At the main gate of the Imperial City near Chengtian Gate, to the west of the Thousand-Step Corridor, the Northern Surveillance Bureau loomed like a fierce tiger, majestically entrenched. It stood next to the Five Military Command Office and faced the Six Ministries across the street, occupying the core of national power.
When a subordinate ensign arrived with orders, Commander Shen Qi was burning a secret report over the candle flame, quickly reducing it to ashes.
The report contained only two brief lines: “The injuries are minor. Yu Wang tried to force his way but was struck on the head and left indignantly.”
Grinding the ashes into fine powder with his fingers, Shen Qi casually blew them away and asked, “Are there covert operatives stationed in the residence of Yu Cheng, the son of Yu Yong, the Siye of the Imperial Academy?”
The ensign knelt and reported, “There are two long-time servants who regularly associate with the ruffians in the Western Market. They’ve also received some favors.”
Shen Qi instructed, “Disguise yourself in plain clothes and secretly meet these two. Instruct them to steal their master’s letters or handwriting samples.”
The ensign understood the order and left promptly. Within a couple of hours, he returned with a stack of papers.
Shen Qi flipped through them, finding mostly family letters interspersed with a few scribbled verses. When he came across the line, “The moonlight slants over the parasol tree and well; its reflections leap onto the vermilion wall,” he let out a chilling laugh. “Here it is.”
He took up a brush and added a “wood” radical next to the character “jin”. Then, drafting a report, he accused Yu Cheng of “violating the sacred taboo and slandering the sovereign.” He had the report delivered to Feng Que, the Commandant of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
It turned out that the reigning Emperor Jinglong’s name was Zhu Jintang. To avoid offending the imperial taboo, the characters “jin” and “tang” were absolutely forbidden in writing unless altered, left blank, or written incomplete. Thus, “Zhu Jinhua” could only be written as “Zhu Jinhua*” or referred to by its alternative name, Fo Sanghua. Any mistake could lead to imprisonment at worst or flogging at best.
* different jin
Before long, the report was returned with the directive: “Arrest.” Shen Qi immediately summoned twenty Embroidered Guards, who galloped to Yu’s residence, bound Yu Cheng with hemp ropes, shackled him with wooden cangues, and threw him into prison.
Shackled and chained, the once-dignified shizi of a noble family sobbed and cried out his innocence.
“Such a towering ‘wood’—how can you claim injustice?” Shen Qi sneered, shaking the manuscript in his hand. His voice was icy. “And it’s not just about the taboo. ‘Reflections leap onto’—isn’t that Fo Sanghua right beneath? The Son of Heaven wields supreme authority. If this isn’t slandering the sovereign, then what is? It seems you won’t understand the might of the Emperor without a little persuasion.”
The cruel punishments of the Embroidered Guard’s prison were infamous, their names alone chilling to the bone: spine-breaking, back-hooking, skin-peeling, intestine-pulling… Dozens of horrifying methods. The mere thought sent Yu Cheng into a panic, and he knelt, kowtowing furiously in terror.
Shen Qi ignored his pleas, locked the cell door, and returned to the main hall.
Before long, Yu Yong, the Siye of the Imperial Academy, rushed over in his court robes, too frantic to change out of them.
In cases of literary persecution, the severity depended entirely on the handling official. Yu Yong believed that money could turn the wheels of fate, so he sensibly brought two large chests of gold, silver, and promissory notes to ransom his son.
Unfortunately, this time the Embroidered Guard Commander Shen Qi was not playing by the usual rules. He neither accepted the money nor released the person, making it clear he intended to see Yu Cheng dead.
If it were a regular lawsuit, even a murder case, Yu Siye could still use favors and connections to maneuver a bit. But with the charge of offending the emperor and slandering the sovereign, who would dare to intervene? If it escalated, it could mean a death sentence, and possibly implicate the whole family.
Helpless, the dignified sixth-rank civil official knelt before the feared and despised watchdogs, begging for mercy.
Suddenly, Shen Qi said, “Now that Zhuo Qi is dead, the position of chancellor is vacant. Shouldn’t you, as the Siye, logically take over?”
Yu Yong was stunned. “Are you saying…”
Shen Qi leaned in and tapped his face lightly with the end of his scabbard. “Your son’s life or your superior’s— which is more important?”
Yu Yong’s voice trembled, “Chancellor Zhuo bestowed upon me kindness and opportunity…”
“So when you accuse him of wrongdoing, your testimony will be all the more credible,” Shen Qi smiled, a chilling gleam like blood reflecting off a cold blade. “If you don’t do it, someone else will. Or just go home and wait to collect your son’s corpse.”
Yu Yong froze for a moment, torn and pained, before finally collapsing to the ground in tears.
***
After more than a month of bed rest, Su Yan’s wounds from the beating gradually healed, and he could move around without much trouble. The medicine sent by Yu Wang worked wonders; the scars were fading and would likely disappear soon.
Wu Ming’s injuries were much worse, but thanks to his strong physique and internal martial arts skills, he recovered even faster than Su Yan. After ten days, he could get out of bed and walk, and he removed the bothersome bandages on his own.
Only then did Su Yan get a clear look at him: a young man in his early twenties, slim and wiry, about 175 cm tall. His features were sharp and resolute, but his eyes were cold and dark, like a poised blade in the shadows or a desolate swamp after boiling over, giving his otherwise unremarkable appearance a distinctive intensity.
Wu Ming was a man of few words; since the night they shared a room, when he revealed his mission to assassinate, he rarely spoke more than five sentences a day. Eating, taking medicine, meditating, sleeping—his daily routine was strict and monotonous, driven solely by the desire to heal quickly so he could exact revenge on those who had killed his loved ones. He was like a prisoner trapped in a cage of bitter hatred.
Equally bored during his own recovery, Su Yan couldn’t resist trying to strike up conversations.
“So, are you really an assassin? How much silver does it take to hire you to kill someone? How do your clients even find you?”
“Do assassins have organizations or guilds, like the Blue Robe Tower or Phantom Manor?”
“Is there a top ten assassins ranking in the martial world? What rank are you?”
“Is your weapon just a sword? You must have some secret techniques or hidden weapons up your sleeve, right?”
“Come on, just say something! If you chat with me every day, I’ll cover your accommodation and medical expenses for this period.”
Wu Ming knew Su Yan was just amusing himself and satisfying his curiosity, not genuinely probing into his trade secrets. Besides, they shared a common enemy in Marquis Fengan, so Wu Ming tolerated him and refrained from drawing his sword to shut him up. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he would dismissively grunt or mumble a response.
Like many men, Su Yan had always harbored dreams of living a martial hero’s life. He continued to ask eagerly, “How skilled are you? Can you teach me some moves? Something that doesn’t require internal energy but can still hurt the enemy when it counts…”
Wu Ming reluctantly replied, “There is one.”
“Really?!” Su Yan was thrilled. “What is it? Teach me!”
“It’s called ‘Daydreaming.’”
Su Yan: “…”
Well, he knew that to achieve anything, you had to start small. He understood the principle that a sharp sword comes from grinding. Considering his current physical state—frail as a scholar with no strength to even truss a chicken—being able to jog, do push-ups, and pull-ups daily was already a feat. He’d work on improving his fitness first.
Seeing Su Yan’s dejected expression, Wu Ming unexpectedly recalled a scene from a few days ago under the peach tree in the courtyard.
Back then, he had been watching from behind the window, almost ready to draw his sword, but he realized the other man wasn’t just any lecher; he was the emperor’s brother, a Wangye. If he had harmed Yu Wang, he wouldn’t care about his own safety—he could vanish into the vast world. But Su Yan was a court official; he would surely lose his position, if not his life, due to such an offense.
Unless Su Yan cried out for help, he wouldn’t intervene.
If Su Yan wanted to assassinate Yu Wang afterward, Wu Ming would wait until his own revenge was complete, then take on the job for free as a way of repaying his debt to Su Yan. After that, they would be even.
However, Su Yan didn’t rely on anyone else. He had used just a chessboard to drive Yu Wang away.
This young official, with his charming looks and eloquence, harbored a fiercely unyielding spirit, just as he had when he had bravely impeached the imperial kin in court. Wu Ming found himself admiring him.
If Su Yan could hear Wu Ming’s thoughts, he would probably bang the table and shout: In that situation, how could I not fight back, huh?! He touched me, kissed me! He even wanted to sleep with me! D*mn it, I’m a straight guy—my head can roll, and I can bleed, but I’ll never lose my dignity!
Wu Ming couldn’t help but worry: If Yu Wang’s intentions persisted, or if other suitors came after Su Yan, how would he defend himself? He was… undeniably too captivating.
“Hit me,” Wu Ming suddenly said.
“What?”
“Or try grabbing my waist.”
“…Huh!” Su Yan realized this was his chance to learn some moves, so he quickly threw a punch at him.
Wu Ming extended his right hand, intercepting Su Yan’s wrist, his left hand poised under his elbow in preparation. As Su Yan swung his second punch, Wu Ming’s left hand quickly moved forward, deflecting the strike downward and outward. He then lifted his left knee and kicked toward Su Yan’s right ribs.
Su Yan instinctively stepped back to avoid being kicked, but Wu Ming seized the opportunity, swiftly executing a flying kick aimed at Su Yan’s crotch. It was just a demonstration, so his toe stopped just short of its target.
In that moment, Su Yan felt as though he’d narrowly escaped excruciating pain, every hair standing on end as he stumbled back several steps, barely resisting the urge to cover his groin.
“Take a good look. This move is called ‘Flower-Mandarin Duck Kick Hidden Among the Leaves.’ Even someone with no martial arts foundation can perform it.” Wu Ming retracted his leg and said coldly, “Master it, and one kick can ruin the opponent’s offspring root. Then you just run.”
Su Yan clicked his tongue. “How ruthless…”
Wu Ming explained, “Remember, these two consecutive kicks must follow one another seamlessly without pause. Otherwise, not only will it fail, but you might end up hurting yourself. Practice well against a wooden post or tree trunk.”
Su Yan nodded repeatedly. Though he found the technique a bit underhanded and far removed from the grand image of martial arts he had in mind, it was undeniably practical. After all, as a beginner, mastering this move could give him the upper hand at a critical moment and allow him to escape.
“Could you teach me another move?” he asked, a little greedy.
“Biting off more than you can chew,” Wu Ming refused bluntly. “I need to practice my swordsmanship now. Do as you please.”
Unwilling to leave, Su Yan grinned slyly. “Go ahead, practice. I’ll just watch from the side. I won’t get in your way. Besides, even if you practice a hundred or eighty times, I wouldn’t be able to learn it. So, no need to worry about me stealing your technique.”
Wu Ming, staying in Su Yan’s house and unable to chase him away, reluctantly acquiesced.
Thus, several more days passed. One morning, Su Yan went to Wu Ming’s room to call him for breakfast, only to find it empty. On the table was a brief note with crooked handwriting that read, “The green mountains remain; the flowing waters endure.”
Searching high and low, Su Xiaobei couldn’t find him. Frustrated, he complained, “How unreasonable! Master saved his life, took him in, and cared for his injuries, yet he leaves without a word of thanks!”
Su Yan, eating breakfast alone and preparing his official robes to enter the palace, smiled faintly and replied, “Some people won’t say thanks out loud. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”
***
At the hour of Chen Shi, Su Yan entered the palace to thank the Emperor for his grace. The eunuchs informed him that the Emperor was holding court at the Fengtian Gate. He could only stand and wait outside the Meridian Gate, where he had recently endured a brutal punishment. Bored, he watched imperial guards march back and forth. Standing too long made the soles of his feet ache faintly.
Two eunuchs, with heads bowed and hands folded in their sleeves, hurriedly exited from a side door. Su Yan didn’t pay much attention, preoccupied with the stiff soles of his court boots. Suddenly, someone spoke in a soft, deliberate tone beside him: “Lord Su, there’s an imperial decree. Please follow us.”
Su Yan looked up to see the two eunuchs standing in front of him. The one who spoke appeared about fifty, slightly plump, and unfamiliar to him. Cautiously, he asked, “Gonggong, this ‘imperial decree’ refers to…?”
The eunuch gave a somewhat obsequious smile. “Follow me, my lord, and you’ll soon understand.”
Su Yan quickly assessed the situation. Since there was an imperial order, it might mean the emperor wished to meet him privately, so he followed. Passing through the side gate and along the palace walls, they entered a secluded courtyard filled with flowers and rock formations. Feeling something was amiss, he asked the two men ahead, “Gonggong, could you tell me where we’re heading?”
The eunuch who had spoken earlier replied, “No need to ask, my lord. You’ll know soon enough.”
Suspicion arose in Su Yan’s mind, and he stopped in his tracks. “The palace has restricted areas, and I dare not trespass lightly. If you don’t make things clear, I will return to Meridian Gate to wait for His Majesty.”
“You’ve come this far. Turning back isn’t an option,” said the younger eunuch, who had remained silent until now.
Su Yan noted the youthful clarity in the speaker’s voice, distinctly fresh yet unfamiliar. Taking a few steps back, he asked warily, “Who are you? What do you want?”
The younger eunuch slowly turned around, lifting his face and flashing a toothy grin.
Su Yan exclaimed in shock, “Brat?”
The Crown Prince, Zhu Helin, immediately raised his brows and glared. “You’re the brat! Call me that again, and I’ll have you run ten laps around the training grounds!”
Su Yan hurriedly smiled in apology. “Your Highness, Crown Prince, it was a slip of the tongue. It’s been days since we last met—how have you been?”
Zhu Helin’s lips twitched, and for a moment, his eyes seemed to redden. He turned his face away and instructed Cheng Sheng, “You may leave.”
Can’t wait until next week to see more? Want to show your support? Come to my Patreon where you can get 5 or more chapters of The Reincarnation of a Powerful Minister right away ! Or go donate at Paypal or Ko-fi to show your appreciation! :)
