The name Yuan Bin was thunderous to anyone in court.
He had been the late emperor’s most trusted confidant, commanding the Embroidered Uniform Guard for twenty years and wielding authority that shook the realm. Fierce and loyal, he had saved the emperor’s life many times. Even the censorate scholars, those perpetual enemies of the Guards, spoke of Yuan Bin with almost no reproach.
After the late emperor’s death, Emperor Jinglong ordered him to remain Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. But Yuan Bin, disheartened by his master’s passing, submitted his resignation several years later. When repeated imperial pleas failed to change his mind, the emperor granted him the honorary title of Grand Marshal of the Five Military Offices and let him retire in Nanjing on full pay.
It was only after Yuan Bin’s retirement that Feng Qu’e, then a Qianshi, gained the chance to take up the main seal of command.
Unfortunately, though capable, Feng Qu’e was without virtue. During his seven or eight years in office, he ruined the good name that Yuan Bin had built, until finally he perished by his own crimes.
Fortunately, once Su Yan took charge of purging Feng’s faction, with Shen Qi’s assistance, the Embroidered Uniform Guard was ruthlessly reformed, weeds cleared and essence preserved. In the past two years, its reputation had greatly improved.
Shen Qi’s abilities were exceptional. In terms of merit, he could have contended for the position of Commander. But Emperor Jinglong, though valuing his talent, distrusted his temperament and feared he might repeat Feng Qu’e’s downfall. Thus, he was kept firmly beneath the ceiling.
Those of good character lacked ability; those of great ability lacked restraint. The emperor lamented that the Embroidered Uniform Guard had no second Yuan Bin, and so the post of Commander remained vacant.
Facing such a titan of a predecessor, Shen Qi curbed his hostility and bowed with clasped fists. “Tongzhi of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and Chief Officer of the Northern Surveillance Bureau, Shen Qi, greets the Grand Marshal.”
Yuan Bin clasped his hands behind his back and scanned Shen Qi up and down with his hawk’s gaze. “You’re in Nanjing on imperial business?”
The emperor had sent him to Henan to investigate the rebel Liao, but Shen Qi had secretly come to Nanjing for the sake of a certain “door-knocking gift.” At the question, his heart gave a jolt, but his face remained calm. “Yes.”
Yuan Bin gave a thin smile. “And your ‘imperial business’ consists of tailing a handsome young Shilang of Rites every day? Drinking the wine he orders, eating the dishes he favors?”
Shen Qi’s fingers clenched white around the hilt. His expression remained cold. “Whatever mission His Majesty assigns me, even the Grand Marshal has no right to question. If you doubt it, you may inquire of His Majesty yourself.”
A retired old general wouldn’t rashly memorialize the throne just to verify a younger man’s morals. Shen Qi wagered he wouldn’t.
Yuan Bin studied him long and hard, eyes like judgment itself. At last he said meaningfully, “If you don’t return to the capital soon, you’ll truly be too late.”
Shen Qi started. When he looked up again, the old man was gone.
Turning the words over in his mind, a prickle of unease crept in. He realized he had indeed lingered too long in Nanjing, too entangled in personal affection.
He couldn’t stay any longer. Yet his heart resisted, unwilling to let the one who haunted his thoughts slip again from sight.
Shen Qi gritted his teeth and made up his mind.
He walked briskly toward the marketplace, stopped several stalls away, and took one last look at Su Yan hunched over his bowl of hot soup. Silently, he recited the blessing his foster mother used to give him as a child: “Adversity will end in peace; no evil shall touch you.” Then he turned away and left without hesitation.
Rallying his hidden agents, Shen Qi mounted his horse and galloped out of Nanjing, heart once warmed, now turning cold again, as he began the journey north, back to the capital.
Su Yan finished the spicy soup without tasting it and returned to his empty lodgings. Xiaobei was packing up their things; now that the Crown Prince had departed, they were moving out of the palace again.
Xiaobei asked, “His Highness wished to leave you some guards, sir. Why did you refuse them?”
Su Yan sighed. “I’m nothing but a salted fish. If Mr. He intends to root us out completely, His Highness will need protection far more than I.”
Xiaobei said earnestly, “Don’t worry, sir. I learned some martial arts before… even if it costs my life, I’ll protect you.” The words “Brother Zhui” almost slipped out, but he swallowed them back, afraid to stir old sorrow.
Su Yan smiled faintly. “Good then. I’ll be counting on you.” He stepped into his bedchamber.
From his robe he drew a large brocade pouch of dark blue satin, embroidered in tight circular patterns. He spread it across his palm, hesitating whether to open it.
…Had he truly reached the point of no return?
The Crown Prince had lost the emperor’s favor, tantamount to exile. And the emperor himself seemed to have turned cold toward him; several letters had gone unanswered, as if he had already been forgotten in Nanjing to wither away.
Was it time to open the pouch and see what medicine that old fox Zhu Jintang had been hiding in his gourd?
He pondered for a moment, and finally found the answer in his heart,
There wasn’t one.
He hadn’t yet reached the end of the road. He just had to wait a little longer, for that moment that might come, or might never come, and no one knew when.
—
In the seventeenth year of Jinglong, spring of the year yiwei.
The Crown Prince, summoned by imperial decree, left the palace and went out of Nanjing with his guards. He built a small hut in a mountain hollow southeast of Mount Zhong and lived there in seclusion, guarding the imperial tombs in repentance.
Su Yan, who was then the Left Shilang of Rites in Nanjing, would occasionally go out in plain clothes to visit the Crown Prince. The two often sat together discussing philosophy, composing essays, or practicing martial arts. In leisure moments, they played chess or went fishing.
Once, when a heavy snow sealed the doors, Su Yan stayed overnight at the Crown Prince’s hut. The two of them lazily sprawled on the couch, holding a cat and reading books.
The Crown Prince joked, “The creek fire is soft, the felt blanket warm, my cat and I are not going out today.”
Su Yan followed with a teasing rhyme: “Pity the poor soul trudging in the snow, my cat and I are not going out today.”
The Crown Prince said, “The snow on Mount Yan is as large as mats, my cat and I are not going out today.”
Su Yan asked, “Where’d Mount Yan come from?”
The Crown Prince paused. “Er… Mount Zhong then. The snow on Mount Zhong is as large as mats, my cat and I are not going out today.”
Su Yan said, “Even if heaven and earth turn upside down, my cat and I are not going out today.”
The Crown Prince: “……”
The Crown Prince: “I can’t top that. I admit defeat.”
Thus, Su Yan earned the right to pet the cat, while the Crown Prince had to go clean the litter outside the room.
“You used to say you didn’t like cats, that they’re fickle and faithless. Why are you fighting me over petting it?” the Crown Prince grumbled through the curtain, holding his nose as he scooped the litter.
Su Yan buried his face in the freshly bathed cat’s soft, fluffy belly and took a deep breath. “Smells heavenly.”
—
At the very end of the first lunar month, Shen Qi returned to the capital and requested an audience.
Emperor Jinglong received him in the imperial study, with several senior ministers from the cabinet and Ministry of War also present.
Shen Qi reported, “Your servant led the Embroidered Uniform Guard in a covert investigation through Henan and indeed discovered deep collusion between the rebel army and the Void Sect. That Madman Liao’s strategist, the scholar Shi Sui, is one of the sect’s transmitters.”
He gave a detailed account of the rebels’ troop deployment, attack routes, and alliances with local forces.
The intelligence was both critical and timely. The emperor nodded as he listened, and, for once, offered words of comfort: “Shen Tongzhi, you’ve done well. Return home and rest. Your merits will be rewarded later.”
Shen Qi wanted to discreetly probe about the situation in Nanjing, but with all the ministers present, it wasn’t the right time. So he withdrew quietly.
Leaving the palace, he went straight to the Northern Surveillance Bureau of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and summoned Wei Ying, the officer overseeing criminal cases.
—Before Lord Su’s departure, one of his servants fell ill, so he only brought one with him on the journey.
—In his letters home, Lord Su had instructed the servant, so that boy, Su Xiaojing, often came to the Embroidered Uniform Guard office to ask whether Shen Tongzhi had returned.
—Word from the palace said that Yu Wang had presented a letter from Lord Su to the Emperor, which displeased the Dragon Throne. The Emperor even rebuked the Crown Prince for “lacking filial piety and forming factions.”
The news was a mix of relief and anxiety. Shen Qi listened without expression, then asked in detail about the situation at court.
Wei Ying replied, “The court is in turmoil right now, all because of the White Deer Case. Although the Crown Prince has been cleared of the charge of desecrating the imperial tombs, he’s lost the Emperor’s favor and has been demoted to tomb-guarding. Meanwhile, the civil officials, led by Grand Secretary Jiao Yang and Wang Qianhe, who had persistently impeached the Crown Prince before, are now agitating to change the heir apparent.”
“…Change the heir?” Shen Qi’s eyes glinted faintly, and he leaned forward. “What’s being said?”
“On New Year’s night, a pavilion in the inner palace suddenly lit up with five-colored light that shot straight into the sky and vanished in moments. Witnesses called it a divine omen. The imperial guards entered and found the Second Prince, Zhao, who had secretly slipped out to look for his mother, fast asleep inside. Rumors spread that he was born under the Purple Tenuity Star and destined for greatness.”
Shen Qi took a piece of cloth and slowly wiped his blade, giving a cold, wordless laugh.
Wei Ying continued, “A few days later, a minor official submitted a memorial, declaring, ‘The Crown Prince is cruel and immoral, while the Second Prince is of exceptional virtue and divine favor, heaven itself points to him as heir. I beg Your Majesty to depose the unworthy and establish the worthy, to follow the will of heaven.’”
Shen Qi said flatly, “That man’s head is no longer on his neck.”
Wei Ying’s face showed admiration. “As expected of Lord Shen! The Emperor was furious when he read the memorial and had that official executed for treason, for ‘recklessly discussing the succession and sowing discord in the royal family.’”
Shen Qi added, “That was only a probe. By right, his death should’ve been enough to frighten the others, yet strangely, this became the spark instead. I’d wager the calls to change the heir didn’t die down afterward, but grew even louder. The Emperor can kill one or two, but not a whole faction.”
Though far away from the capital, he could read its shifting winds from a single falling leaf. Wei Ying was deeply impressed, bowing slightly. “You’ve hit the mark again! At first it was one or two voices, then groups of three and five, soon the court was echoing with cries for succession change. They all say, ‘the law can’t punish the multitude.’ What can be done against so many?”
Shen Qi thought a moment. “Chancellor Li Chengfeng, he’s nearly done for, isn’t he?”
Wei Ying no longer bothered to be surprised. “He’s gravely ill. He’s submitted five resignation petitions already, but the Emperor keeps rejecting them.”
“Just procedure,” Shen Qi said dismissively. “He’ll submit once more, and that’ll be it. If Li Chengfeng still had any strength, the court wouldn’t have devolved like this. He’s the Crown Prince’s mentor and a veteran of two reigns. As long as he stands, other officials, even the dissenters, will hold back. Once he falls, only the Crown Prince’s tutor, Yang Ting, remains in the cabinet, mild-tempered and indecisive, no match for Jiao Yang and Wang Qianhe.”
Wei Ying frowned thoughtfully. “Leaving aside Xie Xini, Jiao Yang and Wang Qianhe have grown very close lately, even in private contact with those pushing to change the heir. I wonder what they’re plotting.”
Shen Qi smiled faintly. “You’re only seeing Jiao Yang and Wang Qianhe. You’re not seeing the people behind them.”
“Who are they?” Wei Ying asked.
Shen Qi didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Go call a few brothers, set up a hotpot table and bring out a few jars of wine.”
Wei Ying acknowledged the order and turned to leave, but then came back, lowering his voice: “My lord… what are your thoughts? Which side do you intend to serve? If you’d give us a hint, it’d help the brothers know how to act when the time comes.”
Shen Qi tapped him lightly on the cheek with the scabbard, a half-smile playing on his lips.
“We Embroidered Uniform Guard serve only the imperial command… Whoever ascends the throne, that’s who I serve.”
“And for now?”
“Watching the fire from across the river.”
