Chen Liehu did not understand why his youngest daughter’s tears would not stop. Watching her bent over, sobbing, his heart broke. If all of this were true, how much pain must a fifteen‑year‑old girl be enduring? Ah… by now, he was almost convinced it was true.
Chen Liehu pulled Chen Danzhu up and summoned physicians to examine her for poisoning.
The next day, Li Liang’s corpse was received. Chang Lin was also brought back, and after repeated interrogation alongside Chang Shan, they confessed.
Li Liang had indeed been persuaded by imperial envoys. He had made Chen Danyan steal the tally so that he could launch a surprise attack on Wu’s capital.
In the end, they wept and pleaded: “Master, our lord had no choice. It was the Emperor’s edict. They said Prince Wu sent assassins against the Emperor. The Princes of Zhou and Qi had already accused him. They claimed it was Wu’s doing, treason. We could only obey.”
Chen Liehu slammed his palm down, breaking the corner of the table. “The Emperor’s edict cannot be trusted!”
This Emperor had betrayed the High Ancestor, listened to the slanders of that dog official Zhou Qing, and sought to reclaim the feudal lands. He used every trick—sowing discord among the princes, sowing discord among fathers and sons, brothers—killing not only bodies but hearts.
Years ago, against Yan and Lu, this Emperor had wept and wailed, issuing an edict claiming Yan and Lu plotted rebellion and sent assassins against him. And now he used the same scheme against Wu.
Chen Danzhu remained silent. Chang Shan and Chang Lin had not told the whole truth. Li Liang had not just been persuaded recently, and they had said nothing of his princess wife. She did not expose it. Li Liang was dead, and his attendants were in her grasp, unable to escape. What mattered most now was resolving the life‑and‑death crisis.
“Perhaps brother‑in‑law saw the imperial army’s strength, unstoppable, and lost his will to fight,” she said softly. “On my journey, I saw refugees everywhere, a world apart from the capital. Our army is scattered, divided, and consumed by infighting. Compared to the imperial forces across the river—”
Chen Liehu slammed the table again and shouted, “Silence!”
Chen Danzhu lowered her head and said no more.
“Whether your words weaken our spirit or not—even if what you say is fact,” Chen Liehu’s face was grim yet resolute, “our soldiers of Wu will never shrink from battle. Even if only one remains, he will fight to the death and never flee. The Emperor is unjust, slandering the King of Wu as rebellious. It is he who defies the High Ancestor. This is an unrighteous war—why should Wu fear it?”
Of course, he knew why Li Liang had been persuaded. It was not the Emperor’s edict, but the allure of imperial power. Following the Son of Heaven promised far greater prospects than following a feudal lord.
And not only Li Liang—many officials in the kingdom had wavered. The court was in turmoil, and the King had yet to order an attack against the imperial army. One opportunity after another was lost.
He frowned at Chen Danzhu. “Ah‑zhu, you are my daughter. How can you speak such words?”
Chen Dazhu answered softly, “I do not fear. I only saw the truth with my own eyes. I believe the King is too arrogant, too careless.”
Chen Liehu was silent for a moment. “The imperial army struck suddenly. The Prince was simply caught off guard,” he said, patting the broken table. “Now reports from all fronts are gathered. The King knows the situation. The capital is already under curfew, and the royal court is discussing how to settle the refugees.”
He glanced at Chen Danzhu. “You need not worry. Though our opening was poor, as long as we are united, even if the imperial forces are strong, they cannot trample Wu at will.”
Others spoke of the natural barrier of the Yangtze River, claiming it was enough to hold off the enemy. But her father did not say that. Clearly, he knew in his heart that such barriers could not stop the army. Chen Danzhu felt a pang of sorrow. Even so, her father never blamed Prince Wu for ignoring his advice. He only thought himself negligent. Even if unjustly executed by the Prince, he would accept it. Even if the Prince destroyed their clan, he would still believe it was his own fault.
But it was the Prince’s fault—the Prince who would not listen, who feared battle, while treacherous courtiers sought to drive her father from the court.
Li Liang betrayed them. The Prince betrayed them. The Chen family was besieged on all sides—traitors to Wu, traitors to the court—no way to heaven, no refuge on earth. Living was guilt, dying was guilt.
Chen Danzhu looked at her father’s white hair, thought of her sister lying in bed unable to face the grief, her brother already dead, and the family doomed to extermination by the Prince. She hated it. She could not accept it.
“Master, Master!” The steward rushed in, breathless. “The Prince has issued a decree! Many guards have come, demanding you surrender the tally—and that you be cast into prison!”
Chen Danzhu was shocked. “What? Has this happened sooner than before? I did not march back with an army this time.”
Chen Liehu rose, dragging his crippled leg, limping toward the door. “I will see.”
Chen Danzhu hurried after him, but did not support him. Chen Liehu would rather be mocked as lame than accept another’s hand.
Outside the gates, guards surrounded the house. A eunuch stood with the decree, face cold. Seeing Chen Liehu limp forward, he shrilled: “Chen Liehu, do you know your crime?”
Chen Liehu approached and slowly knelt. “This old minister does not.”
The eunuch sneered. “Grand Tutor, at this time of national peril, the Prince trusted you, entrusting the capital’s defenses to your care. And you—you let your child carry the tally to the army and cause chaos! If not for urgent reports, would you have kept it hidden from the Prince? Do you still hold the Prince in your eyes?”
Behind him, Chen Danzhu bit her lip. So quickly betrayed—how many in the army were watching, eager to see her father stripped of office, the Chen family brought down?
Chen Liehu said, “There is more to this matter. Please, eunuch, allow me to explain—”
The eunuch cut him off. “Still trying to accuse Inspector Zhang of killing your son? So you let your daughter carry the tally into the army and cause chaos? Grand Tutor, Inspector Zhang has already been sent back. Now Li Liang is dead—who will you accuse next? No need to explain. Lord Wen has already dispatched inspectors to question the army. Grand Tutor, you had best wait quietly in prison for the result.”
The word *accuse* made Chen Liehu’s kneeling frame tremble. He lifted his head, eyes red, staring at the eunuch. “My son and my son‑in‑law both died in the army. And in the Prince’s mouth, it is only called ‘accusation’?”
The crippled old man, kneeling, still radiated the aura of a tiger. The eunuch was startled, stepping back, steadied only by the guards behind him. He shouted, voice trembling, “Chen Liehu, are you blaming the Prince?”
Chen Liehu shook his head. “This old minister does not dare. I only ask to see the Prince.” He tried to rise, but his crippled leg betrayed him, leaving him awkward and unsteady. The eunuch’s eyes flashed with disgust—this decrepit old man, disturbing the Prince’s peace again.
Because of his dire warnings, the Prince could not rest, had no heart for music and dance at the Wangxian Tower.
The eunuch shrilled, “This matter has already been handed to Lord Wen. The Prince will not see you—”
Chen Danzhu rushed forward from behind, supporting her father, and cut the eunuch off with her own sharp voice: “Lord Wen is merely a secretary. My father is the Grand Tutor, a minister who may face the Son of Heaven directly. Only the Prince himself can judge him. To let Lord Wen decide—whose Wu is this Wu?”
The eunuch was startled, then enraged. “Impudent! Before the Prince’s decree, you dare—”
Chen Liehu straightened, pressing Chen Danzhu down, and said in a deep voice: “Eunuch, I have urgent military intelligence to report. Please transmit it. Once I have seen the Prince and explained, I will accept punishment.” Before the eunuch could object, he slammed his long blade to the ground. The earth shook.
“Until I face the Prince, I cannot obey!”
At the sound of his blade, Chen family guards surged forth, surrounding the eunuch and the soldiers.
The eunuch’s face turned pale. Shrinking back among the guards, he cried out in a trembling voice: “Chen Liehu, are you rebelling?”
Chen Liehu paid no heed to such accusations. In Wu, anyone might be accused of rebellion—but he, Chen Liehu, never would. Even if such words were shouted before Prince Wu, the Prince would not take them seriously.
He bowed low. “Please, Eunuch, transmit this: Chen Liehu waits outside the palace gates for an audience.”
With that, he stepped forward. As he moved, the Chen family guards stepped forward in unison. These guards were veterans from the army, now his private soldiers. The palace guards were no match for them. The eunuch hated and feared him, but Chen Liehu’s status was indeed exalted. If he killed the eunuch, the eunuch’s death would be in vain.
“You—you dare!” the eunuch cried, then flung out a final threat: “You’ll see!” He turned and fled in haste. The palace guards, seeing him run, hurried after.
Chen Li‑hu did not stop. He walked slowly onward, ordering the steward to prepare horses.
The steward had already brought them. Chen Danzhu called for a horse as well. “I will go with Father.”
Chen Liehu frowned. “You must not.”
Chen Danzhu said, “Father, it was I who carried the tally to the army. I should be the one to explain.”
Chen Liehu shook his head. “No need. I will speak to the Prince myself.”
Chen Danzhu clung to him, refusing to let go. “Father, I am not going to confess. I went to the army myself. Brother‑in‑law’s matter was my own doing. I know everything most clearly. Let me explain to the Prince—it will be better.”
Chen Liehu hesitated, then nodded to the steward. The steward quickly had a horse brought for Chen Danzhu. Father and daughter left the house together. Crowds had gathered outside, pointing and whispering.
The eunuch and guards had stormed in earlier, drawing many onlookers. Now, seeing them flee in panic and the Chen family guards surging out with fierce momentum, the people were startled, murmuring in confusion.
“No trouble, no trouble,” the steward reassured, dispersing the crowd. “The Prince has summoned the Grand Tutor to the palace.”
With the guards’ help, Chen Liehu mounted his horse. Only after her father was seated did Chen Danzhu mount her own. She looked toward the palace city, tightening her grip on the reins.
Why should their loyal family be condemned to death by Prince Wu, while slanderous courtiers thrived?
That Lord Wen, claiming loyalty, fanned flames and blocked military intelligence, suppressing her father. When Li Liang marched in with troops, Lord Wen was the first to flee. He deceived the reinforcements outside the capital, saying the imperial army had already entered, Prince Wu was dead, and they should surrender—though at that time, Prince Wu still lived.
When Wu fell and the Prince died, Lord Wen felt no guilt, nor did he die for his lord. Instead, he transformed into a meritorious minister of Great Xia, rewarded with high office and wealth.
Death she did not fear—but to die for such a Prince, such courtiers, was too bitter, too unjust. She had killed Li Liang, seizing his plan to defect to the court. Why not also seize the treacherous ministers’ plot to ruin Prince Wu?