The deafening roar shook nearly half the capital, let alone within the palace walls. This commotion was far greater than when the fireworks had exploded over the city gates earlier.
Imperial guards turned pale and staggered on their feet, while palace maids and eunuchs screamed, huddling together and trembling uncontrollably.
“What was that?”
Everyone shouted in panic.
Standing beneath the corridor, Gao Lingjun wore a wooden expression – neither panicked nor dismayed.
“This is the new stone-cannon artillery developed by the Imperial Armory,” he said. “Despite rushing against time, with constant trial and error, scrapping designs and starting over, we finally managed to produce a few and sent them to the northwest.”
“I never thought its first demonstration would be here at the palace, witnessed by you and me,” said Chen Shao.
Gao Lingjun chuckled softly.
“An utmost honor,” he replied. “Zhang Chun leading men to surround the palace gates, Duke Yanping and his son visiting the Empress to offer condolences, and now the garrison artillery bombarding the imperial city – such absurdities, unseen for centuries, have actually befallen us. History books will surely record this episode in bold, dramatic strokes.”
Chen Shao smiled, his gaze sweeping over the flickering torches and the uneasy, tense atmosphere that now enveloped their surroundings.
“Treacherous villains adding bold strokes to someone else’s story,” he remarked.
Gao Lingjun burst into laughter once more.
“How history will be written is always decided by the victors,” he said, his laughter abruptly fading into a grimace. “Who embellishes whose record remains to be seen.”
Chen Shao scoffed.
“Minister Gao, the situation is already settled,” he stated.
“Not yet,” Gao Lingjun retorted, turning his head. He nodded firmly. “Not yet. Before the very end, anything remains possible.”
As he spoke, he pointed ahead.
“What of the Empress? Can an Empress not speak irrationally?”
“That there is ill will between the Empress and the Empress Dowager is known to all.”
“If she accuses us of conspiring against the Crown Prince, must it be true? Could it not be she who harmed the Crown Prince and fled in secret?”
“A mouth holds two lips – who decides which words may be spoken?”
Chen Shao stared at him, momentarily stunned, then broke into a smile once more.
“Minister Gao,” he suddenly cupped his hands in salute and sighed, “I’ve always looked down on you, but now I realize I was wrong – I truly fall short compared to you.”
Gao Lingjun sneered at him.
“I know you’re mocking me,” he said. “But so what? Reputation? If a person cares only about face, they’re bound to lose it, because then their dignity will always be determined by others.”
Chen Shao nodded.
“Indeed,” he replied.
That was certainly true.
“In this regard, I am no match for you,” Chen Shao continued, turning wearily toward the palace hall. “I’ll leave what follows to you. I will go guard His Highness the Crown Prince. You should escort Her Majesty the Empress Dowager out. The palace gates have been breached – there is no point in further resistance. Must we stain the imperial court with blood?”
Gao Lingjun watched him walk away, a cold smile lingering on his lips.
“It is not us who will stain the court with blood,” he said, “but those who raise weapons against the Son of Heaven. In today’s events, no one’s hands or conscience are truly clean.”
Yes, no one was clean. All were tainted, stained.
Chen Shao did not look back as he stepped into the hall.
The hall was now empty. When the cannons roared earlier, the palace maids and eunuchs had all fled. Upon hearing that those outside had broken in, it was easy to imagine what fate awaited those who had served by the Crown Prince’s side. No one was willing to return now.
The Crown Prince lay on the couch, dressed neatly in simple inner garments. His face was clean, with a lingering flush, as if he were merely in deep sleep.
The girl earlier had not been treating his illness – she had been preparing his body for burial: cleansing his face, purifying his form, sealing the seven orifices, and burning incense to soothe his spirit.
Chen Shao knelt beside the couch, kowtowed three times, then turned and bowed toward the direction of the Emperor’s chambers.
“I am incompetent,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.
A eunuch peeked through the doorway, then hurried away.
“He’s weeping inside the room,” the young eunuch reported in a low voice.
Gao Lingjun let out a disdainful scoff.
“Is this all the courage these so-called unbending civil officials possess?” he remarked.
“Just leave him be,” the Empress Dowager sobbed. “What do we do now?”
“Your Majesty need not worry,” Gao Lingjun replied.
They’ve blown open the palace gates under the banner of ‘cleansing the court’ – and he says there’s no need to worry?
The Empress Dowager stopped crying and stared at Gao Lingjun, wide-eyed.
Could he truly have lost his mind from fear this time?
…
After two cannon blasts, Xuande Gate lay in utter ruin. Following the shout of the Garrison Army’s commander to charge, the shattered palace gates were rammed open.
The court officials on the scene finally snapped back to reality. Through the torchlight and flickering flames, they gazed into the palace grounds. The gates were open – everything was now settled.
No, to be precise, a new day was about to begin.
As witnesses and participants in this moment, whether their names would be recorded in history hinged entirely on this day.
The court officials couldn’t help but take a deep breath and straighten their robes. Before they could even assume expressions of urgency and crowd around the Empress to escort her into the palace, they saw Duke Jin’an – who had remained mounted all this time – suddenly spur his horse and gallop straight past.
He rode past…
Right past the assembled officials…
Right past the Empress herself…
And as Duke Jin’an charged ahead, the Garrison Army troops behind him naturally urged their horses forward to follow.
Watching a group of armed generals and soldiers enter the palace first, the court officials froze once again.
This doesn’t seem quite proper…
“Your Majesty!”
Zhang Chun stepped forward, his expression grave, positioning himself in front of the Empress.
“Beware the traitors inside! Let His Highness clear the way first!”
Once again, this fellow has seized the initiative!
“Protect the Empress!”
“Your Majesty, proceed slowly!”
Chaotic shouts erupted before the palace gates.
The crowd surged into the palace, soon leaving only a handful of people behind -among them, Qin An, the Prefect, and Duke Yanping with his son. Standing solemnly before the palace gates, they faced the gleaming, armored Garrison Army, creating an eerie and stark contrast.
Yet no one rushed forward to arrest them.
The Prefect gradually straightened his posture.
Indeed, why would they be arrested?
They had defended the capital, rushed to the city gates to protect the Empress, and now that Duke Jin’an had arrived, other dukes naturally could as well.
“All of you, stand guard here!” the Prefect shouted at the patrol officers and soldiers around him.
The patrolmen responded with scattered, hurried affirmatives.
“Your Excellency, Your Highness, let us also hurry inside,” he then said.
Duke Yanping nodded, his composure now fully restored. Taking his son by the hand, he stepped forward.
Just then, Qin An suddenly turned and bolted outward. The Prefect reacted swiftly, seizing him by the arm.
“Master Qin, what are you doing?” he asked in a low voice, his face pale.
Who would flee on their own? Wouldn’t that confirm a guilty conscience?
Bah! What guilt was there to feel?
If anyone dared label their actions as treacherous – who declared that the adopted heir must be Duke Jin’an? Nothing had even been settled yet, and already they were proclaiming a new sovereign? It was they who harbored treacherous intentions!
“Shi’san! I’m going to find Shi’san!” Qin An struggled free forcefully, his expression slightly dazed.
Shi’san?
Qin Hu had been sent to escort Duke Yanping and his son. After bringing them in, he hadn’t followed further. Instead, he had requested reinforcements for the city gates, stating he would remain there to guard against unforeseen danger.
Now that the “unforeseen danger” had already entered the city – could Qin Hu, still at the gates, have already met with disaster?
“Your Excellency, Your Excellency – this is no longer the most critical matter now,” the Prefect urged anxiously. “What’s vital is to enter the palace, to stand firm on this matter, and not leave any handle for others to attack us…”
“Qin Hu is but one person, Master Qin. Your stakes involve far more than just him alone!”
They concerned the entire Qin family – likely even the entire Qin clan. It seemed Duke Jin’an was now virtually certain to be adopted as a prince, then as Crown Prince, and would eventually ascend the throne. If they failed to handle this carefully and ensure everything was settled, the future of the Qin family would be bleak indeed.
At these words, Qin An halted and turned to look at the Prefect. Under the bright torchlight, a faint smile touched his expression.
“A handle?” he said. “A handle is never what truly matters. Nor can one’s standing be maintained merely by avoiding handles. My family – if we act, we accept the consequences.”
With that, he turned and sprinted away without looking back.
The future of one’s standing was a concern for the future; what mattered now were the people before his eyes.
The Prefect stared, stunned. But then a flicker of delight passed through his eyes.
Excellent. If that’s the case, then let your family bear the blame.
“Guard His Majesty! Protect the Emperor!” he shouted, rushing toward the palace.
…
The Garrison Army surging into the palace faced imperial guards who were already panicked and disoriented by the stone-cannon artillery – it was like tigers charging into a flock of sheep, an overwhelming rout in moments.
Those who tried to resist were slain on the spot; those who cowered and begged for mercy were herded aside; those who fled were pursued.
Like a tide, the Garrison Army spread through the palace, clearing a broad, open path for those who followed.
“Cheng Fang!”
A sudden shout rang out from among the galloping horses, startling Master Gu, who was riding close behind, his heart pounding with exhilaration.
The moment he stepped through the palace gates, Advisor Gu felt as if he were in a dream.
Of course, his excitement wasn’t merely about entering the imperial palace for the first time.
Stepping forward at this moment, on this night, meant something he understood all too clearly – and he believed the court officials following behind understood it just as well.
This day, though once imagined, had been a thought buried deep, one that must never surface. Yet now, against all odds, it was becoming reality.
Master Gu’s mind swam with dizziness, yet within that dizziness lay an extraordinary clarity.
At this moment, not a single misstep could be allowed.
At this moment, everything that followed hung in the balance.
He drew in a deep, forceful breath – but before he could finish, he heard Duke Jin’an call out that name.
Cheng Fang?
Who was that?
Cheng… Oh, was that the Princess Consort?
Shouldn’t he be shouting something like “Your Majesties, Your Highness, we have arrived late to your aid!” at a time like this?
Calling for the Princess Consort? Was this a husband-wife exchange in their private chambers?
Master Gu nearly choked on his breath, coughing violently as he urged his horse forward, reaching out to intervene.
“Cheng Fang!”
Duke Jin’an cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again, louder this time.
“Cheng Fang, come quickly!”
At his cry, everyone around fell silent. His hoarse, resonant voice, strained with effort, echoed through the deep palace halls.
Cheng Fang?
The expressions of the court officials turned somewhat peculiar.
“Princess Consort Jin’an was brought into the palace under a false edict forged by Gao Lingjun and Chen Shao,” the Empress hurriedly explained, dabbing at her tears. “Now, whether she is alive or dead remains unknown.”
Ah, yes – the divine doctor…
While deep marital affection was understandable, shouldn’t loyalty and filial piety take greater precedence at a time like this?
“Shout,” Duke Jin’an commanded, turning to the Garrison Army soldiers around him. “Shout, ‘Cheng Fang, come quickly and save lives!'”
As he spoke, he tilted his head back and let out a ragged roar.
“Cheng Fang, come and save lives!”
Somehow, as these hoarse shouts reached her ears, the Empress felt a sudden sting in her eyes, and tears began to fall uncontrollably.
Why did she want to cry? She hadn’t felt like weeping earlier, even during such perilous moments.
Why was it that hearing this young man’s ragged, exhausted roar – just those few words – made her tears flow now?
An aching bitterness spread through her heart, with no release but tears.
“Cheng Fang, come quickly and save lives!”
Around her, chaotic shouts grew louder and more unified.
Amid these cries, a figure suddenly broke from the fleeing crowd and sprinted in the opposite direction – toward them.
“She’s coming!”
Eunuch Jing at the front shouted sharply, pointing ahead.
Everyone looked. In the torchlight, amid fleeing imperial guards, pursuing Garrison Army soldiers, swinging swords, and gleaming armor, a girl with flowing hair and billowing robes wove through the chaos. She dodged left and right, moving with ease and grace as she strode boldly forward.
