone paved the way for me. Does she think I would forget that?
That woman doesn’t understand a thing.
Across from him, Wenyuan was still anxiously awaiting an answer.
“I’m sure,” Hu Qing replied.
Wenyuan smiled in relief.
“I don’t know how to do the wedding stuff. What’s the first step for proposing again?” Hu Qing asked.
“I’ll send someone over to handle it for you. But we should wait until the state funerals are over, and an official mourning period has been set,” Wenyuan said. “For a prince, the mourning period usually isn’t that long, but it’d be best to avoid making any official overtures for now. Just send a verbal request, and I’ll make it so that Xiang Daozong can’t marry her off to anyone else until you get your formal proposal through the door.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Perfect,” Hu Qing replied.
“The Seventh Prince might not be pleased, since Xiang Daozong had been displaying goodwill towards him, but it can’t be helped. I really don’t want to antagonize him too much though, since he’s certain to clash with the Third Prince over the funerary arrangements. It’s not in his nature to let this opportunity go. A lot of points in the Third Prince’s proposal are technically incompatible with custom, especially the matter of the Gongsun bride’s posthumous status,” Wenyuan remarked.
“That means the Third Prince will definitely retaliate,” Hu Qing muttered.
Wenyuan nodded. “Of course. The First and Second Princes meant different things to the two of them. In terms of sentiment, this is just a political controversy for the Seventh Prince, but it’s personal for the Third Prince. And we all know how he can get when it comes to his loved ones…plus, now that there’s no fear of getting a backup dragged into the arena after triumphing over their opponent, they’ll be all the more worked up. They know there’s not much the palace can do against the Crown Prince once one is instated, not without someone with sufficient peerage to prop up as a replacement. If we want to avoid a bloody storm between the Third and the Seventh Prince, we’ll have to redouble our efforts.” He heaved a sigh. “But anyways, that’s all the more reason to ensure we make no mistakes at this juncture. Has Zhang Wuxian made any progress with Lin Jie’s notes?”
“Surprisingly little, and my retainer Xie Rengui’s been keeping an eye on him, so we know he’s not doing it on purpose,” Hu Qing said. “There are just so many missing pieces that it feels like we can sense a full picture, but can’t see it properly for the life of us.”
“Hmm, well, keep working on it for now. Even if Lin Yaoguang can give us something useful, it’s certain to be only a small chunk of the truth. I can’t settle for that.”
“Of course,” Hu Qing replied.
“Well then, let me be the first one to congratulate you on your engagement, Hu Qing,” Wenyuan said after a brief pause. “Having a family of your own isn’t easy, but I sincerely hope that it’ll be rewarding for you.”
“Thank you,” Hu Qing replied.
Wenyuan laughed softly and patted Hu Qing’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said sincerely.
All Hu Qing could do was nod.
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Kayla waved until the door shut behind Hu Qing. She waited until his footsteps had receded before dropping her head onto the desk. Everything seemed strangely distant now that the meeting was over, a leaden weight in her chest weighing her down after the volatile spikes of anger had fizzled out.
This is bad, I was like this after getting out of jail too, Kayla noted despondently. I need to snap out of it. There’s so much to do, we don’t have time for hysterics.
Her head remained glued to the desk.
Chujiao and Hu Qing, huh? She had a strange feeling that their marriage wouldn’t be an easy one.
Did I back Chujiao into a corner? Maybe she had. But Kayla’s patience had run thin where Xiang Daozong was concerned.
Realization jolted through her mind. Isn’t this how the Empress Dowager felt with me?
Kayla straightened woodenly. No, no way.
But it was the same pattern.
Xiang Daozong became a threat to me after I helped him because he’s a potential replacement in Wei Guang’s plans, and I…became a threat to the Empress Dowager after she helped me as a potential replacement…in the Emperor’s…
She ran a hand down her face, sighing into her sleeve.
So what? The Empress Dowager failed with me, that doesn’t mean I’ll fail with him. I’m not like her. I’m not like the Grand Duke.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to focus on the more urgent matters at hand.
Forget the Empress Dowager for now. Whatever Lin Jie found, I’m certain it has to do with the deaths of the First and Second Princes.
And yet Zhang Wuxian, the person closest to Lin Jie, had been unable to figure anything out. Even the internal investigation with the Bureau’s archivists was failing to turn up leads for Lin Jie's murder. Somehow, Kayla didn’t think that was a coincidence.
Just as it’s not a coincidence that Lin Yaoguang’s appearing before me now.
Kayla rolled her stiff shoulders and picked up the communication device.
“Caichun,” Kayla said as the call connected. “I need your help with something.”
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Liu Boyue silently watched as Xianchun paced the study. The prince’s simmering dissatisfaction had cooled somewhat from earlier, but was far from dissipating.
Liu Boyue couldn’t blame him. They were losing ground, and in ways they never thought were possible. The Emperor had always been known for his passionate nature, his hatred as fierce as his love. With the Emperor’s unstable mood, no one could have predicted what the right move was. But Zhou Kuang’s risky gamble to petition for his older brothers to be buried with state honors had paid off–it had aligned perfectly with the Emperor’s wishes.
“Now that Grandmother isn’t interfering anymore, Father’s favor is the deciding factor,” Xianchun said thoughtfully. “Right now, he sees Wenyuan more than any of us. That guy’s been meeting with Father more than he meets with his own wife. The only way we can make inroads is through the court.”
“The Emperor’s at his most dangerous when he’s at the height of emotion,” Liu Boyue said. “He may yet come to turn upon Zhao Wenyuan.”
Xianchun scoffed at the thought. “If anyone could handle him, it’d be Wenyuan. Our best bet is focusing on the funerary rites to curtail Third Brother’s influence.”
“Please tread carefully, my prince. The Emperor is very sensitive about the First and Second Princes right now,” Liu Boyue warned him.
“Since when does Father care about them anyways?” Xianchun muttered darkly. “He suspects and persecutes his sons while they’re alive, and then turns around and mourns us when we’re dead. Does it suit him to play the part of a loving father?”
Liu Boyue shifted, both happy and unsettled to hear the prince’s discontent.
“Perhaps it’s his way of dealing with guilt,” Liu Boyue replied.
“Guilt…well, it’s easy enough for him to cry and garner sympathy,” Xianchun said. He thought back to his own mother’s death with a dull ache. “Even when it’s due to his negligence, he manages to act as if he’s the one who was wronged.”
“But I must say, we narrowly avoided a major crisis,” Liu Boyue said. “The Turkic ambassador had still been in the capital at the time, and if the Emperor had started a bloodbath because of this, then the situation would have spiraled out of control.”
Usually, crises were opportunities, but when it came to the Emperor’s rage, no one from the Imperial Family was capable of interfering save for the Empress Dowager. And she had withdrawn from politics, handing her connections and spies to Xianchun as a parting package. They simply didn’t have the means to take risks at the moment.
“Well, if Third Brother wants to pander to Father, we should do it too,” Xianchun said. “Father’s guilt is directed towards my brothers, not to the greedy fools who pushed them to this point. Since he detests the Gongsun clan so much to the point where he can exile his own sons because of them, then why on earth should he honor one of theirs?”
“The Gongsun girl who married the First Prince,” Liu Boyue said, catching on immediately. “We certainly have grounds to oppose that. If we acknowledge her, then does that mean we acknowledge her father as the First Prince’s father-in-law? The Emperor may acknowledge the First Prince’s mother out of sentiment for their many years wedded to each other, but the extent to which the Gongsun clan pushed him around has always been a point of shame for him. He’ll never acknowledge her as a daughter-in-law if it means he’ll have to acknowledge the clan itself.”
Xianchun smiled thinly.
“I heard a great deal about how women miscarried more often than not in the Inner Palace before my eldest sister’s birth,” Xianchun remarked. “That is, back when the former Empress still had dominion.”
“We should encourage those rumors to recirculate,” Liu Boyue said. “And as for the Gongsun bride, there’s no point in opposing it as is. It may cause you to appear principled, but there’s much your enemies can say about filial piety and brotherly affection.”
“Then what?” Xianchun demanded.
“We should get officials to submit proposals in support of acknowledging the Gongsun bride as the Emperor’s daughter-in-law. Not only that, but to follow the train of thought and go even further so as to acknowledge her father and mother’s merits for raising a Princess Consort as well. Once the line between acknowledging the girl alone and acknowledging the girl’s family has been crossed, the Emperor will immediately balk at the idea,” Liu Boyue said.
“This is too risky to use our own people,” Xianchun pointed out.
“Please leave that to me, my prince. I will find a way to maximize our interests while dealing a blow to the Third Prince, and to see it done quickly and effectively,” Liu Boyue replied. He faltered as Xianchun stared at him stonily for a moment.
“Very well, I’ll leave it to you,” Xianchun said.
Liu Boyue brightened in relief.
“Thank you, my prince! I won’t let you down,” Liu Boyue promised.
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Kuang shook the copied scroll in his hands, expression dark with anger. The proposal had reached the palace in the evening and then the Emperor at night, sending the Emperor in a rage that had his senior eunuch scrambling to fetch Zhao Wenyuan. Now, it had reached the Third Prince’s household.
“Which fool sent this in?!” Kuang snarled, pacing the room. Yunqi and Cao Shuyi watched on worriedly.
“My dear,” Cao Shuyi hesitantly began, faltering to find words.
“This is a clear act of sabotage! Acknowledging her parents as the First Prince’s in-laws? That’s preposterous! Who doesn’t know that they were executed for treason?” Kuang said. “They’re just trying to get at Father’s insecurities in order to turn this against us!”
“Someone must have instigated this,” Yunqi said quietly.
“Xianchun,” Kuang hissed. “That unfilial, impious little brat!”
With blazing eyes, the prince whirled towards them.
“I will demolish his household and build a temple there someday,” Kuang promised.
The tragedy had brought out a side of Kuang that had previously been well-hidden beneath layers and layers of measured, calculated repose. Kuang’s natural talents had paved the way for him, but it had been years of careful self-discipline that shaped him into who he was. It was no coincidence that his reputation for being reliable, wise, and broad-hearted was as consistent as it was.
Yunqi wouldn’t go so far as to call it all an act. Could it be an act if Kuang had hammered his own existence into the perfect mold?
But it was the raw energy that Kuang was born with that emerged now, magnetic and inspiring instinctive awe, but also instinctive fear.
My brother could change the world and its people no matter which family he was born into, Yunqi found himself thinking the same thing whenever this side of Kuang emerged. It didn’t have to be the Imperial Family. It didn’t even have to be this country. It just has to be him.
And it was a brother like this, with every advantage the gods cared to bless a man with, who held onto Yunqi, who was no better than dead weight, and refused to let go.
So when Kuang wanted something to this extent, Yunqi couldn’t bring himself to refuse. It wasn’t just about honoring the First Prince’s unfortunate bride, it was something far bigger to Kuang. Yunqi didn’t claim to understand, but he could sense the outline of a giant looming mountain just beyond the mist, the true extent of his brother’s ambitions.
“Xianchun was insufficiently educated, lacking the guidance of a mother or an older brother,” Yunqi said. “It can’t be helped that his inadequacies shine through at times like these. As his older brothers who have been blessed with better fortune, we shouldn’t be riled up by his immaturity.”
Kuang stilled, and Yunqi stepped closer.
“Xianchun is obviously trying to escalate the conflict before he loses his advantage. We have the upper hand, and the longer we hold it for, the more certain our victory. Directly engaging in a fight with him as he wants will only feed into his foolishness,” Yunqi pointed out.
“You’re right,” Kuang said grimly. He reached forward and clapped a hand on Yunqi’s shoulder.
“We can only indulge him so far,” Kuang said. “I know I’m placing you in a difficult position, Yunqi. But we've already embarked on a risky gambit. Even if I’m willing to take a step back, I can’t trust him not to pursue the advantage.”
He sighed, the energy exuding from him seeming to settle. “Confronting him head on and escalating tensions is a last resort. I’ll ask Wenyuan to mediate between us.”
“A wise decision,” Cao Shuyi quickly said. “Even if we have to make a small concession, it’s better than airing out a family conflict during the mourning period. The smallest households are ashamed to do so, how can we as the Imperial Family act shamelessly?”
“I agree with sister-in-law,” Yunqi chimed in.
“Then we’ll have to trouble Wenyuan,” Kuang said with finality. He embraced Cao Shuyi, gave Yunqi’s shoulder, and left the room without another word.
Cao Shuyi and Yunqi exchanged a look and silently followed after.
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Culture Notes
婚姻岂能儿戏/Marriage can't be treated as child's play: An Ancient Chinese saying that emphasizes the significance that marriage held to a family and individual's life.
渔翁之利/Fisherman's benefit: An Ancient Chinese proverb that means to benefit as a bystander who waits something out (usually to a conflict).
堵住他们的嘴/Gag their mouths: A Chinese saying that means to use an accomplishment/action to prevent people from continuing to nag or criticize a matter.
Proposing in Ancient China: There were often complex rites for proposing, including asking for a fortune-teller, finding an intermediary/go-between, auditing the other family's situation (aka background checks), then sending out the official proposal, buying and arranging the appropriate gifts, and then setting up the wedding itself. These usually involved the entire family, not just the groom and bride themselves, and the parents were especially involved. Rites in ordinary families were often simpler, but were still treated with gravity, as it is related to the future happiness of one's children.
国丧期/Mourning period: In Ancient China, the national mourning period was usually imposed for the death of an Emperor, an Empress, or a Empress Dowager. Usually, princes would not get the same treatment unless you were the Crown Prince, but there was still a sense of impropriety if you tied the knot the day after a state funeral. While the traditional mourning period is a year or even three years, the vast majority of Emperors will leave a will that limits the mourning period to 27 days or even shorter (one Emperor limited the mourning period to three days) in order to avoid troubling his subjects. Restrictions of marriage usually applied only to officials and nobles, and not to commoners, unless an Emperor was acting irrationally in grief.
礼数/Rites and custom: An Ancient Chinese concept that held great weight due to its importance in maintaining societal stability through traditions, rites, and customs. To go against custom, aka "不合礼数/Not according to rites and custom" could doom you to failure.
腥风血雨/Blood wind and rain[storm]: An Ancient Chinese proverb that means bloodshed is ahead, usually referring to civil conflict and great turmoil.
让你为难/Put you in a difficult position: A Chinese saying that is used as an apology when you place someone into a dilemma or a difficult, either on purpose or by accident. Often used when your actions have gotten someone caught between two of their close acquaintances, or if you're asking for the impossible within a context where it's difficult for them to refuse.
走一步险棋/Take a risky [chess] gambit: A Chinese saying that means to take a risky move, as one would make a risky gambit in chess. In other words, the payoff is high, the risks are high, and there's no undoing it.
麻烦/To trouble: A Chinese phrase meaning to ask for help on a matter or to hand a matter over to someone. Commonly used in "Then we'll be troubling you with this" when asking for help, or "[We've] Troubled you" as thanks at the end of the matter. If you've read any shitty MTLs of Chinese manhuas or webnovels, this is what they mean when a character randomly says "Trouble you then" or "Troubled" out of nowhere.
孝悌/Filial piety and brotherly affection: An Ancient Chinese concept and one of the most important virtues.