The court proceedings proceeded in an orderly manner, and the Emperor was quite satisfied with the results of their investigation in the north.
"Prince Chun has demonstrated considerable skill in governance. He contributed greatly to the pacification of Khalkha and, upon returning to court, devoted himself diligently to official duties. His outstanding achievements in handling the Cloud Peak Case and the Bo Family Case have made him my right-hand man. When the incident in Ningguta occurred, I was deeply troubled day and night, unable to eat or sleep in peace. Though those Aha were criminals exiled by the court, since they were not sentenced to death, they should not have been traded like livestock. Daoqin and his accomplices committed heinous crimes, turning the settlement of surrendered people and the ancestral lands of the Original Clans into a cesspool of corruption—this reflects poorly on my virtue. The Emperor Emeritus inquired several times, but I dared not report the truth, fearing to disturb his tranquility in his sixtieth year. As his son, I have failed in my filial duties. Now, Twelfth Master has relieved me of this burden, bringing me great comfort. After the court session, he is to await my decree in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, where I shall reward him accordingly. The position of Deputy Commander of Ningguta will remain vacant for now, with the Jilin Ula Meile Zhangjing temporarily assuming the role. If any of you have capable candidates to recommend, submit memorials to the Grand Council for deliberation. It is difficult to find good officials in remote regions far from the Emperor’s reach. Without proper supervision, those in power lose sight of their duties and even disregard their own lives, obsessed with lining their pockets. In truth, such matters are well understood by all present—not only in the provinces but also within the court itself. The only difference is whether one acts brazenly or covertly."
The man seated on the Gilt Dragon Throne spoke unhurriedly, yet the ministers below broke into a cold sweat. Who among them did not harbor some selfish motives? The master was using this opportunity to warn the mighty by striking at the lesser—perhaps to bolster the next wave of anti-corruption efforts. His earlier praise for Twelfth Master suggested he might entrust him with a significant task. But Twelfth Master was known for keeping to himself, with no deep connections to anyone. If he were to clamp down, even the highest authority would not be spared.
Eyes darted like arrows across the hall, but Hongce paid them no heed. Raising his voice clearly, he said, "Your Majesty, I have another memorial for your review." With both hands raised, he presented it through the eunuch to the Emperor, then clasped his hands and continued, "I have been unwell recently. Caught in the rain upon returning from Fengrun, I fell gravely ill for nearly half a month. Last night, upon entering the city and returning to my residence, I summoned the imperial physician for a diagnosis. I had intended to request leave from Your Majesty, but my duties weighed on me, so I resolved to crawl into the Hall of Supreme Harmony if necessary... Your Majesty’s praise leaves me unworthy. The success of the investigation was due to the collective efforts of many—I dare not claim credit alone. If we must scrutinize, I too have failed in my duties. Your Majesty tasked me with reinvestigating the decade-old case of Censor Wen Lu. When I reached the Changbai Mountain Imperial Estate to interrogate Wen Lu’s three sons, I discovered they had all passed away. The case has stalled for seven or eight months without progress. I have failed Your Majesty’s trust and am willing to accept punishment. I beg Your Majesty to reprimand me."He went on with his report while the Emperor focused on reading the petition. After finishing it, the Emperor closed the folded document—its contents didn’t match what was being said. With a mind as clear as crystal, the Emperor grasped the underlying implications at a glance. Yet, he refrained from questioning openly, merely pausing briefly before patting his knee and remarking, “A case buried for over a decade—reopening it would indeed be no small challenge. During my days of Dragon’s Ascent, I too handled official duties. I know the desperation of having nowhere to turn in dire straits and the difficulties of unresolved cases. Official matters are important, but your own health matters even more. You’ve just returned from Ningguta—it’s been a taxing year. Rest and recuperate in your residence. Set aside court affairs for now; there’s no urgency. Focus on recovering first.”
Hongce acknowledged with a respectful “Yes.” The exchange between the brothers appeared ordinary on the surface, but beneath it lay their unspoken understanding. As for the Wen Lu case—should it be investigated? Of course, and thoroughly at that. However, making too much noise might invite unwanted attention, so it was better to shift from overt to covert operations. Quietly handling the matter was preferable to brandishing a blade overhead. For Hongce, feigning illness served a dual purpose. Rumors of a corruption purge were circulating in court—he lacked the energy to muddy the waters or make enemies. The principle of “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down” was something even Seventh Master understood, let alone him. Moreover, conducting the investigation discreetly was crucial, but even more pressing was Dingyi—he had never given up searching for her. Members of the Imperial Clan couldn’t leave the capital at will, but with the case in hand, the moment news of her surfaced, he could turn his horse around immediately, even without seeking permission from the palace—an added convenience.
What followed in the court discussions, he didn’t know. Earlier, he had received a special decree excusing him from court due to his impaired hearing unless his presence was absolutely necessary. After presenting his memorial, he withdrew to the side to await the conclusion of the assembly. Those with hearing impairments often compensated with heightened sensitivity in other areas—the faint vibrations beneath his feet signaled the approach of the Chen hour (7–9 a.m.). The court rituals were clear: the whip announced the assembly, the drum its dismissal. During morning court, eunuchs would crack the Sheep Intestine Whip on the street to heaven, while at the Inner Right Gate, drums would sound to mark the end of proceedings. This had been the established protocol since the founding of Great Britain.
Civil and military officials filed out of the Hall of Supreme Harmony in orderly fashion, and he followed the crowd down the Danbi Steps. As a prince, his place was among the imperial ranks—ahead of him stood Prince Zhuang. The elder Prince Zhuang was the Emperor Emeritus’s own brother, a man who had never shown much interest in governance, spending nine out of ten years outside the capital. When the Emperor Emeritus abdicated, he hastily followed suit, retreating to Yunnan to live as a recluse, passing his title of Iron-Cap Prince to his eldest son, Hongzan—hence the distinction between the elder and younger Prince Zhuang.
Among their generation, brothers were few, so the Hong generation was collectively ranked. Hongzan was half a year younger than the Emperor, and everyone addressed him as “Third Brother.” This Third Brother was a refined and scholarly gentleman, his words always gentle and kind. Unlike his father, who in high spirits might address a ten-year-old as “brother,” Hongzan carried himself with dignified grace. He was erudite, exuding the bearing of a true scholar. In their youth, when the Emperor Emeritus examined the studies of his nephews, Hongzan’s Eight-legged Essays could move him to tears—such was his brilliance.
The officials moved in tight formation, shoulder to shoulder, dispersing only once they reached the street to heaven. None dared to call out to companions openly, but those with connections naturally gravitated toward one another. Hongzan slowed his pace, turning to wait for Hongce with a smile. “I arrived late at the Court Office earlier—we didn’t get a chance to talk. A year on the road has left you tanned and sturdier. How are you? I just heard you mention feeling unwell—what’s the trouble?”Hongce said, "Caught a chill, had a fever for over ten days. Sometimes I break out in cold sweats—bad enough to soak through a whole undershirt. Can you imagine?" He gestured with a smile as the two cousins stepped aside to talk. "How have you been lately, Third Brother? Last year's Winter Solstice was your fortieth birthday, but I wasn't in the capital. Forgive me for not observing the formalities properly."
Hongzan waved it off. "Such a small matter! I hadn’t planned on making a fuss—just wanted the brothers to gather for some fun. But a few bondservants couldn’t keep their mouths shut, and soon everyone knew. Had no choice but to book a few tables at Qingfeng Restaurant to manage it." He added, "Cold sweats aren’t something to take lightly for a man. Better call the imperial physician right away. You know medicine yourself—don’t brush it off and let it turn into something serious."
Hongce chuckled. "I know what I’m doing. Brewing old wheat as tea—helps a little."
Hongzan nodded, then suddenly seemed to remember something. "Ah, right. There’s a pond in Langrun Garden that’s silted up, blocking the drainage sluice. The palace ordered it dug out and rebuilt. When I went to inspect it recently, I ran into the Noble Consort in the garden. Her Highness asked me for a favor—something about... coffin planks. I tried to dissuade her, saying she’s in the prime of life and shouldn’t dwell on such things, but she insisted. Had no choice but to send men to find Mast Wood. Just got word yesterday—two pieces with star patterns, top-grade. Sent them to the workshop for crafting. A Longevity Coffin like this takes meticulous work—carving and lacquering alone could take a year or two. I don’t visit the garden often, so if the Noble Consort asks, could you relay that she needn’t worry? I’ve got it in hand and won’t forget."
Hongce nearly winced in exasperation. Before he left the capital last year, his mother had already brought this up. He hadn’t expected her to still remember. Probably thought he was brushing her off—since her son couldn’t be relied on, she turned to someone else. She was determined to make him lose face.
Embarrassed, he tried to laugh it off. "My mother—always chasing novelty. She pestered me about it before. I thought it was too early to prepare and deliberately stalled her. Guess she took offense and came to you instead." He clasped his hands apologetically. "Sorry to trouble you, Third Brother. Really awkward."
Hongzan replied, "We’re brothers—no need for such formalities. If our positions were reversed and I asked for your help with something in my household, wouldn’t you step in? You’ve been working hard—if I can take some burden off you, I will. Rest properly when you return, regain your energy for handling cases... Speaking of which, Wen Lu’s sons—all gone?"
Hongce confirmed, "Yes. Worn down to nothing—ended up dying of plague."
Hongzan exhaled slowly. "Poor souls. I remember wrestling with Wen Ruliang back then... So the case is shelved now?"He glanced at him. Hongzan wore an expression of compassion, appearing to share a deep friendship with the Wen Brothers. As for Hongce, he was a man of tight lips—no one could pry words from him that shouldn’t be spoken. The Wen Brothers were the "last remaining fruits." Could this news be kept from those who had once schemed against them? The answer was undoubtedly yes. In the capital, tasks were delegated level by level, with the final instructions inevitably reaching the Imperial Manor. The people there, sneaky and greedy for petty gains, would only half-heartedly comply if their schemes went awry, fearing reprimand from above. In the end, they’d claim total failure. After all, the distance was too great for superiors to inspect personally, and the matter would be brushed aside. The news he had obtained hadn’t spread, so even if the capital had planted spies around him, it would be useless. At this moment, no one could extract any information from him, no matter how close they were. He replied vaguely, "From His Majesty’s tone, it seems he doesn’t want the investigation to continue. After all, so many years have passed—witnesses are gone, and evidence is hard to find. Persisting would only be a futile effort. Better to let it go and save manpower from wasted labor."
"Exactly as it should be," Hongzan laughed upon hearing this. "The court has so many affairs. The Grand Council Duty Room is piled high with memorials like a mountain. If we don’t handle urgent matters before us and instead cling to old cases, won’t new cases just turn into old ones too? His Majesty is the most discerning of all, weighing priorities with the utmost precision. Since that’s the case, you can rest easy—good news indeed. It’s getting late. Earlier, you were summoned to the Hall of Mental Cultivation to await His Majesty’s decree. You should go now, and I’ll head to my office. Another day, let’s pick a time for us brothers to share a meal." As he spoke, he waved his hand. "See you later."
Hongce agreed and watched him exit the Left Wing Gate before turning to see a eunuch from the Hall of Mental Cultivation approaching to greet him. The eunuch bowed deeply and said, "Greetings to the Twelfth Master! His Majesty summons you. Please follow this servant." Hunched over, he led the way, ushering him inside and settling him comfortably, his eyes narrowing into slits with a smile. Then, taking a tray from a young eunuch, he poured tea and offered it obsequiously. "This servant had someone prepare the finest Pre-Qingming Longjing for you. Would you care to savor it? His Majesty is currently meeting someone in the South Study. The Twelfth Master need only wait a short while—His Majesty will arrive shortly."
"Second Steward, you’ve worked hard. I heard you’ve risen in rank—haven’t had the chance to congratulate you yet!"
He said it in jest, but the eunuch flushed with embarrassment and exclaimed, "Ah, my good lord, please just call this servant Luzi! What ‘Second Steward’? How many years of cultivation does this servant have? Who am I to stand tall before you? Just give your orders—serving you is this servant’s honor. This so-called ‘Second Steward’ exists only to serve His Majesty and the Twelfth Master, from heaven to earth."
A faint smile curled his lips as he looked down at the tea leaves in his cup—needle-like strands standing straight after being steeped in boiling water, suspended at varying heights. He took a sip and nodded. "This year’s tribute tea is good, unlike last year’s Lotus Heart Mixed with Sparrow Tongue, as if they thought no one would notice."
Luzi hurried to flatter him. "The Twelfth Master is the ancestor of tea connoisseurs—no mistake about it! No wonder His Majesty always invites you to share his finest teas."
He didn’t respond, sitting quietly and staring absently at the tea leaves.The Emperor entered just as he was lost in thought. The affairs of state had already been settled in the previous court session, leaving only family matters between brothers. Without further ado, the Emperor stopped before him and handed over a thick stack of booklets. "These contain the names, backgrounds, and portraits of all the daughters of third-rank officials and above. Take a look and see which one suits you—bring her home to warm your bed!"
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