Summer dawns came early. When Zhu Yong arrived at the palace gates, only a few officials had gathered, scattered in small clusters.
At the sight of Zhu Yong approaching, everyone froze momentarily.
Though all were here for the morning court session, not everyone knew each other—especially someone as insignificant as Zhu Yong, a minor compiler.
But now, after his single declaration of "The Empress is wise" in court, everyone knew him.
As Zhu Yong walked forward, all the officials shifted aside. Some wore expressions of indifference, some of disgust, some sneered coldly.
"How dare he show his face in court?"
"Why hasn't he been dismissed and arrested yet?"
"He won't be arrested—instead, he enables the Empress to arrest people everywhere outside."
"We should worry about ourselves. Who knows when the Dragon Cloak Guard might break down our doors?"
Zhu Yong stood alone, feeling awkward. After the incident, he had stayed away from court, packing his belongings at home and dismissing his servants, waiting to be dismissed from his post and expelled from the capital or arrested. But he waited and waited—no one came. Until a few friends secretly brought him news.
"The Empress has gone mad, all to handle Zheng Xia's case for you."
Zheng Xia, who was supposed to be executed immediately, had been seized by the Dragon Cloak Guard. The Dragon Cloak Guard had stormed into the Imperial Academy Chancellor's residence to make arrests. They clashed with the Capital Garrison and the Military Patrol Office. Rumor had it that the Grand Tutor and the Empress had even confronted each other in the inner palace.
And it wasn't over. The Dragon Cloak Guard went to Jingzhou, arresting many there—Jingzhou was in chaos—
Only then did Zhu Yong learn what had happened outside. Trembling with either excitement or fear, he decided to leave home and attend court.
The Empress had done such mad things for him; he couldn't hide at home and wait.
More officials arrived at the palace gates, all avoiding Zhu Yong. Countless eyes fixed on him, hushed discussions merging into a buzzing hum. Every harsh word was audible, but Zhu Yong pretended not to hear, standing motionless in place. He saw his colleagues and friends arrive, but none dared approach him, only exchanging furtive glances.
Finally, the time for court arrived. Zhu Yong walked at the end of the procession, silently entering the court hall, bowing to welcome the Emperor and Empress as usual.
The court session proceeded as usual, yet not quite.
Standing at the back, Zhu Yong heard officials report: "Clashes broke out between Jingzhou city guards and the imperial guards, leaving ten injured." "The people of Jingzhou are panicked, rumors spreading everywhere." "The Governor of Jingzhou has submitted a memorial—"
The officials merely reported, without questioning the Empress. And when the Empress began with "This matter is known to me—" they fell silent as before.
The Empress spoke as if to herself, yet without pause, she finished what she had to say.
The officials remained silent until Deng Yi spoke: "This is the court's failure. The Ministry of Personnel will select officials today to go to Jingzhou, reassure the people, and restore order."
The officials assented in unison.
Zhu Yong's heart raced. Though there was no argument, the implied meaning was more frightening than any dispute. The Grand Tutor's plan to "reassure the people" was also a means to stir them up—the Empress's reputation would suffer.
In this so-called "restoration of order," the Grand Tutor represented order, while the Empress represented chaos.
Zhu Yong was all too familiar with such schemes and amplifications of blame. Such tactics were often used against officials, but now they could be applied to the sovereign as well.
If the Emperor's reputation suffered, it was one thing—but the Empress was not the Emperor. If her reputation were truly ruined, public resentment would boil over, and the Grand Tutor had the authority to depose an empress.Zhu Yong stood at the end of the line, his hanging hands trembling slightly.
Had he been too impulsive that day when he stepped forward—
Zheng Xia had already resigned himself to waiting for death.
He had even planned how to take care of Zheng Xia’s family.
Now, with things as they were, Zheng Xia was doomed, he himself was doomed, and there would be no one left to care for their families.
The officials in the court began discussing a new topic. The Empress fell silent, and Zhu Yong stared blankly, his mind in disarray—this time, he was truly finished.
“Report—Captain Ding Chui of the Dragon Guard Army and Advisor Yin Tong request an audience with Your Majesty.” The eunuch’s loud announcement cut through the court’s murmurs.
The hall fell silent.
The Imperial Censor froze for a moment before stepping forward to rebuke, “Do not disrupt the court session! The Dragon Guard Army are not court officials and are not permitted to enter the hall.”
The eunuch who had entered paled slightly. Though the ministers restrained themselves from openly insulting the Empress, they showed no such restraint toward the eunuchs.
They could not only curse them but even have them dragged out and beaten without consequence.
“This is not a disruption,” the Empress’s voice rang out. “They have come precisely on court business.”
The Imperial Censor hesitated, recalling the agreed-upon strategy: ignore the Empress’s words, pretend not to hear them. All he needed to do was continue scolding and order the eunuch to “withdraw at once—”
But the Empress was quicker.
“Summon them—”
The eunuch, eager to leave, immediately turned and rushed out of the hall, shouting, “Summon them—”
In truth, there was no need for such a loud summons. The two Dragon Guard soldiers were already waiting outside the hall and stepped in as soon as the Empress’s voice faded.
Seeing the two imperial guards enter—still armed, as the Dragon Guard Army, responsible for guarding the inner palace, were exempt from disarming when entering the Imperial City—and recalling the recent behavior of the Dragon Cloak Guard, the Imperial Censor reconsidered. If he ordered the hall guards to expel them, he might witness imperial guards brawling inside the court.
How absurd.
Never mind, never mind.
Whatever they had to say, he would simply ignore it.
Ding Dachui ignored the officials in their blue, purple, and red robes and strode to the front. “Your servant has concluded the investigation into the case of Zheng Xia’s interrogation by the Imperial Inspector of Jingzhou.”
Chu Zhao, pleased that it had been resolved faster than expected, said, “Excellent, report at once.”
Ding Dachui stepped aside. The next part was not his forte. Advisor Yin opened the case he was carrying, took out the files, and began his presentation.
“After reviewing the case files, conducting visits in Jingzhou’s capital, and locating relevant individuals, we identified the true culprit: Imperial Inspector Chi Yu of Jingzhou. Chi Yu has confessed fully.”
“Here is the confession.”
He displayed it for all to see—Chi Yu’s handwriting and a vivid red handprint.
The hall fell silent, just as when the Empress had spoken, with no one responding.
But this time was different. Many officials showed subtle shifts in expression, exchanging glances, a faint restlessness stirring among them.
Advisor Yin paid no mind to the lack of response. He pulled documents from the case one by one, detailing the investigation process, witness statements, and evidence. His slightly effeminate voice echoed through the hall, his tone flat and unvarying, flowing like a stream past every ear.
At the end of the line, Zhu Yong, who had been lost in despair, gradually focused. He leaned forward, unable to help himself—and he was not alone. Officials in the back rows shifted and craned their necks to see.
The Imperial Inspector of Jingzhou had sold examination answers. Three candidates had purchased them, but one of them, not particularly bright, was discovered by a scholar. Instead of placating him, they beat the scholar severely and threatened him. Overwhelmed by frustration and injustice, the scholar left a blood-written letter hanging by a bridge and threw himself into the river.After the incident escalated, the Jingzhou Zhongzheng official naturally wouldn't admit guilt himself, instead making Zheng Xia the scapegoat.
"Chi Yu knew Zheng Xia could write with his left hand, so during interrogation he ordered the bailiffs to break Zheng Xia's left hand. This is the bailiffs' confession."
"We found poetry collections Zheng Xia left behind at the academy where he studied in his youth, containing handwriting from his left hand. The writing styles between his left and right hands are indeed different. This is the evidence."
"To secure Zheng Xia's conviction, Chi Yu sent the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy one hundred taels of gold. This is evidence of their correspondence."
This case wasn't complicated—one could say it was quite straightforward.
The only complexity lay with the people involved.
Those who could purchase examination questions were scions of prominent Jingzhou families, intricately connected with officials throughout the province.
The Zhongzheng official who sold the questions came from a noble family with an illustrious reputation.
As for the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy, needless to say, he was a high-ranking official in the capital who viewed scholars from the provinces as insignificant as ants.
Government bailiffs wouldn't thoroughly investigate them, much less dare to interrogate them under torture.
Thus, with just a casual push from these people, Zheng Xia—a minor official from a humble background with no power or influence—was doomed.
"All the suspects involved have now been brought to the capital to await judgment."
Yin Canshi spoke as he placed the final piece of evidence into the box, concluding his presentation.
Chu Zhao looked at the box filled with evidence and confessions, his expression dark and tinged with sarcasm: "So that's how it is. If you say they treated this as a minor matter—the grading and evaluation, the affairs of literary sages, the fraud and favoritism, the death of scholars—they knew they had to sentence officials to death as a warning. But if you say this is a major matter, everyone from top to bottom treated it lightly, casually pushing someone to die—"
He withdrew his gaze and looked at the officials in the hall.
"Captain Ding, hand over the evidence you've gathered and the suspects to the Ministry of Justice for their reassessment."
Ding Dachui acknowledged the order.
The Vice Minister of Justice remained silent but wondered: Was silence appropriate now? Would silence imply acceptance? Should he voice an objection? He couldn't help but glance at the Grand Tutor.
Deng Yi didn't look at him, instead surveying the assembly and asking, "Are there any other matters to report?"
As before, this was the moment for the officials in the hall to immediately respond.
"I—have a report to make!"
Someone shouted loudly while stepping forward.
The officials in front looked at each other, unable to see who had stepped out. Then, looking at Deng Yi, whose gaze went past them toward the back, the officials also turned to look behind.
At the end of the line, Zhu Yong strode forward, taking several steps ahead.
It's him. The officials' expressions shifted.
Deng Yi looked at him: "What is your matter?"
Zhu Yong didn't look at Deng Yi but instead at the woman behind the Dragon Throne.
He bowed and kowtowed: "I request that the Empress grant me the authority to serve as an Imperial Censor and proceed to Jingzhou to conclude this case together with the Ministry of Justice."
This statement shocked the court officials even more than when he had previously stepped forward to speak of the unjust case.
If pleading for a friend's injustice was an impulsive act of human sentiment, then now he didn't ask for the Emperor's permission, nor did he use a vague "request" without specifying to whom. Instead, he explicitly requested the Empress to grant—
This was clearly an act of aligning himself with the Empress, declaring that he would only heed her.
Is he mad!
The hall could no longer maintain its previous silence and calm. A stir of murmurs arose, and officials standing near Zhu Yong edged away from him.
Deng Yi looked at Zhu Yong, his face expressionless and silent.
"Granted." The Empress's voice rang out clearly.
Zhu Yong thanked her and rose, looking at the woman on the Dragon Throne, and declared loudly, "I will certainly live up to Your Majesty's grace."
...
...
"This Zhu—"The Minister of the Court of Judicial Review was somewhat portly, struggling to keep up with Deng Yi’s brisk pace as he spoke breathlessly, even forgetting the man’s name mid-sentence—such minor officials had never warranted his attention before.
No family background, no future prospects.
“Zhu Yong,” the Vice Minister of Revenue reminded him quietly, hands tucked in his sleeves.
“Who cares about some Zhu-dog?” the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review snapped. “Has he lost his mind? If he’s mad, throw him out immediately.”
He turned to look around.
“Where is Academician Li? What’s he waiting for?”
Even a Hanlin Academician had no place following Deng Yi—
“Send someone to fetch him—no, tell him to get lost too.”
Deng Yi, walking silently ahead, said, “Pay him no mind. He’s merely backed into a corner and has no choice but to turn to the Empress.”
That was true enough. Even if this case were thoroughly investigated, so what? With Zhu Yong groveling before the Empress like a slave, he could never remain in court.
For the sake of his career, Zhu Yong had no option but to seek the Empress’s protection, hoping she could shield him.
“Even if the Empress protects him and lets him keep his post, what use is he? A petty compiler.” The Vice Minister of Personnel chuckled softly behind them.
The Empress might let the Dragon Cloak Guard run rampant, but she held no authority to appoint officials.
“Does she expect this petty compiler to charge through the streets arresting people and brawling too?”
Laughter rippled through the group.
“All the better,” the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review said coldly. “He never met the late Emperor, so he can’t invoke imperial decrees. If he dares act recklessly, the Five Cities Garrison can cut him down in the streets.”
The officials laughed again.
Deng Yi spoke once more: “Ignore these trivial matters. Calming the people is what’s urgent. The Empress’s reckless actions have alarmed the populace.”
The Vice Minister of Justice added with a sneer, “You may not yet know how the Empress conducts her investigations—the Inspector of Jingzhou had his legs broken by the Dragon Cloak Guard.”
The officials erupted in exclamations.
“This isn’t investigation—it’s torture to extract confessions!”
“I heard Chancellor Jiang is locked in a secret prison. No visits allowed—no one even knows if he’s alive.”
“What right do they have to conduct arrests? This is a complete breach of protocol!”
Deng Yi silenced the clamor. “That’s why we must make sure the officials and people of Jingzhou understand, and the world understands, that this has nothing to do with the court. It’s not that the Great Xia court has abandoned its rules.”
The crux wasn’t whether the case was unjust—even if it were, it couldn’t be investigated this way.
The crux was that the Empress had discarded protocol, disregarded the court, abused her power, and acted wantonly.
Such lawless empresses were common in history. Those with better fates were deposed; those with worse—executed.
The officials understood and murmured their assent.
Deng Yi stepped into the main hall, pausing briefly at the sight of the Imperial Cuisine laid out on the dining tables after the morning court session.
Execution wasn’t necessary. Deposition seemed excessive too—having her return to the inner palace would suffice.
She should never have been allowed to attend court in the first place.
……
……
In the Grand Tutor Hall, officials sat scattered—some writing, some deep in thought, devising strategies.
The Minister of the Court of Judicial Review flipped through a few documents. A clerk brought tea, and as he accepted it, he remembered something and sent the clerk to summon Hanlin Academician Li. The Vice Minister of Personnel nearby overheard and frowned. “Why are you still hung up on that petty compiler?”
The Minister of the Court of Judicial Review surveyed the crowded hall. Though the Grand Tutor Hall was spacious, it couldn’t compare to the main court. No matter how many were present, they weren’t the entire court—many officials were absent.He murmured, "I'm not concerned about that minor editor. What worries me is others learning from his example."
The Vice Minister of Personnel laughed heartily. "Is that so? I'd like to see who dares. Are the Xie family's people finally dropping their act?"
Ever since the Empress began interfering in state affairs, Xie Yanfang and his faction had remained silent, as if it had nothing to do with them.
"Nothing to do with them? Ridiculous," the Vice Minister sneered. "They are the Empress's faction."
Their silence spoke volumes, and their words would speak even louder—they were just waiting for them to reveal themselves.
The Minister of Justice rubbed his nose, wanting to point out that the minor editor wasn't part of the Xie faction. But precisely because he wasn't, he had no way out. As for the other officials at court, few were like him—most had families, careers, and reputations to protect, with no need to seek their own ruin.
He gestured for the minor official to leave; there was no need to summon Academician Li.
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