“Embezzling military funds and provisions.”
His Majesty the Emperor gently raised his hand and stroked his chin as he examined the evidence presented before him.
Before the imperial desk, the Ministry of Justice officials tasked with investigating several high-ranking ministers and the Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei stood with bowed heads in silence.
The eunuch Four-Rat, responsible for Eastern Depot affairs, stood in the corner like a voiceless shadow.
A few days earlier, the Emperor had received several ministers who submitted memorials urging the execution of Chen Shouzhang. Among them were those from prominent families, like the Ning’an Earl Xie Wen Yuan, who urgently needed military achievements to secure their status, as well as military officers who already had accomplishments to their name. For them, having Chen Shouzhang executed would not only please His Majesty but also create more opportunities for them to gain merit.
No one expected that the Emperor would instead punish them all.
Particularly surprising was the case of General Zhang Qi, the Guangwei General. Born into a military household and barely literate, he was merely a low-ranking commander when the Emperor first encountered him in Jinyang. However, his exceptional physical prowess stood out when the Emperor organized a martial contest with substantial rewards. Later, during the campaign against the Du Qin tribe, Zhang Qi served as the Emperor’s personal guard and managed to achieve significant military feats, rapidly rising through the ranks from a humble commander to a fourth-rank Guangwei General.
Yet this trusted follower, for memorializing the Emperor to execute Chen Shouzhang, was instead reprimanded by His Majesty for “harboring excessive selfish motives” and investigated for his disrespectful language.
Before the court officials could fully grasp the Emperor’s intentions, they were startled by the initial findings.
In just three or four years of prominence, Zhang Qi had embezzled tens of thousands of taels of military pay. According to reports from the Jinyiwei, soldiers under his command endured harsh winters with only thin clothing and survived on coarse pancakes mixed with wild roots, “their faces gaunt with hunger, their hands too weak to hold weapons.” Meanwhile, the Eastern Depot uncovered dozens of chests filled with gold, silver, and treasures in his Yanjing residence.
“Forcibly seizing common women and treating human life as worthless.”
Due to her own experiences, Shen Shiqing leaned more toward Xunzi’s “theory of innate evil” than Mencius’ “theory of innate goodness,” believing that humans are born with greed and must be guided by laws and principles. Yet even so, she never imagined someone could descend into such depravity within just four years.
The room was utterly silent, save for the faint sound of water outside the window, which in the context of these recounted atrocities seemed like the dripping of human blood.
A chill ran through Shen Shiqing’s heart.
Tong Xingjin, the Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei, spoke softly, “Your Majesty, additional evidence is still being verified. These past few days, the Guangwei General has repeatedly sought an audience with Your Majesty and occasionally uttered disrespectful remarks…”
Yi Ji, standing at the Emperor’s side, remained motionless, while Two-Dog glanced up at Tong Xingjin.
Since the founding of the Dayong dynasty, the position of Jinyiwei Commander had always been held by the Emperor’s close confidants. The previous commander, Zhu Qi, was a trusted subordinate of the powerful eunuch Zhang Wan. After Zhang Wan was executed for nine major crimes publicly denounced by the Emperor, Zhu Qi and his long-time accomplices could not escape the same fate. Since then, the position of Jinyiwei Commander had remained vacant.
Tong Xingjin, having maintained his role as “Deputy Commander” for years through cautious conduct, feared nothing more than others gaining more favor with the Emperor. It was no surprise he viewed figures like Zhang Qi with extreme disdain.
Now, he could not resist stepping forward to crush him further.
“Disrespectful remarks? After committing atrocities that treat human life as worthless, what do a few disrespectful words matter? In any case, he won’t grow a second head for me to chop off.”
The “Zhaode Emperor” slowly rose to his feet.
Today, “he” wore a blue gold-threaded dragon pattern Yesa with a gold and jade-adorned leather belt at the waist, making his figure appear even more tall, slender, and robust—no less imposing than Tong Xingjin, who hailed from a military background.
The sunlight streamed into the palace chamber, illuminating his sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes, as if casting light upon a handful of autumn frost.
The young monarch’s words carried a chilling tone: “Investigate every single one of Zhang Qi’s actions, each and every deed, for me.”
“Your servant obeys the command.” Tong Xingjin lowered his head but added, “There is only one matter: Zhang Qi claims to have once rendered military service, and Your Majesty granted him three generations of wealth and honor.”
Shen Shiqing stood still by the window, her eyes fixed on a few branches of golden osmanthus reaching over the distant courtyard wall.
“Hah, did I ever say such a thing? And he took those words as his protective talisman?”
After a pause, Shen Shiqing recalled the various crimes listed on the paper regarding Zhang Qi.
Initially, she had merely been unwilling to let a minister die simply for speaking out about the people’s suffering and had intended to find a scapegoat for Chen Shouzhang. But now, she genuinely wished for Zhang Qi to die.
Sincerely, she hoped he would die.
“Three generations of wealth and honor? After Zhang Qi’s death…”
Resting her hand on the window frame, Shen Shiqing spoke in a calm tone:
“Two-Dog, fetch a bolt of tribute silk.”
“Yes!”
Two-Dog hurried out and returned moments later carrying a bolt of crimson tribute silk.
“Your Majesty, the tribute silk has been brought.”
Shen Shiqing turned and pointed at the silk, saying: “After Zhang Qi’s family members of three generations die, wrap their corpses in this silk.”
Wrapped in tribute silk for burial—who could say they weren’t honored with wealth?
There were no fools in Zhaohua Yuan; everyone understood that the Emperor’s meaning was to make Zhang Qi confess his crimes and accept execution. Tong Xingjin knelt on the ground, holding the bolt of tribute silk with both hands, and declared loudly:
“Your servant receives the decree.”
In the afternoon, Zhaohua Yuan grew quiet. The Emperor did not summon any more officials, stating only that she wished for a moment of peace.
Yi Ji immediately led a group of eunuchs, both senior and junior, out of the chamber.
Several senior eunuchs, who had been standing in attendance for most of the day, also seized the opportunity to rest briefly in a side room of Zhaohua Yuan.
Taking advantage of the absence of others, Two-Dog leaned his head toward Yi Ji and asked:
“Earlier, I thought His Majesty was determined to execute Chen Shouzhang. How is it that the fearless pedantic scholar didn’t die, but instead His Majesty wants to kill Zhang Qi?”
Yi Ji first took a sip of tea, watching as San Mao retrieved a bowl of stewed pheasant and several side dishes from a basin of warm water. Noting that San Mao was also looking at him, he stared at the tips of his own feet and said:
“His Majesty wanted to kill Chen Shouzhang because the western campaign next year is inevitable. His Majesty didn’t kill Chen Shouzhang but instead wants to kill Zhang Qi—also because the western campaign next year is inevitable.”
After speaking, he picked up the bowl of japonica rice, took a few bites of pickled radish, and then poured hot tea from his cup over the rice, eating a few mouthfuls.
Two-Dog thought for a moment and asked San Mao: “San Mao, did you understand that?”
San Mao didn’t even glance at him. Tearing the pheasant wings and placing them over his rice, he drizzled some soy sauce over it and said: “His Majesty previously favored Zhang Qi so greatly, yet just because he dared to meddle with military provisions, His Majesty now wants him dead. Once this matter comes to light, everyone will have to be more cautious. It’s actually more effective than killing a pedantic scholar.”
Two-Dog finally understood.
He also picked up his rice bowl and directly poured the stewed pheasant broth over it:
“His Majesty’s actions are truly harder to predict than before. I thought His Majesty might spare that Zhang fellow this once.”
The master they served was a man who never concealed his likes or dislikes. Anyone who pleased him could count on his protection even if they stirred up immense trouble, yet such decisive ruthlessness was rarely seen.
Not even Four-Rat responded. The group hastily finished their midday meal. Yi Ji first scrubbed his teeth with green salt, then rinsed his mouth with tea. Only after ensuring no lingering odors remained did he speak slowly:
“The Emperor is the Emperor. There has only ever been what His Majesty wishes or doesn’t wish to do. We servants merely do our utmost to serve. Do you truly believe you’re someone of importance?”
Two-Dog shrank his neck and dared not speak further.
In Zhaohua Hall, Shen Shiqing had been staring at a single page for a long time.
There was a man whose fate was sealed by just one sentence from her and one bolt of silk.
Even now, this matter lingered in her mind like an endless sutra that refused to depart.
Zhang Qi deserved death—she held no doubts nor regrets about this.
The woman inhabiting a monarch’s body breathed slowly, watching the hands that still trembled faintly.
These hands trembled from terror.
Being a sovereign meant possessing such power.
This power seemed boundless, like the endless sky or the unfathomable depths of the sea. Those who test the heights of heaven or the depths of ocean inevitably perish—imperial authority was no different.
Slowly clenching her fists, Shen Shiqing collapsed backward into the chair crafted from golden nanmu wood.
She knew that alongside the terror, countless hidden joys and desires were seeping from the crevices of her heart.
Boundless power currently belonged to her.
And she rejoiced in this.
Yet she feared this very joy.
This delight was like a drop of cinnabar falling into water.
Just one drop of cinnabar, and the water would never be clear again.
In Zhaohua Yuan, osmanthus fragrance wafted in waves. Having imitated handwriting, disciplined court officials, demoted Xie Wen Yuan, and executed the emperor’s favorite—after several days as the “Zhaode Emperor,” this was the first time Shen Shiqing truly felt troubled by her situation.
Because her own heart had become disordered.
Lifting her head to gaze out the window—a habit maintained over the past seven years—yet now she was seeing more than just the scenery outside.
Compared to the small courtyard of Ning’an Lord Manor, this Zhaohua Yuan was vast, the West Garden even larger. And the West Garden was merely one of the emperor’s retreat palaces. Beyond the West Garden lay the Imperial City, beyond that Yanjing, beyond Yanjing lay Zhili, and beyond Zhili—the entire realm.
Wherever the eye could see, wherever the wind could reach, where common masses resided, where civil and military officials placed their reliance—the barbaric northwest, the vast southeastern seas—the power over life and death, with none daring to disobey.
This was the power currently held in the hands of this woman.
Shen Shiqing smiled.
A gentle breeze arrived, carrying a golden petal that just happened to land beside the “Zhaode Emperor’s” hand.
“He” picked up this fragment of gold, then suddenly declared in a loud voice:
“Attendants! Summon Li Congyuan, Grand Scholar of Wuying Hall.”
As the chicken, dog, cat, and rat emerged from their meal in the side chamber, they saw the afternoon light slanting down, their served master standing by the window, lowering his gaze with a light laugh.
Responding to the urgent summons, Li Congyuan arrived from Wenyuan Pavilion to Zhaohua Yuan close to the hour of Wei. Waiting for him at the palace gate was Four-Rat.
“Grand Tutor Li, please follow this servant inside quickly. His Majesty commands that you be admitted immediately upon arrival.”
As Minister of Personnel, Li Congyuan never prided himself on arrogance toward eunuchs to flaunt his integrity. He nodded to Four-Rat:
“Thank you for your guidance, honored eunuch.”
Four-Rat kept his head lowered as he watched the path. His stature was not tall, and walking beside the imposing and heroic Li Congyuan, he barely reached the other man’s neck. As the last of the Four Great Eunuchs, he held control over the Eastern Depot yet remained habitually reticent, having little interaction with court officials. He moved through the palace like a shadow.
As they rounded the phoenix tree, this “shadow” suddenly spoke:
“Li Gelao, His Majesty is different from before. If you wish to preserve Chen Shouzhang’s life, it would be best to set aside your plans for now.”
Li Congyuan, with his hands tucked into his sleeves, remained silent.