◎Victory◎

“The factional strife among the chancellors, the Crown Prince, the princes—they all scheme for my throne...” Song Chang’s gaze remained fixed on the dark iron plate, his breathing labored. Whether he spoke to Zhou Tan or himself, it was unclear. “Where did you dig up these ancient grievances? And where did you forge this... Don’t think I don’t know what you’re plotting!”

Zhou Tan looked at him, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“You’re thinking that by pretending to be... the son of an old friend, I’ll lose my composure and blindly believe you, paving the way for your schemes against the Chancellor and clearing the path for the Crown Prince! You orchestrated the exile of the Minister of Justice, and Du Hui—Du Hui was also one of the Chancellor’s men...”

“Your Majesty, was it I who forced innocents into prostitution and caused the death of that girl who fell from the tower?”

Interrupting Song Chang’s monologue, Zhou Tan spoke calmly but sharply, his voice rising like a blade cutting through doubt.

“Was it I who slaughtered entire families, abducted wives and daughters, locking them in towers for corrupt dealings, subjecting them to humiliation? Was it I who drove my wife to her death, bribed the capital prefecture, and ran rampant in Bianjing?”

He smiled faintly: “The Crown Prince? It wasn’t me, nor him. The so-called trusted aides of the Chancellor—why they died, Your Majesty knows full well. Why ask further? Today, I dare swear upon the gods that all I’ve done has been for the empire, for Your Majesty! For the common people to remain hopeful, to believe in the heavens’ justice, to trust that officials act with integrity and conscience.”

“Your Majesty says my actions are for factional gain, but do you remember the tears and blood buried beneath the old cases of the Ministry of Justice? Every word spoken under the drum of justice pierces the heart! I seek neither fame nor fortune—my tireless efforts to overturn wrongful cases are solely for Your Majesty’s service. Yet you think my words today deceive you, and my past actions were for factional struggle? If that’s so, better I dash my head against the pillar beneath Xuande Hall’s plaque than trouble Your Majesty with rumors.”

Song Chang cradled the box in his trembling hands, gently placing it on the desk. His gaze wandered, his graying beard quivering as heavy breaths disrupted the incense smoke rising from the burner.

“Just a piece of iron, a few words... Xiao Yue had no wife, no children. If you’re truly...”

He reached out as if trying to grasp something, muttering: “If you really are... why didn’t you say so before!”

“Does it matter whether I speak or not?” Zhou Tan replied. “My father was framed by villains, and Your Majesty was deceived. Why reopen old wounds? Besides, in his final letter to my mother, he wrote that he didn’t wish to cause Your Majesty pain. I’ve studied hard and served honorably, seeking only to ease Your Majesty’s burdens. My identity benefits neither me nor Your Majesty—it only harms.”

He crawled forward on his knees, pleading earnestly: “Even on the brink of death in the dungeon, I concealed this truth. I betrayed my teacher for Your Majesty—doesn’t that prove my loyalty? If not for the Chancellor’s relentless pressure leaving me no way out, I would never have brought this burden before Your Majesty again. Now, with old hatreds and new grievances weighing on me, I’ve come to beg Your Majesty for justice!”

“The Chancellor first framed my father, then plotted against me. His hands are soaked in blood, his heart consumed by selfishness—he’s unworthy to be Your Majesty’s right hand. The enmity of my father’s murder is irreconcilable. All my endurance has been for the stability of the court. Your Majesty lost an old friend entirely due to his slander. I won’t enumerate his crimes further—I dare, relying on this iron decree, to implore Your Majesty’s judgment!”

“Even if it’s true, do you dare suggest I slaughter the current Chancellor? How dare you!” Song Chang slammed the desk, overturning the Bo Shan burner. Incense ash scattered, filling the air with a sickly sweet scent.

“You claim everything you’ve done is for the court. Then tell me, after the Chancellor’s death, what position will you hold? What will the court look like?”

Zhou Tan had knelt for too long; his knees ached. With great effort, he rose to his feet. Seeing him approach, Song Chang felt an inexplicable panic: “What do you intend to do?”

“I know what worries Your Majesty,” Zhou Tan said. “If the Chancellor falls, Consort Zhao loses influence. The current governor once tutored the Crown Prince—court power will inevitably tilt. I recommend someone to Your Majesty: Cai Ying, the Minister of Works, a former imperial scholar. He’s upright, loyal only to Your Majesty, and has offended many in court. He despises the Chancellor’s flattery and avoids him. Su Chaochi, currently in mourning, hails from a prestigious family. Though he opposes me, his heart is with the state. His father died in the Crown Prince’s old case, so he cannot join the Eastern Palace faction.”

Song Chang asked suspiciously: “You’ve planned even this?”

Zhou Tan spread his hands, smiling bitterly: “How could this be my plan? Your Majesty can verify everything. Those I recommend have no personal ties with me. Su Chaochi’s long mourning period was extended because I, in my youthful arrogance, blocked his return to office. As for Minister Cai, how many memorials has he submitted impeaching me? Just three days ago in court, he angrily denounced me for disregarding the law. Does Your Majesty recall?”

“I’m merely weighing the pros and cons for Your Majesty. If both sides serve the realm, their rivalry benefits the nation. But if one side acts selfishly, scandals like the falling girl’s case will multiply. They enrich themselves at the expense of Your Majesty’s reputation.”

Song Chang stared at him for a long while, his mind in turmoil—not just because of Zhou Tan’s identity, but because he realized Zhou Tan’s words rang true.

Fu Qingnian had followed him for years, rising from obscurity. Why had he reestablished the Golden Hairpin Pavilion if not because he’d grown wary of the Chancellor’s growing power?

And the falling girl’s case—the Crown Prince witnessed it, the Three Departments reviewed it. Though he’d indulged Fu Qingnian, he hadn’t expected such extremes, even sparing Peng Yue’s life. To avoid giving the Crown Prince’s faction a total victory, he’d approved Fu’s report—but who knew what else he might dare?

Zhou Tan’s proposal was indeed the best course. If there must be conflict, why not elevate new players?

Song Chang stroked the cold iron beside him, knowing Zhou Tan wouldn’t dare deceive him. The iron was hidden in the most secret place of the Xiao family—only Xiao Yue’s son could retrieve it. Moreover, Zhou Tan bore Xiao Yue’s unmistakable eyes.

Xiao Yue had grown up with him, from their youthful military victories to suppressing rebellions and securing his throne. He had never wronged him.

Their last meeting was in a tent, drunk on wine. Song Chang, already suspicious, tested him about surrendering the tiger tally. Xiao Yue knelt, spear in hand, vowing to guard the borders for another ten thousand years.

Ten thousand years—a lifetime too long. The ceaseless intrigues clouded his mind. Power was intoxicating; once grasped, it was hard to let go, leading to choices even he couldn’t fathom.

Zhou Tan knelt, accusing Fu Qingnian of his father’s murder. Did he blame only Fu Qingnian? Had he truly been deceived back then? Even Song Chang couldn’t answer. Did Xiao Yue harbor resentment toward him?

Red-eyed with conflicted emotions, Song Chang momentarily considered killing Zhou Tan. But he quickly relented—Zhou Tan had endured until now without revealing this truth, even in the dungeon.

This was the last of Xiao Yue’s bloodline. Moreover, Zhou Tan surely had contingencies. Though his words were sincere, he’d arranged for his wife to beat the drum of justice. If Song Chang complied, the old case would remain buried. If not—if he even executed Zhou Tan—what other arrangements had he made? What secrets might emerge? Would Song Chang have to issue a self-censure edict?

“Do you realize...” Song Chang gritted his teeth, “even if I kill Fu Qingnian, you can’t possibly be Xiao Yue’s son? You arranged for your wife to threaten me into sparing you, yet you plot these schemes—tell me, in your plans, where do you see yourself?”

“Your Majesty, I’ve fulfilled my late father’s wishes. I know full well that after today, the son of Xiao cannot remain in court. You suspect I’ve aligned with the Crown Prince—Zhou Tan should not remain in court either. My father is buried on the frontier; his fief remains vacant. Banish me to Ruo Prefecture.”

Song Chang was stunned: “What... what did you say?”

“Today, either the Chancellor dies, or I do. Having staked everything to reveal this to Your Majesty, I never intended to leave Xuande Hall alive!” Zhou Tan suddenly stopped addressing him as “Your Majesty” and switched to “I.” His eyes burned with determination, his tone sorrowful. “If Your Majesty believes my father’s final charge to me, grant us justice one last time. I’ll retreat to Ruo Prefecture, never to return to court. If Your Majesty doubts my loyalty, I have no recourse. There’s no need for Your Majesty to act—I’ll take my own life, sparing you the trouble.”

He had conceded this far.

It was Fu Qingnian’s tyranny that had driven Zhou Tan to this point. Since the Candlelit Pavilion case, Zhou Tan had acted cautiously, committing no missteps. Now, daring to expose his identity, it was clear he wasn’t responsible for the Du family’s murders. Fu Qingnian’s accusations were baseless, and Zhou Tan sought only vengeance.

Song Chang thought wearily: As a son, Zhou Tan had repeatedly yielded, pushed to the brink before making this desperate gamble. It was understandable.

Moreover, as Zhou Tan said, his proposal posed no harm to the court.

Song Chang steadied his resolve, saying carefully: “If the Du case isn’t your doing, I naturally won’t... Good, good. Once I uncover the truth...”

“Before the Golden Hairpin Guard investigates further, keep me confined in the palace. My wife is timid—there’s no need for her to see me. Keep us together.”

Zhou Tan didn’t kneel again but gave a slight bow, a respectful gesture for an elder. Without waiting for the emperor’s approval, he turned and walked toward the hall’s exit. Sunlight filtered through the towering doors, outlining his slender figure.

For a fleeting moment, he overlapped with the image of the emperor’s long-lost friend.

“A-Yue... A-Yue once said—” Song Chang stumbled down the golden steps, his sleeves brushing away the incense ash. He took two steps forward, feeling breathless, tears unexpectedly welling up, blurring his vision—”He once said that if he had a son, he’d make me his godfather. That child would study literature and martial arts, destined to become a pillar of the nation...”

Zhou Tan pushed open the heavy palace doors, leaving the aging emperor alone in the dim hall.

Qing Gong deeply bowed to the side. Zhou Tan squinted, spotting Fu Qingnian standing ten paces away, coldly glancing at him.

From that distance, nothing could be heard.

Fu Qingnian brushed past Zhou Tan, rushing into the hall. From behind, his indignant voice echoed: “Your Majesty, I don’t know what sycophantic words this villain has spoken to you, but his obsession with factional strife and disregard for the law are undeniable. Your Majesty must not...”

Before Zhou Tan could fully process the words, he spotted Du Hui, clad in official robes and clutching an ivory tablet, hurrying through the front gate. Tears streamed down the elderly man’s face, and he stumbled at the threshold. Without sparing Zhou Tan a glance, Du Hui threw himself onto the steps, sobbing: “Your Majesty, please grant me justice!”

Zhou Tan lowered his gaze, clearly seeing the familiar notebook clutched tightly in Du Hui’s hand.

It seemed Ai Disheng had found evidence of Fu Qingnian’s murders and delivered it, along with the notebook, to Du Hui.

Zhou Tan sneered faintly, the corner of his lips curling in mockery.

Emperor De was no different from Fu Qingnian—long steeped in power and intrigue, their emotions dulled. The decision to spare Zhou Tan wasn’t out of nostalgia for Xiao Yue, but a calculated move based on interests.

Only the strongest, most central interests could sway them.

The heavy palace doors closed behind him, sealing everyone inside. At the last moment, Zhou Tan vaguely heard the sound of something shattering.

Qu You waited at the entrance of Xuande Hall’s outer chamber, her figure framed by a glittering glass screen, radiant in the sunlight.

A Forest Guard followed Zhou Tan from behind, murmuring: “Lord Zhou, please accompany Lady Zhou to the side hall temporarily.”

Seeing Zhou Tan remain silent, the guard bowed and retreated a few steps. Zhou Tan stared intently at Qu You, who turned her head toward him. Unable to resist, he laughed softly.

Qu You didn’t join in his laughter. She simply watched as his shoulders shook with mirth, even raising her hand to wipe away the lingering tears at the corners of his eyes. Her expression was mocking and unrestrained, devoid of any deference.

“Hahahaha...”

“Feigning loyalty is exhausting—it almost fooled even me. How could it not deceive him?”

He pulled her into his arms, whispering softly into her ear, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

“A Lian, we’ve won the gamble.”

His tone was light, yet it sent an involuntary shiver down Qu You’s spine. She reached up to pat his back, but he caught her wrist, tightening his grip until it hurt.

Leaning close to her ear, he spoke in a cold, teasing murmur.

“Now, let’s settle our accounts.”

________________________________________

In late autumn of the fifteenth year of Yongning, Left Censor Du Hui, holding an ivory tablet, accused the current Chancellor of callously disregarding human life and orchestrating the murder of a court official’s son in Xuande Hall.

No one knew what transpired between Emperor De, the Chancellor, and the Censor inside the hall. All that was known was that the Emperor flew into a rage that day, smashing the Bo Shan burner before him. He then appointed Cai Ying, the Minister of Works, as the chief investigator for Du Gaojun’s murder case, tasking him and the Golden Hairpin Guard with investigating not only this case but also several past incidents involving the Chancellor.

The Chancellor was placed under house arrest for twenty-one days.

When a young eunuch arrived at the side hall, Zhou Tan was rolling up his sleeves to grind ink. Without turning around, he studied a seven-character poem Qu You had just written, remarking after a moment: “Much improved.”

Qu You shot him a glare.

That day, when Zhou Tan said they would settle their accounts, he bit deeply into her neck. The bite was so sharp it brought tears to her eyes. Feeling guilty, Zhou Tan took a dagger and slashed his own hand, then calmly covered the wound and sought bandages and medicine from the guards without expression.

The guards dared not delay, quickly bringing what he requested. Zhou Tan meticulously applied medicine to her wound and bandaged it, acting as though he had done something wrong.

Qu You was too exhausted to stay angry.

The two stayed in the side hall for twenty days. Zhou Tan seemed unconcerned, asking no questions about external developments. Aside from meals delivered by palace attendants, they saw no one else.

It was rumored that one day, Consort Zhao attempted to force her way in but was sternly blocked by the Forest Guards at the door.

With no books in the side hall and nothing to do, Qu You ordered Zhou Tan to grind ink while she composed a few poems, seeking his critique.

Though Spring Sandalwood Collection was slim, it contained many famous lines. Zhou Tan’s literary talent was remarkable, and Qu You, finally having such a dedicated teacher, set aside old grievances and focused wholeheartedly on perfecting her verses.

They tacitly avoided mentioning what had happened in the hall or their earlier plans. Qu You knew Zhou Tan still harbored unresolved tension—he wouldn’t relax completely without closure.

Finally, the young eunuch arrived at the side hall, bowing deeply and announcing respectfully: “Lord Zhou, Lady Zhou, His Majesty requests your presence at the Candlelit Pavilion.”

At the mention of “Candlelit Pavilion,” Zhou Tan’s hand paused while grinding ink. Seeing this, Qu You quickly pressed down his hand and asked, puzzled: “I... am to go as well?”

The eunuch simply replied: “Please.”

Zhou Tan rose, gripping her hand and intertwining their fingers: “You must come.”

The construction of the Candlelit Pavilion had been justified by the supposed insufficiency of the palace’s ritual halls. Emperor De deemed the old shrines too small and dilapidated, ordering the Ministry of Works to design this towering structure. Day and night, candles burned in endless rows, honoring the imperial family—even during the day, bells tolled and candles were lit.

Despite writing The Candlelit Pavilion Rhapsody , Zhou Tan had never actually entered the pavilion until now.

Emperor De dismissed the attendants and knelt on a prayer mat, bowing deeply.

Over four hundred years since the founding of the Song Dynasty, ancestral tablets towered as high as pillars, their solemnity illuminated by flickering candlelight.

“Xiao Bai, you’ve arrived.”

Song Chang rose, turning to look at Zhou Tan before his gaze settled on Qu You: “Come to think of it, I arranged this marriage for you, yet you never brought your bride to the palace to express gratitude.”

Zhou Tan clasped his hands in a respectful gesture but did not kneel; Qu You hastily mimicked him.

“At the time, I was gravely injured and neglected proper etiquette. Please forgive me, Your Majesty.”

Song Chang waved dismissively: “Enough, enough. I called you here today to inform you. The cases of the Du and Liu families have been thoroughly investigated by the Golden Hairpin Guard. Du Hui personally located Zhen’er, the perjurer. The Chancellor coerced her using her relatives, forcing her to lie. Liu Lianxi, concerned for her son, staged that entire incident to frame you. The case is crystal clear, and the verdict will be handed down tomorrow through the Ministry of Justice and the Judicial Temple.”

Qu You’s mind wandered aimlessly. According to the law, Du Gaojun’s crime of killing his wife warranted exile, sparing his relatives. However, Du Hui would likely face charges of negligent complicity and be demoted. As for Fu Qingnian, his crimes—falsely accusing officials, murdering the son of a bureaucrat, and forming illicit alliances—warranted at least demotion and exile. Moreover, Du Hui must have highlighted Fu Qingnian’s manipulations in the Candlelit Pavilion case. Knowing Emperor De’s temperament, there was no way he’d spare Fu Qingnian’s life.

Especially with Zhou Tan’s pressure.

Zhou Tan smiled but showed no arrogance, simply saying: “Your Majesty is wise.”

Song Chang hesitated, glancing at Qu You. Zhou Tan immediately tightened his grip on her hand. Seeing their intimacy, Song Chang sighed in relief: “Though you were wrongfully implicated, your past actions were not without fault. I... I will fulfill your wish, assign you a minor offense, and exile you to serve as an official in Ruo Prefecture.”

Zhou Tan offered a relieved smile: “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Song Chang remained silent. Qu You stood beside Zhou Tan, and eventually, Zhou Tan broke the silence: “If Your Majesty has no further instructions...”

Song Chang closed his eyes and called out: “Xiao Bai—”

“In truth, remaining in court under the Zhou name would pose no issue for you. You’ve endured hardship, and my past actions... have wounded your heart. Now that I know you, I will never doubt you again.”

Zhou Tan turned, still lowering his lashes, seemingly respectful: “Your Majesty wishes to keep me, but I cannot remain in court. With so much turmoil surrounding the Eastern Palace, if I stay, one day you’ll suspect me of aligning with the Crown Prince to seize your throne. Moreover, it will remind you of the Chancellor’s countless crimes and my father’s legacy. Whether regret or resentment, it will only pain Your Majesty.”

He knelt before the blazing candles, solemnly performing his final bow.

“The Xiao family has always produced upright and valiant men—not someone like me, who breeds suspicion. If Your Majesty cherishes past bonds, please look after my... and my wife’s family. We are deeply grateful and will pray for Your Majesty’s blessings from the western frontier.”

With that, he led Qu You away. Behind them, Song Chang suddenly choked up, shouting: “I have no more old friends left! I wished to keep you, yet you insist on leaving? That medicine—what of the medicine in your possession?”

“Your Majesty means this?”

Zhou Tan retrieved a blue porcelain bottle from his sleeve. Qu You had seen it several times before—Emperor De granted it to him monthly, accumulating to seven or eight bottles by now.

He loosened his grip slightly, and the bottle shattered on the floor.

Song Chang’s eyes nearly bulged out.

Since leaving the dungeon, Zhou Tan had devoted himself to being a loyal minister. The emperor had once suspected him, but now he realized—Zhou Tan was no longer controlled by the medicine. His loyalty had always been genuine.

Today, Emperor De wore no ceremonial crown. As Qu You glanced back, she was startled to see how aged the once-mighty sovereign had become.

“My father and I alike—are bound by no ties, only by our hearts. Knowing this, I can die without regret.”

“With this journey ahead, may Your Majesty enjoy enduring blessings and illuminate the realm with virtue.”