After the funeral rites for Grand Empress Dowager Xiao concluded, Xie Jing received an unexpected letter. The messenger was Xie Jun, and the delivery method mirrored the one with the bloody handprint: in the dead of night, a thin slip of paper suddenly fluttered down from the rafters onto his desk. When Xie Jing looked up, he couldn’t see even a glimpse of Xie Jun’s shadow, leaving him to marvel that the boy truly came and went like a ghost now.
The content of the letter was equally concise, stating that the Xuanshi had discovered certain items among Empress Dowager Xiao’s personal effects that carried grave implications. Xiao Yao requested that Lu Lingcong and Xie Jing meet at the Star-Plucking Tower three days later at the Hour of Haishi[mfn]9–11pm.[/mfn] for a discussion.
Still on that same boat, Xie Jing did not see Xie Jun. Xiao Yao said, “He’s keeping watch on the shore.”
Lu Lingcong, who had arrived before him, asked with some curiosity, “What exactly did you find? This is the first time I’ve seen you use the words ‘grave implications.'”
Xiao Yao got straight to the point: “Xuanshi has always had forces within the Jiming Temple. On the night Empress Dowager Xiao passed away, they spotted someone acting suspiciously, sneaking into the meditation room where the Empress Dowager had lived, appearing to search for something. Xuanshi struck first, searching the room before the palace sent people to collect her belongings. They discovered a hidden compartment behind a Buddhist painting on the wall and found this locked wooden box.”
Xie Jing thought to himself that he had previously mistaken the operatives in the temple for Lu Lingcong’s men; as it turned out, they had been borrowing Xuanshi’s blade all along. Xiao Yao had aided them so much that if their great undertaking failed, he would truly never be able to repay the debt.
Lu Lingcong picked up the box and toyed with it briefly, “This is a mechanism lock.”
Xiao Yao nodded. “Forcing it open would trigger a burst of mercury to poison any intruder. Only members of Xuanshi—or more precisely, those of the Xiao family within Xuanshi, know the proper way to unlock it. Years ago, before the Xiao clan fell and while Xuanshi still operated in the light, the power of command was held by Empress Dowager Xiao. My master—the previous leader of Xuanshi, followed the Empress Dowager’s orders in every move. It isn’t surprising that she could produce something like this.”
She immediately raised an eyebrow: “But as luck would have it, I am also a member of the Xiao family within Xuanshi.”
Xiao Yao removed one of her earrings and twisted it open from the middle before transforming it into a beaded needle, which she inserted into the mechanism to pick the lock.
“There are three items in the box—fourteen pages of paper, all written in the Empress Dowager’s own handwriting,” she paused. “Every single page concern matters significant enough to shake the very foundations of the state.”
From his angle, Lu Lingcong was the first to see the top sheet of paper in the box. His gaze froze. “How did this end up in her hands?”
Xiao Yao took out the paper and pushed it toward Lu Lingcong. Xie Jing leaned in to take a look: “…The late Emperor’s birth certificate?”
Lu Lingcong was, of course, intimately familiar with his father’s name, horoscope, and three generations of ancestry. He scanned the few brief lines, and his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at Xiao Yao with a complex expression: “Is this real?”
Xiao Yao shrugged. “There is one in the Imperial Ancestral Temple and one in this box. Between the two, one must be a fake.”
Xie Jing quickly discovered the crux of the problem: the mother of the late emperor recorded on this birth certificate was not the then-Empress Dowager Xiao but simply “Palace Maid Yang.” Furthermore, the birth date differed from the late emperor’s death anniversary of May 19th that Xie Jing knew.
The profound implication was self-evident: if this birth certificate, written by Empress Dowager Xiao’s own hand, was genuine, then the one enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple; recording the late emperor as the legitimate son of the empress born on May 19th, was a forgery.
Since family ties had always been distant and indifferent, Lu Lingcong felt little emotional impact upon learning that his “grandmother was not his biological grandmother.” He cut directly to the heart of the matter, “Even if Empress Dowager Xiao truly took the son of a palace maid to raise as her own back then, that is common enough; it’s nothing new. The question is, did Emperor Father know about this himself? And what was the fate of that palace maid surnamed Yang?”
“The late Emperor knew,” Xie Jing suddenly interjected, his voice chilling. “It was precisely because he knew he was not Empress Dowager Xiao’s biological son—that he lacked the unquestionable status of a legitimate heir and the legitimacy of succession and even knew he had not been born in Jiuhua Hall; that he placed such importance on and elevated Lu Shuqing so highly. He did it to reinforce the public’s impression that he, like Emperor Gaozong, was born in Jiuhua Hall and was the rightful Son of Heaven. He wanted the world to see that even if Qing’er was merely born in the same hall as him, the boy could receive supreme honor and favor.”
There was a brief silence in the cabin. Lu Lingcong gently covered his hand in comfort, but Xie Jing only shook his head. He truly hadn’t expected that Lu Shuqing, this “tool,” had been used by the late emperor in so many ways; including an auspicious “Jiarui” omen, a probe into ministers’ loyalty, a means to consolidate imperial authority, and a reaffirmation of legitimacy. Xie Jing almost laughed out loud. With such usefulness, it was no wonder the late emperor had shown him such exceptional favor.
After a long silence, Xiao Yao said softly, “…The fate of the woman surnamed Yang was likely not good. The Empress Dowager ruled with an iron fist back then; if she dared to do such a thing, she would have certainly pulled the grass out by the roots to leave it clean. As for leaving behind this genuine birth certificate, it was likely due to guilt in the latter half of her life. Being a devout believer in Buddhist principles, she may have also feared karmic retribution in this world.”
Lu Lingcong said, “I only know that Emperor Father was able to enter the Eastern Palace back then entirely because of the ‘maternal clan’, the Xiao clan of Lanling, behind him. As for how Empress Dowager Xiao restrained and controlled him and how much of his estrangement from her was due to his biological mother, that remains unknown.”
Xiao Yao timely withdrew a stack of papers from the box: “This second item should explain part of the reason for the estrangement between the late Emperor and Empress Dowager Xiao.”
The heading at the top was a line of small characters in the Empress Dowager’s own handwriting: “The Beginning and End of the Military Equipment Case in the Twelfth Year of Jianning.”
This was the major case from the late Jianning era that made court officials pale at its mention and remained a taboo subject in the capital. All related documents and records in the palace had been destroyed; Empress Dowager Xiao likely anticipated this, which was why she recorded this bloodless “coup” in such meticulous detail, almost like a confession.
After the late emperor ascended the throne, he suppressed the Empress Dowager’s faction several times by winning over prestigious clans like the Wang clan of Langya and the Cui clan of Qinghe. Xie Jing recalled that his grandfather chose to retire in the sixth year of Jianning; retreating at the height of his career to bring the then three-year-old Xie Jing back to Chen Commandery, likely for this very reason.
The mutual infighting between the two factions continued until the twelfth year of Jianning. In the dead of night on the third day of the ninth month, Empress Dowager Xiao ordered Xuanshi to seal off the Mingyang Gate and the Right Lateral Gate on the west side of the palace city—the passage where the Yulin Guards changed shifts and returned their military equipment daily. This prevented the Outer Yulin Guards from entering the palace in time, allowing Empress Dowager Xiao to forcibly incorporate the Middle Yulin Guards and head to Shenlong Hall to seize control of the late emperor.
Most of the late emperor’s old court officials came from humble backgrounds and had entered officialdom through the imperial examinations. For over a decade, they had attached themselves to Empress Dowager Xiao’s faction, yet on this day they suddenly turned against her at a critical moment. Commandant of the Capital Region Xu Yi and Northern Garrison Commander Ding Yuan led the capital troops in defection, and together with Imperial Advisory Wang Chu and the Jingzhao Prefect Cui Xian, who arrived upon receiving the news, they coordinated from inside and outside the palace. In the end, they absorbed the Central Yulin Guards, who were short on weapons, placed the Empress Dowager under house arrest, and dismissed the head of the Xuanshi, forcing the faction to retreat into secrecy.
The late emperor’s “Jianning” era lasted only until that twelfth year. The year after the Xiao family was toppled, the era name was changed to “Zhenyou,” likely signifying a desire to “discard the old and establish the new.”
Lu Lingcong sneered while scanning the text rapidly: “Soldiers without weapons are nothing but bare-handed men. If they hadn’t seized the armory to equip the troops, what use would they be? Forget about kidnapping an emperor; even if they caught a dragon, they wouldn’t have been able to hold it either.”
As someone who lived through it, Xiao Yao reminisced: “My parents died young. I only knew I was a member of the Xiao family, and my master raised me. I was thirteen when the Military Equipment Case broke out. My master passed away shortly after taking me back to our ancestral home; his dying wish was only for me to clear the names of the thousands of innocent members of the Xiao clan of Lanling. In the fifth year of Zhenyou, I brought Xuanshi back to Jinling, used the Flying Light as collateral, and formed an alliance with Your Highness, who had just opened your own mansion at the time.”
Xie Jing imagined Lu Lingcong at fifteen; powerless and without influence, negotiating with Xiao Yao, who commanded a formidable force and had been honed since childhood into a peerless warrior and strategist. Lu Lingcong must have been forced to put on a calm, composed facade of adulthood; the thought was somewhat amusing.
Lu Lingcong pondered for a moment before speaking with sharp intuition, “Of the two groups of people Emperor Father relied on, the noble clans like the Wang clan and Cui clan did indeed become increasingly prominent from that point onward. But what about those old subordinates from the Eastern Palace? Aside from Grand Tutor Zhang, whose career remained relatively smooth, why have most of them vanished without a trace?”
He remembered clearly that it was shortly after this that He Gao was demoted to Yongzhou. Was it because the late emperor held a grudge over their previous affiliation with Empress Dowager Xiao? Or was it a case of “discarding the bow once the birds are gone”? That shouldn’t be the case; to prevent other clans from becoming the next Xiao clan of Lanling, he should have fully utilized these old subordinates of humble origins to counterbalance the consort kin.
Xiao Yao gestured with her chin toward the last few pages in the box: “There, take a look for yourself.”
The third item was a list—specifically, a roster of the Eastern Palace subordinates from when the late emperor was still the crown prince. However, its uniqueness lay in the fact that it didn’t just record the officials themselves:
Palace Administrator Zhang Yan; his wife, Lady Deng;
Junior Palace Administrator He Gao; his daughter, He Wei;
Junior Palace Administration Zhong Rui; his mother, Lady Lin; his younger brother, Zhong Zhao;
Deputy Prefect Xu Yi; his father, Xu Chang; his wife, Lady Liu;
Deputy Prefect Cheng Wen; his wife, Lady Zhao;
Left Deputy of the Crown Prince’s Mansion; his wife, Lady Gao; his son, Ding Jian; his daughter, Ding Yu;
……
And so it continued, stretching on until it filled three full pages.
Setting aside the officials themselves listed at the beginning, the roster recorded their parents, siblings, spouses, and children; totaling over a hundred people. Though it contained nothing but names, titles, and relationships, no one present could fail to grasp its significance—
These were more than a hundred living souls; they were also more than a hundred “Achilles’ heels,” each struck precisely at its most vulnerable point.
It was a list written entirely of leverage.
Empress Dowager Xiao had used the titles Zhang Yan and the others held when they first entered the Eastern Palace, meaning this list was drafted at least thirty years ago. After successfully installing her foster son as crown prince, she had meticulously selected a group of subordinate officials she found satisfactory and held their kin firmly in her grasp to ensure that they would serve her, the Eastern Palace, and the Xiao clan of Lanling with unwavering devotion.
After reading through the entire document, there was scarcely a single renowned clan name from either north or south of the Yangtze River. This meant that the parents, wives, and children; much like the Eastern Palace officials themselves, hailed from the lower classes; they were commoners without a shred of privilege.
After a long silence, Xie Jing said with great difficulty, “Grand Tutor Zhang’s wife passed away in their early years, and he has lived alone for half his life without ever remarrying. This is a fact known to everyone in Jinling.”
Lu Lingcong understood his meaning perfectly and continued, “I have no recollection of Lord He and his wife ever having a daughter.”
Xie Jing suddenly froze and turned to Lu Lingcong, “Back then, regarding Ningning, Madam He—”
Lu Lingcong nodded cautiously: “Ningning told me that in Yongzhou, Madam He treated her exceptionally well, as if she were her own. She also said Madam He was ‘most skilled at figure painting, having painted countless children that looked so vivid they seemed real.'”
Another long silence followed.
After a while, Lu Lingcong spoke again, untangling the chaotic threads in his mind:
“Zhong Zhao… although he ultimately betrayed me, I investigated his background before recruiting him years ago. He was an orphan; I never heard of him having an elder brother. He didn’t breathe a word of it to me even before he died.”
“Ding Yu is the ‘Ah Yu’ who went missing from Mount Tang Manor, the girl who abducted Qing’er and died by my sword. Ding Jian, our old acquaintance, must be her brother; he was with her that night, later escaped, and vanished. I never expected he would go to the Northern Desert to defect to the enemy.”
Xiao Yao’s finger lightly tapped the corner of the page, “Then, who exactly was the person Ding Yu mentioned? The one who commissioned her to kill Your Highness and His Highness Shizi in order to ‘save’ the Princess Consort? Could it be someone on this list?”
The three looked at one another and were only able to shake their minds in silence.
The most common fates of these old Eastern Palace officials on the list fell into two categories: one, like Zhang Yan, remained at court, though he was the only one to eventually rise as high as Grand Tutor; the other, like He Gao and Xu Yi, were sent away to distant prefectures. Those who are no longer alive today all at least served for several years in office before passing away.
Those like Zhong Rui and Ding Yuan, who died directly while traveling to take up their posts, were in the minority. Cheng Wen was a unique exception; though he was dismissed from office, he remained in the capital, only to be reinstated a few years later with a lucrative posting in Huaiyang.
But what about their family?
Lu Lingcong felt an extremely uncomfortable sense of suffocation rising from within. He knew that the silence of Xie Jing and Xiao Yao was because they had thought of the same thing—where did those hundred-plus elderly, women, and children controlled by the Xiao family go after the ordnance case?
He had only seen three people: Ding Yu, Ding Jian, and Zhong Zhao. So, what about the rest? Where were they?
Were they still in this world?
It was already late at night when they stepped out of the cabin. Dark clouds veiled the moon as a light; humid spring rain fell steadily. Influenced by the current political climate, the fireworks and entertainment trade along both banks of the river had fallen into quiet decline, with few visitors left in sight. Xie Jing recognized Xie Jun’s figure; he was sitting by the window of a small building overlooking the water with his back slightly hunched, revealing a listless loneliness.
“Look, he really is like a big child.” Xie Jing laughed at his own words; Xie Jun had already reached adulthood, and by no means could he be considered a “child” anymore.
Hearing them, Xie Jun turned his head, but he didn’t catch the content of their conversation. He simply smiled at them, turned back to grab something, and with a lift of his hand, tossed an oil-paper umbrella down from the second floor.
Lu Lingcong reached out and caught it before opening it to shield both of them under the umbrella. The oil-paper surface had faded to a pale, aged yellow, and the painted weeping forsythia had blurred into intersecting streaks, as though a page had been torn from an ancient book and hastily pieced back together. Yet, once the ribs were extended, it still formed a full, round moon.
Both sighed softly at the same time and looked at each other. Lu Lingcong said, “I’m just feeling sentimental. How earth-shakingly brilliant were these events and people from over thirty years ag were then? Yet now some are unknown, some have perished, and some have simply vanished from this world.”
Xie Jing nodded. “We are the crickets in the late Emperor’s hands, but the late Emperor was also a puppet under Empress Dowager Xiao’s palm. One generation presses upon another, and one layer envelops another; as long as that golden dragon throne remains, there will never be an end to it.”
Beneath the boat, the waters that had once “washed the makeup of the Six Dynasties” flowed on with a gentle, sweet fragrance. Lu Lingcong looked out at the rippling Qinhuai River; the warmth that had just been in his eyes when he looked at Xie Jun and Xie Jing gradually faded, leaving only a cold sneer. “What gold is it made of? It’s clearly a chair built from bones.”
