Yile strides through the bustling streets of the imperial city. The morning sun casts long shadows, and the air hums with activity. Yile's presence commands respect; his robes of modest, but clean and recognizable green, mark him as one of the Four Gates Eunuchs. Heads bow and whispers follow his path.

Reaching the White Gold Palace, Yile takes a moment to observe the grandeur before him. The palace, a testament to the empire's might, glistens under the sunlight, its marble walls adorned with intricate carvings and gold leaf. The steps leading to the entrance are flanked by statues of mythical beasts, their eyes seeming to watch every move.

Inside, the atmosphere is charged with anticipation. Advisors and ministers gather, their hushed conversations filling the air. They stand in clusters, waiting for their turn to present their cases to the emperor. Yile's entrance is noticed immediately. As he walks through the hall, lower ministers and advisors bow, acknowledging his rank and influence despite their seniority in years.

Yile announces his arrival with a clear, resonant voice. "Yile of the Eastern Bureau requests an audience."

He gets on his knees, a gesture of respect and protocol, then rises, keeping his head low. The other three Four Gates Eunuchs are already present. Old Ji of the Northern Bureau, with his long white beard and frail appearance, sits quietly, his eyes sharp and observant. Bimen of the Southern Bureau, younger but rotund, adjusts his robes, his fingers adorned with rings. Finally, there is Sima of the Western Bureau, Yile's greatest rival. Middle-aged, with a hawkish nose and piercing eyes, Sima's presence is formidable.

Yile joins them, sitting down with practiced grace. He brings a cup of tea to his lips, savoring the warmth and aroma, but remains silent, his eyes observing every detail of the room.

The emperor's voice booms from behind a silk screen, where he sits on a raised platform, hidden from direct view but ever-present in his power. "Proceed with your reports."

Old Ji speaks first, his voice a low rasp. "Your Majesty, the northern borders remain secure. The new fortifications have proven effective against the nomadic raids."

Bimen follows, his tone conciliatory. "In the south, the harvest has been bountiful. The surplus will ensure the capital is well-supplied through the winter."

Sima's report is succinct and pointed. "The western territories have seen unrest, but our forces have quelled the uprisings. Stability has been restored."

Yile waits, his moment approaching. When he speaks, his voice is clear and unwavering. "In the east, trade with the coastal cities flourishes. The flow of goods has strengthened our economy, and relations with foreign merchants are at an all-time high."

Everyone stays quiet, waiting for the Emperor's response. He sighs deeply, the sound echoing in the grand hall. "All ministers except the Four Gates Eunuchs, leave the palace," he commands.

The ministers and advisors comply swiftly, their whispers turning into hurried footsteps as they scramble to exit. Yile smirks, the faintest curve of his lips betraying his amusement. The room's atmosphere shifts, charged with a more profound sense of anticipation as the doors close behind the last minister.

The Emperor's voice, firm yet curious, breaks the silence. "Now, what have you truly been working on?"

Old Ji leans forward, his frail appearance belying the intensity in his eyes. The Northern Bureau’s real, hidden focus is on military innovation. "We have recently taken an interest in the western advancements in fire weapons. Soon, our forces will wield unmatched power."

Bimen follows, his fingers stilling on his ornate rings. The Southern Bureau ensures the security of the treasure fleets. "The latest fleet should return in twenty-two days, laden with riches from the southwest."

Sima's hawkish eyes narrow, his voice cutting through the air. The Western Bureau oversees inner administration. "The unrest in the Siza provinces spreads like wildfire. Many dynasties have been undone by Siza rebellions. The budget is insufficient, and forts far from the northern wall stand deserted."

Yile takes his turn, his voice unwavering. The Eastern Bureau handles espionage and diplomacy. "One of my spies has worked tirelessly to keep Tepr divided for easier control. However, a self-proclaimed 'Khan of Tepr' has been summoned by the Crown Prince to the palace, in Your Majesty’s name. A woman, by the way."

Shock ripples through the room.

Old Ji gasps, "A woman?"

Bimen's eyes widen, "Khan?!"

Sima's voice sharpens, "The Crown Prince did?"

Yile remains composed, sipping his tea quietly, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he waits for the Emperor's response.

The Emperor laughs softly, his voice a gentle rumble that seems almost out of place in the tension-filled room. "Yile, it seems your spy has done a very poor job if the land is unifying instead of remaining divided."

Yile's eyes harden, his tone icy. "I have ordered the spy's execution as punishment. A better one will be appointed. However, the Crown Prince's decision to appoint the Khan is a well-advised strategy. She could be a pivotal tool to keep the Tepr lands at bay."

Sima interrupts, his voice filled with disdain. "This is a terrible strategy. Allowing a barbarian so close to His Majesty’s home is an affront. Letting her peek into the heart of the Empire will only lower our stability."

The Emperor shakes his head, the ornaments in his crown chiming softly with the movement. "Sima, refrain from commenting on Yile's methods unless you have a better idea."

Sima's eyes narrow. "I do have a better idea. Assassinate the self-proclaimed Khan before the tribes fully rally behind her."

Yile opens his fan with a sharp snap, the sound echoing in the vast palace. From behind the fan, Sima can see Yile's infuriating smirk. "Kill her, Master Sima? And make a martyr out of her? This is not how we break a people's morale."

The room falls silent, the weight of Yile's words hanging in the air.

Yile's gaze hardens, his voice cold. "Keeping the Khan alive, making a puppet out of her, is the best way to control the lands of Tepr. She can serve as a symbol of unity, but her actions will be directed by us. This ensures that the tribes remain under our influence without realizing it."

Sima scoffs, crossing his arms. "A puppet? Do you truly believe a barbarian like her will be so easily controlled? The moment she senses our manipulation, she'll rally the tribes against us."

Old Ji nods thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing. "Sima has a point. The tribes of Tepr are fiercely loyal to their leaders. If they perceive her as a puppet of the empire, it could incite rebellion."

Bimen, adjusting his rings, sighs. "I refuse to take part in this conversation. It is not my place."

The Emperor allows the debate to continue, his eyes shifting between the speakers. "Yile, how do you plan to keep this Khan under control?"

Yile folds his fan, his smirk fading into a look of seriousness. "We will leverage her desire for power. She seeks to unify the tribes, and we will provide her the means to do so, all while ensuring her loyalty lies with us. Surveillance, strategic alliances, and carefully placed advisors will guide her actions."

Sima leans forward, his voice filled with skepticism. "And what if she resists? What if she sees through your ploy?"

Yile's eyes glint with a dangerous resolve. "She won't. But if she does, contingencies are in place. I prefer to share the intricate details of these contingencies in a private meeting, Your Majesty."

The Emperor nods slowly, the ornaments in his crown chiming softly. "Very well, Yile. We will discuss this further in private. For now, continue with your preparations."

Yile bows slightly, his eyes flicking toward Sima with a glint of triumph. The debate may be momentarily paused, but the power struggle between the eunuchs is far from over.

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As the meeting concludes, the Four Gate Eunuchs exit the palace, their robes fluttering in the breeze. The bustling activity of the imperial city contrasts sharply with the tense silence between Sima and Yile.

Sima's eyes narrow as he glances at Yile. "Your confidence will be your downfall, Yile. Puppeteering a barbarian is a dangerous game."

Yile smirks, his fan opening with a sharp flick. "Only for those who lack the finesse to play it well. I understand your concern, Sima. Manipulation requires a delicate touch, something you seem to lack."

Sima's jaw tightens, his voice low and cutting. "Finesse? Or arrogance? You underestimate everyone. A barbarian’s ambition is a double-edged sword."

Yile's smile widens, though his eyes remain cold. "Ambition can be harnessed, channeled. It's a powerful tool if wielded correctly. Unlike brute force, it creates loyalty."

Sima steps closer, his presence imposing. "Loyalty based on deceit is fragile. One misstep, and it all crumbles."

Yile leans in, his voice a whisper of ice. "That's where you and I differ, Sima. I anticipate every move, every possibility. I don't make missteps."

Sima's lips curl into a sardonic smile. "We'll see about that, Yile. The Emperor's favor is fickle. One failure, and your carefully built house of cards will collapse."

Yile's eyes glint with amusement. "And when it stands firm, I trust you'll find comfort in your position as a spectator."

Sima's gaze hardens, his fists clenching. "Don't underestimate me, Yile. I won't be a spectator for long."

Yile waves his fan dismissively, turning away. "We shall see, Sima. We shall see."

The two eunuchs part ways, their rivalry simmering just beneath the surface, each plotting their next move.

Yile waits until Sima is a distant figure before turning on his heel and heading towards the Red Pearl Palace, the residence of the Crown Prince. The guards, typically stern and unyielding, nod respectfully and allow Yile to pass without question. His position as the Master of the Eastern Bureau grants him this unique privilege.

Inside, the palace is a blend of opulence and subtle elegance. The air is fragrant with the scent of blooming peonies, and the soft sound of a guzheng fills the space. Yile finds the Crown Prince enjoying tea with his younger brother.

The Crown Prince's face lights up at the sight of Yile. "Master Yile, join us!" he exclaims, gesturing to an empty cushion.

Yile snaps his fan closed and bows slightly. "Your Highness, I must speak with you in private."

The Crown Prince's expression shifts slightly, but he maintains his composure. "Of course. Brother, please give us a moment."

The second prince rises immediately, offering a polite bow before leaving the room. Once they are alone, the Crown Prince approaches Yile, gently taking his arm. "Come, Yile, sit and have some tea."

Yile laughs softly, shaking his head. "It seems my day is filled with tea—first with the Emperor, and now with you, Your Highness."

The Crown Prince's smile falters, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Let's not speak of my father."

Yile notices the change but continues smoothly, accepting the offered cup. "Of course, Your Highness. My apologies."

The Crown Prince's expression softens again as he sits across from Yile. "Now, what is so urgent that you needed to speak in private?"

Yile studies the Crown Prince for a moment before speaking. "First, may I ask how you are feeling since your ordeal in the desert?"

The Crown Prince's eyes harden slightly. "Such an ordeal is nothing for the heir of the Moukopl. It is but a test of my resilience."

Yile chuckles. "Indeed, Your Highness. A true testament to your strength. I must apologize again for mentioning your father, but I have just received his approval for the venue of the—" He hesitates, then corrects himself. "—the new Khan."

The Crown Prince shakes his head, a frown creasing his brow. "Do not call them barbarians, Yile. I was saved by a so-called barbarian myself."

Yile bows his head. "My apologies, Your Highness. Your wisdom in appointing the new Khan as a loyal vassal is unparalleled. None could have devised such a plan."

The Crown Prince, visibly flattered, waves a hand dismissively. "You jest, Yile. It is you who came up with the plan."

Yile snaps his fan open and then closed, his eyes glinting with sincerity. "I do not jest, Your Highness. I admire your humility."

A servant enters quietly to pour more tea. Yile glances at her, his voice gentle. "Thank you, Kexing."

Kexing nods, her movements graceful and efficient as she serves the tea. The Crown Prince watches her leave before turning back to Yile. "Now, tell me more about your current works."

Yile leans in, lowering his voice. "Your Highness, you know I would get beheaded if I shared secrets, even with you."

The Crown Prince's eyes narrow, a teasing glint. "And I will get you beheaded if you do not respond."

Yile smirks, feigning contemplation. "Well, since you insist, Your Highness, I can share a bit about the current political situation. For instance, Master Sima's recent decisions have been... less than stellar."

The Crown Prince raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Do tell."

Yile leans back, a playful glint in his eye. "You see, Sima's approach to the Siza unrest has been heavy-handed. His idea of simply increasing the budget and garrisons, while seemingly practical, shows a lack of strategic finesse. His forces are spread too thin, and his failure to address the root causes of the rebellion, their charismatic champion, leaves us vulnerable."

The Crown Prince nods slowly, sipping his tea. "Go on."

Yile continues, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Then there's his handling of the northwestern territories. Instead of leveraging local alliances and understanding the cultural nuances, he bulldozes through, creating more enemies than allies. His methods lack subtlety, much like using a war hammer to swat a fly. The Yohazatz will not bow with such methods."

The Crown Prince chuckles, clearly enjoying Yile's critique. "And what would you suggest, Yile?"

Yile's smirk widens. "Your Highness, a more nuanced approach is required. Speech, that is where true power lies. Master Sima's blunt tactics only serve to destabilize, whereas a carefully woven dialogue can bring lasting peace and control."

The Crown Prince leans back, clearly pleased. "I see. It's always enlightening to hear your perspective, Yile. Perhaps Sima could learn a thing or two from you."

Yile bows his head slightly. "I am merely a humble servant of the empire, Your Highness. My only aim is to serve."

The Crown Prince smiles, satisfied with the exchange. "Very well, Yile. Keep me informed, and remember—some secrets are safe with me."

Yile nods, his smirk returning. "Of course, Your Highness. I will keep that in mind."

As the sun sets, casting long shadows over the imperial city, Yile steps out of the Red Pearl Palace. His thoughts are a blend of the day's conversations and the plans yet to be executed. Suddenly, a child's silhouette appears in the shadows. A rude girl juggles a scythe and a chain, her laughter echoing in the quiet evening.

"Planning to play the gigolo for the rest of the night too?" she taunts, her voice filled with mischief.

Yile sighs, trying not to pay attention to her. "Meicao, you should not show yourself so close to the heart of the imperial city."

Meicao pouts, her tone bored. "I'm bored. When will Brother Meicong be back?"

Yile ignores her question, turning instead to the shadows. "Meibei, take Meicao back to my quarters."

Another girl steps into the light, her presence calm and composed. "Come, Meicao. Don't waste more of Yile's time."

But Meicao, feeling mischievous, laughs defiantly. "Force my hand." She throws her scythe at Meibei, who dodges it without flinching.

Meibei picks up a wooden stick from the ground, her expression serious. "You cannot beat me."

Meicao grins wickedly, pulling her scythe back with the chain and striking Meibei's leg, making her fall. "So much for acting cool!" she crows, her laughter ringing out.

Meibei's eyes narrow with determination. From her lying position, she springs up with a superhuman leap, her wooden stick striking Meicao on the back of the head with a solid thud.

Meicao stumbles, her scythe clattering to the ground. She rubs her head, scowling. "That hurts!"

Meibei lands gracefully, her stance ready for more. "It's time to go back, Meicao."

Yile watches the exchange with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Enough. Both of you, to my quarters. Now."

The girls exchange a glance, their rivalry momentarily set aside. Meibei leads the way, her grip firm on Meicao's arm. As they disappear into the shadows, Yile continues on his path, his mind already on the next task at hand.

Yile's last stop is the Golden Lotus Palace, the emperor's personal quarters. Approaching silently, he enters through a backdoor reserved for courtesans. The head maid, accustomed to his visits, nevertheless checks his robes for any hidden dangers.

"All clear," she nods, allowing him to pass.

Yile moves stealthily towards the Emperor's bedroom. The soft glow of lanterns casts flickering shadows on the ornate walls.

"Yile, is it you?" the Emperor's voice is soft, filled with anticipation.

"Yes, it is me, Your Majesty," Yile responds.

The Emperor rushes to meet him, his face lighting up with genuine joy as he embraces Yile. "Oh Yile, how long has it been since you came to see me?"

Yile smirks, "I would say, just a few hours."

The Emperor chuckles, lightly swatting him. "You are an idiot. You know what I mean! How I missed you... and how I miss Kuan too."

Yile's smile turns cunning. "You should forget about him, he's a good-for-nothing."

The Emperor's expression darkens. "I can't forget like that!"

Yile steps closer, his voice low and manipulative. "He has betrayed you, Your Majesty." Yile places a reassuring hand on the Emperor's shoulder, his tone soft but firm. "Kuan's actions have shown his true loyalty. He seeks his own gain, not the prosperity of your reign. Trust me, Your Majesty, it's best to let go of those who do not truly serve you."

The Emperor looks away, struggling with the revelation. "But... Kuan was like a brother to me."

Yile's eyes harden, though his voice remains gentle. "And sometimes, those closest to us are the ones who can cause the most harm. Think of the empire, Your Majesty. Think of your legacy."

The Emperor sighs deeply, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. "Perhaps you are right, Yile. Perhaps it is time to move on."

Yile's smile returns, a mix of satisfaction and reassurance. "It is for the best, Your Majesty. Now, let's discuss the future. Together, we can ensure the stability and prosperity of the empire."

As they sit down to talk, Yile's mind races with plans and strategies, his grip on the Emperor's trust tightening with every word.

The Emperor, now reclining in his bed, gestures for Yile to come closer. "Come, Yile."

Yile approaches, sliding into the embrace with practiced ease. The warmth of the Emperor's arms envelops him, and he murmurs softly, "I will forever be by your side, Your Majesty."

Deep within the Emperor's embrace, Yile's lips curl into a smirk. His thoughts are sharp and triumphant: You will always be a spectator, Sima. Both the Emperor and the Crown Prince dance in my hand. I have already won and you cannot beat me.

The Emperor sighs contentedly, unaware of the cunning mind at work so close to him. "Thank you, Yile. Your loyalty means everything to me."

Yile tightens the embrace, his face a mask of devotion. "Always, Your Majesty. Always."