The news that there would be a lunar eclipse on the fifteenth spread quickly.
“What’s there to make a fuss about?”
Attendant Scholar Gao said carelessly.
“Every year, the Bureau of Astronomy predicts three or four solar and lunar eclipses. If three out of ten turn out accurate, people already call it proof that the incense at Puxiu Temple is truly efficacious.”
Everyone in the room laughed.
“There’s already been a solar eclipse this year – if another lunar one comes now, won’t that throw everything into chaos?” someone said.
At that, Attendant Scholar Gao’s brow twitched.
“If there really is a lunar eclipse,” he said slowly, “it means virtuous governance is neglected, the prime minister shifts the blame, and the Emperor must issue a decree of self-reproach.”
Reciting this, he straightened up.
“What’s Chen Shao’s opinion?” he asked.
“The Imperial Archives stopped the astronomy report,” one subordinate replied. “This isn’t a small matter – the Bureau of Astronomy is now being pressed to give a detailed explanation. But… they’re in a great uproar over there.”
Attendant Scholar Gao frowned.
“They at the Bureau of Astronomy haven’t even reached a conclusion yet?” he asked. “Then how did this report get submitted in the first place?”
“So is there going to be a lunar eclipse or not?”
Chen Shao looked at the Supervisor of the Bureau of Astronomy before him, his tone edged with anger as well.
“There isn’t,” the Supervisor replied.
“There might be,” another official hastily added, “but it’s not yet certain. Matters of the heavens are beyond human discernment.”
Such things could never be stated too firmly – one must always leave a way out.
Chen Shao, of course, knew their little tricks. He threw the astronomical memorial onto the desk.
“Then what in the world is going on?” he barked.
“It’s all because of that student, Guo Yuan, recklessly making claims!”
The Supervisor and the Bureau’s assistant judges all said in unison.
“Bring him here!” Chen Shao shouted.
The man answered and went off at once, but before long he came running back in a panic.
“My lord, it’s bad – Guo Yuan has bypassed protocol and submitted his memorial directly to His Majesty!”
Chen Shao flew into a rage.
“Outrageous!”
He strode out of the room.
“This is trouble now,” someone muttered.
“Trouble or not, it’s his trouble,” the officials of the Bureau of Astronomy whispered among themselves, hurrying after him.
In the Hall of Diligent Governance, the Emperor looked at the young man kneeling before him, holding a memorial high above his head. Though the young man had spoken with determination just moments ago, his body was trembling – whether from nerves or excitement, it was hard to tell.
“Student Guo Yuan,” he declared, “has calculated that there will be a lunar eclipse on the fifteenth night, and petitions Your Majesty to inform the people and lead the officials in reverent precautions.”
A student?
The Emperor was momentarily taken aback. So this must be the source of the rumor Duke Jin’an’s people had heard at the Bureau of Astronomy.
A mere student predicting a lunar eclipse – how could the Bureau’s officials possibly accept that? Of course it would have led to arguments and rebukes.
While the audience was taking place on one side, Chen Shao arrived on the other, bringing with him the officials from the Bureau of Astronomy.
“Your Majesty, the celestial signs have not yet been confirmed – it would be improper to heed this man’s words.”
“Your Majesty, our Bureau is still carrying out the calculations; there is as yet no conclusion.”
“This is all merely Guo Yuan’s personal claim.”
The hall grew noisy with their protests. The Emperor, however, listened absent-mindedly. Whether there would be a lunar eclipse or not – he already knew as much, and the quarrel held little interest for him.
From time to time, he glanced toward the doors.
Why hadn’t Duke Jin’an returned yet? It had been a whole day and night.
Had that Lady Cheng not finished her calculations?
“Your Majesty! I am willing to stake his very life as guarantee!”
At that shout, the Emperor came back to himself.
What?
He looked toward the hall, and the others too turned in astonishment to stare at the kneeling Guo Yuan.
“On the fifteenth of this month, at the fourth quarter of the Chou hour, the moon will begin to darken. If my prediction proves false, I am willing to lose my head to atone for the sin of showing irreverence to Heaven!”
The young student’s face was flushed red, his eyes shone with conviction, and he raised his clasped fists high as he spoke in a clear, ringing voice.
For a moment, the hall fell utterly silent – then an uproar broke out.
“You think you’re Li Chunfeng?” the Supervisor of the Bureau of Astronomy sneered, flicking his sleeve.
The youth – ah, his blood was still too hot.
Strong spirit wasn’t a bad thing, but if that was all he had, then it was sheer foolishness.
“Your Majesty, I request that Guo Yuan be punished for his reckless words.”
The Emperor came back to himself from his surprise. Just as the hall was growing noisy again, a palace attendant hurried in from outside. Under everyone’s watchful gaze, he approached the throne and whispered softly into the Emperor’s ear.
At his words, the Emperor’s brows lifted in delight.
What was it? Everyone wondered silently.
“Where is she?” the Emperor asked in a low voice.
“She was stopped by the Imperial Archives, Your Majesty – they would not allow her to enter at this time,” the attendant whispered.
The Emperor struck the table with his hand.
“Utterly absurd!” he barked.
The officials standing in attendance brightened at once.
“Your Majesty, we are at fault,” they all said in unison.
The Emperor looked at them, then reached out his hand.
An attendant quickly understood and hurried over to take the memorial from Guo Yuan’s grasp.
“Very well – since that’s the case, I will approve your petition,” the Emperor said, taking it himself.
At these words, everyone was stunned.
“Your Majesty, how can matters of the heavens be treated so lightly!” Chen Shao stepped forward in alarm.
“Matters of the heavens must not be treated lightly,” the Emperor said calmly. “Therefore – if a lunar eclipse does occur, I shall accept punishment myself, confess my faults before Heaven and offer prayers. But if it does not…”
He rose as he spoke, throwing the memorial down onto the table and fixing his gaze on the kneeling Guo Yuan.
“…then punish him.”
…
The uproar this matter caused in court had yet to fade, echoes of it still lingering into the night.
The Emperor set down the memorial and closed his eyes, weary.
“Your Majesty, you must take care of your sacred health,” the attendant said, his voice choked with emotion. “Please, take a bit of supper.”
The Emperor shook his head.
“Your Majesty, please eat at least a little,” the attendant pleaded, kneeling with tears in his voice. “You skipped lunch – you mustn’t skip dinner as well.”
“Have I truly done something wrong?” the Emperor murmured. “Heaven’s punishments and omens appear one after another…”
Clearly, everything lately had been good news.
Two powerful new weapons had been forged; his own health had greatly improved; even a dragon heir was now in the womb. The greedy and inept officials who stirred up trouble had been dismissed, and reports of victories from the northwest kept arriving – by all accounts, it should have been a joyful, prosperous year.
So why, of all times…
“Has the governance of the realm faltered?” he murmured. “I have worked myself to the bone, and still Heaven finds fault with me…”
First a solar eclipse, now a lunar one – such portents meant disorder in the cosmic order.
At first he had thought the Bureau of Astronomy must have erred, but then…
“What else did Duke Jin’an say?” he asked.
“Nothing, Your Majesty – only that Lady Cheng also predicted there would be a lunar eclipse,” the attendant replied softly.
Then was this lunar eclipse a good omen or a bad one?
Did that even need to be asked? Of course it was bad.
The Emperor sighed again inwardly.
“Should we summon Lady Cheng to ask her?” the attendant suggested.
The Emperor shook his head.
“I’ve already asked her – what’s the point of asking again? She’s not the only one capable of such calculations,” he said. “If that student can predict it, then surely others in the world can as well. For me to keep questioning her again and again would make me seem petty and timid. Better to wager openly with this student – it shows frankness and ease.”
The attendant nodded, then hesitated before speaking.
“Your Majesty,” he said cautiously, “could it be… that this student actually knows Lady Cheng?”
The Emperor laughed.
“I thought the same, and I’ve already had the Imperial City Guard look into it,” he said. “This Guo Yuan isn’t a native of the capital. His father once earned honors for correcting the calendar, and when Guo Yuan was six, he inherited a minor astronomical post. His father died young, and with no one to guide him, the boy later came to the Bureau of Astronomy as a student. He’s been there three years now – always quiet and obscure, deeply interested in celestial calculations, but he barely knows all his colleagues, let alone has any connection with Lady Cheng.”
At this, the Emperor smiled.
“When Lady Cheng was setting off her fireworks, he happened to be on duty watching the armillary sphere – so he never saw them.”
So, unlike Li Mao, he hadn’t been “enlightened” by that spectacle.
The attendant chuckled. The fact that the Emperor could still make jokes showed his mood wasn’t too bleak after all.
“Then it seems predicting the movements of Heaven isn’t so impossible after all,” he said with a grin. “Turns out someone other than Lady Cheng can do it too.”
Indeed – aside from Lady Cheng, there were others in his court with such talent.
The Emperor felt a flicker of pride.
“Lady Cheng is human, not a celestial immortal,” he said with a laugh.
But the laughter soon faded into a sigh.
No matter how one looked at it, a solar eclipse followed by a lunar one was hardly an auspicious sign. Just wait – once the fifteenth passed, there would be a new round of noisy debates. As usual, they would demand that the emperor “cultivate virtue” and issue a decree of self-reproach.
What sin? Where was the sin?
It’s not fair, he thought bitterly. Not fair at all.
The Emperor brushed aside the papers and brushes on the desk and closed his eyes once more.
Though he had not summoned Lady Cheng, that didn’t mean others would refrain from speculation.
“The Emperor has never been a man of impulsive decisions,” Chen Shao said that night, seated in Old Master Chen’s room.
“For him to actually respond to a student’s absurd wager of life and death – it must mean he already has complete confidence in the outcome.”
Old Master Chen nodded.
“You may have stopped His Majesty from summoning Lady Cheng, but you can’t stop others from doing so,” he said with a faint smile.
Chen Shao nodded as he poured the tea.
“It seems there truly will be a lunar eclipse this time,” he said. “And a lunar eclipse is already inauspicious – coming after a solar one, it’s even worse.”
“The sun represents the pure essence of yang, steadfast and unbroken – the image of the ruler,” said Old Master Chen. “When the sun and moon are shadowed and eclipsed, it signifies that something is amiss in governance.”
Chen Shao handed him the cup, pausing for a moment.
“When the administration falters and Heaven sends warnings, the Emperor should quiet his heart, cultivate virtue, and undertake reform to dispel calamity,” he said suddenly. “That too… is an opportunity.”
Old Maste Chen accepted the tea with a small, knowing smile.
“So that was why His Majesty summoned Lady Cheng that day,” Attendant Scholar Gao said.
“Was it truly the student acting alone, or did Lady Cheng aid him behind the scenes?”
The singing girls had already withdrawn, and the advisers were sitting about at ease.
“It’s been looked into – it was the student’s doing,” one adviser replied. “There was quite an uproar at the Bureau of Astronomy. The news must have reached His Majesty’s ears, so he summoned Lady Cheng to question her. But she was stopped on the way, and that’s why he sent Duke Jin’an to ask instead. It seems Lady Cheng confirmed it too, which is why His Majesty agreed in court to the student Guo Yuan’s petition.”
Attendant Scholar Gao nodded, his mind at ease.
“I half thought that woman had some heavenly art to command the sun and moon,” he said with a laugh.
The advisers all laughed as well.
“How could such a thing be possible?” they said one after another.
“Then it seems there really will be a lunar eclipse,” one adviser remarked after a moment’s mirth. “A solar and lunar eclipse in succession – surely a dire omen.”
“Exactly. When governance falters, Heaven sends signs. It’s time to look closely for what’s amiss – to examine the officials and listen to counsel,” Attendant Scholar Gao said with a smile, raising his golden cup. “That too is an opportunity.”
Those in the room exchanged glances, then laughed and raised their cups in reply.
