This year, the rain was especially heavy, endlessly vexing. The steward stood at the doorway, gazing at the sky. Household matters, state matters—one after another, all equally troubling.
A palace eunuch arrived through the rain, making the steward’s heart leap.
“By order of the Prince, I come to see Second Miss,” the eunuch said. His words did nothing to ease the steward’s alarm.
Why would the Prince want to see Second Miss? The steward thought of the elder miss’s past ordeal and wanted to drive the eunuch away.
But Chen Danzhu had already come out, accompanied by attendants. “I have written down in detail what I saw in the army camp to present to the Prince. I will not go to see him myself.” She explained to the steward, then turned to those beside her. “Go.”
Only then did the steward notice that behind her, besides Ah‑Tian, there was a male servant. The servant kept his head lowered, holding a scroll. Hearing Chen Danzhu’s words, he answered and walked toward the eunuch.
The eunuch glanced at him, stepped back, then turned quickly to his carriage, his shrill voice displeased: “You ride in the other carriage.”
The eunuch had brought two carriages. The steward’s mind raced—was this meant to bring Second Miss into the palace? Thankfully, she refused. She must not go, even if accused of defying the Prince. The household still had the Grand Tutor.
The steward watched as the servant boarded the carriage. The imperial guards escorted the two vehicles, one before and one behind, driving off into the rain.
Chen Danzhu stood at the gate, watching them depart, unmoving for a long while.
Meanwhile, Inspector Zhang had also returned to the palace, unhindered, and went straight to his daughter Beauty Zhang’s quarters. He found her lounging at her desk, idly watching maids select new hairpins.
“Has the Prince left?” Inspector Zhang asked.
Beauty Zhang answered unhappily: “After Grand Tutor Chen summoned him away, he never returned.”
Inspector Zhang was surprised. Hadn’t the Prince said he was tired and resting? In the palace, where else could he rest but here? He had even waited half a day before coming—was the Prince unwilling to see Beauty Zhang? Thinking of what had happened in the hall, that little girl of the Chen family—
Beauty Zhang saw her father’s dark expression and quickly asked what was wrong. Inspector Zhang explained. Beauty Zhang only laughed. “A fifteen‑year‑old girl. Father need not worry.”
“You don’t understand—this isn’t just about a little girl,” Inspector Zhang said, well aware of a man’s heart. “Back then, the Prince already desired the Chen family’s elder daughter. That old Grand Tutor refused him. Even after she married, the Prince did not give up, and even tried again… In short, the elder Miss Chen never entered the palace. Now, if the younger Miss Chen has the will, hr will surely seek to make up for his regret.”
Beauty Zhang immediately understood. She sent her maids to find out where the Prince was and what he was doing. Soon they returned with news: the Prince had sent someone to seek out Second Miss Chen, and she had sent something back to him.
Beauty Zhang was astonished. Inspector Zhang cursed furiously: “That old Grand Tutor is shameless!”
But Beauty Zhang, seasoned by years in the palace, quickly regained composure. She smiled. “Even if the Prince fancies Second Miss Chen, Father need not worry. In the palace, she cannot stir up storms.”
Inspector Zhang’s expression shifted. “This war cannot be fought. If it drags on, that old Grand Tutor will regain power.”
Beauty Zhang cared little for state affairs. They had nothing to do with her. Lazily, she said: “The Prince doesn’t want to fight anyway. It’s the court that insists, claiming the Prince sent assassins to rebel.”
Inspector Zhang knew well that assassins were only an excuse. The Emperor sought to weaken the feudal lords. Since the Ancestor had enfeoffed them, the realm initially stabilized. But once peace was secured, the lords grew stronger, the court weaker. In time, the Great Xia Emperor would be replaced and destroyed by the lords.
Some lords indeed dreamed of being emperors. But it was not so easy. At least the Prince Wu could not—not now. Perhaps his descendants might be lucky. But that was no concern of Inspector Zhang. If war broke out, his good days would end.
The Prince must negotiate peace with the court. Inspector Zhang pondered, thinking of the spies he controlled who had come from the court. It was time to speak with them, to see what terms might persuade the court to agree to peace with Wu.
Meanwhile, a eunuch walked with head lowered, hearing footsteps behind him. Though flanked by two squads of armed guards, his heart still pounded. He kept glancing back, seeing the imperial envoy calm and at ease.
Since the chaos of the Five Kingdoms, contact between the court and the lords had grown rare. The lords managed their own officials, taxes, and silver, with no need to deal with the court. The last time he had seen a court official was the one who came to proclaim the “grace‑sharing edict.”
But the Grand Tutor had driven that official out. Other lords rebelled later, two or three years after. Prince Zhou even killed the court’s envoy outright. Now, with the court arrayed against Wu, if Prince Wu killed the envoy, it would not be excessive.
The envoy had already been searched at the palace gates. He carried no weapons. Even the hairpin from his head had been removed. His hair was covered by a cap to avoid dishevelment. This was the Prince’s special order.
The envoy showed no fear. He looked around the palace with interest, saying: “The Wu palace is truly beautiful—its reputation is deserved.”
The eunuch ignored him, heart in his throat, until they reached the hall doors. “Enough. Go in.” He pushed the doors open. Inside, the hall was crowded with guards, so many that they blocked the view of the throne. Prince Wu could not be seen.
Master Wang straightened his robes, stepped forward, and called out loudly: “Your servant pays respects to Prince Wu!”
The great doors closed heavily behind him, sealing off the inside from the outside.
After sending MasterWang into the palace, Chen Danzhu went to the city gate, keeping vigil with her father through the night. Because of Li Liang’s betrayal, three of the capital’s gates were shut; only one remained open. Yet she never saw Master Wang come out, nor did she see the guards surround the Chen household.
What was happening? Chen Danzhu felt by turns uneasy, confused, and strangely relieved. Leaning against the city wall, she gazed at the misty dawn. The whole capital seemed wrapped in clouds. She had done her utmost. If death still awaited, then so be it.
“Ah‑Zhu,” came Chen Liehu’s hoarse voice behind her. “Do not keep watch here. Go back and stay with your sister.”
Chen Danzhu shook her head. “The doctors are with her. I will stay with Father.”
Chen Danyan had loved Li Liang deeply, and Li Liang was the man Chen Danzhu had killed. For her to face her sister now was awkward. Chen Liehu thought for a moment, then comforted her: “Very well. Once Li Liang’s matter is settled, we will go together to see your sister. Ah‑Zhu, do not be afraid. This is my burden.”
Chen Danzhu knew her father misunderstood. She was not avoiding her sister because of Li Liang’s death. But hearing his concern, she nodded obediently, studying his face. He looked far older than in her memory, worn and haggard after a sleepless night.
“Yes,” she said, holding his arm. “It is enough to have Father.”
Chen Liehu stroked his younger daughter’s head. Suddenly, soldiers at the gate reported: “A token from the palace—permission to leave the city for Tingyun Temple to collect dew.”
Chen Danzhu gripped her father’s hand tightly and looked down. Three men in eunuch robes sat impatiently on horseback, urging: “Hurry! Do you not obey the Prince’s command? Once the sun rises, the dew will vanish.”
Wu was rich, and the Prince had grown up in luxury, indulging in strange whims. But at such a time—Chen Liehu frowned, ready to rebuke them, then sighed. He examined the token carefully, found it genuine, and waved his hand. The Prince’s affairs were beyond him; he could only fulfill his duty to guard Wu.
The gate opened. The three riders passed through.
Chen Danzhu moved to the other side to watch. One rider’s back looked familiar. He did not turn, but raised a hand behind him in a subtle gesture.
So—the talks with the Prince were concluded? Chen Danzhu gripped the wall, watching them go. Prince Wu—if even she had been shaken by him, how much more so the men beside that Iron‑faced General? Now everything depended on what kind of man the Iron‑faced General was.
“Ah‑Zhu?” Chen Liehu asked. “What are you looking at?”
Chen Danzhu gazed into the distant mist. “Brother‑in‑law—Li Liang’s corpse has arrived.”
Chen Liehu’s aged weariness vanished. Like a tiger, he roared: “Raise the pole! Beat the drums! Proclaim to the people!”
At his command, a tall wooden pole was lifted, heavy war drums resounded, pounding on the hearts of the capital’s people. The calm of dawn was shattered. Countless citizens rushed from their homes, asking, “What has happened?”
Squads of soldiers galloped through the streets, shouting: “General Li Liang betrayed the Prince—beheaded and displayed!”
The people knew General Li Liang well—he was the Grand Tutor’s son‑in‑law. Betrayal? Beheaded? At once, crowds surged toward the city gate.
Chen Danzhu stood on the wall, watching the flood of people, her expression complicated.
“Miss,” Ah‑Tian said softly, raising her hand to catch a few drops of rain. “It’s raining again. Let’s go back.”
Chen Danzhu shook her head. “I’ll watch a little longer.”
Watch Li Liang’s corpse hang for all to see? What was there to watch? Ah‑Tian sighed.
In the Tangyi camp, Master Wang slapped a scroll onto the desk and laughed heartily.
“General, once Prince Wu’s letter of submission to the Emperor is spread, the Wu army will collapse!” he said, looking at an open record on the desk. It contained the interrogation of Commander Zhou, who had confessed to Li Liang’s entire plan to attack the capital. The most vicious part was not killing his wife, but breaching the river embankments to unleash floods—enough to slaughter tens of thousands of civilians and soldiers.
It had to be admitted: flooding the capital was the fastest way to break Wu. But it was too cruel. Now, if they could take Wu without such horrors, it was far better.
The Iron‑faced General held Prince Wu’s letter of submission. “To win without battle is best.”
Master Wang clapped his hands and rose. “Then I will spread the word in Wu. First, we break this Tangyi camp, then order our troops to cross the river and march south into Wu.”
The Iron‑faced General asked: “How did Second Miss Chen persuade Prince Wu?”
Master Wang hesitated. Was that important?