Character Index
Zhou Kuang: The Third Prince.
Zhou Xianchun: The Seventh Prince.
Zhou Hong and Zhou Yong: The First and Second Princes. Deceased (murdered).
Lin Jie: An Attendant Censor. Deceased (murdered).
Lin Yaoguang: The Grand Duke's money launderer.
Zhou Shu: The Sixth Prince. Deceased (horseback accident).
Zhou Zhen: The Fourth Prince. Deceased (illness).
----------------------------------------
Kayla walked through the corridors of Xianchun’s house, her face a blank mask.
I have to negotiate an arrangement somehow. Hope was slim, but she still had to try.
If I can’t…Would she still be able to keep the princes in check? Even the counterweight of a neutral faction wouldn’t be enough to prevent a full blown conflict between the princes. There wouldn’t be a war if she could help it.
But will Kuang end up killing Xianchun? The thought made her uncomfortable. Whatever Xianchun was capable of doing to her in a different timeline, he had been of some help to her in this one.
Kayla bit back a sigh.
And to some extent…am I responsible for his situation? No, if he’d really killed Wenyuan, the conflict would have escalated from the start. I’ve already been pulling the breaks for them for months now. But the deaths of the First and Second Prince, Lin Jie’s murder, all of it seems to add up into something that I can’t make out.
What if we’re all playing into their hands? Thanks to the whole thing with the Shu clan, everyone knows by now that the Third Prince places great emphasis on brotherly piety, and that the Seventh Prince does not. Perhaps all this, even my mediation, is just like pieces falling into place.
But who was she dealing with? What was their goal? Kayla couldn’t tell. The tails on Lin Yaoguang had yet to turn up anything useful, and she had an insidious feeling that the raids the Bureau were conducting would not fish out the true mastermind.
I won’t get it through them, nor through Lin Yaoguang. Lin Jie was my best chance at uncovering the truth. Every one of her instincts seemed to scream that at full volume.
Am I being paranoid? Perhaps she was. It took money, resources, connections, and so much planning to make things happen quietly. Kayla had learned as much when she’d dealt with the Grand Duke, and from the evidence left behind, the Grand Duke himself had difficulties ensuring that secret matters remained secret. The door of Xianchun’s study loomed, and the servant leading her over bowed and stepped aside.
Kayla shook off the thoughts that crowded her mind, steeling herself for the meeting ahead.
----------------------------------------
Xianchun received Wenyuan in his study, already irritated from the greeting alone.
He’s here to intervene for Third Brother, isn’t he?
“My prince, thank you for making the time,” Wenyuan said.
“As if I could turn away someone so important,” Xianchun said drily. Wenyuan acted as though he didn't hear the jibe.
“I wished to offer my sincere condolences for your loss, my prince,” Wenyuan said.
Xianchun sighed, waving for the man to sit down across from him.
“I thank you for that.”
Xianchun paused for a moment, scanning Wenyuan over. The young Duke looked the same as always, as though he hadn’t nearly fallen from the height of favor into ruin.
That type of thing usually leaves its mark.
“You did well to allay Father’s anger,” Xianchun remarked. “How is he?”
“He took the loss hard,” Wenyuan admitted.
Xianchun barely managed to keep a look of derision and hurt from crossing his face.
“My condolences, my prince,” Wenyuan repeated, more quietly than before.
“It is a great tragedy,” Xianchun said stiffly.
“The Emperor has grown rather haggard. Even his hair has whitened. But thankfully his health hasn’t taken much of a blow,” Wenyuan said. “The Imperial Healers say that we have nothing to worry about.”
So stay still and don’t kick up a fuss?
At least Wenyuan was giving him a warning. Xianchun knew how dangerous it was to jump on the constantly shifting rumors as fragile as candles in a breeze, but also how damaging it was to miss an opportunity when one presented itself.
“I’m very glad to hear that Father remains in good health,” Xianchun replied. He wondered how the Emperor looked now.
Father was always…In his memory, the Emperor was always robust and handsome, a man whose physical presence seemed to boast of his regality. What would such a man look like, frail and aged? The thought should have brought him a dark rush of vindication, but Xianchun’s heart throbbed dully instead.
“Take care of him,” Xianchun said, guided more by impulse than reason.
Wenyuan nodded understandingly. Anger flared up in Xianchun’s chest at the infuriating look of empathy in the other man’s eyes, but died down just as quickly. If there was anyone who really understood, it would, for better or for worse, be this man.
Uncomfortable at the thought, Xianchun cleared his throat.
“So what did you come for today, Wenyuan?” Xianchun asked.
“I have been requested to mediate negotiations between Your Highness and the Third Prince,” Wenyuan said.
“Negotiations? What for?”
“The matter of posthumous honors,” Wenyuan said. “This is a senseless tragedy, and the Emperor is in a volatile state. His moods change often, and to be frank, the risks are no lower for you who are advocating to disenfranchise the Gongsun bride than for the Third Prince who is seeking to honor her. Perhaps the situation would be better if I were able to produce a culprit, but while we are fervently working towards that, we are unable to alleviate His Majesty’s suffering with the sweet taste of justice so quickly as that.”
“I know well that the Duke is an excellent talker,” Xianchun cut him off. “There’s no need to prove that to me anew. You’re asking me to back down, aren’t you? I can tell you right now that such a thing won’t happen.”
Wenyuan shook his head. “Not so, my prince. I would not bring such a ridiculous proposition to your table. I am merely suggesting that both you and the Third Prince take a step back–if you choose to let go of this matter, then I will ensure that the Third Prince pays the according price for it.”
“What do you speak of?”
“The Third Prince is willing to concede some key positions to you in exchange for upholding the Gongsun bride’s posthumous honors,” Wenyuan replied. “Or at least, in exchange for not acting against it.”
“What concession could he possibly make that would be worth it? He’s asserting his dominance over the funerary rites as if he were the one in charge. Even if I’m willing to back down as a personal favor for my brother, how do you think the court will see it? How will the people see it? Every move we make is being used to assess our political worth–you, of all people, should know that best. Third Brother is willing to turn a blind eye to the depth of human greed when it suits him, but if he were in my position, he certainly would not back down on this!” Xianchun snapped.
“No, because if your positions were reversed, he too would be incapable of understanding what this means to you,” Wenyuan replied. He sighed, lacing his fingers together on his lap. “Frankly speaking, this isn’t about politics to the Third Prince. It’s about familial ties, specifically, the ties from one’s childhood that have the strongest bearing on them. He grew up in an Inner Palace that was slowly being torn asunder as tensions escalated between Uncle and the former Empress. Being torn between forming ties with the potential heirs and staying away from them for safety, that surely would have left a strong impression on him. To put it simply, this bears far more emotional weight to him than to you. Whether or not you concede to him on this matter will decide the course of both your futures. If you insist on fighting him on this, no matter which way things end up going, the consequences will be difficult to bear for both the Imperial Family and the nation.”
Would he kill me over this? Xianchun posed the question almost distantly. The answer, he thought, was yes. He allowed a quiet lamentation to slither through his ribcage before jolting in surprise. Why am I supposing his victory already?
He grit his jaw, glaring at Wenyuan. So no matter who wins, we’ll have to kill the other if I go through with this? Rage flared in his chest. He says this as though that weren’t the case from the start!
Of course he wanted to avoid fratricide like any other sane man did. Even if he had distant relationships with all his siblings, he had never wished any of them harm. From the blurry faces of his eldest sister and two eldest brothers who had left the palace before he was old enough to remember them, to the unfortunate Zhou Shu and Zhou Zhen, there was not a single one of them whom he’d ever wanted dead.
But this is a different story. Does Wenyuan really think that I embarked on this path without the determination to go through with killing my brothers? What a fucking joke–
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“I’m sure that Your Highness has the determination to bear the risks and consequences of your actions,” Wenyuan said, as if reading Xianchun’s mind. “Those who succeed become kings, those who fail are derided as bandits. It has always been such. But while you are surely aware of the risks, have you considered the benefits of a more harmonious approach?”
Xianchun frowned. What benefits? Any political rival was a threat for as long as they remained alive. The only way one could dispel suspicion was by living a hedonistic lifestyle or retreating from all public affairs. And even that might not be enough if they had given enough trouble to the Emperor. The Archdukes were the perfect proof of that.
“No one likes to be known for fratricide,” Xianchun replied.
Wenyuan smiled, a strange light in his eyes that unsettled Xianchun.
“That’s not what I speak of, my prince. I speak of…well, let’s just call it political relativism,” Wenyuan said.
“What do you mean?” Xianchun asked.
“Under every Emperor, in any court, the main political conflict is almost always between two major factions, isn’t it? No matter what they call themselves, or which major issues they center their conflict around, it essentially boils down to the conservatives and the progressives. That is, those who consolidate power through maintaining the status quo, and those who consolidate power through change. Even when a third faction exists, it’s almost always in neutrality,” Wenyuan explained.
“Yes, we’ve all learned our history books,” Xianchun said, keeping his tone impatient to hide his anticipation.
“Of course, my prince, but please bear with me here. The point here is that you and the Third Prince can make use of this pattern. Whether it’s between the old Imperial in-laws and the new ones, between one prince and another, or any countless number of combinations, things eventually settle into the same pattern. Even when one faction is destroyed and the other triumphs, the Emperor will eventually allow, if not encourage, the rising of a new counterweight to keep the victors in check,” Wenyuan said. “If the progressive faction is too radical, then the neutral faction tends to lean towards the conservatives, and the same goes the other way around. Usually, the progressive faction only uses their platform as a method of gaining power rather than to drive actual change, but that can’t be helped. True reform is difficult to enact, after all. Even with the Emperor’s orders, the installation of communication infrastructure is a slow and difficult process.”
Wenyuan’s smile took on a dangerous glint. “Simply put, the range of what the court sees as acceptable, as aligning with their interests, is very narrow. But what if there was a way to change that?”
Xianchun regarded Wenyuan warily. “The Emperor’s directives could do that,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but the court will push back as hard as they can and raise as many challenges as they could. And once the Emperor passes on, their successor will face immense political pressure to overturn everything that the previous Emperor had done,” Wenyuan replied.
“You mean to do a political purge then?” Xianchun asked.
Wenyuan shook his head. “Not quite. I mean to shift the norms. Conservatism and progressiveness aren’t fixed positions–a great deal is determined by where the center, that is, the neutral faction stands. For example, look at our current court. In all truth, the current neutral faction is only neutral in terms of succession.”
Xianchun scoffed in derision, but Wenyuan ignored him.
“In terms of political stance, we’re reformists. Broadly speaking, Your Highness and the Third Prince also fall into this bloc. Our counterweight are those who oppose the reforms, which as you can see, are not so few in number,” Wenyuan said. “Whoever wins the throne will end up as the new proponent of the reformist bloc, while the loser will certainly be courted by the conservatives, and one way or another, we end up with the same situation as always. If you wish to circumvent it, there is only the traditional path of despotism and bloodbaths that will have you lambasted as a tyrant for generations to come. At worst, it could even accelerate the dynasty’s deterioration.”
“Careful of your words,” Xianchun warned him. Wenyuan smiled.
“Just speaking my thoughts, Your Highness.”
“Then what brilliant solution have you found?” Xianchun asked sarcastically. “Or are you just trying to manipulate me into an agreement with Third Brother?”
“I wouldn’t call it brilliant, but I do have a solution in mind,” Wenyuan admitted. “As you know, the current country of Fulin, west of Persia, used to be an empire called the Great Qin. Before it was an empire, it was a republic where the votes of its citizens and a council of kind decided its policies. Not unlike our courts, their councils fell into approximately three factions as well, the two major ones of conservatism and populism, and usually one that was more or less neutral. It looked to be a scale with arms of equal and unchanging length, but in truth, it was more of a fluid triangle.”
Wenyuan moved about the cups on the desk, placing them into a triangle with the teapot. Then, almost as if on second thought, he switched out the teapot for a single teacake.
“Let’s say this teacake is the neutral faction, and these two ends are each faction,” Wenyuan said. “The scales will tip one way or another, depending on the political situation. Say that usually the questions are of whether to vote yes or no on policies such as taxation, the usage of public funds, building infrastructure, and whether to engage in conflicts. But what happens when…”
He pushed out of the teacups further away. “Say the conservatives are extremely radical. They want to revert things back to how they were 200 years ago, and make a concentrated effort to deny the right to vote or own property to a large number of citizens. What happens then?”
He glanced at Xianchun, checking to see if the prince was following.
“Then obviously they will be opposed,” Xianchun answered.
“Exactly. The progressive faction would have to stop fighting for their own platform and battle the conservatives on this issue. The controversy engulfs the whole country, everyone has their own stance on it, the council is endlessly embroiled in the matter, and the neutral faction tries to reason between the sharpened conflict,” Wenyuan said. “And to do so successfully, they must either side with the progressives, but there’s usually a reason why they didn’t do so from the start–their interests don’t align. Either their support base doesn’t agree with the progressives, or progressive policies would damage their economic interests. So more likely, due to all kinds of pressures…”
He reached out and pushed the teacake from its original position further down the table, so that it was once again an equal distance from each teacup.
“And if the conservative faction repeatedly brings up radical policies such as these, society comes to see it as more of the norm than as something shocking. And they could just keep pushing the scales, bit by bit. Then the populists’ original platform starts looking like the extreme ones,” Wenyuan pointed out. “The neutral faction, too, would likely start shifting closer to the conservatives, and then–”
He moved the teacake closer, then pushed the other teacup again so that it was an equal distance from the teacake as the other.
“The whole scale changes,” Xianchun said in realization.
“Exactly! And the same goes for the progressive faction, which brings me to my point,” Wenyuan said. He gestured at the teacup to the left and pulled it all the way across the table to sit before himself.
“Say that the progressive faction’s stance is here. For an Emperor to take that kind of position is unsustainable, is it not? He would be criticized as manic, unstable, too stubborn to rule a country, and so on so forth. But for a strong neutral faction backed by the Emperor…”
Xianchun pushed the teacake towards him.
“Then the Emperor could push for reforms while still appearing moderate and level-headed,” Xianchun finished for him.
“Even in our own history, we could find examples of such things,” Wenyuan said. “Think of Shang Yang, the chancellor of the Qin Kingdom–or rather…Sang Hongyang of the Han. Their policies were faced with great derision and backlash at first. But once momentum gathers to a certain extent, the wheel of history cannot be stopped by paltry resistances.”
“But the prerequisite is that the proponent is firmly yours,” Xianchun pointed out. “It’s far too idealistic to believe that the victor and the loser could join hands so harmoniously, not without using significant coercion.”
“Then use it,” Wenyuan replied, sounding a little surprised that he even had to say it.
Xianchun stared back at him.
“Did you say the same thing to my brother?” Xianchun demanded.
“More or less,” Wenyuan said without hesitation.
“You little–!”
“It is what it is, my prince,” Wenyuan said. “No matter who asks, the truth remains the same–this country needs change, significant change, and it needs it fast. There’s no real way to force it through without inciting internal unrest, not without someone to spearhead a radical faction. And that someone needs to be of high enough status to withstand scrutiny, and more importantly, not someone directly of the Emperor’s faction. How many people fit those criteria?”
“So you’re advocating for the suppression of an Imperial Prince?” Xianchun demanded. Rather than true indignation, he felt a sense of amused disbelief.
“Better that than the murder of one, surely?” Wenyuan pointed out.
“For you, certainly,” Xianchun said. “So long as there’s someone to keep in check, the Emperor won’t easily see you as a target.”
“That too,” Wenyuan easily admitted.
Xianchun scoffed, but it soon gave way to genuine laughter. Almost as though he’d expected as much, Wenyuan waited patiently for Xianchun to collect himself.
“So to Third Brother, my potential use as a defeated opponent is worth less than the Gongsun bride’s posthumous title?” Xianchun asked.
The look of surprise on Wenyuan’s face mirrored his own inner thoughts. He hadn’t planned to even acknowledge the thoughts, much less to say the words out loud, but something about the situation was so absurd that they’d burst forth on their own.
“That’s certainly not the case, my prince,” Wenyuan said, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “It’s more of how the court will act going forward. Both your factions will take this as a signal to escalate things, and by the time things come to an end, neither him nor yourself would be able to reconcile that. Your Highness is certainly the master of your men, but just as water keeps a boat buoyant, it can also capsize it. Once things spiral out of control, it’ll be out of either of your hands to pull the reins at the cliff’s edge.”
Xianchun quietly regarded Wenyuan for a moment, countless thoughts muddling through his mind.
“Just what is your goal, Wenyuan?” Xianchun asked. "What do you want from all this?"
Wenyuan smiled, a bitter look in his eyes. “To survive, my prince. That’s all.”
----------------------------------------
Cultural Notes
风中残烛/A waning candle in the wind: An Ancient Chinese proverb describing the fragility of a situation/position.
成王败寇/The victor is hailed as a king, the loser derided as a bandit/rebel: An Ancient Chinese proverb referring to how victors write history.
自古如此/It has always been such [since Ancient times]: An Ancient Chinese proverb. It's always interesting to think about how people we would now consider living in ancient times referring to even more ancient times, but then again, I doubt they could've imagined our current world, just as we'll never know what the future a thousand years from now will look like.
残害手足/Killing one's brothers: Literally translated to brutally harming one's hands and feet. It was common to refer to sibling as "hands and feet", since they were thought of as "being as connected and important to each other as hands and feet of the same body [aka those who share a body]".
党争/Factional disputes: Basically Party Politics 101 for Ancient China. Though there wasn't the factor of the public vote, there was indeed the matter of public opinion, especially since a good chunk of the bureaucracy comes from the public at large rather than the aristocracy. Usually, the smaller the proportion of so-called "commoners" in government, the closer the dynasty is to its end. But I digress. The conservative-progressive split wasn't always so clear-cut, and their central conflicts could vary greatly.
Fulin: Thought to be the Chinese name for the Byzantine Empire/Western Roman Empire.
Great Qin: The Chinese name for the Roman Empire (and probably the republic as well, judging by archeological evidence of trade).
商鞅/Shang Yang: Chancellor of the Qin Kingdom, he spearheaded the legal, social, and military reforms that later allowed Qin to unify China. However, he was brutally executed via disruption (aka being torn apart alive by four horses running in different directions, each with one of his limbs tied to them) after the death of his political partner and patron, Duke Xiao (back then Qin was still technically a dukedom). However, while he was executed due to political animosity from his opponents, his policies were preserved. Why did Kayla bring him up and then change names? Because Shang Yang died a terrible death, which doesn't really help her case.
桑牧羊/Sang Hongyang: I remember being taught that his name was pronounced Muyang, but now I can't find any sources to back that. Sang Hongyang was a prominent official who spearheaded economic reforms during the Han Dynasty, best known for being a proponent of state monopolies over salt and iron. He was executed in a political conflict later on in life. Unfortunately for Kayla, few reformists met a good end.
水可载舟亦可覆舟/Water can keep the boat buoyant or capsize it: An Ancient Chinese proverb referring to either the people, or one's supporters.
悬崖勒马/Pulling the horse's reins at the edge of the cliff: An Ancient Chinese proverb that means to stop just before plummeting into danger.