On the Imperial Avenue, the Emperor’s carriage moved slowly forward.
Seated inside, the Emperor had no mind to look at the scenery outside, though he only left the palace two or three times a year.
He could still seem to hear the booming explosions echoing in his ears. Just moments ago, to further test the power of the new stone projectile, Li Mao had launched the remaining two – or no, Li Mao had said it wasn’t called “launching.” Whatever it was called, in the end the projectiles were all used up, the catapult itself destroyed, and the ground left strewn with mangled flesh and blood of cows and sheep.
It must have been a disgusting sight. The Emperor hadn’t gone close to see it, but many ministers had – and quite a few of them had turned away to vomit.
As the carriage swayed gently, a smile appeared on the Emperor’s face.
Still, what a fine thing this was – an excellent thing indeed.
With the year’s end approaching, there could be no better gift for the New Year.
That Li Mao was truly full of surprises.
Li Mao – illegitimate son of Li Xin, heir to the Li family’s fireworks trade, once personally granted a martial rank by the Emperor himself. He had served as a gate officer, but lost his post after being blamed for the great fire some months ago…
That fire, it seemed, had been caused by his altering the fireworks formula at home – all for the sake of making this stone projectile.
The Emperor nodded to himself. So it had not been mere recklessness or mischief after all.
But what about this claim that he’d been instructed by Lady Cheng?
Had she taken him as a disciple?
“Your Majesty,”
Li Mao said, kowtowing in the Hall of Diligent Governance.
“I dare not presume to call myself her disciple.”
Standing to the side, Feng Lin lifted his eyes toward him.
“It was Fan Jianglin, the Inspector-General, who caught you, wasn’t it?” he suddenly asked.
Li Mao answered, “Yes.”
“Well, that really is quite a coincidence,” Feng Lin said.
At that, every official present seemed to understand the hidden meaning – each lowered his head with a faint, knowing smile.
The Emperor’s eyes flickered slightly.
“You know this Lady Cheng?” he asked.
“It’s a long story to tell at this moment,” Li Mao replied. “I know Lady Cheng – but Lady Cheng does not know me.”
The Emperor frowned.
“In those days, when Lady Cheng welcomed her deceased brother’s spirit back into the city – fine wine spilled across the streets, fireworks sent his soul on its way.”
As Li Mao spoke, recalling the scene, his eyes lit up and he couldn’t help gesturing with his hands.
“Do you still remember those fireworks that day? The ones that bloomed in broad daylight?”
Those fireworks?
Naturally, the Emperor hadn’t seen them himself, being in the palace, and most of the officials present would never have gone to watch such common festivities – they had only heard their families mention it, and even then, it was a passing remark soon forgotten.
“What about those fireworks that day?” one of the ministers couldn’t help asking.
“Those fireworks rose as high as an iron tower!” Li Mao said, his voice trembling with excitement. “My family – our Li family’s fireworks are among the finest there are, but even ours can only reach the height of three tiers of an iron tower. Yet Lady Cheng’s fireworks soared nine tiers high – Your Majesty, nine tiers!”
Nine tiers high?
So what of it? Were they… prettier?
The Emperor was puzzled.
“Your Majesty,” Li Mao continued, “fireworks cannot simply fly as high as one wishes. My family has worked tirelessly for generations, yet we have never achieved more than three tiers’ height. I had thought that gunpowder itself had reached its limit – but to think! To think there truly exists a formula that can make fireworks rise higher. Such gunpowder can be compounded!”
“What does that have to do with your stone projectiles?” another minister couldn’t help asking.
“It was from seeing those fireworks that I got the idea to refine the gunpowder – to create a kind of firework that could be used on the battlefield,” Li Mao said.
“That’s it? That’s what you call Lady Cheng’s instruction?” the Emperor asked in surprise.
What nonsense! How could that count as instruction?
Li Mao shook his head.
“Of course not,” he said.
The Emperor let out a small breath of relief.
“Later, I kept failing, and in the end even burned my house down,” Li Mao continued. “With no other choice, I mustered my courage and went to beg for an audience with Lady Cheng.”
And then she told you what to do?
The Emperor thought the question but didn’t voice it aloud.
“Lady Cheng did not tell me what to do,” Li Mao said – as the Emperor had half expected.
“But she asked me what I meant to make, and how I intended to use that gunpowder. Her questions struck me like a flash of enlightenment – so I conceived of using stone shells to contain the powder.”
At this point, he bowed low again.
“So the fact that I was able to make these stone projectiles at all – was entirely thanks to Lady Cheng’s guidance.”
This – this counted as “guidance”?
Was it really just because of that?
The Emperor fell silent for a moment.
Still… what a coincidence.
“Summon Lady Cheng to the hall,” the Emperor said, lifting his head.
The eunuch answered at once and hurried out, but when he reached the outer hall, he froze.
“Where is Lady Cheng?” he asked the people nearby.
Because of yesterday’s earthquake, the Grand Court of Revision had not continued the interrogation of Cheng Jiao-niang. Later, when it was discovered that there had been no earthquake at all – but rather an explosion at the Imperial Armory – it became clear that the incident would involve many officials and disciplinary matters. Everyone had rushed off to see what had happened, even the censors who had come pressing for an immediate verdict.
And so, Cheng Jiao-niang had simply been left there.
Of course, she couldn’t return home – after all, it was the Emperor himself who had ordered her case to be investigated.
“There’s hot water now.”
In the cell, Ban Qin carried over a basin of water and looked at Cheng Jiao-niang, who was sitting on the floor.
“Miss, please wash your hands.”
Cheng Jiao-niang rolled up her sleeves and dipped her hands into the basin to wash them.
“The meal will be brought in shortly,” Ban Qin added as she tidied up, then knelt down beside her mistress and glanced around the cell.
Though they had already spent one night here, the place still felt utterly unfamiliar.
In truth, this couldn’t really be called a cell – the room had originally been where the jailers rested.
Out of deference to Cheng Jiao-niang’s reputation, the prison guards had treated her generously, and the officials of the Grand Court of Revision had chosen to turn a blind eye.
Still, it was, of course, nothing like home.
“That damned Feng Lin,” Ban Qin muttered under her breath, lowering her head and cursing fiercely once more.
Just as she was cursing, footsteps sounded outside. The door opened, and someone stepped in – wrapped in a cloak with a hood, carrying a food box in his hand.
The meal delivery, she thought, and quickly stood up. But the person had already stepped inside.
“Time to eat,” he said.
The voice made Ban Qin freeze. She looked up sharply – and nearly jumped in shock.
“Your Highness!” she cried. “Why are you here?”
Duke Jin’an reached up and lifted back his hood, a bright smile spreading across his face.
“To deliver a meal,” he said, raising the food box in his hand.
Ban Qin took the food box from him and hurried to find something to lay it on, but Duke Jin’an had already wrapped his cloak around himself and sat down cross-legged on the floor.
“It’s all right – not too cold,” he said, glancing around the room. “This is my first time in a prison cell.”
“No need to stand on ceremony,” Cheng Jiao-niang said with a faint smile.
Duke Jin’an laughed heartily.
“Thanks to you,” he said.
Ban Qin decided to keep quiet, kneeling down to open the food box and carefully arranging the dishes on the mat.
“Has Your Highness eaten?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
“Not yet. I had breakfast quite early,” Duke Jin’an replied.
At that, Ban Qin quickly brought over a pair of chopsticks with both hands. Duke Jin’an accepted them.
“The Empress Dowager treats me kindly – she even lent me the palace’s best cook,” he said, gesturing invitingly. “Here, try this.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded and tasted it as he suggested.
“…And this one,” Duke Jin’an said, then frowned. “It hasn’t gone cold, has it?”
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “I’m not particular about food or drink.”
Duke Jin’an chuckled.
“Yes – able to eat sweet or bitter, in hardship or in ease,” he said with a grin.
“Content wherever I am,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
The two of them fell silent and ate in quiet. In the midst of their meal, hurried footsteps sounded outside.
“Your Highness, Your Highness – His Majesty summons Lady Cheng to the hall,” a young eunuch whispered, poking his head in.
Duke Jin’an quickly stood up, pulling his hood over his head. He gave Cheng Jiao-niang a quick wave, then turned and left.
Ban Qin promptly shifted over to sit where the duke had been, just as the palace eunuch came to a stop at the doorway.
“Lady Cheng,” he said with a polite smile, his gaze sweeping the room – taking in the two who had been sitting face to face and the dishes laid out between them – before moving on as if he hadn’t seen a thing.
“His Majesty summons you.”
…
While waiting for Lady Cheng to be summoned, the Emperor granted a midday banquet to the court officials.
Seated in a side hall, they ate the simple imperial meal – and could not help whispering among themselves.
“How much truth do you think there is in what Li Mao said?”
“He really claims he just saw some fireworks, heard one remark, and then invented the thing?”
“How could that be possible? Plenty of people saw those fireworks – why didn’t anyone else invent it?”
“Well, that just shows how extraordinary this Lady Cheng is – another one she’s enlightened.”
Someone nearby gave a discreet cough. The men speaking turned to look – and saw Feng Lin, face stern and expressionless.
At once, everyone fell silent and straightened in their seats.
“Still, that stone projectile is truly formidable,” someone quickly said, steering the topic elsewhere.
“Yes, later they even tested it on shields – and on sheep wrapped in armor – and it still blew them apart,” another chimed in with a nod.
“Exactly! Think how thick a cow’s hide is – and if it were people instead…” someone added.
If it were people…
Several ministers couldn’t help imagining it – the mangled flesh, the spilled entrails they had seen earlier – and at once their stomachs turned. They clapped hands over their mouths, turned aside, and vomited into the spittoons.
Their loss of composure killed everyone else’s appetite as well.
Just then, the eunuch entered.
“Lady Cheng has arrived.”
Since she was a woman and a commoner, she naturally had no right to appear in open court. As before, the Emperor would question her privately in a side hall.
From behind the partition, the gathered ministers could hear the sound of the lady kneeling and bowing in salute.
“Lady Cheng, do you know Li Mao?” the Emperor asked.
“I do,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
She actually admitted it – didn’t deny it at all. The ministers outside exchanged glances, a few smiling faintly as they continued to listen.
“He credits you with the making of the stone projectile,” the Emperor said with a smile.
“How could that be his invention?” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “Hasn’t such a thing existed long ago?”
“Lady Cheng, the projectile he made is not like the old kind,” the Emperor explained. “Do you know about yesterday’s tremor?”
“I do,” Cheng Jiao-niang answered.
“That was caused by Li Mao’s stone projectile exploding,” the Emperor said. “He claims it was through your guidance that he succeeded. Lady Cheng, you have rendered great service.”
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head.
“I dare not claim any merit,” she said. “I never gave him any instruction.”
Feng Lin let out a cold snort.
Here it was again – these tricks and cryptic words!
The Emperor smiled faintly.
“Li Mao said that it was after seeing your fireworks, and after hearing your question, that he was suddenly enlightened,” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang lowered her head in salute.
“Your Majesty, then how could I claim any merit? It was merely that the speaker had no intent, yet the listener took it to heart; the doer acted without purpose, yet the observer found meaning,” she said, lifting her gaze.
The Emperor was taken aback for a moment.
Feng Lin could no longer hold his tongue.
“Your Majesty,” he cried, raising his tablet, “pay no heed to this girl’s deceitful talk!”
He stepped forward into the hall as he spoke. Cheng Jiao-niang turned her head toward him – for a brief instant their eyes met, then both looked away.
