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The front hall was filled with the scent of incense, and gauzy mists drifted through the air. The Hall of State Affairs was stacked high with centuries of ancient texts from the founding of the Yin dynasty. Towering like pillars, the books loomed over the solemn ministers seated beneath them.
At the forefront sat Yu Qiushi, clad in a deep crimson official robe, his expression grave.
Through the beaded curtain, Luo Wei cast a glance.
The hall was dimly lit, and her eyes first fell upon the white silk square collar of the officials’ robes—a symbol of the unity of heaven and earth.
Song Lan gave a light cough, and Liu Xi stepped forward to light the topmost candle on the golden candelabra placed before the assembly. Then, he and his apprentice, Liu Mingzhong, took their positions at either side of the curtain.
With this, everyone understood that today’s deliberations had officially begun.
According to the traditions of the Yin dynasty, the emperor should preside over the court while ministers gathered around to discuss matters. However, since Song Lan still governed behind the curtain and the Empress Dowager had voluntarily withdrawn from morning court, it was decided after consultation to convene the Hall of State Affairs once a month, inviting both the emperor and empress to attend together.
Beside Yu Qiushi stood a crane-shaped incense burner, its smoke curling gently. Yet his mind was far from tranquil today.
Nearly ten days had passed since the assassination attempt at Muchun Field. For these ten days, the palace had been eerily silent, as if nothing had happened.
But such calmness was far more unnerving than swift justice.
Lin Kuishan had repeatedly visited Yu Qiushi during these ten days, pleading for help. Though Lin had many children, his only legitimate son—this very Lin Zhao—had always been spoiled and indulged. Losing him would be akin to losing half his life.
Lin Zhao was infamous in Bianjing, known as a dissolute rake. Over the past few days, Yu Qiushi had dispatched men to investigate. They reported that Lin Zhao had been implicated in murder cases years ago and had even been entangled in the great examination fraud scandal during the second year of Tian Shou under Crown Prince Chengming.
Back then, Lin Kuishan had spent a fortune to save Lin Zhao’s life during that scandal. Afterward, Lin Zhao had laid low in Bianjing for two years. It wasn’t until after the Crown Prince’s assassination that he began strutting about again in the pleasure quarters.
Yu Qiushi thought coldly: If I had such a son, I’d have beaten him to death in the ancestral hall long ago.
Yet this useless son was Lin Kuishan’s lifeline. Given their close ties, Yu Qiushi felt duty-bound to save Lin Zhao’s life, both emotionally and logically.
However, Lin Zhao wasn’t involved in an ordinary case—it was an assassination attempt in the emperor’s presence, potentially classified as treason, punishable by the execution of three generations of the family.
Yu Qiushi knew perfectly well that this useless wretch had been framed, but Song Lan might not see it that way. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have remained so composed, waiting ten full days without summoning him to the palace for discussion.
As Yu Qiushi pondered, the elderly Minister of Revenue, Zhang Pingjing, unfurled the scroll in his hands and began droning on about the spring expenditures and revenues of various departments.
The imperial spring hunt had been costly but understandable given the circumstances.
However, this year’s spring drought in Jiangnan required funds for disaster relief, and last year’s fire in the Forbidden City—which had yet to be repaired—also demanded money.
All these matters had resulted in a staggering deficit of 23 million taels for just one season.
Zhang Pingjing, already 62 years old, still spoke with vigor: “… The spring hunt is traditionally tied to northern border affairs. Youzhou is difficult to defend, and our northern borders are constantly threatened by the Four Tribes Alliance. Though I have no personal ties with the Ministry of War, I must say, how can we possibly reduce this expenditure?”
Zhang Pingjing had served through two reigns and was considered the slipperiest old fox in the Hall of State Affairs. When Song Lan first ascended the throne, amidst the power struggle between Luo Wei and Yu Qiushi, Zhang managed to stay neutral, offending neither side.
The late emperor, recognizing this quality, entrusted him with the financial authority of the Ministry of Revenue.
Though worldly-wise, Zhang remained at heart a traditional Confucian scholar. Despite wielding significant financial power, he rarely enriched himself or engaged in corruption, steadily serving in the Ministry of Revenue until now.
After Zhang finished speaking, Cai Zhang, the Minister of Rites who was close to Yu Qiushi, chimed in: “Minister Zhang speaks wisely. However, the drought in Jiangnan cannot be ignored. The Ministry of Rites has already submitted a petition. Even though Qingming has passed, Your Majesty should visit the Ranting Pavilion and the Imperial Ancestral Temple to pray for rain. If the heavens sense sincerity, they will surely send down blessings.”
Hearing this, Hu Minhuai, the Minister of Justice, sneered repeatedly: “The Ministry of Rites always spouts nonsense during disasters. Does Minister Cai believe that praying to heaven and ancestors will help solve the assassination case at Muchun Field, replenish the treasury, and resolve our current crises?”
“…”
In just a few exchanges, the ministers were nearly at each other’s throats. Yu Qiushi snapped out of his thoughts, intending to set down his teacup as a warning. But before he could act, the Empress Dowager’s voice suddenly rang out from behind the beaded curtain: “Gentlemen, please calm yourselves.”
The ministers immediately fell silent, bowing respectfully. Only a few dared to exchange glances privately.
From behind the curtain, Song Lan glanced at Luo Wei. She, resting her hand on the cold golden armrest, smiled faintly at him: “This is a turbulent spring, and all of you stand firm for the nation and the people, your hearts restless. Both His Majesty and I understand. However, matters must be addressed one by one.”
Before Yu Qiushi could decipher Luo Wei’s words, she continued: “The assassination case at Muchun Field is a major affair. Though His Majesty has entrusted the investigation to the Censorate and the Zhuque Division, the final judgment must still pass through the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Punishments. After today’s session, these two bodies will deliberate with the Censorate and hold a public trial—I assume, Minister Hu, you have no objections?”
Hu Minhuai, who had earlier mocked the Ministry of Rites and expressed dissatisfaction with Song Lan’s reliance on the Zhuque Division, had no choice but to agree. He quickly bowed in gratitude: “Her Highness is wise.”
But if the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Punishments held a public trial, given Ye Tingyan’s capabilities, there was no way Lin Zhao could escape punishment.
Luo Wei gestured for him to rise and, without waiting for Yu Qiushi to speak, calmly interjected: “The Ministry of Rites has requested prayers at the Imperial Ancestral Temple. I believe this is excellent. Approved. His Majesty will pray for rain for ten days outside the capital. During this time, all court affairs will be jointly discussed by me and the Grand Tutor.”
The pearls on the emperor’s crown clinked softly as Song Lan turned to look. Luo Wei, however, avoided his gaze.
The ministers saw the young emperor sitting calmly behind the beaded curtain. Yet, inside, his mind was anything but peaceful.
After the Citang Incident, Yu Qiushi had feigned pushing Song Lan forward, creating the illusion of a powerless emperor controlled by a powerful minister. In reality, the two had colluded. Luo Wei, perceiving Song Lan as a weak and dependent prince, had softened her stance and paved the way for his ascension.
Song Lan knew Luo Wei came from a family of renowned ministers, loyal to the throne for generations. After becoming empress, she had not disappointed his expectations. She had handled state affairs meticulously, giving him ample time to grow. During disputes, she often yielded, even withdrawing the beaded curtain during morning court.
Thus, whether he assumed personal rule became less urgent. With the empress partially relinquishing power, only Yu Qiushi remained to assist in governance. To outsiders, it appeared as though Song Lan feared Yu Qiushi’s influence. In truth, his control over the court and Yu Qiushi far exceeded what others imagined.
Therefore, Song Lan simply let go, delegating less critical matters to Luo Wei and Yu Qiushi’s power struggles. He focused on cultivating loyal followers, waiting to assume personal rule at the age of twenty.
By then, he would no longer fear the empress uncovering past secrets.
Of course, with the sword of Damocles hanging overhead, he couldn’t fully trust her. But most of those involved in the Citang Incident were dead or directly implicated as perpetrators.
If Luo Wei had no opportunity to uncover the truth, she would have no reason to oppose him.
And today—
Though Luo Wei had governed for a long time, the ministers detected no anomalies. Yet Song Lan himself knew very well: this was the first time she had acted without consulting him beforehand.
Why this sudden move?
Had she, after years in the court, tasted… the allure of power?
As Song Lan pondered this, he said: “The Empress Dowager speaks wisely. Border affairs and agriculture are both crucial to the empire and need not be prioritized. As for the treasury…”
He paused briefly: “Last year, the region north of the Qinling Mountains had a bumper crop. I propose increasing taxes to balance the north and south or introducing crops suitable for arid lands. What does the Empress Dowager think?”
Luo Wei remained silent. Yu Qiushi responded: “I submitted a memorial earlier this spring suggesting this dual approach. I believe it is excellent.”
Zhang Pingjing, holding his ivory tablet, glanced at Luo Wei but, like her, said nothing.
After the ministers dispersed, Song Lan and Luo Wei returned to Qianfang Hall together. Along the way, Song Lan reflected deeply and quietly instructed Liu Mingzhong, Liu Xi’s apprentice: “Go to Qiong Pavilion and summon Lord Ye to wait in the rear hall of Qianfang.”
As Liu Mingzhong left, Song Lan raised his eyes and noticed the abandoned palace quarters they were passing.
His heart stirred, and he called out: “Stop the carriage.”
Luo Wei’s palanquin was right behind him. As the emperor approached, she alighted, taking his hand: “Your Majesty, what is the matter?”
The attendants waited where they were, while only Liu Xi and Yan Luo followed at a distance. Song Lan led Luo Wei along the stone path beside the road, heading deeper into the courtyard. His tone carried a trace of nostalgia: “Does Sister remember? This is where we first met.”
Luo Wei had been expecting him to inquire about the events in the Hall of State Affairs. Surprised by his composure, she looked up and replied: “Your jest, Zilan. How could I forget?”
What met her eyes was a plum grove. The flowering season had long passed, leaving only bare branches. Though tended to, the care was not meticulous.
Beyond the plum grove lay a desolate, colorless palace garden.
Luo Wei’s heart sank heavily.
She recalled the past, when at five years old, she had entered the palace with her father. By six, she was summoned to serve as a companion to Princess Shukang, Song Yaofeng, sister to Song Ling. She attended the Zishan Hall alongside the princes and princesses, occasionally even staying overnight with the empress dowager.
In truth, she had spent more time in the palace than at home.
She remembered clearly yet vaguely the lessons from the tutors at Zishan Hall, learning music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, participating in spring hunts, and accompanying the emperor on tours.
Many of those who had been by her side were now gone. Occasionally, upon waking from dreams, she realized she had forgotten the faces of some.
If she had to choose a few unforgettable places and moments, this was one of them. The time… likely the end of the eleventh year of Changning.
That year, Luo Wei was nine and a half, and Song Ling not yet twelve.
Emperor Gao was building a future residence for Song Ling in Bianjing. The site had been chosen, awaiting groundbreaking in the spring.
On that ordinary, still-sunny winter day, Luo Wei and Princess Shukang were playing hide-and-seek with the palace attendants when they accidentally wandered into a slightly neglected palace garden.
She had never been there before and soon got lost. Following the moss-covered stone path, she wandered deeper.
At the end of the path, she encountered the young Song Lan for the first time.
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