After the Dragon Boat Festival, the Xi family was busy with guests, while the Jia residence was far less lively than before. That day, Jia Liang entered the palace for an audience, bringing a statue of the Water God blessed during the ritual to offer to the Emperor.
Song Nanqing sat at the head of his study. His desk was piled with messy memorials. Hanging behind him was parallel prose written by the Regent urging him to be diligent in governing. The calligraphy was bold and powerful, every stroke showing unbridled spirit.
Song Nanqing spun a wolf-hair brush in his hand and looked at Jia Liang. “Many thanks, Uncle. I like this statue very much.”
Jia Liang stood and bowed again. Song Nanqing frowned. “Uncle is family; there is no need for such formality.”
When Jia Liang spoke again, his tone was tinged with bleakness. “Your Majesty, I come today for another reason. My younger brother visited me to say that his son, Jia Xie, was punished with the staff in the palace and is now unable to move his lower body; he will be bedridden for the rest of his life. My brother has only this one son. I do not know what grave crime the Regent deemed worthy of such a severe punishment.”
Song Nanqing’s gaze moved past the inkstone and settled on Jia Liang, his tone devoid of emotion. “The Regent has his reasons.”
“Your Majesty, the Regent carried out the deed, but it is you who will bear the reputation of being cruel and inhumane,” Jia Liang said earnestly, appearing as if he were looking out for Song Nanqing.
“Uncle, what do you mean by that?” Song Nanqing leaned back in his chair, fingers rotating his prayer beads.
Jia Liang assumed a look of devoted loyalty. “The decree you issued, prohibiting the officials involved in the two-headed cow incident from taking the imperial examinations, truly hurt the hearts of the ministers. Now is a time when we need capable people; the examinations are meant to select talent for Your Majesty. By doing this, you have lost the trust of the court and have truly become a puppet under the Regent’s sole authority. I am worried for you.”
In the beam of sunlight coming from the side window, tiny dust particles danced in the air. Jia Liang sat behind that ray of light, his face obscured.
Song Nanqing sighed softly. “Uncle, who do you think orchestrated the two-headed cow rumors? That group of noble youths could not have caused such a grand spectacle on their own.” His hair was half-bound. As he grew, the round fullness of his cheeks had faded, replaced by the sharp angles of a young man.
Jia Liang was silent for a moment before gripping the arms of his chair. “Does Your Majesty suspect me?” Like those foolish people who did not understand the situation, he thought he was so short-sighted that he would alienate himself from the clans just to protect his reputation regarding the examination quotas.
Song Nanqing tilted his head. “If it is not Uncle, then it is the Regent. I do not know who to trust.”
The soft, gentle words left a deep mark on Jia Liang’s heart. He stood, bowed, and saluted again. “Your Majesty, please look clearly. This matter appears to benefit me on the surface, but in reality, it is driving the ministers away from me. The true beneficiary is another. The Regent is profound and scheming. That boy Jia Xie was punished so severely only because he was implicated by me. Forgive me for speculating, but the Northwest frontier nearly lost a city because of Shen Heng’s errors. Targeting Jia Xie now is merely a way to find a scapegoat.”
“The Jia family is attached to Your Majesty, and we are your kin. A rumor dividing the world brings me no benefit, but the Regent certainly has the motive and the capability.” The more he spoke, the more Jia Liang was convinced: the two-headed cow incident was the Regent’s doing—pushing the blame onto him to shake the Song dynasty’s foundations, damage the Jia family’s status, and draw closer to the Emperor. Three birds with one stone.
Song Nanqing gestured for him to sit. “Uncle, sit.”
“If the Regent is not removed, it will be a threat to the state. Your Majesty must not be deceived by him!” Jia Liang was firm in every word.
On the Xuan paper atop the desk was the calligraphy Song Nanqing had just finished—bold black regular script. From structure to spirit, it followed the same lineage as the parallel prose hanging behind him. The ink on his wolf-hair brush had not yet dried; he placed it upon the inkstone.
Song Nanqing flicked his sleeves. “What do you suggest?”
Jia Liang was sincere. “I believe the first step is to rescind the punishment and ensure the clan officials do not harbor resentment.”
Song Nanqing chuckled. “Whether we pursue who the mastermind is aside, that does not mean they did not commit a wrong. Furthermore, the Regent issued the order—how can I rescind it?”
“Your Majesty…”
“Wang Qian died in prison recently. Did you know?” Song Nanqing asked, changing the subject.
Jia Liang showed a look of surprise and hurried to reply. “I had not heard… he was only jailed for visiting brothels; how could he…?”
Wang Qian knew too many of his secrets. Since he had been jailed, Jia Liang had not slept a peaceful day, though he hoped that since Wang Qian’s family was in his control, they were all in the same boat and would keep their mouths shut. But for this subordinate who had followed him for so long, Jia Liang, though cruel, had not intended to end him.
Song Nanqing said slowly, “Before he died, he signed a confession, admitting to embezzlement and bribery. He said he alone was responsible and could not face the court, so he committed suicide out of fear of punishment.”
Jia Liang fell silent. Someone as profit-driven as Wang Qian would never commit suicide out of fear. Now, everyone would believe he had burned the bridge after crossing it, forcing Wang Qian to take the blame to save himself. No wonder the colleagues who used to visit the Jia residence for the Dragon Boat Festival did not come this year.
How had things developed to this point in a mere month?
Song Nanqing glanced at Jia Liang’s face. “If I suspected you, I would not be telling you this today. Uncle, the Forbidden City is treacherous; we must both take care of ourselves.”
Watching Jia Liang’s departing back, Song Nanqing turned the prayer beads once, then picked up the brush, dipped it in the wet ink, and wrote a few characters.
“Chun Jian, my calligraphy is good today. Hang it up for me.” Song Nanqing lifted the paper, blew on it, and smiled with his eyes crinkled.
“I have been practicing calligraphy recently. I heard that Magistrate Yao has a fine hand for cursive script. Would you write something for me to see?”
After the morning court, the Magistrate of Jingzhao, Yao Shun, was kept behind to report on the security of the capital and surrounding areas as usual. Because of the previous two-headed cow incident, Yao Shun was cautious, reporting on the measures he had strengthened, and adding that the seeds Song Nanqing had scattered in the wheat field during the spring festival had grown better than everything else around them—a true sign of Heaven’s blessing.
Song Nanqing paid no mind to the flattery, insisting on seeing his calligraphy.
To have the Emperor want to see his writing was a great honor, and since he asked, it meant the previous incident was forgotten. Yao Shun breathed a sigh of relief and stepped to the desk to pick up the brush.
Outside the window, flower shadows danced in the wind on the paper. Song Nanqing walked to the window and gently closed the slit that had been left open.
Suddenly, commotion erupted outside. Wei Jin reported from the door, “Your Majesty, something has happened.”
The brush in Yao Shun’s hand dropped an ink blot onto the Xuan paper.
According to Wei Jin, a remote palace had caught fire early this morning. While leading the Yiluan Office to investigate, he had happened upon a man dressed as a guard on the main street. Since things were urgent and he needed an extra pair of hands, he had called out to the man for help.
Unexpectedly, the man heard his voice, hugged the street wall, and tried to run. Wei Jin sensed something was wrong and ordered his arrest.
The guards of the Yiluan Office might not all be close friends, but they at least recognized each other. The newcomer was a stranger, and his cowering demeanor made it clear he was no legitimate guard. That such an unknown person could slip into the palace without notice was chilling.
“Not a member of the palace? To reach the main street, he would have to pass through three gates. How did he do it? Fly over the walls?” Song Nanqing found it unfathomable.
Wei Jin said, “The palace gates are always guarded by the Imperial Army. Even when your servant returns from palace business, I must undergo thorough searches. Today’s event is truly strange.”
Song Nanqing’s brows furrowed, and he shifted his gaze to the silent man. “Yao Shun, did you not just tell me that security in the capital had been strengthened?”
Yao Shun broke out in a silent sweat. The Imperial Army was managed by the Regent; what did that have to do with him? But he could not show it. He could only say, “This humble minister is guilty.”
“Since this man is from the capital, it will be more convenient to have the Jingzhao Mansion interrogate him than the Supreme Court, and the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court has not yet recovered his health. Yao Shun, I give you a chance to prove yourself. Investigate this jointly with the Supreme Court.”
The man who had breached the Imperial Army’s heavy defenses on his own became a legend in the palace. Many said the rumors were unbelievable—how could anyone have such guts and ability? Furthermore, what was he planning to do once he got in?
The Chief Censor, Chen Liwen, said he had seen this man at the Jia residence, perhaps seeking revenge for the severe punishment of Jia Xie.
Jia Liang immediately stood and denied it entirely, requesting to join the investigation to prove his innocence. Song Nanqing allowed it.
In the Supreme Court prison, Jia Liang stood alone before the torture rack, looking at the man tied to it. “If you listen to me, I promise you will walk out alive, with a thousand silver taels, and a place far from the capital to spend the rest of your days. Your wife is waiting for you at home.”
The man’s face was covered in blood; one eye was nearly gone. Yao Shun had sneaked in from somewhere and pulled a short blade from his robe, saying, “If you do not confess, you will be transferred to the Yiluan Office. You must have heard of their methods. Once you are there, it will not be a matter of whether you want to speak or not.”
“They do not have our good temperament, and they will not offer you a way out. You will suffer endless torment and still die. The choice is yours.”
In the bloody, dark prison, Jia Liang’s beard trembled. His eyes became triangular in the dim light, yet he kept his “I’m looking out for you” persona.
Seeing the man’s attitude soften, Yao Shun threw the short blade onto him, pulled out a portrait he had been carrying, and held it close to the man’s face. “The Regent sent you to harm His Majesty. This is the Regent, and this is his guard, Zhuxin. You will confess exactly as I say. Say you colluded with the Imperial Army to pass the gates. Do you understand?”
By the dim, flickering candlelight of a rusty holder, the man struggled to lift his eyelids to look at the portrait. He only felt that the eyes of the first person on the paper looked like a snake, staring through the thin paper with a cold, piercing gaze.
The Supreme Court and the Jingzhao Mansion’s investigation were in full swing. At this time of year, the flowers in the Imperial Garden were in full bloom. Song Nanqing strolled through the hydrangea garden and sat on a stone bench, smelling the faint floral scent as he looked down at the letter He Xizhou had sent him.
He Xizhou had been traveling around Eastern Japan and had written him many accounts, saying that Japan was in the midst of civil war and he would be setting off to return soon. The envelope also contained a few dried petals and flower seeds—a variety unique to Japan.
Song Nanqing’s fingers paused. He took the pressed flowers and held them against the sunlight. The pink-white petals had lost their moisture, but they still carried a unique fragrance—green, faint, and filled with the scent of budding branches. He tucked the flowers into the envelope, read the news of the civil war in the letter, and called Chun Jian to give instructions.
The hydrangeas were in full bloom. Song Nanqing snapped off a few branches, intending to have them put in a vase.
Chun Jian leaned close to his ear and whispered a few words. Song Nanqing’s eyes slowly narrowed.
At nightfall, a squad of guards surrounded the palace where Shen Heng resided. The curved moon shone bright and clear, reflecting a blinding light off the long swords in their hands.