The resonant beat of the drum reverberated over five miles, each of its twelve strikes rolling like tides into the Hall of Supreme Harmony.
Courtiers exchanged glances, wondering aloud—how long had it been since that drum last sounded? And why now, during the morning assembly?
Seated high on the throne, Emperor Jinglong also heard the drum and immediately conjured an image in his mind. Could it be that clever little fox who had latched onto a passing remark about “reaping what one sows” in Longde Hall? Was this his attempt to “offer a pillow to a sleepy emperor”?
In no time, Jia Gongji strode into the grand square, knelt at the foot of the imperial steps, and reported, “Your Majesty, the one who struck the drum is a court official. The accused is a high-ranking figure in the court. I dare not make a unilateral decision and humbly seek Your Majesty’s judgment.”
The emperor, with an air of detached composure, replied, “Since officials on both sides are implicated, bring them forward to plead their cases directly. The court shall deliberate as one.”
Elated, Jia Gongji received the imperial decree and left.
Before long, a young man in mourning attire approached, carrying a black lacquered box. Under the scrutiny of civil and military officials on either side, he reached the steps of the throne, set down the box, and performed a respectful kneel with three kowtows.
It is said that mourning garb can enhance one’s appearance. From his elevated vantage, the emperor gazed down upon the figure kneeling below. For a fleeting moment, he seemed as radiant as jade, his presence imbued with a warmth surpassing ice and snow, a grace more elegant than a tree in full bloom, and a stillness rivaling a distant mountain. The emperor found himself at a loss for the perfect metaphor. His fingers clenched softly within his dragon robe, grasping only the ephemeral passage of time. Whatever stirrings had arisen in his heart, they were swiftly suppressed beneath the majestic facade of imperial dignity.
“Su Yan, are you aware that the Drum of Appeals is not to be struck lightly except in cases of great injustice or matters of utmost secrecy?”
The emperor’s voice carried from the lofty throne with an ethereal resonance, as though it emanated from a deity, evoking reverence and distance.
For a brief moment, Su Yan felt a pang of melancholy, but he steadied himself and responded calmly, “Your Majesty, I am aware. I also know that the drum was established by the court to address grave injustices and ensure the voiceless are heard. Thus, today, I must strike it.”
“Rise. What grievance do you have? Speak freely.”
Su Yan remained kneeling. “The one who has been wronged is not me,” he said solemnly, “but the owner of the contents of this box. I am not here to seek justice for myself, but to redress an injustice for another.” With that, he opened the black lacquered box, revealing a smaller iron box inside. He lifted it reverently in both hands and presented it above his head.
The emperor, initially expecting Su Yan to complain about the assassination attempt in the Small Southern Courtyard, was surprised to learn he was merely advocating on someone else’s behalf. He gestured for Lan Xi to step forward and inspect it.
Lan Xi descended the imperial steps and approached Su Yan. Looking into the iron box, he saw a blood-stained, severed tongue. Startled, he hissed in a low voice, “How dare you present such a gory item before His Majesty!”
Su Yan raised his voice, “Though the sight is gory, it belonged to a loyal servant of the empire. If it cannot be shown to the emperor, then let it be displayed to the ministers.”
Without waiting for imperial permission, Su Yan stood and began walking towards the rows of officials. He thrust the iron box under the noses of the civil and military officials, forcing them to see the gruesome contents. Many recoiled in shock, covering their noses, while some frowned and reproached him. Su Yan ignored their protests and continued his grim demonstration, pushing the iron box before them one by one, driving these pampered dignitaries to retreat repeatedly.
Lan Xi returned to the emperor and reported, “Your Majesty, it is a chewed-off severed tongue.”
The emperor’s expression darkened, but he waited for Su Yan to finish his shocking display before speaking. “You claim this tongue belonged to a loyal subject. Who is it?”
Su Yan replied, “I hold in my hand a confession paper. Your Majesty will understand once you see it. However, the paper is bloodstained and may offend your eyes. May I read it aloud instead?”
The emperor, sensing that Su Yan was about to stage an elaborate performance, decided to humor him. “Read it aloud,” he said. “Loud enough for all to hear.”
Su Yan pulled out a folded piece of paper from his robes. It was blotched with blood, nearly obscuring most of the writing, but the inked words were still barely legible.
He began to recite the confession with clarity and purpose, skipping the formal salutation and heading straight to the main body.
The confession, a brief document of a few hundred words, acknowledged all accusations of bribery and factional collusion. It even implicated the Minister of Personnel and Grand Secretary of the Cabinet, Li Chengfeng, accusing him of masterminding the corruption, disrespecting the emperor under the guise of being a seasoned elder, and embezzling seized royal assets from the estate of the deposed Xin Wang. Each crime was monumental.
The officials on either side of the hall turned pale at what they heard. Li Chengfeng, fiery in temper and stout despite his age, was enraged. “Utter nonsense!” he thundered. “Who dares to spew such slander against me and still claims to be a loyal subject?”
Even at over seventy years old, Li Chengfeng was robust enough to hold his own in a physical altercation with Marquis Fengan. He stormed over to Su Yan in a few strides, snatched the confession paper, and looked at the signature.
There was no written name, only a bloody handprint stamped at the bottom, its ghastly imprint devoid of any accompanying signature.
Li Chengfeng froze momentarily. His eyes scanned the heading: “Confession of the Criminal Zhuo Qi.” Stunned, he muttered aloud, “Zhuo Anxing? How could it be him?”
Zhuo Qi was one of his longtime protégés, and Li Chengfeng was well-acquainted with his character. Though Zhuo Qi was somewhat indecisive, he was far from treacherous. Could it be that severed tongue…
Su Yan, observing Li Chengfeng’s distressed expression, interjected sorrowfully, “Teacher, if Zhuo Qi had succumbed to torture and agreed to sign his name on this confession, would he have needed to endure such humiliation on the court floor that he resorted to biting off his tongue and ending his life?”
A collective gasp swept through the hall as murmurs filled the air.
The emperor’s face darkened further, his gaze heavy with implied fury. He turned his sharp eyes to Feng Que, the commandant of the Embroidered Uniform Guard standing to the west of the imperial throne. “The case of Zhuo Qi was investigated jointly by the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Ministry of Justice. How did it result in his death on the court floor?”
Feng Que had been on edge since he saw the severed tongue, immediately sensing trouble. His naturally stern demeanor concealed any outward reaction, but he had been devising a counterargument. When the emperor addressed him, he stepped forward, saluting deeply. “Your Majesty, Zhuo Qi confessed voluntarily but succumbed to shame and guilt, choosing to take his own life. At the time, Dali Temple’s, Lord Yu, was present in the courtroom. Your Majesty may summon him for verification.”
The emperor’s gaze shifted to Yu Shouyong. Forced to step forward, Yu Shouyong bowed and said, “Lord Feng speaks the truth.”
In this case, he and Feng Que had served as the chief judges. Back then, he hadn’t been able to stop Feng Que’s actions, and the two of them had become like grasshoppers tied to the same rope. Now, no matter how reluctant he was, they had to align their statements, maintaining that Zhuo Qi had taken his own life out of guilt. Otherwise, he too would be implicated.
“Why wasn’t this matter reported earlier?” the Emperor asked.
Feng Que answered before Yu Shouyong could speak. “Because the incident occurred on the fourth day of the fifth month. The next day was the Dragon Boat Festival, and we feared spoiling Your Majesty’s festive mood. So we decided to delay reporting until after the holiday. However, the following day, there was a bloody incident at the Eastern Garden. The Embroidered Uniform Guard had to both defend Your Majesty and search for the perpetrator. Amid the chaos, I forgot about this matter. Now that Ye Langzhong’s case has concluded, I recalled this incident and was just about to report it when this surnamed Su barged into morning court to accuse me. I admit to negligence in this oversight and am willing to accept punishment, but I absolutely refuse to take responsibility for such an unfounded charge as driving an official to his death!”
This explanation was plausible enough, and the Emperor remained silent in contemplation.
Feng Que glared at Su Yan, his eyes full of menace. “How dare you claim that Chancellor Zhuo was driven to his death? You weren’t even there. Are you saying you know the truth of what happened better than those of us who were present?”
Su Yan, unafraid, retorted sharply, “Those present—whether from the Dali Temple or the Embroidered Uniform Guard—are all part of the same interest group, providing mutual testimony. What truth can that reveal? Even if you were to summon every subordinate who was present that day, they’d all echo the same line: ‘What Lord Feng said is true.’ Lord Feng, your authority has long been absolute, and your vengeance relentless. They wouldn’t dare cross you. Whether their words are true or not, they’d still claim they were.”
Yu Shouyong bristled with anger at this, glaring at Su Yan. “Are you accusing me, an imperial official, of providing false testimony to support Lord Feng? You’re merely a fifth-rank minor official, yet you dare to spout such reckless accusations. If you aren’t severely punished, what’s to stop others from defying their superiors, disrupting morning court, and undermining the Emperor’s dignity? Where will the order of the court be? Where will the authority of the officials stand?” Turning to the Emperor, he knelt and declared, “Your Majesty, I request that this insolent, deceitful, and slanderous scoundrel be punished!”
Before the Emperor could respond, Su Yan stepped forward, his expression icy, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “If a person who wasn’t present has no right to speak, then let’s summon another witness who was present. How about that?”
“Summon whoever you like!” Yu Shouyong shot back, confident that everyone present during the incident was either a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard or an official from the Dali Temple. None of them would dare speak against Feng Que. What harm could it do if Su Yan called one of them as a witness?
Su Yan bowed to the emperor with cupped hands and said, “Your Majesty, I request that you summon Chancellor Zhuo to court.”
The ministers exchanged puzzled glances—hadn’t Zhuo Qi bitten off his tongue and committed suicide? Was he dead or alive?
The emperor also scrutinized him closely. Su Yan raised his voice, “There is no need for speculation, Lords. My teacher has indeed died a wrongful death, but his body remains preserved, frozen in an ice cellar secretly excavated by the Northern Surveillance Bureau!”
These words sent a shockwave through the court, and Feng Que’s expression immediately froze.
—The location of Zhuo Qi’s body was known only to a select few within the Embroidered Uniform Guard. How could this young man possibly know about it?
He had planned to wait until the confession was presented and the case was officially closed. Then, he would tamper with Zhuo Qi’s corpse, disguising it as though he had succumbed to an outbreak of disease. Even if the Emperor decided to investigate later, no one would dare closely inspect the body. In the end, the official cause of death would be listed as illness, and the remains would be burned to ash.
Who would have thought that the painstakingly hidden corpse would be discovered by someone who wasn’t even present? There could only be one explanation—there was a traitor within the Embroidered Uniform Guard, someone from the inner circle who was privy to classified information.
Feng Que clenched his teeth in silence, his gaze toward Su Yan as vicious as a wolf’s.
Emperor Jinglong immediately ordered the body of Zhuo Qi to be retrieved from the ice cellar at the location Su Yan had described and brought directly to the gates of Fengtian. However, the task was not entrusted to the Embroidered Uniform Guard but to the Four Galloping Cavalry Divisions of the Imperial Army, under the command of the Chief Eunuch of the Imperial Stables.
Feng Que had a sinking feeling that the Emperor’s trust in him had already eroded, though he couldn’t pinpoint whether it was due to today’s events or something that had happened earlier. He gripped the hilt of his embroidered spring saber, staring intently at the white jade steps before him. At the center of the steps was a massive carving of a golden dragon soaring through the clouds, exuding both majesty and ferocity. It seemed as though all creatures, including humans, lay crushed beneath its claws, with no recourse but to shiver in submission.
He felt a fleeting sense of regret, as if from the very beginning, he had chosen the wrong path. Each misstep had compounded the others, leading to this point of no return.
In less than half an hour, the soldiers of the Four Galloping Cavalry Divisions transported Zhuo Qi’s corpse to the square outside Fengtian Gate.
The body had just been thawed from the ice, and under the morning light, it glistened with dripping water.
Li Chengfeng, deeply concerned for his former student, stepped forward to examine the body. Seeing Zhuo Qi’s face, ashen and contorted in rage, with his eyes wide open in death, he could not suppress an expression of profound grief.
Su Yan said, “Your Majesty, I request permission to remove my teacher’s garments so that the assembled officials may hear the testimony of the deceased.”
The Emperor nodded in approval. Two soldiers from the Galloping Cavalry stepped forward and stripped Zhuo Qi, leaving only a pair of loincloth-style shorts.
A collective gasp arose from the crowd, along with stifled cries. Many covered their faces with their sleeves, unable to bear the sight.
Zhuo Qi’s body was covered with marks of unspeakable abuse. His fingers were crushed, his arms and legs bore branding scars, and his ribs—where the damage was most horrific—had been stripped of flesh, revealing rows of stark white bones etched with precise cuts, resembling the strings of a pipa.
“…Is this what you call a voluntary confession?” The Emperor pointed at the corpse lying below the steps and demanded furiously of Feng Que. “I commanded you to investigate this case thoroughly and explicitly ordered that the verdict must be based on solid evidence, with no coercion or forced confessions. Yet you not only subjected a court official to extrajudicial torture, but you also employed such a barbaric and inhumane method as ‘playing the pipa’! I’ve long heard of the infamous brutality of the Northern Surveillance Bureau’s prisons, but now it seems their horrors are beyond imagination! And you, Feng Que, as Commandant of the Embroidered Uniform Guard—you’ve done an excellent job, haven’t you?”
Feng Que turned ashen, his pallor taking on a deathly hue.
Dressed in mourning clothes, Su Yan knelt before Zhuo Qi’s corpse, tears streaming down his face. “You asked what crime—look at the blood of a righteous man! My teacher, your dying words have been heard by His Majesty and all the ministers present here!”
“Teacher, you died in anguish! Your righteous blood stains the dark abyss of the Directorate’s prison, standing as irrefutable evidence of the corrupt officials who abused their power to persecute loyal men!”
“Teacher, your spirit is not far! Your broken body now lies here in the solemn court of the Gate of Fengtian, awaiting justice from the sovereign to whom you were loyal and the colleagues with whom you served!”
“Your Majesty! Look upon your loyal minister. He gave his life for the law and justice. If even he cannot be avenged, how could he find peace in the afterlife?”
“Your Majesty! I beseech you to seek justice for my teacher, Your Majesty!”
Though Su Yan had no personal memories or feelings for his mentor, Zhuo Qi, he deeply admired the man’s resilience and integrity. His kneeling and weeping carried genuine emotion, perhaps six or seven parts sincerity. Only after he finished his impassioned plea did he realize his rhetoric had unintentionally taken on a melodramatic tone…
He felt slightly embarrassed, realizing he might have overdone it. But to his surprise, the ministers, especially the civil officials, were immersed in grief and anger. Many choked back sobs, their tears flowing freely. Even the emperor raised his sleeve to cover his face, though whether from shame or sorrow was unclear.
Li Chengfeng cried out to the heavens, “To shatter one’s body and leave behind a clear name—Anxing, you have upheld virtue with your life. You can now rest in peace!”
Feng Que observed the scene of the grieving ministers and felt only bitter cynicism. To him, their mourning was nothing more than foxes lamenting over the death of a rabbit. Zhuo Qi’s case was now irrefutable. He knew he could not escape blame, but he held onto a slim hope that the emperor might show leniency. Perhaps he would be stripped of his title or exiled, as had happened to a previous overseer. So long as he survived, there would always be a chance to stage a comeback.
Kneeling before the emperor, Feng Que pleaded, “Regarding the Zhuo Qi case, I am guilty of overzealousness and unauthorized torture in my pursuit of a quick resolution. This led to Zhuo Qi’s despair and subsequent suicide. I admit my mistake and am willing to accept punishment. I humbly beg Your Majesty to consider my years of loyal service and grant me the opportunity to repent and reform.”
The Dali Temple Minister, Yu Shouyong, also knelt and begged for mercy, claiming he had been coerced by Feng Que into silence. He confessed that Feng Que had threatened them all on the day of Zhuo Qi’s death, saying, “Everyone here, keep your mouths shut. Whoever dares report this will meet the same fate as Zhuo Qi!”
The court gasped at the audacity and tyranny of the Embroidered Uniform Guard Commandant’s actions.
The emperor remained silent, leaving the two men kneeling in anxious suspense.
Feng Que believed that the emperor, known for his leniency, would avoid harsh punishments and could be persuaded through emotional appeals. However, Su Yan understood the principle of “eliminating the root to prevent future troubles” and had long resolved not to relent. The true drama, as far as he was concerned, had just begun.
Wiping away his tear-streaked face, Su Yan suddenly rose to his feet, striding boldly to the foot of the imperial steps and declared in a resonant voice, “Your subject—has a petition to present!”
The familiar phrasing reminded Emperor Jinglong of the previous incident in Longde Hall, where Su Yan had used the same opening to accuse Yu Wang.
So there’s more to this? One wave after another—like blooming vinca flowers, never-ending. The emperor felt a wry amusement inwardly but maintained a composed and stern exterior. “Speak.”
“I wish to impeach the Commandant of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Feng Que, and present twelve major charges against him for Your Majesty’s judgment.”
Marquis Fengan, Wei Jun, glanced at Su Yan with venomous hatred.
Wei Jun had stayed silent earlier. He had instigated Feng Que to act against Zhuo Qi to weaken Li Chengfeng’s influence, aiming to topple the leading figure of the cabinet. With his own culpability in mind, Wei Jun dared not involve himself too openly, fearing exposure.
But now he had no choice but to intervene in Feng Que’s defense. Feng Que, in his plea for forgiveness, had conspicuously avoided implicating Wei Jun. This silence was not only a protective gesture but also a veiled threat: I haven’t named you—how you respond is up to you. If you betray me, don’t expect my loyalty.
Moreover, Feng Que’s position and power were significant. Losing him would require finding a replacement of equal caliber—no small task.
Wei Jun stepped forward and scornfully retorted, “Su Yan! You, a mere court Xianma, should focus on managing the archives and records. What authority do you have to impeach a third-ranking official?”
Su Yan’s expression turned even more disdainful. “Whether I have the authority to impeach or not, His Majesty will decide. Trying to silence me with rank? Fine! Since you’re so fixated on hierarchy, why, then, are you presuming to interrupt before His Majesty has spoken? This is contempt for the emperor. Marquis Fengan, are you plotting rebellion?”
Wei Jun, struck dumb by Su Yan’s audacious and near-slanderous remark, hurriedly knelt and pleaded, “Your Majesty, I have no intention of defiance. Please judge me fairly!”
The Emperor’s tone was faint. “Marquis Fengan, does this matter concern you?”
“It does not, Your Majesty. I have no knowledge of it.”
“Then if you’re uninvolved, you’d do well to stand aside, observe, and learn rather than speaking out of turn. Understand?”
Wei Jun, red-faced from the emperor’s ridicule and reprimand, had no choice but to step back in silence. He glanced at Feng Que, silently communicating: It’s not that I won’t help you, but the emperor clearly intends to make an example of you. You’re on your own.
Feng Que, kneeling before the throne with his blade removed, clenched his jaw in suppressed fury.
Clearing his throat, Su Yan quickly organized his thoughts. On the way to court, he had refined the notes provided by Shen Qi while reviewing the evidence, almost skimming through it at lightning speed. Now he had a clear outline of the charges.
The accusations against Feng Que could be broadly summarized as abuse of power, corruption, coercion leading to the death of officials, and elimination of dissent. Yet listing these broadly would not suffice; Su Yan intended to break them into detailed points, richly substantiated with evidence, to firmly nail Feng Que’s name to the pillar of historical disgrace.
….Drawing on his past-life experience in drafting government reports, Su Yan’s mind raced effortlessly. The twelve charges flowed from his tongue with precision.
