Mrs. Su had the mind of an ordinary woman; she didn’t possess the sharp insight of her husband and children. So when Senior Scholar Su explained the complexities of their current situation to her, she could only blink in confusion, unable to contribute much.
“Only wanting our daughter, but not us, are they afraid of us meddling in politics in the future?” she wondered for a long time, and in the end, she could only blame her husband, Su Yujin, for being restless and unrestrained. If he hadn’t allied with Prince Jianping’s faction in the first place, they wouldn’t be in such turmoil now.
She looked at her husband with resentment. “You’re always talking about factional strife, but isn’t it you people who stir this up? If you’d just stuck to your scholarship from the beginning, would things have come to this? And now you’ve dragged our daughter into it.”
Su Yujin bristled at her words. “You’re so shortsighted! When the Empress Dowager passed, Zuo Zhaoyi was highly favored, and her son was older than the Crown Prince and the Emperor’s first-born. Couldn’t you see where the future was heading? If they tried to pull you into their circle and you didn’t accept, just look at what happened to Minister Fang of the Ministry of Justice. How quickly you forget the disaster that struck just a few years ago. If we faced something like that again, who could bear it? I calculated everything. I only misjudged the Crown Prince. He was his mother’s beloved son, and I thought once the Empress Dowager passed, he’d be vulnerable and wouldn’t hold onto his position for long. Yet he clung to it and even delayed Zuo Zhaoyi’s claim to the Empress’s throne for eight years! If we had stayed as we were a decade ago, we’d still be at everyone’s mercy, with no choice but to submit. Now I’m in the inner council, Su Xinghai has a hold on the Privy Council, and Su Xinghe has secured a portion of the Ministry of Military Control. As for the Su family’s branches, we have more than a few holding official positions in the court. We’re no longer in a position to be toyed with at will…”
Su Xinghai, who had been listening anxiously, felt uneasy as his father’s speech about their achievements was starting to sound, almost like self-sabotage. He quickly stood up, positioning himself between his parents to smooth things over. He urged his father to calm down and reassured his mother, “Mother, I know you’re worried about our girl. Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice, and since everyone will be celebrating, the palace rules will be more relaxed. I’ll find a chance to go to Xuande Gate and see if I can catch a glimpse of her. If she’s doing well, then you can rest easy.”
Mrs. Su’s handkerchief was nearly soaked with tears, but hearing her son’s words finally brought a look of relief to her face.
“You’re truly thorough,” Mrs. Su sighed. “Why don’t you go ahead and submit a formal request for an audience? With what happened yesterday, you’ll have a proper reason to see her.”
Su Xinghai nodded obediently, finally breathing a sigh of relief once he stepped outside.
General Lou Yueting was waiting for him at the foot of the steps and glanced toward the door. “Were they arguing?”
Su Xinghai gave a wry smile. After all these years, it was nothing new. He pulled on the reins and said, “Let’s head to the office first, and later in the afternoon, I’ll go to the North Palace Gate to submit a formal request. My mother was worried and asked me to check in on Su Xinghe. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see her, though.”
General Lou Yueting’s expression was somber. “She’s in the palace, beyond our reach. Who knows how she’s doing now.”
Su Xinghai said nothing but looked at General Lou Yueting, aware of how close he and Su Xinghe had been as children. They’d once even hoped to be family, though it seemed impossible now.
“The Crown Prince is helping her,” Su Xinghai noted, shaking the reins and spurring his horse forward. “He raised the issue with His Majesty last night. Just like a mantis stalking a cicada, with a sparrow waiting behind our prince here…” He chuckled darkly. “Not simple.”
General Lou Yueting lowered his head, silent. He understood the complexity of the situation, as well as Su Xinghe’s challenges. After all, they’d grown up together. Su Xinghe was once wild and unwelcome, but after she entered the palace, he had felt her absence for a long time. Eventually, he enlisted in the army and volunteered for border duty, spending seven or eight years away. Looking back, it seemed that, aside from her, no other girl had left much of an impression. His feelings toward her were brotherly, much like Su Xinghai’s. Yet, when they met again after a decade, the mischievous girl he remembered was gone. In her place stood a poised, resolute woman, a dignified official with an imposing air. The emotions that stirred in him then were, indeed, hard to put into words.
The steady clop of horse hooves echoed as they headed to the yamen. As the highest military institution of the Dayin Empire, the Privy Council had once commanded nearly all national military power. Later, as imperial authority centralized, the military was divided into five armies. Su Xinghai now oversaw the Central Army and the Northwestern Three Armies, while the Privy Council’s head, The Privy Envoy Huo Yan an imperial relative commanded the Southeastern Two Armies and all the imperial guards surrounding the capital. So, while the Privy Council still existed in name, each faction managed its affairs independently, with separate offices. Su Xinghai’s operations were now based at the Central Army Command, not far from Prince Jianping’s residence, allowing them to interact openly on official business.
As expected, when he entered, Prince Jianping was already waiting in the office.
For all its stern military atmosphere, the yamen still held some interesting touches, like the ginkgo tree in the Control of Military Affairs Departments and the pomegranate tree in the Central Army Command. In the depths of winter, the leaves had long since fallen, but the tree, carefully pruned from a young age, had grown to resemble the yamen’s military officials, with sturdy, twisted branches full of strength.
Standing beneath the exposed roots of the ancient tree was the prince, dressed in fine clothing. As a member of the imperial family, he naturally exuded a powerful presence, which, even after regular encounters, always felt striking.
Prince Jianping, Huo Qingzho, was every bit the picture of a noble gentleman, with his proper, dignified appearance. In the struggle for power, good and bad were irrelevant; everyone sought to reach the summit, free from restraints, to live a better, more carefree life. Though the Emperor’s eldest son, he wasn’t born of the Empress, placing him at a disadvantage even though his title ranked lower than that of the fourteen-year-old Prince Xin. He resented the Emperor’s favoritism, and the way his father insisted on setting distinctions between sons. What others gained at birth, he had to fight for with immense effort. Forced down a path of hardship, resentment naturally crept into his heart, subtly altering his demeanor, his gaze, and even his tone.
Last night, the angry outburst of his mother had shifted the situation, forcing him to lower himself today to apologize to the Su family. The two sides had been working together for years, entangled in ways that were impossible to untangle completely. Since a clean break wasn’t an option, they would have to patch things up and push through for a few more years.
Prince Jianping began by clasping his hands respectfully. “I’ve heard about what happened. The lady in the palace lost her composure and handled things poorly. I hurried over this morning to personally apologize to Master Su.”
Having spent years in the official circles, Su Xinghai was neither rattled by major crises nor perturbed by minor ones. He returned the gesture politely. “I appreciate your efforts, Prince Jianping, to come all the way here over this matter. To be honest, the news this morning gave me quite a shock. My mother at home cried her heart out what mother wouldn’t worry about her own daughter…” He finished with a mild smile. “However, my sister serves in the palace, where it’s always crowded and busy. A lapse here or there is inevitable. I imagine she may have unknowingly overstepped some boundaries, earning Zuo Zhaoyi’s ire. If she was scolded or even punished a little, it’s nothing serious.”
He intentionally sidestepped any mention of the Princess Xialing Palace case, clearly taking a step back to advance their position. Prince Jianping was no fool; he understood the weight of the matter and responded with a diplomatic tone. “Even the tongue and teeth sometimes clash; I’m sure the lady had a misunderstanding. As for the case concerning the Princess’s palace… please convey to Scholar Su that, as a favor to me, he should overlook it. And with regard to the Jinyi Guard, when the chance arises, I’ll ensure she’s compensated.”
Su Xinghai gave a slight wave. “Come now, we’re all on the same side here.” As he spoke, he signaled with his eyes for the attendants around them to leave. Once they had, he continued with a smile, “It’s just that my family is confused. The three of us my father, my brother, and I have been unwaveringly loyal to you, Crown Prince, yet this incident was unexpected and still managed to provoke such resentment from Zuo Zhaoyi. My sister, although just a young woman, handled the Ministry of Military Control case of Fang Youlin exactly as per your instructions. I’d say she fulfilled her duties faithfully. But as for the cook in the Prince Consort Gao Zhiya’s case, how could he have such wits? During his initial questioning, he confessed to everything but later reversed his statements the moment the main scribes arrived. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you, Crown Prince? I know my sister’s character well; she’s unyielding and direct. She endured much in the Eastern Palace and, even now, suffers needless blame from Zuo Zhaoyi. Squeezed from both sides it’s unbearable.”
The Su family may not raise their voices in public, but their words had a firm weight no one could ignore. Prince Jianping could only continue deflecting. Thinking more about Su Xinghai’s words, though, he picked up a hint of something deeper. The real target of their frustration was undoubtedly the Crown Prince.
That was fine. He and the Crown Prince had been at odds for years, locked in a bitter rivalry. Seeing each other was like cats meeting crows they just didn’t mix. Frowning, he muttered, “So it’s the Crown Prince behind this. This could complicate things… Quite the miscalculation. I was too eager to settle things and didn’t anticipate it would lead to this mess, giving him an opportunity to make a fuss. Now even Zuo Zhaoyi is implicated, right at the critical moment of her elevation to Empress…”
Su Xinghai quickly agreed, “Indeed. Still, I wouldn’t rush to say it’s certainly the Crown Prince. After all…” He offered an awkward smile. “There’s always been discord among the Gao brothers. Since this happened, has the Princess tried to get a read on Consort Gao’s stance? Perhaps it was his doing?”
Just then, a figure appeared at the top of the office steps, wearing a white robe with indigo plum blossoms and bamboo leaves embroidered on the front. Her hair was adorned with a begonia green-jade hairpin, sparkling in the sunlight as she walked forward with graceful elegance. The jingle of her jade ornaments rang out crisply. Su Xinghai wondered which noblewoman had wandered into the Central Army Office, only to realize it was Princess Xialing.
The princess looked visibly displeased. “Master Su, I don’t understand what you mean. Why would I know Lady Shangguan’s thoughts? If he were truly the one behind the murder, do you think he’d just admit it to me?”
The princess was feigning ignorance when they both knew full well that everyone in the capital knew of her relationship with her brother-in-law. Su Xinghai, as a man, had little patience for verbal sparring with women. He gave the princess a polite bow and gestured toward the main hall. “The wind is strong out here; let’s continue inside.”
Like most government offices, the Command Office was sparse, spacious, and chilly. Once the three were inside, the pressing issue was how to get their people released. If the princess had been a man, she might well have made a formidable statesman herself. Seated in the armchair, she bit her lip, speaking decisively: “The priority now is to ensure Zuo Zhaoyi’s elevation to Empress isn’t jeopardized. If killing Consort Gao Zhiya will fix things, then we should send someone to take care of it.”
Su Xinghai looked at her impassively. “Had last night’s incident not happened, it might have been possible. But now, with the Crown Prince having brought this issue directly before the Emperor, Su Xinghe, as an official, risks a serious charge of interfering in state affairs from within the Inner Court. Handling it will require your guidance, Princess.”
He spoke with cold firmness, and his brief words left Princess Xialing speechless. Her face flushed with frustration, understanding that he was showing her a great deal of respect simply by not openly reprimanding her. Yet there was no other way at the moment; all their hopes now rested on this promotion to Empress a goal they’d pursued for eight years that couldn’t afford to fall apart now.
Prince Jianping was helpless when it came to his sister. He pressed his forehead with one hand, rubbing his temples repeatedly. Princess Xialing had been spoiled since childhood; if he dared to scold her, she would retort even louder than him.
With a deep sigh, he said, “If there’s no way to deal with Consort Gao Zhiya, then get rid of that cook.”
Su Xinghai raised his gaze. “Your Highness seems to have forgotten at this point, it’s not just the cook testifying against him but also his personal servant.”
The case had little room for maneuver. Seeing that there was no way out, the princess slammed her armrest in frustration and sneered, “All this endless circling around this kind of plodding, indecisive handling just doesn’t impress me. Going to such lengths just to remove the Crown Prince? Instead of scheming from the shadows, why not go all the way and eliminate him altogether? At least that way, we’ll be done with it.”
She was bold enough to say it, but the two men beside her froze in shock. While her words held a certain logic, making a move against the Crown Prince was no trivial matter. Let’s not forget, that there were four brothers in total; if one were eliminated and another pulled down, who could say who would benefit most from the chaos that followed?
Su Xinghai promptly excused himself from the proposal. “The Eastern Palace is not the Princess’s residence. Should a disaster occur, the entire state will be shaken, and the fallout would implicate countless people. I fear everyone in the Ministry of Military Control’s punishment hall would be summoned. The Su family is willing to assist His Highness, but we also want to preserve our lives. If such a task must be undertaken, perhaps Your Highness, as his sister, should personally see to it. After all, who better to understand him? As they say, know your enemy and yourself, and you will never be defeated.”
His words were a thinly veiled jab, retaliating for her recent actions that had caused trouble for his sister. Princess Xialing sprang to her feet. “Su Xinghai, if your family thinks you can withdraw now, it’s far too late.”
He hadn’t intended to argue with a woman, but after her scheming from last night, he had no qualms about striking where it hurt.
Su Xinghai looked down, smoothing the turned-up edge of his sleeve. “The Su family has loyally served His Highness for years, and His Highness is well aware of that. Forgive my bluntness, but after hearing Your Highness’s recent comments, who can say for certain who killed the imperial son-in-law?” He raised an eyebrow with a slight smile. “Given the Princess’s decisive style, why rely on another’s hand? I haven’t guessed wrong, have I?”
The Su siblings shared striking looks both possessed features as radiant as the moon, with the sister’s beauty marked by feminine allure and the brother’s by a robust masculinity. Su Xinghai wasn’t one for extremes; he navigated a careful balance. Even after years of working covertly alongside Prince Jianping, he had the poise and bearing of a man who would never stoop to a mere servant’s role.
He sat there quietly, clad in a crisp crimson official robe overlaid with light silver armor. His shoulders were broad, and his expression was steely. At first, Princess Xialing was trembling with anger at his words, but then she surprisingly calmed down, her gaze steady on him as she replied, “No need to try and good me, Lord Su. The death of my husband had nothing to do with me. As for the Crown Prince, until all avenues are exhausted, I don’t want to take such drastic action he’s still my blood brother after all… Lord Su, we’ve never truly spoken like this before, have we? Yet here we are, clashing from the start. How are we supposed to carry on after this?”
Under the Crown Prince’s orders, the Ministry of Military Control swiftly completed the investigation report on the prince consort’s assassination.
Two skilled secretaries in the department crafted a concise, airtight summary of the case. Su Xinghe, seated on the southern Kang, meticulously read through the report anything submitted to the Emperor needed thorough examination for any potential contradictions or errors. However, the Crown Prince’s study, which should have been quiet, was instead filled with the mournful sound of an *erhu*. The high and low notes lacked rhythm, creating a painfully discordant melody.
Su Xinghe shifted her position, preparing to re-read the document by the light streaming in through the window. She had barely finished one passage when the dreadful tune resumed, lamenting and incoherent, grating on her nerves. She forced herself to bear it, finding this assault on her ears almost worse than Zuo Zhaoyi’s lambskin gloves. But she couldn’t complain this was the Crown Prince’s newfound interest, as he had taken it upon himself to learn the *erhu*.
The Crown Prince was proficient in music and could play an ancient zither with the elegance and grace of Jiangnan, but when he switched to the *erhu*, he played worse than a blind beggar on the bridge. This document was impossible to read now. Su Xinghe tossed it onto the kang table, walked through the front hall, and peered into his study. There, he sat in the narrow beam of light, playing with great enthusiasm.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “If you’re serious about this, perhaps you should hire a proper teacher. At this rate, the East Palace will need a new group of people every season.”
The Crown Prince didn’t respond, his long fingers expertly pressing the strings of the *erhu*, producing a sharp, wailing sound that echoed through the room.
Su Xinghe couldn’t understand. “Why did you suddenly decide to play the *erhu*?”
He stopped, glanced at her, and replied coolly, “Three years of the flute, five years of the *xiao* (a vertical flute), and one *erhu* breaks the waist. I’m practicing. You wouldn’t understand, so don’t ask.”
