Chapter 19#

Light Feathers#

Sha Que held the small wooden tag, turning it over and over in his hand.

“You’re definitely thinking right now, ‘How does this thing work?’ Our little Que can’t figure it out either.” Yuan Bocheng sat with both hands tucked in his sleeves, chuckling happily from the mat. “The trick isn’t on this little wooden tag.”

“Even if money can make the devil turn a millstone,” Sha Que loosened his fingers slightly, and the small wooden tag dropped face-down into his palm, “it’s still very hard to bribe so many people inside the palace.”

Yuan Bocheng said instead, “You’ve been following Shisan Niang—did she only teach you how to kill?”

“No,” Sha Que thought seriously. “She also taught me interrogation.”

Sha Que had participated in some of the Nine Layers’ disputes before, mostly in interrogations—but he wasn’t the one conducting them. It was Shisan Niang.

Shisan Niang was a formidable “Mother.” After the Spring Peony Rebellion, not a single companion who passed through her hands could keep a secret. At that time, Shisan Niang interrogated while Sha Que observed from the side. Whenever Shisan Niang told him to act, he would act. He had punished many traitors this way, and through the process, he learned to distinguish truth from falsehood.

A young servant came in with medicine. Yuan Bocheng said, “She taught you interrogation, but the purpose was always to kill. So all you know is how to kill.”

Sha Que neither confirmed nor denied it.

“She told you money can move gods,” Yuan Bocheng drew a hand from his sleeve, a Tianshou Wuzhu coin pinched between his fingers, “but that’s actually false. Sanqing, our Heavenly Listening isn’t bought with money—it’s built on bonds of loyalty and righteousness.”

“Bonds of loyalty and righteousness,” Sha Que tossed the wooden tag back. “You said it yourself—your companions couldn’t withstand torture.”

Punishment usually fell upon the flesh. There were people who could endure whipping. During the Spring Peony Rebellion, both factions had such hard bones—even some among them feared not death by a thousand cuts. But Sha Que knew that was only the beginning. A “proper” punishment would never be limited to physical torment. True torture had to target the right prescription.

Shisan Niang had once stood in the gloomy depths of a prison, giving Sha Que his final lesson. “Sanqing, when facing someone who is filial, go and slice apart his parents. When facing someone who values friendship, go and whip his friends.”

Sha Que heard those screams. He asked, “And what about those who champion benevolence and love?”

“Even easier to deal with.” Shisan Niang revealed the lower half of her face and smiled faintly. “Go and desecrate his principles, and he will weep in anguish. Whoever you wish to torture, drive the whip into the depths of their mind, and strike hardest at what they hold most dear.”

“I did say that, but what I meant was the companions of the Nine Layers, not ours here at Yumian.” Yuan Bocheng pressed the Tianshou Wuzhu coin down onto the small wooden tag. “Most of the eunuchs in the palace are former prisoners of war and the sons of convicted families. They’ve been castrated into non-persons. Our money is only part of what they need to survive. To maintain constant dealings with them, what matters most is genuine feeling.”

“I understand,” Sha Que looked at the Tianshou Wuzhu coin. “You use bonds of loyalty to win them over, then maintain the relationship with money.”

“You don’t understand. My bonds with them are not fake.” Yuan Bocheng paused, then spoke with pointed meaning. “Break those two words apart—one is ’true feeling,’ the other is ‘moral principle.’ You still don’t grasp the meaning of these terms.”

“Your words are truly self-contradictory.” Sha Que’s gaze lifted as he scrutinized this false father again. “Yuan Bocheng, Rule One: trust no one lightly. If you trust no one lightly, then how can there ever be true feeling?”

At this moment Yuan Bocheng wasn’t smoking his pipe, which left his eyes with nowhere to hide. He gazed at Sha Que, and for a moment, Sha Que saw astonishment in them.

He must think I’m a strange creature, Sha Que thought. But his words are indeed wrong.

“…Truly clever, little Que.” Yuan Bocheng abruptly put on his roguish grin. “Not bad, not bad. If you trust no one lightly, then how can there be true feeling? You say I ‘bought’ them with bonds of loyalty—that’s not wrong either. But once you’re out, don’t go saying that to others. It’s too hurtful.”

Sha Que gave a soft “mm,” his tone as though he felt nothing. “These eunuchs are spread throughout the palace. Their origins are lowly, and they hold no administrative authority. It’s perfectly reasonable that Mi Linan wouldn’t bother being on guard against them.”

“Rule Four: do not underestimate Mi Linan.” Yuan Bocheng leaned back. “Rather than saying he’s off his guard, it’s more accurate to say he can’t be bothered to deal with them.”

Sha Que repeated, “Can’t be bothered to deal with them?”

“We know what Mi Linan eats every day because he flings open his palace gates wide—he doesn’t mind this trivial bit of information spreading outside. His real military and political secrets are all in the Six Departments of the Secretariat. That’s where his elite capable officials are; every day’s memorials and strategic coordination are under his direct control. The only things that end up spread open on his desk to be dictated and lectured about to others are matters on which he has long since finished deliberation.” At this point, Yuan Bocheng sighed heavily. “That Du Wei—you see him heading up civil affairs, and all the subordinate officials beneath him are key figures from Mi Linan’s uprising. Over half of this group are from the Four Garrisons. I’ve been in the old capital for this long, and I still haven’t had a single sleeper agent penetrate their ranks.”

The Four Garrisons were the origin of the Mi clan’s rise to power. Apart from Zhaifeng Garrison, which Mi Luo had taken away, the remaining three were sealed tight as iron buckets. This group of people collectively called themselves the “Main Headquarters.” They had zero interest in Yuan Bocheng’s petty enticements.

Take Jin Mingshi for example. He had risen rapidly through the military. First, it was because he could genuinely fight. Second, within the Main Headquarters, Jin Mingshi had that background working for him—in the contests over military appointments, it gave him an unbeatable advantage. And his fighting ability also stemmed from his difference from ordinary soldiers. He had listened to his father and brothers’ instruction since childhood and was well-versed in military strategy and troop formations. When he—, by then he already knew the general’s —perhaps it was his ability, but it was also this era that was more willing to leave opportunities to noble birth.

“If not for this, why would I spend years trying to get—” Yuan Bocheng picked up, “Within the Inner Court, there’s Xu Daochun. I’ve told you—he appears timid, but is in fact skilled in scheming. Sanqing, what means can you use to bribe him?”

“He’s a surrendered commoner, and he’s suffered castration,” Sha Que’s cloth tiger rolled around by his leg. He pushed it twice, making it face him. “Giving him money won’t accomplish much. The only thing he wants most can come from no one but Mi Linan.”

“Mm—so you did take my words to heart. Let your old man reward you with something.” Yuan Bocheng rummaged in his sleeve again. He hissed softly through his teeth, looking genuinely troubled. “I didn’t bring enough little trinkets. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. You’re absolutely right—money is merely an external thing to Xu Daochun. The dignity and status he craves can only come from Mi Linan. So he will hold fast to his loyalty, putting Mi Linan first in all things.”

Those close in favor hold great power. The inner attendants are both the embodiment of the emperor’s will and—, thus whether an eunuch can involve himself in politics does not depend on his own ability, but requires.

Xu Daochun was a clever man. He wouldn’t misjudge priorities. The heavier the—, what was given to him, none of it would move him.

“In that case, money truly cannot move gods,” Sha Que mused. “What it can buy is only petty ghosts.”

“Our Heavenly Listening focuses on ’listening.’ Gather what you hear and supplement it with what you see.” Yuan Bocheng picked up the Tianshou Wuzhu coin again. “Sanqing, killing is actually very simple. But here, the ones we need to kill don’t count as ‘people.’ Take Du Wei, take Xu Daochun—if we killed them, the state of affairs wouldn’t change at all. What would replace them would be Du Heavy, Du Light, and also Xu Dao Thick, Xu Dao Yellow. That’s why we must strategize. We must make good use of the Yumian network to find the cracks between them, then dismantle their alliances. Only then will this insatiable beast called Zhonggu finally die.”

And what about Dazhen? And that Gu? Sha Que said. Aren’t they beasts too?

But what came out when he opened his mouth was: “Fine.”

Sha Que’s injuries had not yet healed. Having listened to the Heavenly Listening briefing, he also happened to finish his medicine. Several young servants came in to shoo Yuan Bocheng away. The false father shuffled out the door, yawning and scratching his chest, calling out something about “well, you rest a while” and something about “your old man’s going off to drink.”

It was indeed time for Sha Que to rest. When he was injured, he was strict with himself. Because he felt no pain, he never knew the true extent of his recovery.

During the Spring Peony Rebellion, Sha Que had run through several streets. His abdomen was a bloody mess at the time, yet he had felt nothing. A stray dog had been following him then. He thought it was simply starving, so he broke off a piece of steamed bun for it—but it only bit him. It turned out it was indeed very hungry. It just wanted to eat him.

Sha Que suddenly lowered his head and asked, very oddly, “What’s wrong with you?”

A young servant was drenched in sweat, using all his skill to nearly twist himself into a knot before he finally forced out a sound: “Young Master… this flower knot… it’s not one we tied before we went out, is it?!”

Sha Que lowered his hand and hooked the flower knot. Several young servants surrounded him like performing a ritual, taking turns examining it. Finally, they huddled together and decided to find a pair of delicate scissors to cut the sash off.

The sash came open, then was tied again.

Mi Jin’s slender fingers knotted the tie. Over on the other side, Long Shan—who was preparing to close the doors for the night shift—said in puzzlement, “My lord, are you going out?”

“I’m not going out,” Mi Jin looked at him. “You go ahead.”

Long Shan glanced at the courtyard, then at Mi Jin. “It’s so cold outside—should I have someone bring in a few more charcoal braziers?”

“No need. It’s scorching hot in here.” Mi Jin pulled the sash tight. “…Did Long Xiang use to tie that flower knot himself?”

“No,” Long Shan was even more confused. “You forgot? His hands are clumsier than both of ours.”

“Right,” Mi Jin suddenly brightened. “Who in the household practices this stuff? As long as it doesn’t come loose, that’s all that matters. I was saying, who would bother tying something like this specifically.”

“Then you—” Long Shan pointed at Mi Jin, somewhat hesitantly. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to bed,” Mi Jin answered naturally. “Taking off my clothes to sleep.”

This isn’t the inner chamber.

Long Shan’s fingers moved toward the direction of the inner chamber, then withdrew under Mi Jin’s gaze. Having nowhere to put them, he scratched behind his own ear. “Then I— I’ll keep watch at the door.”

The moment the door slid shut, Mi Jin immediately released the sash. The ties were tangled in a way that wasn’t quite Sha Que’s style either. He tied a random knot, found it infuriating, fussed with it for a while, then gave up entirely and went inside to sleep.

The next morning at dawn, Long Shan was still dozing when the door slid open. Mi Jin came out. Seeing that no snow had fallen, he asked, “What time does Prince Fucheng arrive?”

“At the Shen hour,” Long Shan said. “His Highness said he’d be free later in the day.”

Mi Jin nodded. “If anything’s missing, go ask the eunuchs outside for it.”

“They have excuses for everything.” Long Shan followed Mi Jin. “I really hate the people here. They talk in circles—when something can’t be done, they won’t say it can’t be done. They have to say ’later’ or ’that’s difficult.’ The other day when I asked them to add more charcoal, they made every excuse in the book.”

“The times change, and so must our approach.” Mi Jin reached the corridor, where he could vaguely see that the guards who usually stood post had vanished. “Today, even if you asked them for the moon in the sky, they’d find a way to hold up a basin to reflect it for you.”

“Last night I saw them pull people back.” Mi Jin was no longer the Crown Prince now. The title Fuxin Hou that Long Shan disliked hearing meant that when no one else was present, he called Mi Jin “my lord”—a form of address that suited both inside and outside. Long Shan said, “My lord, what does the Supreme One mean by this?”

“Can’t you tell?” Mi Jin withdrew his gaze. “He’s training his dog.”

It was a reward—a signal that Mi Jin’s performance in recent days had been good. He had figured out Mi Linan’s thinking: he couldn’t be too like Mi Luo, that would be too deliberate. He had to be an untamable, fierce “little beast.” Only then would he suit Mi Linan’s needs.

To put it more bluntly, Mi Jin believed Mi Linan wanted to see his own reflection in him. Therefore, Mi Jin didn’t mind showing that violent, ruthless part of himself. He had to be clever, but not too clever. He had to make Mi Linan feel everything was under control, which was why he dared to demand so much from Mi Linan.

The light treatment of the Yuchi Liang matter—that was Mi Linan’s attitude. But Mi Jin had no doubt that the moment he took a single wrong step in the future, what kind of cruel punishment awaited him.

Mi Jin turned his head to Long Shan and said, “No need to prepare an elaborate spread. Once you’ve set it up properly, go get your sleep—we have a battle to fight tonight.”

Long Shan acknowledged the order. When he woke up from his nap, the timing was just right.

Prince Fucheng’s carriage remained outside. He was escorted in through the courtyard by a young eunuch. Mi Jin had been waiting at the foot of the steps for quite a while. Seeing him arrive, he went forward to greet him.

“Don’t stand on ceremony. Your uncle has only your good fortune to thank for being able to enter this Changdu Palace again.” Lu Guanjie was a warm, affable man. He surveyed the courtyard as he spoke. “Last time I came in, I was with your father. He was in high spirits then, always showing off these halls and chambers to me.”

“It’s been many years.” Mi Jin also looked around the courtyard. “He mentioned it at the Ayou Palace as well…”

His gaze paused, settling on someone behind Lu Guanjie.

Lu Guanjie followed his gaze and introduced him. “Naga, this is the head of Yumian, known to all as ‘Brocade Lord.’ The other night you got drunk at his shop and ended up scaring him into coming to apologize in person. I took the liberty of inviting him in—I trust you won’t think me rude?”

“You flatter me, Uncle.” Mi Jin looked at that man. “I’ve long heard of the head of Yumian.”

Yuan Bocheng, unlike his usual self, was groomed impeccably. His stubble had been shaved clean, and with less of his usual disheveled air, he showed more the bearing of a heroic wanderer. He smiled at Mi Jin’s greeting and gave a courteous bow. “I’ve come uninvited—I trust I haven’t disturbed your enjoyment, Your Excellencies. I’m truly here today to apologize to the Marquis. The night before last, the servants who attended you were clumsy, and when the Marquis departed, we hadn’t even prepared a carriage. I’m deeply ashamed, deeply ashamed.”

Mi Jin was about to speak when his gaze locked onto something first.

Standing behind Yuan Bocheng was Sha Que.

Sha Que wore jade-colored wide robes today, with a slightly darker cloak over them. It was winter, and other men would at most tuck a sprig of winter plum or green calyx into their hairpins as decoration. Only he, however, had two light feathers of mismatched lengths adorning one side.

The wind played with those two light feathers—they trembled, then lolled lazily. Their master glanced at Mi Jin, his expression quite surprised, as if to say—Oh, you’re here too.

Ah. Mi Jin’s lips curved into a smile, his eyes fierce beyond measure.

This guy.