BXG - 114

◎Petition◎

Cheng Shu, the Deputy Chief Censor, hurried up the long jade steps leading to Xuande Palace.

The Cheng family had served in official positions for five generations in Bianjing and boasted powerful matrimonial ties, deeply rooted in influence. Despite his privileged background, Cheng Shu was diligent, earning the position of Deputy Chief Censor at just over thirty years old.

The Chengs were old nobility and strongly opposed Zhou Tan’s new reforms. The staged spectacle of a man jumping into the Bian River months ago had been orchestrated by them and a few other noble families.

Yet somehow, the emperor had let the matter slide without consequence.

As Cheng Shu walked, his heart pounded fiercely.

When the Bian River incident occurred, he had been drinking in a nearby tavern, observing from afar how events would unfold. After sipping a few mouthfuls of wine, a figure suddenly sat across from him.

Looking up, Cheng Shu recognized Bai Ying, the highly esteemed chief physician of the Imperial Medical Academy. Rumors linked Bai Ying to Bai Shating, the disgraced scion of the Bai family, though their relationship was distant. Bai Ying had served the emperor since his days as a prince, earning immense trust despite his modest rank.

Cheng Shu immediately set down his cup and bowed respectfully. Bai Ying waved dismissively, smiling faintly. “Why is Lord Cheng drinking alone here?”

Cheng Shu replied casually, “I often come here, but today I happened to witness an interesting scene. What brings Doctor Bai here?”

Bai Ying evaded the question with a vague smile. “Coincidence, pure coincidence.”

Though Bai Ying didn’t ask directly, his subtle gaze made Cheng Shu feel as though his intentions were laid bare. Unnerved, Cheng Shu blurted, “Why does Doctor Bai look at me like that?”

Unexpectedly, Bai Ying countered sharply, “What does Lord Cheng think of the Chancellor’s recent reforms?”

Startled, Cheng Shu glanced around nervously and waved his hands. “In a tavern? Such topics are best avoided.”

“What’s there to fear? The Chancellor’s decrees have been so rushed—surely Lord Cheng or his household must harbor some thoughts on the matter?” Bai Ying sipped tea, watching Cheng Shu’s face turn pale, then quickly reassured him. “Why so tense? We’re on the same side.”

Before joining the Imperial Medical Academy, Bai Ying had been a humble street doctor rumored to have ties with Zhou Tan. His words now left Cheng Shu wary, unwilling to trust easily.

Perhaps sensing his skepticism, Bai Ying sighed, shaking his sleeves. “People claim I was introduced to the Emperor through my connection with the Chancellor. But truthfully… it’s his wife I know better.”

A shadow of melancholy crossed his face.

Cheng Shu noticed and seemed to grasp something. Pouring tea, he probed cautiously, “The Chancellor’s wife… is she the famous Miss Qu of Bianjing?”

Bai Ying forced a smile. “Yes. When I first met her, I was penniless, relying on her kindness to survive. Without her, who knows if I’d still be alive today? Alas… enough of this. Let’s drink, Lord Cheng.”

From Bai Ying’s hesitant tone, Cheng Shu inferred the tangled relationships between these individuals, though he dared not dwell on it too deeply. Still, he trusted Bai Ying’s earlier words a little more. “Doctor Bai is too modest.”

From then on, Bai Ying frequently sought out Cheng Shu for drinks, and the two became oddly familiar.

After several meetings, Cheng Shu grew less cautious. The nobility’s dissatisfaction with Zhou Tan was no secret; hiding it was pointless.

Their final meeting occurred on the day Zhou Tan was first dismissed as Chancellor.

Cheng Shu was delighted, but Bai Ying appeared less so, lost in thought during their meal. As they parted ways, Bai Ying suddenly said, “Lord Cheng, I don’t have many friends. If something happens to me in the future… I may need you to do me a favor.”

Cheng Shu nodded politely. “No need for formalities, Brother Bai. Just let me know if there’s anything.”

At the time, he hadn’t considered what might happen to Bai Ying. It wasn’t until Zhou Tan’s unexpected reinstatement that Cheng Shu realized Bai Ying had stopped visiting him for drinks.

Inquiring discreetly, Cheng Shu learned that Bai Ying had grown weary of life at the Imperial Medical Academy and resigned to travel afar.

He sensed something amiss but dared not speculate further, swallowing his suspicions.

Months after Bai Ying’s abrupt disappearance, an unsigned box was delivered to Cheng Shu.

According to servants, the box had been tossed into the courtyard at night, its sender unseen. Sealed tightly, it bore a note in Bai Ying’s handwriting, simply instructing Cheng Shu to deliver it to the Emperor—unopened.

The box was clearly prepared long before Bai Ying’s disappearance, entrusted to intermediaries to ensure delivery if he vanished for three months.

Weighing it, Cheng Shu found it surprisingly light, likely containing only a single sheet of paper.

Despite his resolve, curiosity eventually got the better of him.

...

“Lord Cheng.”

Standing on the jade steps, Cheng Shu’s racing heart nearly gave out at the sudden greeting. Turning, he saw Zhou Tan, who rarely attended court these days.

Seeing him, Cheng Shu grew even more uneasy.

Did Zhou Tan know about the contents of the box? If not, why approach him now?

Rumors claimed Zhou Tan had fallen ill again, his gaunt frame wrapped in a pristine white cloak. Yet his demeanor remained elegant, his complexion seemingly fine.

Cheng Shu, who daily submitted petitions criticizing Zhou Tan, offered only a perfunctory bow. “Chancellor.”

Holding an ivory tablet, Zhou Tan stood casually beside him, discussing recent court affairs. Cheng Shu responded respectfully, eager to leave. When the eunuch announced the start of the audience, he turned to excuse himself.

Unexpectedly, Zhou Tan’s voice drifted after him, light as the wind. “Lord Cheng, have you ever heard this saying...?”

Cheng Shu looked back. Snow had briefly ceased falling that morning, but the air remained frigid. Wind whipped past the young Chancellor, loosening strands of his carefully arranged hair.

Zhou Tan brushed dew from his cloak, walking past him. His voice carried far in the breeze: “The blessings of the virtuous last five generations… Lord Cheng, tread carefully.”

The morning court session was chaotic.

Cheng Shu hadn’t expected someone to act faster than him—and that someone was Su Chaoci, the usually silent Governor. Su Chaoci’s strained relationship with Zhou Tan and his aristocratic background made the accusation unsurprising, but his audacity was staggering. Submitting such a petition in Zhou Tan’s presence—did he not fear the Emperor’s wrath endangering the Su family?

Cheng Shu trembled, too afraid to raise his head. To his astonishment, the young Emperor appeared even more shocked than the ministers, speechless after hearing Su Chaoci’s accusations.

Court adjourned hastily.

Summoning courage, Cheng Shu requested an audience with the Emperor. With Su Chaoci having paved the way, presenting the secrets in the box shouldn’t incur punishment.

As instructed, Song Shixuan dismissed the attendants. Upon receiving the document Cheng Shu handed over, his expression changed drastically.

Inside the box was a lawsuit.

Not the original, but a copy retained by the authorities, bearing the gray seal of Lin’an Prefecture.

The lawsuit recounted an old case.

When Jing Wang’s entire household was massacred, Song Shixuan was an infant. Jing Wang’s loyalists fled south with him, hiding in Jiangnan for five or six years.

Eventually, they received a letter from Gu Zhiyan and returned to Bianjing. Exhausted and hunted by officials, most died, leaving Song Shixuan to wander alone.

The lawsuit was vague, written by someone unaware of the identity of those hiding in the mountains. It accused Bai Qiu and Zhou Shu of a heated argument one night, after which they rode out of Lin’an to a desolate hill.

Unbeknownst to them, people were hiding there, active only at night. That night, they encountered the couple.

The petitioner claimed to be Zhou Shu’s personal guard, following discreetly to protect his lord. The next day, authorities found the bodies of Zhou Shu and Bai Qiu.

Both were skilled fighters—Zhou Shu a decorated general and Bai Qiu no ordinary woman. Their deaths suggested they had faced unmatched opponents.

Song Shixuan finished reading, his face pale. In the box, he also found an empty sachet belonging to the Bai family.

Months ago, Luo Jiangting had mysteriously presented a similar lawsuit. At the time, Zhou Tan had replaced it with blank paper after consulting with the Emperor.

This copy, preserved by Bai Ying, was likely entrusted long ago to ensure delivery via Cheng Shu if Bai Ying disappeared.

The lawsuit… was horrifying.

Cheng Shu couldn’t fully comprehend its implications but sensed its importance. Song Shixuan understood—and Zhou Tan undoubtedly did too.

Had Zhou Tan read it when swapping the original?

Song Shixuan dared not delve deeper into the implications.

Seeing the Emperor silent, Cheng Shu risked raising his head, only to hear Song Shixuan call sharply, “Song Yi!”

Only the Emperor’s closest guards bore the royal surname, numbered rather than named.

Lost in thought, Cheng Shu watched Song Shixuan coldly glance at him, fingering the already opened, wax-sealed box, his face unreadable.

A chill ran down Cheng Shu’s spine. A faint voice echoed in his mind, like a whisper or a curse—”The blessings of the virtuous last five generations.”

Had he… made a grave mistake?

Indeed, he heard Song Shixuan murmur, “Dispose of him quietly. Leave no trace.”

And Song Yi, head bowed, replied deeply, “Yes.”