Character Index

Vice-Director Ke: Vice Director of the Imperial Investigation Bureau.

Zhou Kuang: The Third Prince, primary candidate for the position of Crown Prince.

Zhou Xianchun: The Seventh Prince.

Cao Shuyi: Wife of Zhou Kuang, mother of Zhou Chenqian.

Sima Qi: Kuang's poison tester, assigned by the Bureau.

Ju Shou: Kuang's household poison tester.

Duan Wuxie: A Senior Investigator at the Bureau.

Zhou Yunqi: The Fifth Prince.

Zhou Chenqian: Kuang's son.

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Kayla sprinted through the halls of the Bureau, barely having time to acknowledge Vice-Director Ke as he joined her at the gate.

“I can’t believe this,” Kayla hissed as she climbed into a carriage, Vice-Director Ke right behind her. “We have double-testing! How the hell could the prince have been poisoned? Is this the Seventh Prince’s doing?”

“Probably not,” Vice-Director Ke said in a tight voice. “As per your orders, we’ve been watching him intently. There hasn’t been anything to suggest that he was trying for an assassination.”

“What about his supporters?”

“Nothing from them either,” Vice-Director Ke said. “But we can’t dismiss the possibility that he may have found some way around us.”

“What word from the Third Prince’s household? I’m assuming the Third Princess Consort is alright,” Kayla said.

“Nothing yet,” Vice-Director Ke said regretfully. They both glanced to the communication device as it showed a new message.

The Third Prince’s personal poison tester has been found dead.

“What? What about Sima Qi?” Kayla demanded, already typing out a message.

Sima Qi has been taken into custody, came the reply. He was arrested on suspicion of sabotage, as he had been missing right before the poisoning.

“Wait,” Vice-Director Ke said in confusion. “Sima Qi was missing from his post, but Ju Shou was found dead?”

“Dead,” Kayla said dully. “The Third Prince–”

“We don’t know that yet,” Vice-Director Ke hastily said. He pointed at the device. “Look, the Imperial Healers have already gotten there!”

How? How the fuck had this happened? Kayla’s fingertips felt cold and numb as she grasped the communication device like a lifeline.

“Ju Shou was found dead,” Kayla murmured. “Is it possible for him to not recognize poison during a tasting?”

“It’s highly unlikely,” Vice-Director Ke said.

“Send someone to track down Ju Shou’s family and connections,” Kayla ordered. Vice-Director Ke nodded, sending out a message quickly.

The carriage screeched to a stop before the Third Prince’s household. It was already surrounded by guards and Investigators, the roads having been sealed off and any curious onlookers forcibly scattered. Kayla and Vice-Director Ke rushed into the Inner Quarters, their men spreading out through the household to fortify strategic positions.

“Your Highness, the Duke is here!” A servant called. A harried Cao Shuyi emerged, her face covered in tears.

“Your Highness, I’ve arrived late!” Kayla said. “How is the Prince?”

“Oh heavens,” Cao Shuyi wept. She stifled a sob in her handkerchief.

Kayla exchanged an uneasy glance with Vice-Director Ke.

“What happened?” Kayla asked gently.

“It was the poison tester–the one from the Bureau fled his post!” Cao Shuyi snarled. “The Prince drank the tea with only Ju Shou’s testing, and-and–”

She broke off into tears before forcibly collecting herself.

Kayla stared at Cao Shuyi in disbelief.

What the fuck. Why? Why the fuck would he do that?!

“May I-may–” Something brittle threatened to shatter inside Kayla’s mind and unleash a screeching vortex. “Can I ask why Sima Qi was not tracked down? Did something happen?”

Cao Shuyi’s eyes brimmed with a fresh set of tears.

“Ju Shou’s been in the household for years. The prince trusted him!” She whirled upon a figure kneeling in the courtyard, caught between a group of household guards. Kayla hadn’t even noticed the young man until now, so preoccupied with the crisis before her.

“Sima Qi?” Kayla said in shock.

“Sima Qi must have been involved! Why else would he disappear right then and there?!” Cao Shuyi seethed. She gave him a murderous glare. “If anything happens to the Prince, I’ll skin him alive!”

Sima Qi let out a terrified whimper.

“No, I swear it! Your Highness, please! Your Highness!”

Cao Shuyi’s fury intensified at the pleas, and Sima Qi turned desperate eyes to Kayla instead.

“Director!” He shuffled forward on his knees until the household guards forcibly pinned him down. “Director, I swear, I swear I didn’t do anything–I would never harm the Prince! Please believe me!”

The poor kid was crying, Kayla noted. He really was still a kid, only in his early twenties.

“Take him into custody for now,” Kayla ordered the Investigators. “Make sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

She turned to Sima Qi. “If you have any thought for yourself, for your family, and for the Bureau, speak truthfully and with full detail. Just as I won’t let betrayal go unpunished, I will not let the innocent come to harm.”

Relief and fear intermingled on Sima Qi’s face. “Director!”

“Take him away!” Kayla ordered. She turned to Cao Shuyi, who was glaring after Sima Qi. With the young man out of sight, her glare latched onto Kayla instead.

“Your Highness, I swear I’ll give you a satisfactory solution,” Kayla said gently. “If Sima Qi was involved, I’ll ensure that he’ll die a dog’s death. Forget about him for now, we should focus on the prince.”

A healer called for her, and Cao Shuyi hurried into the prince’s bedroom.

“I want that dead poison tester autopsied and every inch of his room, his office, and his home searched,” Kayla said to Vice-Director Ke. A servant came up to them, his face ashen.

“How’s the prince?” Kayla asked.

“The healers say it doesn’t look good,” the servant said in a small voice.

Kayla nodded, and the man scurried away.

A new message appeared on the communication device, and Kayla felt a smidge of relief.

Duan Wuxie’s here with the Fifth Prince.

Almost right on cue, Yunqi appeared, running faster than Kayla had ever seen from a member of the Imperial Family. The prince ignored everyone, rushing straight into Kuang’s bedroom.

The ominous feeling in Kayla’s gut darkened and intensified. She waved Duan Wuxie closer as the man came into sight, hurrying after the Fifth Prince.

“Clear a path to the Imperial Palace immediately, mobilize the Imperial Guards to do it and have them send an escort. I want the entire road clear. No one in the streets. No one in the windows. No one in the rooftops. Clear, you hear me?” Kayla said. “And get an armored carriage–fuck, put the horses in armor too if you need to.”

“Yes sir,” Duan Wuxie said.

Kayla turned away from him, unable to hide the strain in her expression.

Kuang might actually die, she realized in horror. I can’t believe it. The Third Prince is the last person who should die like this!

She uneasily looked at the prince’s bedroom, where his wife and brother now hovered over him. A sudden flash of clarity descended over her.

“Contact the Youzhou division immediately,” Kayla said to Vice-Director Ke. “Tell them to keep a very careful eye on the Shu clan–not just them, but the road passes from Youzhou to the capital–no one from the Shu clan or affiliated from the Shu clan can be allowed to leave. They must not be allowed to reach the capital under any circumstances.”

Confusion was followed by realization on Vice-Director Ke’s face.

“But also don’t hurt or kill them,” Kayla added on. “Tell the men to start questioning the household members, I’m going to go check on the Third Prince.”

Vice-Director Ke’s face was pale. It went without saying that he realized how screwed they were. The deaths of the First and Second Prince could still be excused, but Kuang? Someone would have to take the fall for this. Pushing those thoughts aside, Kayla entered the prince’s bedroom.

She stopped in the doorway, feeling as though she were interrupting something. Yunqi was clasping his brother’s hands, the two staring into each other’s eyes. They seemed to be communicating entirely without words.

No, Kayla thought in denial. No, this can’t be happening.

Kayla glanced around the room. Cao Shuyi was weeping. The healers were avoiding her eyes. A pit of horror opened up inside her stomach.

No, no, please no, not like this!

She met Kuang’s eyes as he glanced towards her. There was a startling clarity to his gaze, and she somehow understood his silent request.

Take care of them.

Jerkily, she nodded.

Kuang turned his eyes back to Yunqi, and then to Cao Shuyi. Finally, they turned to the door, looking past Kayla.

Oh.

“Fetch the young prince!” Kayla shouted the order into the hallway. Several servants dashed off.

She whirled back, and Kuang’s eyes had fallen shut.

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Kuang had finished the meeting with his father-in-law in high spirits. The Emperor had spoken of making Kuang the heir several times in the past few days, and the outlook was very, very bright.

He called for his tea after sending his father-in-law to the door. A maid appeared to tell him Sima Qi wasn’t available for the poison testing, and Kuang didn’t think much of it. He brushed it off as a triviality, trusting in his loyal poison tester.

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Ju Shou had been his servant for years, and Kuang had always trusted the man with his food and with his life. Kuang had always treated his servants well, and they loved him in return. He had nothing to worry about from them.

He finished his tea and turned back to his paperwork, planning the next steps to the throne. It wasn’t until the first pang of pain that Kuang realized something was wrong. There was a sharp pain in his stomach, and then in his chest. His throat felt on fire.

Kuang tried to call for help, but his tongue was swelling in his mouth, trapping the words inside.

He doubled over, choking as a wet sensation bloomed in his chest.

Scrabbling at the surface of the desk as he struggled to his feet, Kuang crashed to the ground. There was the sound of footsteps at the noise, and then shouting as the footsteps rapidly receded. As servants and guards came rushing into the room, the world went dark.

He didn’t know how long it had been, but when consciousness came crawling back to him, Kuang was already lying in his bedroom. The first sensation that struck him was a strange sense of numbness, and then, a dull pain that felt as though it was not throbbing inside his body, but rather through several layers of winter blankets.

Poison, Kuang realized. He wondered what had happened. Had Ju Shou betrayed him? Or was it a slip in the poison testing?

Kuang didn’t know, but he was certain that he wouldn’t–couldn’t die here.

He had so much to do, so many people to protect. Kuang could see it–had seen it, the shimmering vision of the future that he would build with his own hands.

It’s just poison, he thought with a spike of panic. He had been poisoned before, and he had survived. Why wouldn’t this be the same?

Yet an instinctive fear was screeching against his ribcage, the desperate howling of an animal trapped in a burning forest. It built to a monstrous pressure that threatened to implode from his chest.

Kuang gave a soundless scream.

Pain spiked in his chest, a wetness spreading through his heart and lungs. He was drowning, sinking in the ocean. Waves swept over him, dragging him down into the darkness.

No, not yet, he thought desperately. He reached out with shaking hands for anything to hold onto.

This can’t be it! I was so close! There was so much I had to do–so much I was about to obtain, how can this possibly be the end for me?

He raged at the heavens futilely, his complaints drowning in the distance between them.

Someone help me, someone pull me out, he pleaded, unable to speak the words through the weight of his swollen tongue.

Cao Shuyi was wailing, her words garbled through the water. She was frantic, so unlike her usual collected self.

He suddenly missed her. They saw each other every day, but still, he missed her. Cao Shuyi had been so young and shy when they’d first met, only to reveal a strength within her that awed him in the days that came after. He wanted to thank her, or perhaps to apologize, but had no strength for it.

He could already feel himself sinking deeper, submerged in the icy water. It was cold, save for the warm wetness on his face and neck–tears? Blood? He couldn’t tell. The night had come for him, and it had him now.

No, I’m not done yet, he thought, but there was no defiance in it anymore, only a peculiar bewilderment. I haven’t become Emperor yet, I haven’t had a chance to fix the country. There’s still so much…

The waves didn’t respond to him, but there seemed to be a sympathetic refusal in them.

Kuang let them sweep over him with confused reluctance.

Wait, but I still…no, is this it? Is this really it?

He guessed that it was.

I had always thought…I had always hoped that the heavens were watching over me. Have I lost their blessings after all? Or was this always going to be the end?

He bitterly cursed the fates for their cruelty. Hadn’t he always done his best? Hadn’t he been a good man?

There was no helping it, he supposed. Kuang felt resignation seeping into his limbs.

The image of a young boy reaching out to him flashed across his mind, and he began to struggle against the waves anew. Not yet, I still have to–Yunqi…Yunqi!

He strained, stretching out his arm with great effort, desperately grasping for that familiar, grounding warmth. He had swore not to leave Yunqi behind, not to leave his younger brother unprotected. Were the fates to forsake even that?

Yunqi…where is Yunqi? I have to see him, I still haven’t fulfilled my promise!

There was a commotion that he barely registered, the sounds coming to him as though from a great distance away. Someone burst into the space, grabbing onto his outstretched hand.

“Brother!”

Oh, good, it’s Yunqi, Kuang thought with relief. He forced his eyes fully open. His vision was growing blurry, but he could still make out his brother’s face.

Yunqi… he opened his mouth but couldn’t speak, a warm wetness stifling his voice. Yunqi squeezed his hand reassuringly. The other man’s hands were shaking, but they were warm and steady around Kuang’s.

“It’s alright, brother. I’m right here, Yunqi is here,” Yunqi said.

Yunqi, I’m glad you’re here.

It was over for him, but he left everything in Yunqi’s hands. His family, the future of the country, all his hopes and dreams.

Somehow, Yunqi seemed to understand, tightening his grip on Kuang’s hands with silent desperation. Kuang’s regrets and resentment flowed away from him.

We nearly made it, Kuang wanted to say. The words wouldn’t come out, but Yunqi’s eyes showed that he understood.

Age, anger, ambition, all of it was melting away from him in layers, stripping him to the barest core of his existence until he was once again the young boy running through the palace with his little brother at his side.

A momentary warmth encompassed him, painting the world in the colors he loved best. The brittle man at his bedside, battered by so many blows that fate had dealt him, suddenly looked like a child in his eyes.

I’m glad you were my brother, Kuang said to Yunqi, knowing the man would hear the silent words. If there’s a next time, let’s play together again.

The warmth faded. Kuang’s mind and sight began to clear again as he sank into the calm depths. The waves were no longer churning, and he could see through the dark water with a distant clarity. He glanced over to the doorway, catching sight of Zhao Wenyuan. The younger man seemed frozen in fear.

That wouldn’t do. Yunqi would need his help. Kuang tried to say as much, but the words melted and dripped away before they could reach his mouth. But Zhao Wenyuan nodded assuringly, so he must have understood.

Kuang turned his eyes on Yunqi again from beneath the waves. Through the faint ripples, his vision focused on his younger brother’s face, and Kuang felt a rush of regret and affection.

Kuang looked over to Cao Shuyi with gratitude, and then glanced around for Chenqian.

The boy wasn’t there. Probably giving grief to his tutors again, Kuang thought with fond exasperation.

Kuang was sinking, but he wasn’t afraid as the waves pulled him down. Beneath the water, it was quiet and still, an endless stretch of calm.

He closed his eyes.

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A wail went up from Kuang’s family and servants, and Kayla let out a shuddering breath. Disbelief and horror froze her in place for what felt like forever but was probably only a few moments.

No, this can’t be happening. Kuang, dead? He was the one she’d thought was the solution, the one they’d all hoped would become Emperor. Futility sank through her limbs, leaving her wobbly and unsure on her feet.

We’re done for. Myself, the country, all of it’s done for.

She closed her eyes, a pang of grief stabbing at her heart.

I’m so sorry, Kuang. I should have prevented this, I should have saved you. She had thought that she could, but it had all been a dream of yellow sorghum in the end.

The cacophony inside cooled, condensed, until it was a sharp crystal of pristine clarity.

It’s all over, everything we’ve pinned on Kuang…but it’s not over yet for Yunqi.

Kayla fled the room, her ashen face announcing the news to Vice Director Ke.

“Are the Imperial Guards here yet?!” Kayla demanded.

“No, not yet,” Vice-Director Ke said in a trembling voice.

“Tell them to hurry–do not tell them yet!”

Vice-Director Ke began hastily sending a message. Kayla glanced around the courtyard, trying to think of what she was missing. A servant bearing the young Chenqian in her arms was standing forlornly in the corridor, looking lost. The little boy was twisting his head about in confusion at the unfamiliar sounds of mourning.

“Escort the young prince back to his room,” Kayla said to the servant in a gentle voice. She gestured to two of the Investigators. “Go with them, ensure the young prince’s safety with your lives!”

Vice-Director Ke let out a sound of despair. Kayla gently patted his shoulder.

“Use the secure line and notify the Emperor,” Kayla said.

She went back into Kuang’s bedchambers. Kayla could scarcely hear her own thoughts above the heartbroken sobs. Yunqi, the last hope for the nation, the last hope for Kayla, was crumpled in devastation by his brother’s deathbed.

Kayla’s vision briefly blurred with tears at the sight of Kuang’s visage. He looked as though he were asleep, the agony that had twisted his face having gone without a trace.

She wiped the tears away and sucked in a deep breath.

Steeling herself, she approached Yunqi.

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Yunqi buried his face in Kuang’s bloodied robes, sobbing brokenheartedly.

At Zhao Wenyuan’s cue, one of the Imperial Healers tentatively tried to pull him away, but Yunqi shook them off, holding onto his brother for dear life. Helplessly, the healers looked at each other and then at the Fifth Prince. The man was weeping as though his world had been shattered, and it might as well have been.

Knowing there was nothing they could do, they turned to comforting Cao Shuyi instead. With the help of the serving girls and the equally distraught steward, they managed to escort the weeping Princess Consort out of the room, but Yunqi refused to budge from Kuang’s bedside.

“Your Highness, the autopsy…” One of the healers weakly made an attempt. Yunqi didn’t show any signs of having heard him, tears silently dripping down his face and onto Kuang’s robes. His mind was trying to wrap itself around the cruel reality of what had happened, and failing to do so, had gone blank with despair. Yunqi couldn’t bring himself to think, to speak, to move. All his life, Kuang had been there, and suddenly a chasm had opened up and swallowed the only person Yunqi had to rely on.

A familiar weight appeared on his shoulders and gently pulled at him. Uncomprehendingly, Yunqi found himself allowing the hands to wrap around his torso.

“Cousin, you have to let go of him.” Wenyuan’s voice pierced through the stifling rushing sound in his ears. “Do it for him, cousin. Come on now.”

Yunqi shook his head–he couldn’t, why didn’t anyone understand that? Kuang was all he had. How could he let go? His hands wouldn’t listen to him. His whole body was resisting the notion.

“It’s alright.” Wenyuan gently took Yunqi’s hands and pulled them away from where they clung desperately to Kuang’s body. “Your brother needs your help, cousin. His family needs your help. Easy now, slowly does it.”

Wenyuan’s voice was steady and reassuring, the only piece of driftwood amid the stormy ocean. He grabbed onto it, the only thing grounding him, and allowed Wenyuan to pull him into an embrace. Wenyuan cupped his face, turning it away from Kuang. Yunqi didn’t resist.

“You need to protect Chenqian and the Princess Consort,” Wenyuan said. “Your brother needs you to do that. Alright?”

Yunqi couldn’t manage a nod, but he allowed Wenyuan to pull him away.

“Breathe in deeply,” Wenyuan said firmly. Yunqi complied.

“Hold it–it’s alright, let’s start again. Breathe in deeply for as long as you can, yes, that’s right, now hold it,” Wenyuan said. “Now breathe out–slowly, my prince, slowly.”

Yunqi followed Wenyuan’s instructions, and the tremors slowly faded.

Zhao Wenyuan wiped the tears off Yunqi’s face, looking grimly determined.

“My prince,” Wenyuan said, slow and certain. “As of now, you and the Third Prince’s family are in great danger. If we do not act quickly, the Princess Consort and our nephew Chenqian will be pushed to ruin. Do you understand?”

Yunqi felt his brain begin to move again. “Xianchun–” He began to say.

“He cannot do anything at the moment,” Wenyuan replied. “I have him under careful watch, he can’t move an inch without my knowing so. I’ve notified the Emperor already, but the Seventh Prince hasn’t heard yet. But the court–the court will smell blood. We need to act quickly. Listen to me carefully, my prince. I am taking you to the palace immediately. Do you understand?”

“But sister-in-law and Chenqian,” Yunqi protested.

“Are under my protection. I have the household under the strictest lockdown, not even a tick could enter or exit without my say so,” Wenyuan said. “Even the capital is locked down right now. But that will only protect them for the moment. The rest depends on you.”

“I–I don’t–,” Yunqi said.

“You have to go to the palace, my prince. I’ve prepared the path for you, no one will try to stop you or get in your way. But what happens once we reach the Emperor is up to you, do you understand?” Wenyuan said urgently.

“Yes,” Yunqi said. He didn’t know how he would face his father. The two hadn’t had a proper conversation for so long–Yunqi had no idea what the Emperor would say or do. But Wenyuan’s sense of urgency overpowered any half-formed concerns of failure.

Yunqi allowed Wenyuan to take over. Wenyuan walked him to the carriage with a hand on his elbow, and packed him off the palace, teartracks and crumpled robes left as they were.

His mind was numb, a faint buzz in his ears as Wenyuan walked him through the Inner Palace and straight into the Emperor’s personal quarters. Yunqi almost didn’t recognize the place. He had never seen it from inside.

“Uncle,” Wenyuan called out, his voice filled with a steely strength. “Fifth Cousin is here.”

Wenyuan pushed Yunqi forward, and Yunqi walked forward mechanically, each step painfully stiff.

The Emperor rose from his seat, where he had been crumpled in grief, and rushed over to grab Yunqi’s hands. Yunqi stared at his Father, almost unable to recognize him. The Emperor had aged a great deal in a short time, and the look of pain on his face was entirely unfamiliar.

The Emperor moved a shaking gaze over Yunqi’s tear-stained face and wrinkled robes before crushing him into a hug, a sob escaping his throat. Almost mechanically, Yunqi returned the hug, and then the grief flowed over both of them.

The two wept openly, without thought for shame or decorum. The unrestrained sobs echoed in the dark chambers.

Wenyuan quietly watched for a moment before backing out of the room, no one noticing his departure.

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Cultural Notes

黄粱一梦/A dream of yellow sorghum: An Ancient Chinese proverb that comes from a Tang Dynasty novel. A young man from a poor family, Lu Sheng, met a Taoist on his travels. The two were both waiting in an inn for the innkeeper to finish cooking their meal, a pot of yellow sorghum (a type of rough grain often eaten by commoners). The Taoist offered Lu Sheng a porcelain pillow so the young man could take a nap, and Lu Sheng had a dream in which he lived out years of his life, enjoying glory, wealth, and all the splendors that the world could offer. He woke up, greatly satisfied and reluctant to part with such a beautiful dream, only to realize that while years had passed in his dream, in the real world, the innkeeper hadn't even finished cooking their meal yet. This story became an allusion to an ephemeral mirage of the unattainable.

给您个交代/Give you a satisfactory [solution]: A Chinese saying that means to solve a problem/to resolve a situation to the satisfaction of one involved.

幽州/Youzhou: A city in Northern China, around modern-day Beijing. The home base of the Shu clan.