After an autumn rain, the weather had turned noticeably colder.
Li Mao, the gate officer of the Eastern Gate, descended from the tower. Yet, instead of galloping home as he usually did, he took off his official robe, changed into plain clothes, and rode his horse out of the city.
There were quite a few travelers on the road. But strangely, the farther he went from the city gate, the more people there seemed to be. Ahead, the noise of voices rose – it sounded almost like a temporary market, with peddlers shouting their wares.
“How come there’s a market here?” some passersby wondered aloud. “It’s neither close to the city nor far from it. Besides, there’s already a fair three miles west of here.”
“There’s no Maoyuan Mountain Tomb three miles west,” someone explained.
That made the first man even more surprised.
Not only had a market sprung up – it was right in front of a tomb!
Have people these days truly stopped showing reverence for the dead?
Before his surprise faded, the sound of loud weeping reached his ears – a man wailing in deep grief.
He turned his head and saw, indeed, an elderly man before a fenced grave, pounding his chest and crying bitterly.
“Someone visiting a grave?” he murmured in puzzlement.
“No,” said a nearby vendor with a look of complete indifference. “Just another one who’s read the words on the stone and lost his mind.”
“Reading the words?”
The passerby turned again to look at the weeping man and saw that he was dressed in a scholar’s robe – clearly a man of letters.
“Sir, I’ve got fine brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones here – and a freshly made rubbing of the Five Men Inscription, taken directly from the tombstone itself!” the vendor called out loudly when he noticed the passerby’s interest. “Not like those copies that others pass around secondhand!”
The passerby hadn’t quite grasped what he meant, but the people nearby immediately grew indignant.
“Quit bragging! The tombstone’s fenced off now – no one’s allowed near it. How could you have made a rubbing?”
“That’s where you can’t compare with me,” the vendor shot back. “My third uncle’s grandson’s aunt’s son’s brother-in-law works at the Tai Ping Residence. He got permission from the owner–”
“– Bullshit!” someone interrupted sharply.
Seeing the argument break out nearby, the passerby grew even more confused. He forgot to urge his horse forward and simply watched the elderly scholar who was still beating his chest and stamping his feet in grief.
“I’ve lived so many years,” the old scholar sobbed as he spoke, “I’ve studied the masters far and wide, prided myself on my own achievements in calligraphy – and when I heard people say that after the Orchid Pavilion Preface, the world had finally seen the second-greatest running script, I refused to believe it…”
To those around him, though, his words were nothing new. They heard the same lamentations every day – and had uttered them themselves. Each of them was lost in rapture, tracing the characters on the tombstone, entranced and intoxicated.
Still, there was no shortage of onlookers who found endless amusement in watching these learned men lose all composure.
“So you’re crying out of shame, then?” someone asked.
“Shame, of course – that’s only natural,” the old scholar replied through his tears. “But I weep because it moves me to sorrow. It’s pure feeling, pure truth – a lament for the impermanence of the world. Grief and passion are all within the calligraphy. The heart is in the writing. The writing is the soul. It is, and yet it is not, writing; they are, and yet are not, words.”
The onlookers had heard plenty of such mad, rambling talk before. Some chuckled, others just stared in puzzlement.
No sooner had the old scholar finished speaking than another scholar, who had been sitting cross-legged on the ground, suddenly clapped his hands, cried out in delight, and leapt to his feet.
“I understand! I understand now!” he shouted, waving his arms wildly. “It is writing and yet not writing, it is words and yet not words – only when both are forgotten can true wonder appear!”
He burst out laughing, staggered a few steps, and stumbled away.
The crowd all shook their heads.
“Another one’s achieved enlightenment.”
“Or maybe just another one’s gone mad.”
They murmured and debated among themselves.
Li Mao stepped aside to let the raving scholar pass, then hesitated a moment before walking forward.
“Keep back! No one’s allowed near!” the two tomb guards shouted sharply from in front of the grave.
Li Mao stopped in his tracks. Just then, someone nearby recognized him.
“General Li! You’ve fallen for the calligraphy too?” called out one of the stall keepers.
At the words General Li, the crowd all turned to look. As the gate officer of the Eastern Gate, most merchants who came and went through the gate didn’t know him personally, but they knew his face well enough – and for a moment, everyone was taken aback.
“So General Li likes this sort of thing too?”
“Ha – planning to give up being a general and turn scholar now?”
“What’s the future in being a general anyway? Real prospects lie in becoming a civil official…”
“Nah, he’s probably not here for the calligraphy – more likely drawn by the smell of wine.”
“Wine? You can’t even smell the wine now. With all those scholars crowding around the grave, even raising your voice here earns you their scorn.”
“Those scholars are a nuisance. If they’re allowed to read the words, why shouldn’t others be allowed to enjoy the wine?”
“Heh, Liu Si – sounds to me like you’re hoping to set up your own wine stall here and profit from the crowd, aren’t you?”
The scene grew noisy with chatter and laughter, and Li Mao, feeling awkward, quickly turned to leave. He rode his horse home, only to be summoned by his father as soon as he arrived.
As a concubine’s son, Li Mao was blunt by nature and far less eloquent than his other brothers. He wasn’t suited for business dealings outside, nor could he take up the family craft – the secret recipe of the Li clan’s fireworks could only be passed to the eldest son of the main line. Yet he couldn’t exactly go and work as a laborer, could he?
So he was caught in between – not fit for higher posts, unwilling for lower ones. Fortunately, his father had once seized an opportunity to donate some silver and buy him a minor military title, hoping that would at least give the family another branch of support. But judging from how things stood now, any hope of him achieving real distinction seemed all but impossible.
“I hear you’ve been going to the workshop often,” his father said coldly, getting straight to the point. “And even tampering with the formula on your own – what exactly are you trying to do?”
“I… I just wanted to try something,” Li Mao said hesitantly.
“Try? Try what!” Master Li barked, slamming his hand on the table. “You’re already a military officer – focus on being one! Since when are the workshop affairs any of your concern?”
“Father, do you still remember the fireworks for Maoyuan Mountain brothers that day? They were far better than ours. I only wanted to–” Li Mao hurried to explain.
Master Li gave him a cold, hard stare, and Li Mao’s voice trailed off into silence.
“You certainly have plenty of ideas,” his father said icily. “How many times have I told you – stop meddling in family business and focus on your own duties! Think about how to get promoted instead. It’s been years – those who started before you have advanced, even those who joined later have advanced. And you – do you plan to be a mere gate officer for the rest of your life?”
Li Mao lowered his head and said nothing, enduring his father’s scolding in silence.
“You think you’re the only one who’s thought of this?” Master Li said sharply, giving Li Mao a stern, warning look. “A man should know his place.”
Li Mao was just about to bow his head and answer when the ground suddenly trembled beneath them. A loud crash followed from not far away, and shouts erupted outside. The people in the house rushed out and looked westward – thick smoke was rising above a nearby courtyard.
It was the direction of the Li family’s warehouse.
“Not good…”
Both Master Li and Li Mao’s faces changed drastically.
“You can stop thinking about promotion,” Master Li said, his expression dark as iron. “You’d better start thinking about how you’re going to atone for this!”
The clamor of gongs, drums, and shouting spread through the entire capital.
Attendant Scholar Gao, who had just returned home, was startled by the noise.
“Is there a fire?” he asked, looking up. Thick black smoke was rising in the western sky.
As though struck by a sudden thought, he stopped walking and stood still in the courtyard.
“Don’t worry, sir – it won’t reach our place,” his attendant said quickly.
Attendant Scholar Gao narrowed his eyes.
“This fire broke out quite suddenly,” he said slowly. “I wager even His Majesty and Her Majesty the Empress Dowager will be alarmed by it.”
Attendant Scholar Gao’s guess was correct – news of the great fire in the capital quickly reached the palace.
The Emperor, who had just finished handling state affairs and was about to rest, was startled upright once again.
A fire in the capital wasn’t unusual, but each one was deadly. The last incident – when a concubine had accidentally burned down half a street while trying to hide a few strings of coins – hadn’t been that long ago.
“Your Majesty, please don’t worry. The fire’s already being contained, and there haven’t been many casualties,” the eunuchs hurried to reassure him.
But the Emperor didn’t believe a word of it. The flames hadn’t even been extinguished yet – how could they possibly know the casualties? These eunuchs were growing more foolish by the day; they couldn’t even offer proper comfort.
He left the hall altogether and climbed up to the highest pavilion in the palace to look out toward the city – and saw that the Empress Dowager was already there, surrounded by consorts and attendants.
“I heard it was the Li family’s fireworks that exploded?” the Empress Dowager asked.
The Imperial City Guard had already investigated and reported back, so there was nothing to hide. The Emperor nodded.
“I’ve long said those things aren’t safe – how could they keep them at home? Think of how many lives that’s cost,” the Empress Dowager said, joining her hands in prayer and chanting Buddha’s name.
“They weren’t usually stored at home,” the Emperor replied. “The City Watch is still investigating what exactly happened.”
“They must be punished,” the Empress Dowager said firmly.
The Emperor nodded again.
No one else spoke; they all watched the scene beyond the city walls. Fortunately, the flames were slowly dying down, and the thick smoke was thinning. Just then, more detailed information arrived.
“The matter is urgent, so I’ve brought him here to report directly. Whatever His Majesty and Your Majesty wish to ask, he can answer clearly,” said the officer from the Imperial City Guard, gesturing toward the City Watch official who had followed him in.
Ordinarily, no one was allowed to enter the inner palace without a formal summons.
The Emperor nodded his consent.
“…The Li family claims they’ve always been careful,” the official reported. “Their workshop is outside the city. But today, one of the younger sons acted recklessly – he added extra ingredients against regulations. When his family confronted him about it, the mixture exploded, igniting the timber and paper stored in the warehouse. That’s how the fire started. The young man has already been bound and is awaiting punishment.”
As he was speaking, Duke Jin’an hurried over with a few eunuchs in tow.
“Your Majesty, what’s happened?” he asked anxiously.
“Wei-lang,” the Empress Dowager called out, reaching for his hand. Her voice trembled as she added, “I was just about to send someone to fetch you…”
At those words, Duke Jin’an’s face changed. Before he could even turn his head, a sharp scream rang out behind him – followed by the piercing cries of a child. The shrieks of panic from the palace attendants tore through half the court like a blade.
Everyone was stunned with fear. Duke Jin’an turned at once and broke into a run.
“It’s the little princess!” one of the consorts instantly recognized her child’s voice. Forgetting all decorum, she dashed after the sound.
The official who had been reporting was struck dumb, but the officer from the Imperial City Guard reacted first – matters of the inner palace should never be seen by outsiders. He quickly grabbed the official and pulled him away.
There were many things one might be curious about, but never the affairs of the harem. Realizing this, the official turned to leave – but he was too late.
A group of terrified palace attendants came rushing toward them, two of them carrying little princesses. One child was wailing uncontrollably; the other seemed to have fainted. The attendants were screaming and sobbing, and behind them came a burst of wild, guttural laughter.
Through the gaps between the fleeing figures, a pair of raised hands could be seen.
It was him – the boy who hadn’t been seen in public for two years, the former Second Prince, now known as Prince Qing.
The official stood frozen, staring at the figure drawing closer – a bloated body, a wide, drooling grin, and a face gleaming wetly in the sunlight.
“…The princess fainted…”
“…Your Majesty – Your Majesty, I want my mother…”
“…Shuning, Shuning, what’s wrong with you?”
“…Fetch the imperial doctors – quickly, fetch the doctors!”
Through the chaos of screams and sobs, Duke Jin’an pushed forward and came to a halt beside Prince Qing, who was now even more agitated by the crowd – flailing and laughing in wild excitement.
“Hold him down!”
The Empress Dowager’s voice rang out from the front.
“Tie him up! Tie him up!”
Duke Jin’an lifted his gaze – the Empress Dowager stood pale with shock and anger, while the Emperor’s eyes, though strained, were fixed in anxious concern on the princesses being held by their mothers.
Duke Jin’an exhaled once, shut his eyes briefly, and turned back. Then, summoning all his strength, he seized Prince Qing and locked his arms around him.
The force was tremendous – pinning Prince Qing firmly in place. The sudden restraint and the pain of the pressure made him cry out loudly.
“Don’t be afraid,” Duke Jin’an said quietly. “I won’t let anyone humiliate you.”
