Wen Yanran was never one to shy away from taking responsibility.
Since Yan Xiaolou had turned to violence because of her, and it was precisely due to this entanglement that he was targeted for revenge, Wen Yanran had no hesitation in acknowledging her own part in the matter.
At the time, after receiving a private admonition from the Emperor, Yan Xiaolou remained vigilant and began investigating in secret. Having risen to the position of deputy general only after the new emperor ascended the throne, he had always governed with a balance of authority and benevolence, leaning more toward kindness and refraining from being overly harsh with his subordinates. The two captains closest to him were also quite diligent, and among them, Captain Zhang noticed that one of his colleagues often acted in a covert manner. He promptly alerted his superior. After observing for some time and confirming his suspicions, Yan Xiaolou decisively set an ambush and apprehended the man in one swift move. Now, he had come in haste to report the matter to the Emperor.
After hearing the full account of how he had apprehended the culprit, Wen Yanran smiled and said, “It’s getting late now. Go and rest.” She paused briefly, then added, “The mole in the eastern territories has been rooted out – this is indeed a fine achievement. I ought to offer proper encouragement.”
With the lost lands in the east fully reclaimed and a hidden danger within the capital eliminated, this was truly a double blessing – an exceptionally auspicious omen.
Following the Grand Assembly, celebrations continued for several more days. The Emperor attended some events but not others. Meanwhile, the Eleventh Princess and Thirteenth Prince were given free rein to enjoy themselves for a few days. Festive cheer filled the Taiqi Palace; many government offices had already suspended their work. Even when ministers and members of the imperial family entered the palace, it was only to partake in the banquets. Thus, though news of the great victory on the front had already reached Jianping, the matter of specific commendations and rewards would have to wait until after the New Year holiday.
On the streets of Jianping, Yan Xiaolou, Commander of the Outer Imperial Guard, was leading a group of officers toward Tianfu Palace.
Due to the nature of their duties, the Emperor was more familiar with the Central and Inner Guards, as the Outer Guard had fewer opportunities to appear within the palace. Considering their arduous efforts in safeguarding the capital during this period, the Emperor specially issued an edict before the formal court assembly, summoning them to Tianfu Palace for a private audience and to bestow additional rewards.
The Great Zhou Dynasty, established for over three hundred years, had accumulated considerable expertise in the art of incense blending. Within Tianfu Palace drifted the scents of frankincense, sandalwood, atractylodes, and pine and cypress leaves, imparting a solemn and dignified atmosphere.
During this period, the main hall of Tianfu Palace was naturally being prepared for sacrificial rites. The Emperor, always considerate toward his subjects, even when borrowing the State Preceptor’s premises to receive visitors, summoned them only to the side hall.
The light in the side hall was not as bright as in the main hall. Delicate gauze, tributed from the southern lands, hung within the chamber, drifting softly with the breeze like ethereal mist in a celestial realm.
These gauze curtains divided the hall into two sections – inner and outer. The Emperor sat within. Perhaps due to the dim light, from where the Outer Guard officers stood, her silhouette appeared hazy and indistinct, little more than a shadowy outline.
Yan Xiaolou led his men in paying homage to the Emperor. Yet the young figure draped in a crow-blue robe remained seated proudly on a camp bed, offering no word to those beyond the curtain. After a moment, an imperial attendant emerged from behind the drapery, carrying a wooden tray bearing Western brocade robes – a New Year’s gift bestowed upon the officers.
From Yan Xiaolou on down, each officer received the robes and bowed in gratitude. But at that moment, one of the captains suddenly lunged forward, heedlessly discarding the brocade robe in his hands. He seized the imperial attendant, hurled him forcefully at his fellow officers, and in that instant dashed behind the gauze curtain. There, he clamped his hand around the throat of the young figure seated on the camp bed.
All of this unfolded in the span of a heartbeat. Many were aware that the Emperor herself was unremarkable in martial skill – thus, caught off guard and now in her assailant’s grip, the situation appeared dire. The captain, indeed, immediately moved to strike with lethal intent. Yet just as he braced to apply force, a sharp pain shot through his wrist. Simultaneously, a heavy blow struck his abdomen. His strength swiftly ebbed, forcing him to loosen his hold. At once, fully armored soldiers emerged from concealed positions, swarmed forward, and subdued him without delay.
“…”
No one paid heed to what Captain Zhang might be thinking. The youth who had just been seized by the throat rose respectfully and stepped aside. With the gauze no longer obscuring the view, all present could clearly see that it was not Wen Yanran, but a guard of similar build – one who had even adjusted his seated posture to compensate for the height difference while in disguise.
As the captain stood frozen in bewilderment, a figure emerged slowly from behind a multi-compartment shelf, escorted by the Inner Guard. Young in years yet carrying herself with an air of untrammeled authority, it was Wen Yanran herself. Today, breaking from the dark-hued robes so perennially favored by Great Zhou’s imperial family, she wore instead plain white garments – the sort often seen on those without official rank or title.
Wen Yanran glanced at the captain on the ground and asked Yan Xiaolou, “Is this Captain Zhang?”
Yan Xiaolou’s face had already darkened like iron. Upon the Emperor’s inquiry, he immediately lowered his head and replied, “It is indeed him.” Prostrating himself further, he added, “I failed to maintain proper discipline, allowing malefactors to infiltrate the Imperial Guard. I beseech Your Majesty to mete out punishment.”
Wen Yanran offered a faint smile. “Very well, then let it be half a year’s salary.”
In times past, the Great Master Xuanyang had commanded a considerable following -not only among commoners and powerful gentry, but even among officials in the central government.
This was, of course, understandable. Given the dire state of governance before Wen Yanran’s ascension, it was all too natural for those disillusioned with the present order to place their hopes in the mystical arts.
The Emperor’s personal guards pressed Captain Zhang firmly to the ground. He struggled futilely for a time, only to receive heavy kicks to the backs of his knees and his abdomen before finally giving up. With his hands bound behind him, he knelt reluctantly, his resentment barely concealed.
The Emperor’s bearing alone was enough to inspire profound dread – yet what unsettled Captain Zhang far more was that, even now, he had no idea where exactly he had exposed himself.
Wen Yanran, naturally, offered no explanation. The seed of her suspicion had been planted during the earlier incident involving the plunder of grain supplies outside the city.
On that occasion, the Imperial Guard had been well-prepared; the would-be “bandits” not only failed in their scheme but were instead encircled and defeated. To prevent information from leaking, their leader had taken his own life on the spot, while the remaining captives yielded nothing of value under interrogation – they were merely local ruffians and drifters hired for coin.
At the time, Wen Yanran had found it curious: if the enemy’s influence in Jianping ran as deep as it appeared, why entrust such a crucial task to insignificant thugs? This struck her less as a genuine attempt to destroy the grain and more as a probe.
She had suspected then that the mole embedded within the Outer Guard -aware that her suspicions were already aroused – had deliberately used the grains as bait to lure out her forces, all while holding back their true capabilities to avoid exposure.
Wen Yanran had two hypotheses regarding the subsequent developments. One was that the mole, upon confirming the Emperor’s suspicion, would quietly seize an opportunity to flee. The other was that he would stay put, bide his time, and make another attempt – to see if a chance to complete his mission still remained.
She waited for a long while, yet observed no significant movements from the Outer Guard. Now that the situation in the eastern territories had settled, it was only fitting that matters in Jianping be brought to a close as well. Since the man refused to expose himself, Wen Yanran ordered Yan Xiaolou to conduct a thorough investigation – a classic case of “beating the grass to startle the snake.”
The plan bore fruit. Before long, Captain Zhang had submitted a report accusing Captain Qi, complete with ample evidence. Upon learning of this, Wen Yanran was immediately reminded of the story of Jing Ke’s assassination attempt on the King of Qin.
How strikingly similar this was to the tale of Jing Ke, who had gained the trust of the King of Qin by presenting the head of Fan Yuqi – only to seize that trust as an opportunity to strike. This, too, explained why these men, even after sensing the growing risk of exposure, had chosen not to flee but to remain in Jianzhou.
They had never abandoned their plan for vengeance! Once an assassination attempt on the Emperor was traced to one of Yan Xiaolou’s subordinates, it would matter little whether he himself was directly involved. He, and even the entire Yan clan, would face countless heads rolling.
Unfortunately for them, the Emperor had not only anticipated this long ago but had swiftly devised a trap to lure the enemy in. Moreover, he had deliberately chosen Tianfu Palace as the setting for this fishing expedition, rather than the more easily criticized Taiqi Palace – a clear gesture of protection toward Yan Xiaolou.
Wen Yanran asked with genuine curiosity, “You have already attained the rank of captain in the Imperial Guard, and the eastern theater is beyond salvaging. Why, then, must you still walk the path to your own demise?”
Captain Zhang raised his head as high as his restraints would allow. “Your Majesty need not press further. It is true that I have drawn the Great Zhou’s stipend, but grace and loyalty have their orders of precedence. I was once but a nameless wanderer; had the Great Master not taken pity on me, I would have long since perished in the wilds, food for stray dogs. Today, I repay that debt with my life.”
In truth, Yan Xiaolou had treated his subordinates fairly. Captain Zhang suspected that had he delayed any longer, he might have lost the resolve to act. Thus, he had steeled himself and launched his attack abruptly, even when he believed his chances of success were no better than half.
One of the imperial attendants spat harshly, “Such treasonous acts – have you no fear of bringing disaster upon your family?”
Captain Zhang let out a cold laugh. “Had I any family left to speak of, would I have been reduced to fighting stray dogs for scraps?”
That he had learned martial arts, could read, and later became a wandering knight-errant all suggested that his household had not originally been impoverished to the point of desperation. Yet in so short a time, he had lost all his kin and barely escaped death himself – the reasons behind this required no further inquiry.
When Wen Yanran assumed the throne, she also inherited not only the accumulated grace and prestige of the Great Zhou dynasty’s three hundred years, but inevitably a share of its liabilities as well.
Captain Zhang was temporarily confined to the Oblique Dungeon, to be dealt with by the inner court. The Imperial Guard was dispatched to search his residence for correspondence, in order to uncover any remaining accomplices.
The people of Jianping were well accustomed to the sight of the Imperial Guard on patrol – especially during the New Year period, when thieves often took to the streets and order needed to be maintained. Yet the armoured soldiers seen today, though they offered no offense to passersby, moved with such an indescribable, chilling aura of finality that none dared draw near.
Though the Emperor herself made no grand proclamation regarding what had transpired within the Outer Guard, word of such a significant matter had inevitably reached those well-informed.
Anxiety began to stir in certain households within the capital. Private contacts among officials were by no means unusual. In years past, the Great Master Xuanyang had been regarded as a legitimate master of the arcane, and many families had maintained associations with him. The Dong clan, in particular, had even invited him to reside in their own home. Should the Emperor now choose to trace the correspondence seized from Captain Zhang’s residence, countless individuals might well be implicated – to say nothing of the fact that even a minor clerk in Grand Tutor Yuan’s household had been known to have dealings with him.
Many understood well that the Emperor was sharp and given to deep reflection. Since her ascension, she had gradually drawn the reins of power into her own hands. If she now intended to use this incident to purge the capital, yet another storm of blood and upheaval would surely follow.
The Imperial Guard, in fact, had already received explicit instructions from the Emperor: even though they were in the midst of conducting house searches and making arrests during the New Year period, they were to refrain from displaying their harshest, most decisive demeanor too openly, and to take care not to disturb the city’s inhabitants unnecessarily.
During the festival season, the lanterns of Jianping burned late into the night without cease. Yet beneath this veneer of celebration, an undercurrent of unease seemed to stir. Meanwhile, court officials such as Yuan Yanshi received formal invitations: the Emperor summoned them to the Taiqi Palace to witness a Nuo exorcism dance organized by the Imperial Household.
Chi Yi personally selected – from among the lesser officials of the Imperial Household – young men of slender build and comely appearance to serve as the Fangxiangshi leading the dance. Masked, the Fangxiangshi led a troupe of similarly elegant youths in song and dance before a massive bonfire lit before the hall, all the while casting benzoin, books, mugwort, and agarwood ceaselessly into the flames.
In this era, the belief in divine retribution and mystical correspondences between heaven and man ran deep. Faced with calamity, many did not seek rational solutions, but instead performed rites and offered prayers – hoping, through ritual, to drive misfortune away.
Wen Yanran placed no faith in the mystical arts, yet could not deny their power to stir the spirit. The ministers gathered to watch seemed, one by one, drawn into a strange and compelling atmosphere.
The flames leaped high and fierce; the musicians of the Imperial Household accompanied the Nuo dance with fervent rhythm. The atmosphere before the hall was nothing short of exuberant – if there was any cause for regret, it was that the Emperor herself was not present.
Then, without warning, the dancers parted. A group of armored soldiers carried forth a wooden chest and set it down beside the blaze, then opened the lid.
The chest was filled to the brim with letters.
The Fangxiangshi had already cast the last of his incense into the fire, yet the music had not ceased. The young performers of the Nuo dance now scooped up handful after handful of the letters and flung them into the conflagration. Flames licked at the paper, and in an instant, the script – and all it bore – dissolved into drifting black ash.
Yuan Yanshi stood frozen for a moment, then a look of sudden understanding dawned upon his face.
The Emperor had indeed seized letters from the homes of the conspirators – yet she had not opened a single one. Instead, she had consigned them all directly to the flames, setting the hearts of the capital’s officials at ease.
Her Majesty possessed a spirit vast enough to embrace all under heaven. What weight, then, could mere letters possibly carry?
At this realization, awe swelled within Yuan Yanshi – and with it, a genuine pang of shame.
The bonfire cast waves of warmth in all directions, enveloping everyone in its glow. Standing nearby, Censor-in-Chief Song stroked his beard, narrowed his eyes, and chuckled softly. “ ‘How goes the night? The night is not yet spent; the courtyard beacons blaze. The noble ones draw near; their bells ring out in tune.’ Tonight, Her Majesty has graciously set these very beacons before the hall. With a heart so magnanimous, how could the realm ever refuse to pledge its allegiance?”
