Volume One: Winds Rising Over the Capital
Chapter 1
Dusk was falling, and the boundless sky was dark as ink.
Deep within the imperial prison of the Northern Pacification Office in the capital.
The four walls pressed in from every side. The air was thick with the stench of damp rot and blood, so suffocating that it was difficult to breathe in the lightless cell.
A man hung shackled to a torture rack, his clothes in tatters and his entire body covered in bloody wounds.
His fingers were firmly trapped in a heavy set of torture implements—the notorious finger press.
Two Imperial Brocade Guards stood on either side of him. Working the device between them, they tightened it around his fingers, and a bloodcurdling scream erupted, echoing through the depths of the prison.
Opposite the torture rack, a man dressed in a vermilion flying-fish robe lounged in a grand armchair.
In this grim, oppressive dungeon, his posture was so relaxed it bordered on insolence. He propped his head up with one hand while idly turning a saber, drawn less than halfway from its sheath, in the other. His long legs were casually crossed, both feet resting high upon the desk before him.
Amid the unceasing screams, he did not so much as lift an eyelid. Instead, he lightly tapped the desk with his leather boots, seemingly quite entertained.
As though the hellish suffering unfolding before him were nothing more than a diversion staged for his amusement.
“Liu Ke, you still refuse to talk?” The guard’s voice was as hard as iron.
Suspended by his chains, Liu Ke let his head hang, his black hair obscuring his face. For a long while, he gave no answer.
The guard sneered. “You really are a tough one.”
He picked up a piece of red-hot charcoal with a pair of tongs and was just about to press it against Liu Ke’s flesh when a languid voice suddenly interrupted.
“Hold.”
The guard immediately stopped and turned toward the armchair.
“Vice Commissioner.”
Duan Chenggang rose from his seat.
He lightly rolled the hilt of his saber between his fingertips. A cold gleam slid along the blade, reflecting the casual cruelty lurking in his eyes.
Step by step, he approached the torture rack. Using his scabbard, he tipped the prisoner’s chin upward and asked with a faint curl of his lips, “Where is the ‘Buddha’s Son’?”
Liu Ke was barely breathing. Forced to raise his head, he found himself staring directly into Duan Chenggang’s eyes.
As the youngest Vice Commissioner of the Imperial Brocade Guard in the dynasty, Duan Chenggang was as renowned for his appearance as he was for his iron-fisted methods.
He was extraordinarily handsome. Most striking of all were his peach-blossom eyes, with a tiny red mole at the outer corner of one eye that lent his features an almost seductive beauty.
Unfortunately, those exquisite features were marred by an unmistakable air of sinister ruthlessness.
Liu Ke gave a contemptuous smile.
He spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.
Pfft.
It landed squarely on the leather of Duan Chenggang’s boot.
Then Liu Ke suddenly burst into hearty laughter.
The guards behind Duan Chenggang flew into a rage.
“You have a death wish!”
Yet Duan Chenggang showed little anger. He merely stroked the hilt of his saber, his voice devoid of warmth.
“Switch to Playing the Pipa.”
At those words, Liu Ke involuntarily swallowed. His mouth was filled with the metallic sweetness of blood, and his fingers twitched instinctively.
“Playing the Pipa” was among the most notorious tortures employed in the imperial prison. It involved scraping a person’s bones with a steel blade, then moving the blade back and forth over the bone as though plucking strings.
The sharp, ringing sound resembled the music of a pipa, which was how this horrific punishment had acquired such an elegant name.
At the command, several Imperial Brocade Guards removed Liu Ke from the torture rack and bound him to a cold torture bench.
Duan Chenggang returned to his armchair.
Another Imperial Brocade Captain took a handkerchief from his robes, crouched beside him, and carefully wiped the bloody spittle from his boot, little by little.
“Vice Commissioner—”
Just as the torture was about to begin, an Imperial Brocade Captain stationed at the entrance hurried inside and reported in a low voice, “Someone from the Court of Judicial Review has arrived.”
At the mention of the Court of Judicial Review, the faint, amused smile vanished from Duan Chenggang’s face.
He looked toward Liu Ke and remarked, with something between a sigh and a rueful observation, “Looks like luck is on your side.”
With a wave of his hand, he ordered the guards to take Liu Ke away and clean him up for the time being.
He straightened his robes, then washed his hands at a basin. Only after ensuring that the smell of blood clinging to him was no longer so strong did he give the order.
“Let’s go.”
In the main hall of the Northern Pacification Office, a young official dressed in a dark blue robe sat in a round-backed chair, occasionally glancing toward the entrance.
This was Lin Zetian, a Court Director of the Court of Judicial Review.
The moment he caught sight of a flash of vermilion robes, he sprang to his feet, composed his expression into a smile, and stepped forward with clasped hands.
“Vice Commissioner Duan.”
The instant Duan Chenggang recognized Lin Zetian, the faint smile on his face froze.
His expression turned even colder than it had been during the interrogation.
Without acknowledging Lin Zetian, he strode past him toward the principal seat. Once seated, he did not even bother to look up.
Instead, he asked expressionlessly, “To what do I owe the honor of a Court Director from the Court of Judicial Review condescending to visit my Northern Pacification Office?”
Faced with a countenance as forbidding as the King of Hell’s, Lin Zetian could only steel himself.
He swallowed and offered an ingratiating smile.
“This humble official has heard that the Imperial Brocade Guard recently captured a Branch Master of the Honglian Sect. Cases involving the Honglian Sect have always been investigated jointly by the Court of Judicial Review and the Imperial Brocade Guard. Since you’ve captured Branch Master Liu, Vice Commissioner Duan, wouldn’t it be better for our two offices to interrogate him together?”
“The Imperial Brocade Guard operates independently. We’ve never had such a rule.”
Duan Chenggang crossed his legs, his expression indifferent.
Lin Zetian’s heart tightened.
He was just about to continue persuading him when Duan Chenggang spoke again, his tone leisurely.
“Of course, I suppose an exception isn’t entirely out of the question. Provided that—”
He deliberately stopped.
As expected, Lin Zetian immediately took the bait.
“Provided what? Please, Vice Commissioner, name your condition!”
Beneath Duan Chenggang’s finely arched brows, his long, featherlike lashes fluttered. His peach-blossom eyes curved into an exceptionally beautiful smile.
He cast Lin Zetian a proud, sidelong glance.
His thin lips parted.
“Provided your Vice Minister Shen comes here in person and begs me.”
The words struck like a thunderclap.
Lin Zetian’s expression changed drastically.
He shot to his feet as though he had suffered the gravest insult, his face flushing crimson with fury.
“You! You must be dreaming!”
“Duan Chenggang, you’re a dignified third-rank official! How dare you behave with such outrageous insolence!”
“I’ll take my leave!”
With an angry sweep of his sleeves, he turned and strode toward the exit, unwilling to remain another moment.
Behind him came Duan Chenggang’s low, measured voice.
“Go back and tell your Lord Shen that I’m giving him one day. If he hasn’t come by tomorrow, all that will be left for him is Liu Ke’s corpse—”
Only after Lin Zetian had disappeared through the doorway did Duan Chenggang let out a low, amused chuckle.
He lowered his gaze to his own palm and murmured to himself,
“See? Sooner or later, you’ll have to come begging me.”
The Court of Judicial Review.
Shen Qingyu wore a black gauze official’s hat with two projecting wings and a crimson, round-collared robe woven with subtle floral patterns. The collar was fastened high around his neck.
Outside, the daylight was gradually fading, its last traces withdrawing from the latticed windows.
Yet he remained bent over a stack of case files, utterly absorbed in his work.
Just as his brush completed the final character, a flurry of heavy, hurried footsteps approached from the distance.
His gaze did not waver. His brush remained perfectly steady.
Only when Lin Zetian swept up before him like a miniature whirlwind did he calmly speak.
“You’re back?”
“Yes, Senior Brother!”
Lin Zetian had hurried all the way back from the Northern Pacification Office. Far from subsiding, the anger simmering in his chest had only grown more intense.
Now that he was standing before Shen Qingyu himself, all those pent-up emotions surged to the surface at once.
For Shen Qingyu was his senior brother.
Both had studied under Yang Wenzhi, a renowned Confucian scholar of the dynasty and former Chancellor of the Imperial Academy.
Throughout his life, Yang Wenzhi had cherished two disciples above all others, one of whom was Shen Qingyu. Lin Zetian, by contrast, had only entered the scholar’s tutelage six years earlier.
Although Lin Zetian was three years older, seniority within their scholarly lineage dictated that he must still address Lord Shen as Senior Brother.
They were fellow disciples of the same master, as well as superior and subordinate in officialdom. Lin Zetian had always regarded Shen Qingyu with the reverence one might feel toward both an elder brother and a teacher.
It was precisely because of this that he could not tolerate Duan Chenggang’s insulting remarks.
He looked at Shen Qingyu, his round eyes brimming with grievance and indignation.
“Senior Brother, those Imperial Brocade Guards have gone too far!”
Shen Qingyu set down his brush and slowly raised his head.
Unlike the solemn dignity of his official robes, the Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review possessed a face of almost unearthly beauty, as though carved from ice and polished jade.
If Duan Chenggang’s beauty was like a blazing fire, bold and dazzling enough to make others afraid to look directly at him, then Shen Qingyu’s features were like drifting mist and smoke.
The clean, cool-white line of his jaw only heightened his aloof, otherworldly bearing.
His voice was gentle and unhurried.
“What did Duan Chenggang say?”
Under the influence of that composed tone, Lin Zetian’s anger abated somewhat.
But no matter how he tried, he could not bring himself to repeat Duan Chenggang’s exact words: Make your Vice Minister Shen come beg me in person.
After some hesitation, he chose a more tactful phrasing.
“He said there would only be room for negotiation if you went there yourself. He also said… if you don’t go by tomorrow, Senior Brother, all he’ll leave for us is Liu Ke’s corpse.”
Shen Qingyu’s eyes remained tranquil.
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
It was such a subtle movement, yet Lin Zetian could clearly discern the mockery behind it.
“Hardly surprising.”
Shen Qingyu’s pale-red lips parted, and he spoke as though the matter were of little consequence.
“In that case, I’ll pay the Northern Pacification Office a visit tomorrow.”
“Senior Brother, you’re really going?”
Lin Zetian leaned closer, hoping to dissuade him.
Shen Qingyu pushed his head away with one hand and replied with perfect equanimity.
“I’m going.”
“I must capture the ‘Buddha’s Son.'”
The words were crisp and decisive, without the slightest hesitation. Every syllable carried an unwavering determination to succeed.
Lin Zetian clenched his fists.
“It’s all because I failed to handle the matter properly. I’ll accompany you, Senior Brother!”
Shen Qingyu glanced at him.
Then he tapped a finger against one of the case files and issued a merciless instruction.
“I have to enter the palace tomorrow morning. You must finish reviewing this case today. I’ll inspect your work when I return.”
Lin Zetian, who had been overflowing with concern only a moment ago, instantly wilted at the instruction.
He could only scratch his head and answer listlessly,
“…Yes.”
Shen Qingyu gave a faint, amused smile.
Having finished instructing his junior brother, he gathered his things and made his way out of the Court of Judicial Review at an unhurried pace.
An autumn rain had fallen just two days earlier.
As the saying went, Each autumn rain brings another spell of cold.
Once the slanting sun sank below the horizon, only the biting chill of night remained.
Just as Shen Qingyu stepped outside, a fierce northerly wind swept through.
It came suddenly and violently, howling like some enormous beast.
He had no choice but to stop, turn his head aside, and cover his mouth as he coughed softly several times.
His shoulders trembled faintly. His thin official robes fluttered and swayed in the cold wind, making his slender figure appear even more frail.
Shi Hong, who had gone ahead to prepare the carriage, saw this and hurriedly retrieved a gray squirrel-fur cloak from inside.
He strode over and, without a word, wrapped his master securely in it from head to toe.
In an instant, all that remained visible of Shen Qingyu was his exquisitely sculpted, snow-white face, framed by the cloak’s soft, fluffy fur collar.
Swathed in the cloak, he looked altogether fluffy.
His dark eyes shone like stars. The outer corners were still damp from his recent coughing fit, resembling a pair of crescent moons submerged in water.
He drew the cloak more closely around himself and asked in a soft voice,
“It isn’t even winter yet. When did you prepare this?”
Shi Hong raised his head and gestured with both hands.
Matron Li said the weather keeps turning hot and cold, and that’s when people fall ill most easily. She told me I absolutely must take good care of you, my lord, so I’ve been keeping it in mind.
Shen Qingyu nodded, his gentle gaze settling on Shi Hong.
“Good thing our Shi Hong is so thoughtful.”
It was nothing more than a casual remark.
Yet that single, affectionate word—our—was enough to make the mute attendant, a towering man more than seven chi tall, blush on the spot.
Shi Hong hurriedly lowered his head, scarcely daring to look directly at him.
Bending slightly at the waist, he humbly supported Lord Shen’s hand through the fabric of his wide sleeve and carefully helped him into the carriage.
While waiting for Lord Shen to settle into his seat, Shi Hong stood in a daze, staring at his own palm for a while.
Only then did he come back to himself.
He nimbly climbed back onto the front of the carriage, took the reins firmly in hand, and guided the horses toward the Marquis of Jining’s Residence.