Character Index

  Qi Fanggui: A fifth-rank official who formerly worked for Kuang and then tried to loop in Zhang Dingyong to go over to Lord He's faction with him.

  Zhang Dingyong: Minister of Justice, Kayla's ally.

  Ashina: Personal name Ibilga. Princess of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

  Zhou Yunqi: The Emperor.

  Luo Qichen: A young guard who works for Lord He.

  Yu Ruirong: Luo Qichen's sweetheart, was promised to an older merchant against her will.

  Lord He: Co-leader of the capital aristocrats and the Traditionalist faction.

  Hua Ying: Luo Qichen's friend, a guard who works for Lord He.

  Qiu Jinwei: Yunqi's blunt but brilliant strategist. Wary of Kayla due to her history.

  Wei Guang: Deceased. Former Imperial Edict Bearer. He killed himself after killing Emperor Xuanzong.

  Zhou Ying: Former Emperor, posthumously titled Emperor Xuanzong. He also took power through a palace coup when his father changed the heir to his three-year-old brother.

  Zhou Kuang: Deceased Third Prince of Emperor Xuanzong, posthumously titled Grand Prince Kuang.

  Zhou Xianchun: Yunqi's sole surviving brother. Now an Archduke.

  Li Que: A Senior Investigator in the Imperial Investigation Bureau. Kayla's ally.

  Sima Qi: A young Investigator who was assigned as Kuang's poison tester and nearly executed in the mess of Kuang's death. Kayla saved him from execution/imprisonment and saw to it he was provided for when he left the capital.

  Lin Yaoguang: The Grand Duke's money launderer. Destroyed for conspiring with Archduke Qi.

  Cao Shuyi: Third Princess Consort.

  Chen Caichun: Chamberlain of the Court of Judicial Review.

  Yao Gongzhuo: Minister of War. Kayla's ally.

  Sun Ruhui: Right Secretariat of Justice. Supports the reforms but has distanced himself from Wenyuan.

  A meeting was drawing to a close inside the Zhao household, the third one in as many days. The factional lines at court were being clearly drawn, and both the He household and the Zhao household had been bustling with visitors. Almost all of them were officials, most of them low-ranking, trying to leave a strong impression with their new patron of choice in order to reap the greatest benefits.

  Rank or no rank, Kayla thanked the visitors as they left, addressing each by name and shaking their hands as they left. The whole handshake thing was unfamiliar to the officials, who were a little embarrassed and pleased by the show of intimacy, each feeling that they had gained a special facet of the Duke’s goodwill.

  In reality, Kayla was eager to get them out of the house–a mildly annoying delegation led by some guy called Qi Fanggui that Zhang Dingyong had recommended to her. She wanted to go check in on Ashina, who wasn’t handling her first pregnancy very well, but there was still some paperwork left to be done.

  People had gotten wind that Kayla was planning to take a holy oath of some kind, and all kinds of rumors were swirling around the city. It was a time when people still believed in the gods with all their hearts, and the news stirred up no small amount of controversy and excitement. Privacy in one’s prayers was a privilege of the select few, and that small number happened to include Kayla. She could easily get at least a side annex of a temple sealed off for her own use, if not the whole place. To deliberately put herself in the public eye spoke of purpose, or perhaps determination. Or arrogance. People couldn’t tell which it was, but they were happy to guess at it.

  Some said that she would swear to enter her first son into a monastery. Nope, the kid can choose on his own. Some said that she was taking an oath of loyalty. Done that already. Some said she was going to dedicate one tenth of her fortune to the Treasury for the new reforms. No thank you, I'm broke enough. Some said that it was a ceremony to appease the souls of the Grand Duke’s victims. That’s actually not a bad idea.

  Zhang Dingyong was probably behind half, if not all the rumors, but she might’ve been giving him a bit too much credit.

  It’s all for the reforms, she told herself wearily. And it was working.

  The whole enterprise, which she was getting a little tired of grinding towards, was basically reliant on two parts.

  One–gaining enough public support that people thought twice about opposing the reforms. That was what Zhang Dingyong was working on. He knew exactly what people of different social statuses wanted, and exactly how to sell the reforms in a way that made each of them think that this was a good thing for them. It was also the reason for the religious ceremony coming up–religion was for the masses, but religious ceremony was a privilege of the powerful. A public demonstration of power awed some people, stirred the appetites of others, and all in all reeled in a good amount of public support.

  The second part was harder–keeping her enemies from effectively opposing her. They needed to oppose her, she got that. People built their careers and reputation on this kind of thing, gained fame and prestige from going up against the most powerful or radical or famous or blue-blooded official they could find. There were even those who earned their posthumous reputations through going up against the Emperor, some by surviving it, others by dying with great dignity (or indignity, as long as the fate was gruesome enough to justify it). Like countless officials before her and countless that would come after, Kayla’s couldn’t directly crush her opponents and risk making martyrs of them, which meant she either had to sully their reputations enough to get away with killing them or somehow deal with their continued existence.

  It was possible to smear the names of a few people. Smearing the names of everyone in the Traditionalist faction? Impossible, because then they would rally in the face of certain extinction like a cornered dog jumps the wall. And it wasn’t as though critical thinking hadn’t been invented yet. The public would sniff out the ulterior motives easily enough.

  The one thing we must avoid at any cost is for the officials to collectively petition the Emperor, or worse, to collectively threaten to resign.

  Yunqi would lose face if the common people saw his leadership as weak or tyrannical enough that officials collectively chose to lay down the titles that gave them power and privilege rather than serve him. It was why Kayla was targeting Lord He to sow discord and second thoughts with every spare bit of effort she could manage.

  Now Luo Qichen provided the perfect opportunity. She hadn’t even expected it, but the happy surprise had been more than welcome.

  If Luo Qichen was killed or made to disappear, Kayla could use the classic tear-rendering star-crossed lovers story to damage Lord He’s public image. Yu Ruirong was a girl of a good family, and Lord He had tried to sell her off with scarce even a title for his own business interests when he’d claimed to oppose trade reforms due to concerns about the growing influence of the merchant class. How the hell could he recover from that? The conservative faction itself couldn’t even collectively threaten to resign with him included when people are actively cursing Lord He as an unworthy official. And if they didn’t include one of their most influential leaders, then that wasn’t really all that collective or convincing, was it?

  If Luo Qichen didn’t die–which Kayla was kind of hoping for, being strangely fond of the young man with an inability to keep his face from showing his thoughts–even better. That was what she thought most likely to happen.

  It was certain that Lord He would suspect Luo Qichen and punish him for Yu Ruirong’s “disappearance”. It was also certain that someone who would allow Luo Qichen to run off in an obvious elopement would also not stand by and let Luo Qichen suffer. A storm was brewing in Lord He’s household. Some kind of break was sure to occur.

  His friend…was it that other guy in the meeting room last time?

  It must have been the man that Tao Qian identified as Hua Ying, a high-ranking guard in the He household. That man had also left an impression on her as one of those stoic, efficient enforcers that employers were lucky to have but often failed to appreciate. But that hadn’t been what stood out about him. Rather, it was how he treated–or more accurately, didn’t treat–Luo Qichen.

  Luo Qichen had a good head on his shoulders and was more farsighted than his employer, but also wasn’t a very good guard. This was clear to Kayla because she could tell he was more farsighted than Lord He. She had been distracted by the looks of incredulousness, frustration, disdain, and disbelief that crossed his face one by one during the meeting. The other guard–definitely the friend he’d mentioned, now that she thought about it–heroically ignored Luo Qichen with a noble look of endurance that seemed simultaneously to plead for Kayla to overlook the matter. No subtle sleight of hand so that he could sharply pinch or hit or maybe lightly stab Luo Qichen, no sharp glare in the younger man’s direction. The man had entirely refused to acknowledge that his colleague was acting in an unsuitable way.

  Loyal to both his lord and his friend, is it? Then let’s see what happens when his lord wants to kill his friend.

  Did Lord He even think of his subordinates as human? It seemed that he didn’t, that he hadn’t learned anything from history just as people who came after him wouldn’t.

  The fraught tensions, the anger ready to boil over, all of it screamed of a crisis that Lord He probably didn’t even see coming.

  I’ll look forward to what you guys can do, Kayla thought in satisfaction. I’m taking a big risk here, so you’d better put on a good show.

  Qiu Jinwei frowned, peering over Yunqi’s shoulder at the elegantly written petition from Zhao Wenyuan.

  “A religious oath? What a farce,” Qiu Jinwei remarked. “Does Your Majesty intend to indulge him?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Yunqi said mildly.

  “He’s using this opportunity to expand his own influence,” Qiu Jinwei pointed out. “Commoners are easily swayed by this kind of thing, and he knows it. We ought to beware of those who use the state for their own reputations.”

  Yunqi shook his head. “It’s not like that,” he said. “This is for the sake of the reforms. And in all honesty, I also have my concerns about his finances. Not that I think he would siphon funds, but it is a glaring weakness in his image. Now that he’ll be publicly bound by an oath, we will be more assured in his continued efficiency as one of our most trusted men.”

  Qiu Jinwei replied unblinkingly, without animosity or dislike. “Do not be blinded by affection, my liege. If he were someone who would be bound by an oath, he would not have gone against his grandfather and his liege.”

  Yunqi fell silent for a moment, taken aback and not knowing how to refute him.

  “I do not accuse Zhao Wenyuan of anything,” Qiu Jinwei said. “I am merely stating that he will rapidly increase his own reputation through this, in the name of acting in the interest of the reforms.”

  “Even if he is, I don’t doubt that he is acting in the country’s interests,” Yunqi replied.

  “That’s the problem,” Qiu Jinwei said. “How does he define the country’s interests? My liege, do not forget Wei Guang as the tracks of the previous wagon!”

  Yunqi’s mouth went dry.

  He lowered his head, leaning into his hand. Someone who decided the country’s best interests on their own terms was also someone who could prioritize those interests over the Emperor. He had benefited from the principles of such a person in the form of Wei Guang, but now he found himself mired in doubt and unease.

  It had only taken one decision for Yunqi to realize how easy it really was to commit the worst of taboos and still turn around and convince himself that it had been necessary. And afterwards, that it had been worth it.

  Was this how his father had felt? Yunqi never thought he would sympathize with this side of Emperor Xuanzong, not when the man’s suspicions had pushed so many people to their deaths. But it was like there was a curse on their bloodline that dragged each generation into the same form of despair. None of his accomplices could understand how the proof of guilt flowed through his very veins, pumping through his heart as an ever-present reminder of what he had done and what his father had done before him.

  Finally though, he collected himself.

  There was one thing that Qiu Jinwei didn’t understand–not really. The spectre of death had always been close enough for Yunqi to reach out and touch. As a child, he lay awake at night with the realization that he could die, maybe this night, or tomorrow, or some other time, but that it was going to happen. At an age when most people still had only a fuzzy concept of death, he felt its cold presence with startling clarity. The presence of death only grew stronger with time.

  The thin fabric of his existence through which the cosmos enclosed its fingers around him was a fragile one, but he had no choice but to wrap himself in what was both shield and shroud every night. He lay with the knowledge that his father could kill him, his grandfather’s actions could kill him, his younger brother could kill him, his wife’s existence could kill him, that if he looked too hard at the dirt beneath his feet he would see the whitened bone of his skeleton showing through.

  The morning when he’d woken up next to his wife cold and still beside him, Yunqi had not felt a surge of grief–he had been grieving her death long before it occurred, from their very wedding when he knew that this would happen someday.

  Of everyone, Kuang’s death had been the only real shock to him. Yunqi had never imagined he, who kept glancing back into the gaping face of death, would outlive his older brother who brimmed with energy.

  Yet it was Yunqi who lived while his family members died one by one, he who had always known of his doom. Was it a blessing? A cruel joke?

  Maybe it was just fate.

  He glanced down at the throne he sat on. Yunqi hadn’t beaten the curse. That was impossible. Death would come for him no matter what, and whatever he did–whether it was irrationally clinging to vitality by taking young concubines like his grandfather, or lashing out with suspicion like his father–the throne would still slip from his grasp one day.

  How foolishly we claw for what we cannot keep.

  He smiled a little despite himself.

  “Between Wenyuan and myself, I am the one who committed patricide,” Yunqi finally said. “Who am I to judge his decisions?”

  “My liege,” Qiu Jinwei made to protest.

  “Wei Guang is a warning, yes, but who amongst us cannot say that he made the right decision?” Yunqi said. “I was the one who chose this path. I’ll accept its risks.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Qiu Jinwei was silent for a moment.

  “Then you will attend?”

  “Yes,” Yunqi said. “I want the reforms to go through as soon as possible. We’re out of time, Jinwei. Please understand.”

  “If it is your wish, I will comply,” Qiu Jinwei said.

  Yunqi smiled. He waved, summoning a eunuch. “Send Duke Zhao my regards and that I will gladly accept. In fact, the Imperial family will host the ceremony at the Central Temple, and that he need not worry about the costs nor the arrangements.”

  He paused for a second. “And invite my brother as well.”

  The eunuch bowed and scurried off.

  Qiu Jinwei was staring at him wide-eyed, the implications of the site and invitees not lost on the strategist.

  Yunqi met the man’s look of shock and accusation briefly before turning away again.

  “What a lonely path we walk,” Yunqi remarked. Qiu Jinwei’s brows crinkled in concern.

  “We’re forging through the dark, with only a dim torch in our hands, hoping that there’s a way out somewhere in the shadows. Who will understand our difficulties? Whether it’s now or in the future, who will pity the fear and uncertainty we feel in grappling with the unknown?” Yunqi sighed, running his fingers over the Imperial Seal on the desk.

  “My liege,” Qiu Jinwei said, his confusion melting away into the stark efficiency he was known for. “If you want to control how your legacy is interpreted you should just appoint a biographer.”

  Yunqi burst into laughter.

  “Never change, Jinwei,” Yunqi said when he finally stopped to wipe his eyes. “I couldn’t run this country without you here.”

  Whatever Kayla had expected from Yunqi, it certainly wasn’t announcing that he would host a religious ceremony in her honor at the Zhenguo Temple during a session of court. He had notified her of his very generous offer before that, so perhaps she should have seen this coming, but announcing it at court rather than through a separate notice meant that he was announcing it as a matter of the Imperial Family. It had caught her by surprise, rather obviously so, probably just as Yunqi had hoped.

  It’s very kind of him to do so, Kayla thought to herself. It made it look as if she had only planned to do a small ritual, but that the Emperor had wanted to make it a grand affair for her sake. She was touched by the gesture, probably more than even Yunqi had expected.

  Rites are tantamount to legitimacy. Rites grant legitimacy. And he’s publicly sponsoring this several times over.

  Even if it was just for show, a bit of drama for the populace, Kayla found herself genuinely invested.

  She would succeed in the reforms no matter what. If Kayla couldn’t succeed in averting disaster when she had an Emperor who backed her to this extent, then she was a failure through and through.

  Kayla was swarmed by officials brimming with curiosity and congratulations as the session dispersed, and it wasn’t for another half hour that she managed to get away from the thick of the crowd.

  Dabbing at her temples, Kayla let out a sigh. A hand tapped her shoulder from behind.

  Kayla started in shock and leaped away from the wall she’d been leaning on, heart pounding furiously in her chest.

  What the fuck?? What the fuck????? That was a fucking wall! Why the hell are there ghosts now?!

  She relaxed as she saw Li Que step into sight.

  “Were you hanging upside down from the rafters?” Kayla asked in disbelief.

  “I didn't mean to startle you, my lord,” Li Que said sheepishly.

  “Senior Investigator, I thought I’d met a ghost,” Kayla said.

  “I apologize,” Li Que said.

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t scream,” Kayla said wryly, glancing over her shoulder. Just a corner away, there were still clusters of officials gossiping amongst themselves.

  Li Que offered a smile, but it was weak.

  “What’s the matter?” Kayla asked. She already knew it wasn’t good. Why else would a Senior Investigator of the Imperial Investigator Bureau be hanging upside down from ceilings just to get her attention?

  “My lord, I apologize for troubling you, but…” Li Que began, trailing off.

  Kayla stepped closer. “What is the matter, Senior Investigator?”

  Li Que steeled himself, then decided to say it all at once. “The murders in Hebei…I have confirmed it’s Sima Qi.”

  Kayla went still. “What?” She asked blankly.

  “I have confirmed it’s Sima Qi,” Li Que repeated. “You know, the poison tester–”

  “I know who he is,” Kayla cut him off. She tried to process that in her mind, failed, and tried again. “But why? Is he seeking vengeance against Lin Yaoguang’s group for destroying his career?”

  “That might be part of it,” Li Que admitted.

  “Part of it?” Kayla gave him a look of disbelief. “What does that mean? What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure that’s the only reason.”

  “My good man, please just spit it out,” Kayla pleaded.

  “He has had a rather unfortunate life,” Li Que said haltingly. “And he developed a tendency to overly fixate on repaying kindness shown to him.”

  “Oh no,” Kayla muttered.

  “I think he might have suffered some…misalignment of judgment due to the sudden turns of his fortune and developed an obsession with hunting down Lin Yaoguang’s network as a result,” Li Que said.

  Kayla pressed her hand to her forehead. “Are you saying this is because I kept him from being executed? So he’s–he’s what, trying to repay me or something?”

  “I can’t say that for certain,” Li Que said. “This is all just conjecture.”

  “But you are conjecturing it,” Kayla said.

  Li Que lowered his gaze.

  “So this is my fault,” Kayla said in disbelief. “Well, this could actually ruin me for good. Patron of a serial killer!”

  Just when things were going well. Yunqi had demonstrated his trust in her, the tide was turning in her favor, her reputation was about to soar to unprecedented heights. A familiar sense of detachment dawned over her when she realized all this was going to ruin.

  The world was falling out from beneath her feet, leaving her with a lurching sensation in her stomach that just didn’t seem to end.

  “I won’t let that happen,” Li Que said with more vehemence than she had ever heard from him. “Your Excellency must not be affected by this.”

  Kayla turned back, giving him a questioning look. “You mean to bury this? Can it even be done?”

  “I mean to bury Sima Qi,” Li Que said grimly. “The Bureau cannot risk public disgrace, just as Your Excellency and His Majesty cannot. The crime can be pinned on someone guilty on another account, but Sima Qi’s involvement must be wiped from the records. I have not made any reports on my suspicions or my findings, and I never will, with your permission.”

  Kayla opened her mouth to agree, but couldn’t do it.

  That kid, a serial killer? They had pushed Sima Qi onto this path with their own hands. Li Que, who had chosen Sima Qi for his lack of background, with no one to complain if he were poisoned or killed. Kuang, who had believed too much in his own men. Cao Shuyi, whose understandable grief was made deadly by her station. Kayla, who had set all this in motion and then turned around and acted as a benefactor to someone whose life she had destroyed.

  She should kill him.

  It was only a small matter compared to the things she had already done. And he was a serial killer.

  “Let me think about it,” Kayla said instead. “For now, locate him. If you find him, see if he will meet with me. If not…”

  She hesitated. “Let me think about it,” she repeated.

  “Sir,” Li Que began to protest.

  Someone called for her from the hall, and Kayla took her chance to escape.

  What the fuck am I doing? Kayla wondered as she put on a smile to greet a well-wisher.

  I should kill Sima Qi, she thought as she warmly grasped someone’s hand.

  I really should, thought almost desperately as she thanked a man for his words of congratulations and inquired after his parents’ health.

  She didn’t give the order.

  Chen Caichun watched as Wenyuan reappeared, immediately greeted by half a dozen officials.

  The Reformists were giddy with excitement, the Emperor having publicly thrown his weight behind Wenyuan. It was a known fact that the Emperor was behind the reforms, but that was different from the Emperor openly backing the reforms.

  One step closer to success meant one step forward in their careers. It was no surprise they were smiling at Wenyuan with genuine delight, even if many had been downright antipathetic towards him in the past.

  Wenyuan’s smile took on a wryer note when he got to Zhang Dingyong, who was beaming with outstretched arms.

  “The man of the hour,” Zhang Dingyong said in exaggerated amazement. Now that Zhao Wenyuan was closer, Chen Caichun withheld a frown.

  The Duke was trying to hide it, but something was wrong. As someone who had weathered several crises at his side, Chen Caichun could tell that much even if she couldn’t tell what was bothering him. He’d only been gone for minutes.

  Whatever it was, the Duke buried it completely, and his smile was as good as real.

  “Minister Zhang, I really must thank you for your help in this,” Wenyuan said, quietly so that only Zhang Dingyong and Chen Caichun could hear. “I had my doubts, but you’ve proven them petty.” He reached out, taking Zhang Dingyong’s hand and shaking it warmly.

  He turned towards Yao Gongzhuo then, all charm and smiles, thanking the other Minister for his support. Chen Caichun was almost convinced by the show.

  It wasn’t until they returned to the Court of Judicial Review and the throngs of officials and secretaries and clerks with their questions and congratulations had dispersed that Chen Caichun finally caught Wenyuan alone. He made eye contact and gave an almost imperceptible nod before slipping off to the archival room. Chen Caichun waited a long moment before following after.

  “My lord, is everything alright?” Chen Caichun asked as soon as she could.

  “Yes, fine,” Wenyuan said. “I wanted to get your perception of the situation though. What do you think about the ceremony?”

  “It is an honor and an excellent opportunity,” Chen Caichun said without hesitation.

  “Not a farce?” There was a note of bitter irony in the question that took her off-guard.

  “My lord?”

  “I wonder if I’ll actually anger the gods by invoking them in vain,” Wenyuan said offhandedly. “Or maybe it’s arrogance to think that the gods could even take notice of such petty mortal affairs.”

  “What’s wrong, my lord?” Chen Caichun asked, starting to become seriously worried. Sun Ruhui had warned her about this–however the hell he had known to anticipate this scenario was outside of her comprehension–that if Wenyuan suddenly started talking about fate or the gods, then she needed to keep an extra eye on him.

  Wenyuan didn't reply to her question. He was silent for a moment, his face as difficult to read as always, before he let out a sharp sigh and leaned onto a dusty pillar as if for support.

  “Are you alright?” Chen Caichun took several rapid steps closer, scrutinizing him worriedly. “My lord, should I call someone?”

  Wenyuan was silent for a long moment.

  “Do you remember what it was like when the Third Prince died?”

  Caichun stared at him, befuddled. She had been subjected to the same lock down as the rest of the capital, with information reaching her only long after the event had occurred. Almost as if he had thought his end was near, Wenyuan had chosen not to involve his closest advisors. It was the same with the Emperor’s death, when she had only known afterwards, when Wenyuan’s artificial serenity had said it all.

  “It was horrible,” Wenyuan said. “It was the worst feeling in the world. Did you know that I thought we had won just half a day before that? The Emperor was leaning towards the Third Prince, and was missing only the official announcement. I thought we had finally made it.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Chen Caichun replied quietly. She wasn’t sure what to say, or if Wenyuan even actually wanted her to hear this. Maybe he just couldn’t stop himself from saying it and would sorely regret it after.

  “I was completely blindsided,” Wenyuan said. “I was sure I was done for, and I thought that I could at least make sure the Fifth Prince would take the throne.”

  “It was a wise decision.”

  “It was a desperate decision. I didn’t even know if it would work.”

  Wenyuan shook his head, remembering that horrible night. “Countless lives were hanging in the balance. Not just me, but my entire clan, my retainers, the Third Prince’s household, the Fifth Prince, the Bureau, so many people! And if it didn’t work out–then the whole country–”

  He cut himself off and fell silent for a moment. Finally, Wenyuan straightened, his face a stony mask.

  “I never want to go through that ever again,” he said. “With our current resources, I can’t make sure that I won’t.”

  “My lord,” Chen Caichun said cautiously. “Tell me what ails you and I will do everything within my power to fix it.”

  A man about to welcome a moment of unparalleled glory, blessed by the Emperor and the people alike, and he was terrified. That was the truth of it, however Wenyuan tried to hide it. But Chen Caichun understood his fear, unreasonable and out-of-place just as an ox’s head doesn't match a horse’s mouth. Shimmering glory was ephemeral, and that the more it shone, the more Wenyuan feared the darkness of the chasm he could stumble into.

  “The reforms must succeed,” Wenyuan said determinedly. “It’s just a question of how far I’m willing to go.”

  Chen Caichun stayed quiet. Wenyuan already had a decision in mind, he was just steeling himself to make it.

  He turned towards her, torn by indecision. “If I–”

  They met eyes, one curious, one aghast.

  Wenyuan stopped himself. “Never mind,” he muttered.

  Chen Caichun held back her impulsive curiosity–a mild way to state it. It was more an urge to scream and shake answers out of him, given how he’d ended up doing something insane every time he acted so secretive.

  Instead, she forced herself to take the role that she had come for, and say what he needed to hear instead of what she wanted to.

  “Whatever decision you make, I’m sure that it will be made with great consideration,” Chen Caichun said cautiously. “Please choose as you think fit.”

  Wenyuan nodded slowly, and she saw the moment his decision clicked into place. “Thank you, Chamberlain Chen.”

  What did I just set into motion? What did I give him permission to do?

  Chen Caichun was almost ashamed to find that what she felt was anticipation instead of unease.

  “We should head back,” Wenyuan said.

  She nodded silently and fell into step behind him. Wenyuan reached for the door handle, starting in surprise as it opened on its own.

  Both of them fell into a shocked silence.

  A man in tight-sleeved black robes, a guard uniform of some kind, stood there with blood splattered on his face. Chen Caichun made an aborted movement to scream for a guard as Wenyuan raised a hand. Heart pounding, she drew back, one hand silently reaching for the sharp pin in her hair while the other reached for her communication device.

  How did someone like that get past security?

  She wasn’t going to win in a fight against that man, and thankfully, it didn’t seem like she would need to.

  “We’ve met before,” the Duke said, unruffled. “Hua Ying, was it?”

  The man glowered at Wenyuan for a moment before abruptly kneeling before him.

  “My lord,” Hua Ying said grimly, “I place myself at your mercy.”

  Half-incredulous, half-horrified, Chen Caichun watched as Zhao Wenyuan’s mouth curved into a smile.

  “Be assured,” Wenyuan said gently. “From here on, you will have no cause to fear for your safety.”

  His smile widened, stopping just a fraction before it became terrifying. “You’ve come to the right person.”

  Cultural Notes

  Rites: Rites were tied with status and power, and there were strict differences of what rites you could conduct. A rite that did not fit the station could be grounds for serious punishment in Ancient China, especially earlier on in history. Though this became more rigid or lax in waves, rites held great symbolic power.

  Political Martyrdom in Ancient China: There are many officials who earned their everlasting fame in history not by successfully opposing someone but by failing to do so and getting (figuratively) crucified for it. Many of the officials who became political martyrs were also poets and writers, contributing to the interpretation of their own narratives by producing rich texts for sympathetic readers. Many officials who were worried about their legacies found such martyrs a headache, as they couldn't be killed (generating more sympathy) nor recalled (where they would get in the way).

  狗急跳墙/Cornered dog jumps the wall: A Chinese proverb referring to someone who makes a desperate struggle due to being cornered.

  良家女子/Woman of a good family: This term is often used to emphasize the chasteness and virtue of a woman (aka that she is not a prostitute), which could produce more sympathy for any outrages against her in the context of the time.

  名分/Title (within a household): In Ancient China, when women had few ways of earning an income outside of a household, being an unofficial lover and an official concubine had vastly different implications in their legal rights, including the inheritance of any children produced, their ability to keep any property or items gifted to them, etc.

  前车之鉴/Tracks of the previous wagon: A pre-Qin proverb, from a time when most roads in China were dirt roads. It was easy to follow the tracks of a previous wagon in the road to see where the wagon ended up (ex: "oh i think it fell into that ditch there" etc). The earliest use of this proverb is from Xun Zi, now well-known as a prominent philosopher and politician of the time period, from the quote: "患难哉!阪为先，圣知不用愚者谋。前车已覆，后未知更，何觉时？不觉悟，不知苦，迷惑失指易上下/What a disaster! The unscrupulous and dismal are hailed as first, rather than consulting with the wise and virtuous, foolish men are consulted. The previous wagon has flipped over, yet the wagon behind it doesn't know to change its route, how can you not understand the foolishness of this? Without realization, without understanding the bitterness [of the path chosen], the confused directing [of this country] will easily result in the hierarchy being overthrown)."

  Court historian/biographer: Most Emperors had a court historian who would essentially be the note-taker for any court meetings or events of note in the palace. However, some Emperors had historians who basically followed them around and recorded their daily lives in a forward-thinking (and invasive) nod to transparency of the head of government.

  牛头不对马嘴/Ox's head doesn't match the horse's mouth: A Chinese proverb that refers to something out of place with the situation.