The Imperial Ancestral Temple.
Fu Bao clutched the Crown Prince’s dagger tightly, begging through tears, “Young Master, there’s no good skin left on your fingers—please let me do the bloodletting instead!”
The Crown Prince frowned and pulled the dagger back. “These sutras are an offering to my mother. The blood must come from the sincerity of her son—how could I let another do it for me?”
He turned his left hand over and over—there was no place left to cut. So he made an incision at the base of his palm, squeezed out fresh blood into the inkstone. Fu Bao choked back sobs as he bandaged the wound.
The temple doors opened, and Su Yan walked in.
Zhu Helin looked up, eyes lighting with joy. He smiled and said, “You’re here!”
Su Yan stepped forward and motioned for Fu Bao to step aside so he could do the bandaging himself. Fu Bao quickly wiped his tears and went to prepare the vermilion blood ink.
Zhu Helin happily placed his injured hand in Su Yan’s palm and asked, “How are things outside?”
Su Yan said, “Everything is within our expectations. Now, the people of the capital are all praising the Crown Prince’s filial piety. The censorial officials who had submitted remonstrations see that public sentiment is strong and don’t want to appear to go against it, so they’ve all quietly withdrawn.”
Zhu Helin snorted coldly, “These people—whether they submit remonstrations or not, it’s all for their own reputation. When have they ever truly been loyal to the country?”
Su Yan replied, “During these past few court sessions, I didn’t speak, only observed. I carefully studied everyone’s words and expressions. I found the officials from the Censorate and the Six Ministries to be… quite a mixed group.”
“How so?”
“There are those who are genuinely concerned for the nation and the people, some who appear to be covertly criticizing while pretending to be upright, some with passionate ideals easily manipulated by others, and some who sit on the fence, their stance deliberately vague. I even suspect some have been bought off by the Wei family and are secretly stirring up trouble within the group.
“And it’s not just the censorial officials. Among the noble families, some are also secretly colluding with the Wei family. After all, behind the Wei family stands the Empress Dowager—an immovable force. Even if she was reprimanded by the Emperor and lost face earlier, after a brief setback, the Wei family has already recovered. Due to their status, it’s easier for the other nobles to naturally ally with the Wei family, all trying to cling to the Empress Dowager.”
Zhu Helin recalled how his imperial grandmother had been cold toward him for years. Though still hurt, he had grown used to it and showed no outward reaction. He defended her softly, “The Empress Dowager lives in the harem and doesn’t involve herself in politics. Usually, she just prays and worships, occasionally inviting monks or Taoist priests into the palace. Her leniency toward the Wei family is mostly out of gratitude for their past contributions to the late Emperor, and out of affection for her sister, Madam Qin.”
Su Yan nodded. “As far as we can tell, the Empress Dowager doesn’t meddle in state affairs—at most, she’s partial and overprotective. The Emperor is certainly filial, but he also maintains strong control over governance and doesn’t let others sway decisions easily. Still, the fact that the Empress Dowager doesn’t favor you, and even seems to support or actively pave the way for the Second Prince, is undeniable.”
Zhu Helin knew he was right. The sting in his heart gradually subsided, congealing into a cold, hard seed that rooted deep in his chest.
“The second crown prince is still young, only ten months old, just starting to toddle around.”
“But the Emperor is also young. The second crown prince has just been born, and already the Wei family can’t contain themselves. In another ten or twenty years, once the second prince grows strong enough to compete, the Wei family’s ambition will be even harder to curb. And what the Empress Dowager’s stance will be then—no one can say.” Su Yan finished bandaging the Crown Prince’s wound and tried to pull his hand away.
But Zhu Helin held on tightly and said, “I know—you’re warning me to prepare for what’s to come. Open attacks are easy to guard against; it’s the hidden arrows that are dangerous. Don’t worry, I won’t act so rashly again.”
Su Yan smiled. “As long as you understand, my little lord.”
Zhu Helin looked a bit deflated and defensive. “I’ve always understood. I just can’t control my temper when it flares up.”
That’s already impressive. He’s only fourteen or fifteen—still just a middle schooler by modern standards, at the peak of puberty, when rebellion and moodiness are at their highest. Thinking back to his own middle school days, Su Yan hadn’t been much better—skipping class to show off, getting into fights, only starting to mature in high school.
Su Yan gave a knowing smile and said, “You’ll learn to control it with time. It takes practice. Just look at the Emperor.”
Zhu Helin muttered, “Royal Father is a crafty old fox. I still can’t compare.”
Fu Bao jumped in alarm and quietly warned, “Young Master, you mustn’t speak so disrespectfully of the Emperor!”
“In front of Qinghe, I can say anything.”
Zhu Helin turned to Su Yan again. “The scripture is almost finished. When can I return to the palace?”
“No rush. Stay at the Imperial Ancestral Temple for now. Wait until the Emperor summons you.”
“But I asked the eunuchs at the Yangxin Hall. They said the Emperor has no such intention. He told me to remain at the temple and reflect.”
“…You’re getting bolder, my little lord—daring to spy on the Emperor’s intentions.” Su Yan teased with a smile. “Haven’t seen you in six months, and you’ve grown taller and shrewder.”
“If your little lord doesn’t grow a few more smarts, he’ll get bitten by snakes again sooner or later.”
Fu Bao cried, “Ah! Young Master, don’t say such unlucky things!”
Zhu Helin waved him off, “Shoo, don’t interrupt.” Fu Bao clamped his mouth shut and retreated to the farthest corner of the hall.
Su Yan tugged his hand a few times but couldn’t pull it free. Worried about hurting the Crown Prince’s injury, he let him hold on and said, “The Emperor may not want you to stay here freezing and fasting. Making you kneel at the ancestral temple is to silence gossip and temper your character. If he’s going to call you back, he’ll need the right opportunity—someone must give him the excuse.”
Zhu Helin looked at him with expectation.
Su Yan shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one to give him that excuse.”
Zhu Helin thought about it and agreed. Asking Su Yan to stick his neck out for a favor would be like feeding a lamb to a tiger. His Royal Father already held ill feelings toward Su Yan—if he used this to pressure him: ‘If I grant your request, how will you repay this Emperor’s kindness?’… No, absolutely not!
Su Yan could tell from his eyes that he was overthinking again and laughed. “What nonsense are you imagining now?! I meant that this excuse has to come from senior officials of the Six Ministries and your imperial tutors.”
–
After leaving the ancestral temple, Su Yan was just about to board his carriage when a young eunuch around ten years old emerged from behind it. He bowed and said, “Lord Su, His Majesty summons you to the palace immediately.”
Su Yan found the child familiar, studied him for a moment, then suddenly recalled—he was often seen around Lan Xi. His name was Duo Guier. Su Yan returned the bow. “Thank you for delivering the message, Gonggong.”
Duo Guier had been raised by Lan Xi since entering the palace. He served closely by his side, acting as servant, apprentice, even god-grandson—and eventually, his mourner. Naturally, he’d heard many things about Su Yan and knew he was a highly favored young official not to be offended. He quickly waved off the formality, saying, “I don’t deserve such respect, Lord Su. Just call me Duo Guier. Or if you want, like my god-grandfather, you can call me Little Hairball.”
Su Yan chuckled. “You’re too funny… Alright, Duo Guier it is. No more bowing.”
Only then did Duo Guier straighten up.
Su Yan asked, “Would it be convenient to tell me what the Emperor has summoned me for?”
Duo Guier shook his head. “This servant does not know.”
Su Yan thought for a moment and asked again, “How is His Majesty’s mood?”
“A servant dares not presume to guess the Emperor’s mood, but judging from his expression, it still appears rather calm.”
Su Yan thought to himself, The Emperor’s expression is calm nine times out of ten—so that’s hardly helpful. He didn’t ask further and boarded the carriage directly.
The Imperial Ancestral Temple was located to the right of Duanmen Gate in the outer imperial city, not too far from the inner palace. It wasn’t long before the carriage arrived outside the Meridian Gate. Su Yan switched to a prepared sedan chair and followed Duo Guier to Yangxin Hall.
Kunning Palace was still being cleared after the fire. Disliking the noise next door at Qianqing Palace, the Emperor had moved back to live in Yangxin Hall.
Su Yan entered the inner hall and saw Emperor Jinglong seated on a luohan couch, holding a chess piece in contemplation. A half-played game of Go lay on the kang table before him.
Su Yan was about to kneel when the Emperor spoke. “No need for formalities. Come here.”
The Emperor’s gaze remained fixed on the game, his expression indeed calm, as if the near-loss of control on the tower during the Lantern Festival night had never occurred. Su Yan couldn’t quite grasp his intentions and hesitated slightly.
The Emperor tapped the board with a piece. “Sit opposite.”
Looking at the familiar dragon-carved armrest of the luohan couch, Su Yan couldn’t help but recall the recent scene of being pressed against the Emperor’s chest while reporting official matters. His ears reddened, and he slowly edged over, perching hesitantly on the edge of the couch across from the table.
The Emperor motioned for him to help collect the pieces.
The two sorted the black and white pieces into their containers. The Emperor asked, “Do you know how to play?”
Su Yan answered honestly, “I don’t know how to play Go.”
“Let’s switch to Western chess. Play a few rounds with me.” The Emperor turned toward the doorway and called out, “Lan Xi.”
“No need to trouble Lan Gonggong,” Su Yan quickly interjected. “We can just… play Gomoku!”
“Gomoku?”
“Yes, a simple game. The rules are very easy.” Su Yan explained the rules in a few words.
The Emperor nodded. “Begin, then.”
Su Yan gave the black pieces to the Emperor to go first. The Emperor wasn’t yet familiar with forbidden patterns like double-threes, live-fours, or long lines. Su Yan easily won the first round.
He was used to crushing the Crown Prince in chess like popping beans, so he didn’t hold back against the Emperor either. With a clean double jump, he declared confidently, “I win.”
Lan Xi, standing at the door with hands folded, twitched at the corner of his eye.
The Emperor picked up the black pieces. “Again. I’ll go first.”
This time, they nearly filled the entire board before Su Yan found an opening. “I win again.”
Another twitch from Lan Xi’s eye. He almost wanted to drag Su Yan over and scold him—His Majesty is known for his unmatched chess skill. You come here and take advantage with this unsophisticated street game, not even worried about offending him? I’ve served in the palace for years and never seen anyone like you—given favor and still acting so shameless!
But the Emperor simply chuckled. “Very well. Again. I’ll go first.”
By the third game, the Emperor had completely grasped the rules and strategies. Su Yan lost after holding out for dozens of moves.
In the fourth game, Su Yan switched to black and let the Emperor play white. He still lost.
Frustrated, Su Yan alternated pieces, black and white, but lost seven or eight games in a row. The Emperor grew increasingly confident, eventually placing each move with barely a thought.
Su Yan grabbed a handful of pieces and scattered them on the board in surrender. “I can’t beat Your Majesty. I concede.” Then muttered, annoyed, “We’re not even on the same level—this is just domination. I’m never playing again.”
The Emperor smiled. “That’s because Gomoku has a limited number of strategies. No matter how you set up or counter, it all boils down to preparation and deception.”
Su Yan sensed a deeper meaning behind the words and didn’t dare respond.
The Emperor dropped a black piece into the container with a crisp clink. “When you went to the Ancestral Temple today, why didn’t you wear the fur cloak I granted you?”
Su Yan choked on his own saliva while trying to swallow and had to cover his face with a sleeve as he coughed. “Today… it wasn’t snowing.”
“It snowed heavily a few days ago when you went to the Northern Surveillance Bureau. You didn’t wear it then either.”
Lan Xi lowered his head, smiling with wrinkled eyes and mouth, waved his horsetail whisk at the other eunuchs, and left the hall. The other attendants quickly followed, shutting the door tightly.
Whoever dares covet what is mine, I’ll cut off their hand. I won’t hurt you—but I’ll hurt the one who dares approach you.
Su Yan remembered the Emperor’s warning and felt a cold sweat rise on his back. He lowered his sleeve and tried to remain calm. “It was an official matter, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor pressed, “And what does an official matter have to do with wearing or not wearing the cloak I gave you?”
Pushed into a corner, Su Yan had no choice but to answer, “The items bestowed by Your Majesty are extremely precious. I can’t bear to wear them for mundane business or unrelated meetings.”
“You sly little fox. Always saying the right things.” The Emperor sneered. “That little trick of yours, using public business for private ends—I won’t bother exposing it. If you find it amusing, keep playing. But I’ll say this once more—”
He beckoned Su Yan closer.
Su Yan leaned in, resigned. The Emperor whispered in his ear, “Make sure you keep your door closed to guests. If you dare open it again and let some fool stumble in, I’ll have that reckless guest executed by lingchi.”
A gust of cold wind blew through. Su Yan instinctively clamped his thighs together and recoiled in terror, almost tearfully saying, “I didn’t! Truly, I didn’t—”
The Emperor reached out and rubbed his earlobe. “With me, you can.”
“Your Majesty, I’m not—”
“I know what kind you are. That’s why I won’t force you. I have plenty of time… I’ll wait until you lower your guard.”
The Emperor withdrew his hand and tapped the chessboard. “Clear it. Bring me the secret reports and the maps from the table.”
Su Yan hurried to move the chessboard and pieces to another table, then fetched the documents the Emperor had requested.
Emperor Jinglong motioned for him to sit again on the couch. He opened one of the secret letters and handed it to Su Yan. “Have a look.”
Su Yan quickly skimmed through it. It was intelligence from the border: the Oirat envoys had all died in Great Ming territory. Word had reached the Oirats, and Hu Kuoli was furious. He planned to issue proclamations condemning Ming for bullying its allies and was mobilizing the tribes to prepare for war. A southern invasion could come at any time.
“Are we truly on the verge of war?” Su Yan furrowed his brows, opened the map, and gestured across it. “If the Oirats march south to invade, the Hetao region will surely fall into chaos. The military towns of Ningxia and Yansui will be under enormous pressure, not to mention the Tatars may seize the opportunity to raid Great Tong and Xuanfu once more.”
“The secret letter I previously sent indeed never reached Hu Kuoli. Even the envoy who carried it has vanished without a trace. I ordered the Ye Bu Shou of Qingshui Camp to investigate in secret. They found a corpse believed to be that of the envoy in the Oirat camp—killed as a spy and hung out for public display.”
“Was it Hu Kuoli who ordered the killing?”
“No, investigation revealed it was an order from the shaman, Heiduo. According to scout reports, Heiduo is now Hu Kuoli’s most trusted subordinate, recently appointed Grand Preceptor of the Oirats. It is also he who has been pushing hard for war.”
Su Yan exhaled and traced a line on the map from the Oirat lands to the capital with his fingertip. “Everything that has happened over the past half year—
“I once suspected someone was playing a long game from behind the scenes.
“The little lord also said, with the land as the chessboard and power as the pieces, this person playing the game has both boldness and fearsome depth.
“And now, this person—let me give him a code name for now: ‘The Player’—the moves he has made, I can now begin to connect them.”
Emperor Jinglong nodded. “Speak. I’m listening.”
“One path is the succession. He raised assassins to kill the Crown Prince. When that failed, he stoked the factional struggles within the court, attempting to shake the very foundation of the empire.”
“Another path is through the princes. He planted a spy in Yu Wang’s residence, using his decade of confinement and pent-up resentment to unbalance his mind, aiming to provoke an attack on Your Majesty. Even if that failed, it would still sow discord among brothers, laying groundwork for future schemes.”
“A third path lies with the Oirats. He colluded with Shaman Heiduo to orchestrate an assassination on the Oirat Prince Kunle at Qingshui Camp, framing Great Ming. Then he sent Oirat death warriors disguised as Tatar riders to raid our lands, deliberately allowing them to be captured by our troops. They bore fake wolf-head tattoos, meant to make us believe that Hu Kuoli had betrayed us and launched a covert attack. Such manipulations from both sides would force a war between the Oirats and Great Ming.
“And that’s just the most obvious part. There may be other hidden pieces on the board—we cannot be certain.
“Take the Tatars, for example. In recent years, their hostility toward us has only increased. Multiple attempts at conciliation have failed. Is there a chance that this ‘Player’ has been fanning the flames behind the scenes?
“Then there are the horse bandits. When I was in Shaanxi, I saw how horse herders, driven to desperation by harsh conditions, turned to banditry. Flooding of the Yellow River has worsened the problem in Henan, Shanxi, and Shandong. Just before I left Shaanxi, I overheard Inspector Wei casually mention that the Prefect of Xian reported Wang Five and Wang Six leading their bandit forces eastward into Henan, possibly to rendezvous with Madman Liao’s faction.
“I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now, in hindsight, it seems ominous. Could that, too, bear the shadow of this ‘Player’?”
“Look, Your Majesty,” Su Yan’s finger hovered between the northern deserts, the capital, and the various provinces. “These moves intersect in many ways. The assassin with the blood-red eyes who attacked the Crown Prince, and Fuyin—the one who killed the Oirat envoy and infiltrated Yu Wang’s residence—both belong to the Hidden Sword Sect and the Seven Kill Camp. The Hidden Sword Sect has a legacy of over a hundred years, now fallen and brought under someone’s control. The Seven Kill Camp has existed for over a decade. Which means—
“This ‘Player’ began his machinations at least ten years ago, quietly building strength in the shadows. Now, his wings are fully grown, and the entire board has been laid out.”
“Over ten years ago?” Emperor Jinglong’s face darkened, falling into deep thought. “Such patient planning is beyond ordinary men. Who could it be? And what does he seek from me, or from Great Ming?”
Su Yan pondered, then replied, “For someone to endure hardship and conceal ambition for so many years, I believe there are only two possible motives: revenge or ambition.”
Revenge… Ambition… The emperor slowly turned the words over in his mind.
Suddenly, he asked, “Su Yan, how do you know when the Seven Kill Camp was founded?”
Su Yan’s heart clenched. That piece of intel came from Jinghong Zhui. Ah Zhui once told him that when he joined the Seven Kill Camp seven years ago, the most senior assassin had already been there five years. Which meant the group had existed for at least twelve years.
He had deliberately kept the number vague, but the emperor was too sharp, and still caught the inconsistency.
But he could not expose Jinghong Zhui’s background. After the Crown Prince’s assassination, the emperor, in his fury, ordered the complete eradication of the Hidden Sword Sect—no remnants were to be spared, regardless of background.
Even if one day he hoped to plead for Jinghong Zhui’s pardon, now was not the time. It must wait until Ah Zhui had rendered merit, and through Fuyin’s trail, they captured the mastermind behind all this.
Having made up his mind, Su Yan knelt again, cupping his hands in a formal salute. “Does Your Majesty trust this subject?”
Emperor Jinglong was taken aback. Looking at the bowed crown of Su Yan’s head, he gave a faint, bitter smile. “You still ask me this? If I didn’t trust you, would I consult you on state affairs? Let you read classified border reports? Permit you to interrogate prisoners from the imperial prison? The Crown Prince…” Was it not you who planned his protection? The emperor swallowed the last few words.
Su Yan’s chest filled with heat, his eyes misted over, but he remained in a formal bow. “Then I beg Your Majesty to trust me in this matter as well. When the time is right, I will lay everything bare, without a single word of concealment.”
In other words, the time is not yet right, and there is concealment. That was treason in and of itself—Su Yan knew it well. But for Ah Zhui’s life, he had no other choice.
Whether the emperor would accept this, or whether he would demand the truth through force or punishment, Su Yan had no way of knowing. He felt as though he had one foot on solid ground, and the other on thin ice that might shatter at any moment, sending him plunging into the abyss.
He closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for judgment.
The next moment, he fell into a warm embrace.
It was as if a weary traveler had clasped the moon itself to his chest—turning hundreds, thousands of verses sung in praise of moonlight into this single, intimate embrace.
The imperial fragrance of the dragon robes, along with the emperor’s low murmur, surrounded him like mist: “I trust you. Do you trust me?”
Su Yan nodded hard, choking on emotion. “This humble subject could die a thousand times and still not repay Your Majesty’s grace.”
The emperor said softly, “I do not want you to die a thousand times. I only hope that while you aid the state with your talent, you will also offer me your heart.”
“…Your Majesty is the ruler, I am the subject.”
“Since ancient times, they’ve said that the ruler and his minister are like husband and wife. A minister serves the ruler as a wife serves her husband.”
“But ultimately, ruler and subject are not truly husband and wife. A subject holds both respect and fear toward the sovereign, but dares not share the intimacy and ease found between spouses. As for the ruler, favor and grace are things easily granted—and just as easily taken back.”
“Are you feeling pressured being with me, Qinghe? Or are you afraid that when your looks fade, my affection will too, and I’ll turn to someone else?”
Su Yan was silent for a long while, then shook his head. “I can’t shift all the responsibility onto Your Majesty. It’s true that I feel pressure when I’m with you, but the greater reason lies in myself—
“I…” He bit down, as if the words were hard to say.
I have ambition in court. I want to realize my ideals and do everything I can to make this country better.
I don’t want to be remembered in history as a ruler’s favorite, tainted by scandal.
I… want to be a powerful minister, not a sycophant.
“I—”
“That’s enough. No need to go on,” the emperor cut him off, letting out a long sigh. “I understand.”
Does Su Yan have feelings for me? the emperor wondered. Probably. But right now, those feelings can’t surpass a certain conviction in his heart.
The emperor could easily crush that conviction—just one imperial edict, and all that Su Yan stood for would be reduced to dust. That was the might of a sovereign. And also, the very reason Su Yan feared, hesitated, and resisted again and again.
—Su Yan couldn’t fully open his heart to accept someone who, with a single whim, could turn his world upside down and leave him with no way back.
In the end, he still doesn’t trust me enough! the emperor thought bitterly. He let out a sigh, loosened his arms, and walked to the window, turning his back in silence.
Su Yan stared blankly at the emperor’s back, filled with complicated emotions. He knew the emperor had once again chosen to let him go—but the relief brought little comfort.
“Go back,” said the emperor. “I’m going to publicly send envoys with a formal letter to Oirat, explaining the truth behind the envoy’s murder. We’ll hand over the culprit captured by the Northern Surveillance Bureau, and include a severed head.”
“…Yan Chengxue’s head?”
“Yes. That head—you go take it.”
Su Yan thought for a moment, then replied, “Understood.”
The emperor had previously agreed to let him take Yan Huo and Yan Chengxue into the Ye Bu Shou. Now he asked for Chengxue’s head, which clearly meant: Just one head is needed to appease Oirat—the rest is for you to handle.
“A war with Oirat is likely unavoidable, but we can at least delay it, buy time to prepare provisions and troops, so we won’t be caught off guard. As for Yu Wang, I’ll deal with him. You needn’t worry he’ll be swayed.”
After some hesitation, Su Yan still asked, “Has Your Majesty considered… sending him back to his fief?”
The emperor was silent for a moment, then said, “Last time you told me that the rank-7 censor’s official robe bore a pair of mandarin ducks frolicking in water. You sounded very displeased, and also mocked it as ‘gay purple,’ though you wouldn’t tell me what ‘gay’ meant.”
Su Yan blinked—he had said that as a joke, not expecting the emperor to remember.
“I’ve decided to change the insignia for all censors’ robes, regardless of rank, to the mythical creature xiezhi. That will distinguish them from civil officials. Xiezhi can discern right from wrong, good from evil, loyal from treacherous—perfect for censors. The new robes will be made by the Imperial Wardrobe Bureau, with the costs covered by my personal funds, so the Ministry of Revenue won’t delay. They will be ready before the third month. Censors below rank 4 will wear blue, rank 4 and above in crimson. What do you think?”
Su Yan lowered his gaze to hide his emotion. “I have no objections.”
The emperor said, “Go. And make time to visit First Minister Li.”
Su Yan saluted and took his leave. As he reached the palace doors, he turned back to look—the emperor still stood at the window, hands behind his back, unmoving.
He stepped out into the broad corridor, still thinking of his final question. The emperor had never answered.
Perhaps… the emperor himself had no answer.
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! :)
