Emperor Jinglong disliked extravagance and waste. Aside from palace banquets, each of his meals consisted of only about ten dishes.
Even with Su Yan joining him for dinner this time, he made no exception.
The table was set with wind lotus, crispy lotus root, and ginger-pickled olives as cold starters. The main course was a fragrant jar of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall. Side dishes included half-wing chicken, stir-fried lamb tripe, grilled clams, silverfish egg wraps, shrimp stir-fried with reed shoots, shiitake mushrooms with chickpeas, garlic magnolia buds, and eight-treasure soup. For dessert, there were red date rolls and cheese Su Yan had made himself.
The palace maids serving the meal wore gauze veils over their mouths and noses, laying out the dishes gently and gracefully. Gentle string music floated out from behind a folding screen.
The emperor was rather restrained in his eating habits, always stopping at about 80% full. Su Yan, on the other hand, was a growing 17 or 18-year-old. Though he ate with elegance, his appetite was anything but small—especially after so long without tasting his hometown’s authentic flavors. His appetite was in full swing.
To let Su Yan eat comfortably, the emperor deliberately slowed down his own eating, not putting his chopsticks down until Su Yan was almost finished.
After washing up, Su Yan noticed it was already early evening. He still needed to deliver New Year’s gifts to the Crown Prince in the Eastern Palace. Fearing he wouldn’t make it out of the palace before the evening gate closure, he politely requested to take his leave.
But the emperor, putting on a serious face, said he needed Su Yan’s counsel, pulling him over to examine the frontier maps and the military reports just flown in from Datong.
Since it was a matter of state, Su Yan stopped hesitating and read them carefully—his heart sinking as he did. “The General and Deputy General of Datong both died in battle?” he asked, shocked.
The emperor frowned. “Ten days ago, the Tatars launched an attack on Datong. Their Taishi, Tuohuotai, personally led the troops, ambushing elite soldiers at Dahuang Ridge. He also used over a hundred old and weak riders as bait to lure General Lin Yue out of the city. As a result, both Lin Yue and his deputy fell into the trap and were killed. The entire army was routed.”
Even with his limited grasp of ancient history, Su Yan knew that Datong was the foremost of the Nine Border Towns—a critical northwestern stronghold guarding the capital. If Datong fell and the enemy swept southward, they could turn east and directly threaten the capital. The city could soon find itself under siege!
Nervous, Su Yan’s palms grew sweaty. “And then? Was Datong able to hold out?”
The emperor nodded. “Tuohuotai plundered and slaughtered all the way to Yanmen Pass, but was ultimately repelled by Commander Geng Le of the Datong Garrison. He retreated back to the northern steppes.”
Su Yan finally exhaled in relief. “When I was in Shaanxi, I already noticed the early winter and frequent snowfalls. The severe cold likely caused white disasters on the steppes, pushing the northern tribes to raid south in desperation. Looks like they really did come to ‘borrow from the autumn wind.’”
“What I worry about,” said the emperor, “goes beyond just this. The Tatar raids year after year have already strained the border defenses to the breaking point. If the Oirats join forces with them—”
His fingertip traced the map from the Tatars’ territory northwest to the Oirats’.
“—and attack simultaneously, crossing through the Hexi Corridor to assault Ningxia and Yansui, our forces will be stretched thin across an extended front.”
“The Oirats and Tatars won’t join forces,” Su Yan replied without thinking.
“Oh? Why not?” The emperor raised a brow, clearly curious about the certainty behind Su Yan’s words.
Su Yan faltered. He couldn’t exactly tell the emperor it was because he’d read the history books and knew that during the entire Ming Dynasty, the nomadic tribes of the north were riddled with internal conflict. The Oirats and Tatars were arch-enemies—locked in a perpetual struggle for dominance.
Sometimes the east wind prevailed over the west; other times the west wind overcame the east. But no matter which side gained power, they all set their greedy sights on the Ming dynasty. The reality of poor resources and economic hardship meant that without access to Central Plains goods, they’d regress back into the slave age.
There had been one brilliant figure who managed to unite the northern steppes—but only for a mere two or three decades. After his death, the north fragmented again and wouldn’t see reunification until the rise of the Jurchens.
What was that man’s name again… something something prince? Or was it some khan?
He couldn’t recall.
So instead, he said: “Because Your Majesty is wise and powerful—you’d never allow the Oirats and Tatars to join forces. Surely, you could stir up the waters between them with ease.”
The emperor smirked. “Is that flattery, or are you implying I’m underhanded in my dealings?”
“All’s fair in war,” Su Yan laughed awkwardly. “Since Your Majesty still had the leisure to grant me a palace meal, I figure you already have a plan for dealing with the assassination of the Oirat envoy. Please, enlighten your humble servant.”
“You clever little imp.” The emperor flicked his forehead lightly, then asked, “Do you know of someone named Wuhalang?”
Su Yan immediately felt the name was familiar. “I’ve definitely heard that name! Wait, let me think…” He habitually touched his chin with a curled finger, and suddenly his eyes lit up.
“I remember now! In Hengliangzi Town, Shaanxi, the Tatar cavalry that attacked me and caused me to fall off the cliff were under Wuhalang’s banner!
“Later, I also asked… ah, Prince Kunle about him. He told me Wuhalang is the youngest son of the Tatar Taishi Tuohuotai. He’s useless and a womanizer—even among the northern tribes, he has a terrible reputation.”
“Correct,” said the emperor. “Wuhalang may be a good-for-nothing, but he’s the son of Tuohuotai’s most beloved woman and enjoys great favor. Since that dark sorcerer Heiduo was able to pin the murder of the Oirat prince on us, then we of Great Ming can certainly return the favor—by making it look like Wuhalang was killed by the Oirats.
“The Tatar khan is merely a figurehead. The Taishi holds the real power. If his favorite son were to die in a dispute with the Oirats, do you think the two sides could still unite?”
Poetic justice. Su Yan couldn’t help but cheer inwardly.
But then, the challenges dawned on him—layers of mountains, the vastness of the northern steppes—how could they infiltrate deep into enemy territory and stir up this level of chaos?
It was nothing like Heiduo the Great Shaman, who had been posing as a loyal shaman at Aletan’s side for years before striking.
How could Great Ming now get close to Wuhalang, disguise themselves as Oirats, and carry out an attack without raising Tatar suspicions?
Su Yan thought hard and concluded: the only way was to send a highly secret, elite spy team into the Oirat regions—one that not only had flawless disguise skills, but also looked the part of northern nomads.
He outlined his idea briefly to the emperor.
The emperor gave a faint smile, tone full of praise: “Qinghe understands my heart well.” As he spoke, he drew a single page from the memorials and handed it to Su Yan.
Su Yan took it and saw three bold characters at the top—
Ye Bu Shou.
This was… holy cr*p… Su Yan was shocked. The most mysterious and bizarre special reconnaissance force of Great Ming, the Ye Bu Shou, actually existed! And not only were they more than just scattered scouts under the border troops—they were in fact a secret blade hidden in the emperor’s hand.
While the Embroidered Uniform Guard were omnipresent, their intelligence work was almost entirely domestic. External reconnaissance, espionage, and special operations like raids fell under the jurisdiction of the Ye Bu Shou.
The emperor said, “Though Ye Bu Shou is secretive and elite, their numbers are too few, and the teams are scattered. Since the death of their former commander, I haven’t found a worthy successor.”
He paused, then added, “The same with the Embroidered Uniform Guard. The post of Commanding Officer remains vacant. It’s true—gold is easy to come by, but a capable general is hard to find.”
Su Yan couldn’t help muttering to himself: I know someone perfect for the Embroidered Uniform Guard Commanding Officer position, but you’re guarding against him too tightly.
—Of course, he didn’t dare say that out loud. Best to avoid suspicion.
“To kill Wuhalang, the plan must be meticulously laid out to ensure absolute success. If the timing or manpower isn’t right, we’d rather not act than risk exposing ourselves. A failed attempt would backfire,” the emperor said.
Su Yan nodded. “Your Majesty is thorough as always. Then I must act quickly to root out the mastermind behind Fuyin’s case. That way, we can give the Oirat an explanation and buy time to stall their campaign.”
The emperor, however, replied, “There’s no rush. Don’t pressure yourself too much. Isn’t that dismissed Yan Chengxue still sitting in the Imperial Prison? The Oirat envoy specifically demanded blood for blood. After all, he was the one who concocted the poison. No matter what, he can’t escape responsibility for the death of Prince Kunle. If needed, using his head to stall for time would be acceptable.”
Su Yan fell silent. On one hand, Yan Chengxue was indeed guilty—but to die like this felt somewhat unjust. On the other, from the state’s perspective, his death might serve a greater purpose.
After thinking it over, Su Yan still hoped to save a life if possible. He bowed and said, “Please, Your Majesty, don’t kill him yet. Allow this subject a little time to devise a more perfect solution. Then I will report back.”
The emperor considered this and agreed, but set a deadline—before Su Yan returned to Shaanxi in early March.
If no better plan emerged, Yan Chengxue would have to die.
Su Yan accepted the condition.
The emperor continued: “I wish I could give you more time, but the situation is urgent. I fear the secret envoy I sent may not be able to deliver the sealed letter safely to the Oirat, into Hu Kuoli’s hands.”
Su Yan asked, “Does Your Majesty suspect Shaman Heiduo will interfere again?”
“I suspect even more that we don’t know who truly holds power in Oirat anymore—whether Hu Kuoli is still in control or not.”
Su Yan understood the implication. After a moment of silence, he said, “If the missing Prince Kunle returns alive, perhaps he could change the Oirat’s power dynamic—or perhaps he’d face even greater danger.”
The emperor asked, “I heard you and Kunle met in Qingshui Camp? Got along rather well?”
Su Yan quickly replied, “It was a chance encounter, nothing more. There are always barriers between people. Our few conversations were purely about horses. Your Majesty mustn’t tease me.”
The emperor chuckled as if letting him off the hook, then turned to look out the window. “It’s past halfway through the you hour. The palace gates will soon close. Why don’t you stay in the Qianqing Palace tonight? The West Warm Pavillion has a heated floor—it suits a cold-fearing little cat like you.”
Su Yan jumped in fright. For a court official to stay overnight in the Eastern Palace was already pushing boundaries—but at least that was in the front court, and he had the title of crown prince’s reading companion. It could be justified if the crown prince held him back.
But the Qianqing Palace was the inner sanctum of the inner palace—how could he spend the night there so casually?
If word got out, wouldn’t the officials poke his spine full of holes? Even if it were kept from the censors and historians, there were still plenty of eunuchs and maids in the palace. Who could guarantee none of them would speak? There’s no wall in the world that doesn’t leak wind.
No way. I am not taking the fall for “serving the monarch with beauty.”
He made up his mind: absolutely no sleepovers in the inner palace. But he couldn’t outright refuse, so he put on a grateful expression and said, “Your Majesty need not worry. I have quick feet and will definitely make it out before the gate closes. I won’t delay matters.”
The emperor had wanted to keep him longer, hoping to deepen the intimacy—but Su Yan clearly had no such intent. In fact, there was a hint of unease and confusion in his eyes. The emperor sighed inwardly: The time isn’t ripe. No need to rush. Let the wine ferment—aged brew is always richer.
Just as he was about to let Su Yan leave, they heard the thunderous voice of the crown prince outside: “Royal Father! Your son has come to pay his respects! May Royal Father enjoy peace and good health!”
Outside the warm chamber, Lan Xi anxiously tried to stop him: “Little master—oh dear little master! You can’t shout like that. Never mind breaking palace etiquette—what if you disturb His Majesty?”
Zhu Helin thought: If Royal Father really was doing something worth interrupting, I’d say I didn’t interrupt hard enough!
He opened his mouth to yell again, but suddenly the warm pavilion doors swung open.
Su Yan stepped out, looking exasperated. As Zhu Helin lit up with delight, Su Yan took a big bundle from an attendant and stuffed it into the crown prince’s arms.
Zhu Helin cradled it. “What’s this?”
Su Yan replied, “A New Year’s gift for Your Highness. You can open it later. I take my leave.”
“Hey, wait! Why are you running off so fast? We barely exchanged two words! You’re totally ignoring this little master!” Zhu Helin squawked and scrambled after him.
In the covered corridor, the two figures gradually disappeared into the distance.
Once they were far from the Qianqing Palace, Zhu Helin lowered his voice and said to Su Yan, “Good thing you came out early.”
“What’s wrong?” Su Yan didn’t slow his steps—he had to beat the curfew.
“I just saw one of Imperial Consort Wei’s palace maids skulking around near Qianqing Palace. She was probably left there to keep an eye on things. After you dined with Royal Father, shut the doors, sent everyone outside, and spent so long alone with him—who wouldn’t be suspicious?”
“If the Wei family incites their allies again, or sends a denunciation letter to a censor, or goes to the Empress Dowager and gossips, you’re doomed! As soon as the New Year break ends, you’ll be bombarded with insults and impeachment on the court floor.”
Su Yan turned his head to look at the Crown Prince and smiled slightly. “You’ve got to be cautious. Well done, my little master.”
“Of course,” Zhu Helin said proudly. “You think I’m not clever? She’s watching me, but I’m watching her too! Today, Royal Father sent her and the other three consorts back to their parental homes, then summoned you into the palace this evening—I was worried that Royal Father might have something against you—”
“Don’t let your tail stick up to the heavens.” Su Yan quickly covered the crown prince’s mouth and dragged him along. “Go arrange a sedan for me. The palace is huge, I’m about to walk my legs off.”
Zhu Helin pulled his hand away, annoyed. “How dare you! Is that how you speak to your master? No respect for rank!”
“Yes, yes, I was wrong. Let me rephrase: I’m physically weak and not suited for long walks. I humbly ask my lord for a sedan so I can leave the palace before the gates close.”
“Now that sounds better… Why are you in such a hurry to leave? Is the Eastern Palace short one bed?”
“His Highness the Crown Prince is about to choose a consort. You’re not a child anymore. Having an outside official stay in the Eastern Palace, even as a reading companion or playmate, is highly improper. Please put the bigger picture first.”
Zhu Helin pouted unhappily. “From the start you’ve been calling me ‘Your Highness’ over and over, putting on an official tone just to distance yourself. I get it, alright? No need to keep reminding me about choosing a consort. I’m sick of it already!”
Su Yan chuckled. “What’s there to be sick of? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a gentle and beautiful flower always by your side?”
Zhu Helin shot back, “And what about you? Why didn’t you choose a lovely flower and instead went for a weed?”
Su Yan choked and defended Jinghong Zhui: “Ah Zhui is not a weed! He is—he is…”
“A rock in a latrine!”
“Pfft, he’s Niaobuda!”
“What the heck is that? A small bird?”
“Niaobuda—a drought-resistant plant. Looks like scraggly dead twigs full of thorns, so birds can’t even perch on it. But once you water it, it blooms with brilliantly red flowers.”
“—So is it big or not?”
“Big.”
“—Aha! And you said it was just a kiss! You’ve clearly felt him up already!”
“Felt your *ss! You’re the Crown Prince of a nation, and this is the nonsense running through your head all day?!”
“This little master forbids you from calling yourself nonsense.”
“…”
“Why so quiet now?”
“I can’t out-talk anyone. I better shut up.”
