#52: The Dream of Gaining a Deer and Catching Fish (IX)

Yan Lang entered the palace to plead guilty. He disarmed and handed over his sword at Mingguang Gate. Coincidentally, it was lunchtime when he arrived, so Song Lan arranged a small banquet at Liudan Pavilion and summoned Luo Wei to join them.

Before the meal was served, Yan Lang knelt down in the hall, beginning to recount the matter of Wang Fengshi with tears streaming down his face.

“When Your Majesty toured north last spring, you visited Gerar City and should know its importance as the military grain reserve for the northern army. The northern barbarians also knew this, hence their night raid. Gerar City is easy to defend but hard to attack; it shouldn’t have been in crisis. However, who would have thought that Wang Fengshi, the city’s defender, seeing the dire situation and no reinforcements arriving, intended to surrender the city. Fortunately, my men arrived in time...”

The investigators Song Lan sent to Youzhou had not yet returned. Even if he doubted Yan Lang’s words, there was no evidence, so he waved for him to rise.

Yan Lang cheerfully complied, stood up, and began familiarly bantering with Song Lan—sometimes asking if “Your Majesty and Empress missed me,” other times commenting on how the imperial lamb was as delicious as those from the northwest.

Luo Wei saw Song Lan’s temple veins throbbing but still maintained a calm demeanor while conversing with Yan Lang. She found it amusing and finally endured until lunch was finished. Song Lan, confused by his chatter, told him to return home and rest first and would summon him later for further questioning.

Luo Wei escorted Yan Lang out of the palace. They walked along the long corridor in front of Mingguang Gate, followed by a long line of palace attendants.

Yan Lang looked up and sighed: “The capital is truly vast and limitless; it has been so long since I’ve been here that I feel quite estranged.”

Among the following attendants were surely spies of the emperor. Knowing his words carried hidden meanings, Luo Wei smiled: “After spending these years in Youzhou, naturally you would feel estranged.”

Yan Lang responded: “Though estranged, every year the migrating geese convey messages between the north and south, sentiments unchanged. Does Your Majesty remember when we, during our youth, climbed East Mountain to worship the moon on full moon nights? Back then, we were young and lively, with black hair and rosy cheeks. Though years have passed and East Mountain has become a graveyard, those moments remain unforgettable and cannot be forgotten.”

Unexpectedly, Luo Wei felt her eyes moisten. She looked up at the somewhat yellowish sky today and murmured: “Even though East Mountain has become a graveyard, can it still not be forgotten?”

Yan Lang gazed at her profile, unusually serious: “I will never forget.”

“These years, I have often wondered why some people can forever remember the same affection while others discard it like worn-out shoes,” Luo Wei retracted her gaze, looking ahead. Realizing her slight emotional slip, she quickly suppressed her melancholy expression. “It’s only been a few years; how could it be considered estranged? If His Majesty does not summon you, you may return home to rest. I’ll send my elder brother to keep you company for drinks.”

Yan Lang laughed heartily: “Very well, very well.”

After seeing him off, Luo Wei took another path to stroll around the imperial city. Lady Li, slightly worried, looked at the sky and said: “Your Majesty, it seems it might rain today; look how yellow the sky is.”

She shook her head silently, dismissing the attendants. Those sent by Song Lan to report back were more than happy to take a break. In the end, only Lady Li and Zhang Suwu, an internal minister recently reassigned, remained by her side—Zhang Suwu was originally an attendant familiar to her before Song Lan ascended the throne. When she became empress, she assigned him to serve in the library, and now he had been reassigned back.

Lady Li was innocent, but Zhang Suwu might not fail to understand her conversation with Yan Lang. Pulling Lady Li’s sleeve, he stepped back a few steps and silently followed behind her.

A breeze carried the distant scent of lotus flowers. The willow catkins that once swirled throughout the imperial city had disappeared with the passing of spring.

The carefree youthful days seemed like yesterday. On East Mountain stood the old residence of Duke Yue. On the seventeenth day of the eighth month, he held a birthday banquet where groups of youths ran wild through the fields, breaking laurels and carrying wine. Back then, their parents were alive, friends filled the seats—it was genuinely joyful.

Later, the Duke Yue’s descendants fell into disgrace and moved away from East Mountain. Few remained from that vibrant birthday feast; they themselves had changed beyond recognition. East Mountain suffered a forest fire and subsequently became a desolate graveyard outside Biandu. Rumors had it that on the night of the Ghost Festival, some people had seen eerie green ghost fires there.

Counting the years, despite written correspondence, Luo Wei and Yan Lang had rarely met in person. Her current endeavors were fraught with risk; the slightest misstep could bring disaster upon her entire family. This was why she mentioned feeling “estranged.”

But Yan Lang did not hesitate, simply saying, “I will never forget.”

With close relatives and friends all lost, hearing such steadfast loyalty brought both gratitude and fear. Walking within the windy imperial city, Luo Wei suddenly thought of Ye Tingyan, recalling his vow atop the mountain at Xiuqing Temple, saying, “My heart is truly genuine”—words can deceive. How much truth was there in his loss of composure that day?

Then she pondered: if that day he hadn’t lost his composure, if she hadn’t been sentimental, proceeding regularly to discuss the Lotus Banquet, perhaps when he realized the marks under the copper cup weren’t part of the original plan, he could have reached out

to erase it—now caught by Yu Qiushi, not only did he discover Yanluo’s identity, but it also indicated that Ye Tingyan had aligned himself with her.

Yu Qiushi suspected she already knew the truth of past events. With this plan failing, there would be another scheme. Song Lan used to waver, but now suspicion had arisen in his heart. If decisive action wasn’t taken, Yu Qiushi might counterattack.

Two years of arrangements on both sides, and now with a sharp knife like Ye Tingyan at hand, waiting was no longer an option. Luo Wei thought indifferently, suddenly feeling a tickle in her nose—perhaps a gust of wind brushed the last willow catkin across her lips.

•

On the third day of the fifth month of the fourth year of Jinghe, General Yan Lang returned to the capital after executing Wang Fengshi, the commander of Gerar City. Despite detailed explanations, the censors impeached him for “disrespect” and “abuse of military orders,” pointing out Yan’s arrogance due to military achievements. The emperor defended him, temporarily ordering Yan Lang to reside in the capital. Yan Lang accepted the decree, thanked visitors, and closed his doors.

Luo Wei knew Wang Fengshi was originally a pawn placed in the northern army by Song Lan and Yu Qiushi. She sent word to Yan Lang to “find an opportunity to return to the capital,” not expecting him to be so bold as to directly execute Song Lan’s dispatched general.

If Yan Lang returned to the capital while Wang Fengshi remained in the north, it would pose a threat to Yan’s army. Although risky now, it was indeed a wise move to eliminate the root cause. It was not easy for Song Lan to cultivate informants within the military. Using “pleading guilty” as a reason, Yan Lang also had justification to return to the capital.

After Yan Lang closed his doors, rumors spread rampantly among the public, claiming Yan’s entire family was loyal and valiant. Executing the traitorous general without awaiting orders during an enemy invasion was a desperate measure and should not be harshly criticized.

On the fifth day, the Vermilion Bird transferred the suspect in the empress’s assassination case to the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Penal Affairs for joint deliberation, detaining a total of twelve palace maids. Finally, from a madwoman’s confession, the mastermind was identified with corroborating evidence, and a request for the emperor’s decision was submitted.

Privately, some officials in the three judicial departments commented that according to the prime minister’s words, the suspect in the empress’s assassination seemed to have another identity. However, the emperor kept silent about it, forbidding further discussion, and the case was concluded as “the daughter of the Feng family from Yuezhou.” All related individuals were handed over to the empress for disposition. After reading the confession, the empress made no further comments and ordered the three judicial departments to handle the matter according to the law, earning praise across the court.

The emperor confined the instigator, Princess Ning Le, to her residence, issuing no edict yet. Strangely, the princess did not defend herself.

When Ye Tingyan and the Vermilion Bird guards entered the princess’s residence, they found Song Zhiyu had dismissed all her attendants, dressed in plain clothes, playing the zither in the courtyard. He leaned against a tree and listened for a while, realizing she was playing “The Beauty of the Wild Pear Blossoms.”

He waved for everyone to retreat and sat opposite the princess. Song Zhiyu glanced at him, her gaze unusually calm: “Did His Majesty send you to kill me?”

To be honest, even Ye Tingyan didn’t expect it to go this smoothly: “If the princess submits a petition claiming innocence, His Majesty might reinvestigate the case.”

Song Zhiyu looked around, confirming no one was present, before continuing: “He will eventually kill me; I anticipated this day. Whether earlier or later, what difference does it make?”

Had she not said this, Ye Tingyan wouldn’t have dared to affirm whether the poem “Elegy for Golden Heaven” was her sincere expression or a conspiracy with Yu and Song. After this statement, he raised his eyes, knowing he had guessed correctly.

To extricate Luo Wei from the affair of Qiu Xueyu entering the palace, he must find a “culprit” for this incident, undoubtedly from his list of revenge targets. The reason it was Song Zhiyu, besides the madwoman’s mention of “princess,” was his conjecture—

Song Lan and Yu Qiushi conspired in the Citang Case, then used finding the real culprit of the Citang Case to eliminate those in the court who were once close to Crown Prince Chengming, ensuring absolute safety.

However, mass killings shortly after ascending the throne were against propriety, so he needed public opinion to push it forward.

Thus, Song Zhiyu was pushed forward. Her poem “Elegy for Golden Heaven” provided enough momentum.

Had they assisted someone other than Song Lan, they might have received a peaceful end. But now, Ye Tingyan believed he understood Song Lan too well.

Now, it wasn’t that Song Lan didn’t want to, but he couldn’t. If one day he tightened his grip on power, all those who knew of this case, especially the masterminds—Yu Qiushi, Lin Kuishan, Lu Fengying—and this Princess Ning Le who helped him, none would be spared.

When Lu Heng died, he couldn’t be sure. After orchestrating the Spring Field case, Ye Tingyan privately visited the Ministry of Justice, only to discover that Lin father and son, whom Song Lan ordered to be spared, had already died in prison.

At that moment, he suddenly understood Song Lan’s intention in needing him.

First, using Luo Wei against Yu Qiushi was too risky; previously, there was no alternative, but now he sought someone to replace her. Second, he wanted to quietly eliminate those who knew of the past events. Thus, his revenge, his thorough eradication, coincidentally aligned.

Hence, everything proceeded so smoothly. Taking advantage of Song Lan’s confusion, he pinned an absurd old case on Song Zhiyu. The emperor naturally welcomed such an outcome, not asking any further questions.

Song Zhiyu’s current state must indicate her understanding of Song Lan’s cold-heartedness.

Unfortunately, the deeply entrenched prime minister hasn’t yet realized.

Moreover, Ye Tingyan was curious—if these people were gradually eliminated, would Song Lan treat Luo Wei the same way?

Is Luo Wei’s advance planning and desire for power due to perceiving his intentions?

Suddenly, the strings of the zither snapped with a clang. Ye Tingyan snapped back to reality, seeing ten bloodstains on Song Zhiyu’s hands, yet she seemed oblivious, nearly hysterically collapsing on the zither with wild laughter: “Back then, back then…”

She raised her head, looking at Ye Tingyan, seemingly indifferent to who he was, softly saying: “Back then, my talents in poetry and painting were no less than Su Xu’s. I always thought that because she was the daughter of a famous minister and the crown prince’s fiancée, Master Gan and Mr. Zheng ignored my talent. Wasn’t standing in the snow outside the gate worth their attention?”

Xu—the Xu in Yongxu, a name Luo Wei hadn’t been called in a long time.

Ye Tingyan frowned slightly, about to say something, but Song Zhiyu raised her head again, using her bloody hands to tidy her hair, saying to him: “Esteemed official, have you come today by imperial order to grant me death?”

Ye Tingyan calmly replied: “Today’s order is to ask if Your Highness confesses. As a member of the royal family, you certainly cannot enter the Ministry of Justice or the Vermilion Bird Office. At least maintain some dignity.”

Song Zhiyu gave a bitter smile, asking: “Does His Majesty have anything else to tell me?”

Ye Tingyan looked at her, pity in his eyes: “His Majesty advises Your Highness to be sensible.”

Upon hearing the word “sensible,” Song Zhiyu touched the broken string beside her, slowly clenching her fingers into a fist.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ye Tingyan suddenly noticed the zither was the birthday gift he gave her years ago, named “Burnt Paulownia.” During the southern tour in spring, he brought gifts for each sibling.

He stared fixedly at the blood oozing from Song Zhiyu’s palms, a slight pain in his heart. Unaware of his gaze, Song Zhiyu muttered to herself: “Knowing it would come to this…”

Song Lan sent him to the princess’s residence today for questioning. If it were just routine questioning, why bother sending him? He held civil official authority and handled cases brilliantly in the Vermilion Bird Office, clearly on the path to becoming a powerful minister. Sending him here meant leaving Song Zhiyu no chance to live.

When instructing him, Song Lan, after the incense in Qianfang Hall, slowly said: “If the princess refuses to die, persuade her to be sensible. I am extremely busy and exhausted; it’s better to resolve this matter sooner.”

In other words, Song Lan currently had no time for this matter. Believing Song Zhiyu resented Luo Wei and seeing her lack of defense, he assumed it was true.

With numerous matters at hand, involving her in the three judicial departments might stir up unpredictable storms. Better to grant her death in her residence, easier to explain externally.

After all, even though Song Zhiyu had remained silent and secluded since the Citang Case, he couldn’t tolerate this knowledgeable person.

Ye Tingyan reached out to touch her broken strings, hesitating for a long time before deciding to ask clearly about her role in the Citang Case years ago. Before he could speak, Song Zhiyu fixed her gaze on him, saying: “I want to see Su Xu.”

Fearing he didn’t understand, she added: “Tell His Majesty that Ning Le willingly accepts death, wishing only to see the Empress before dying, to express apologies.”

Ye Tingyan scrutinized her meaningfully: “Regarding the matter of sending Miss Qiu into the palace, does Your Highness have nothing else to refute?”

Song Zhiyu replied: “Not this matter; there will be other matters. I have nothing to refute.”

She tidied the stray hair behind her ear, calmly saying: “Just tell His Majesty this way. What he worries about, I will naturally keep silent about. Seeing the Empress is merely a lingering obsession. If this wish isn’t fulfilled, Ning Le cannot accept death.”

He left the Vermilion Bird guards, entered the palace to report back. Unexpectedly, after a brief silence, Song Lan granted permission.

“Princess is a royal daughter. If publicly linked to the empress’s assassination, it would inevitably cause a stir. This summer is already eventful. After seeing the empress, you may grant her poisoned wine,” Song Lan absent-mindedly tapped the memorial in his hand, instructing, “Send the implicated palace maids to the three judicial departments to deal with. After the beginning of autumn, announce Princess’s death due to illness, concluding the case thus.”

“And...”

He dropped the memorial, hesitated for a long time, then said: “You follow the empress and observe the emotions between them.”

Ye Tingyan was somewhat puzzled but still agreed: “Yes.”

•

It was an early summer morning, the dew evaporating, the sky like jade, with ethereal thin clouds. When Luo Wei stepped into Princess Ning Le’s residence, she saw an eerie scene.

Song Zhiyu seemed to have sat by the zither all night, her complexion haggard, her ten bloody fingers covered in dark scabs. Beside her knelt a young man, presumably her attendant.

Yesterday, she had driven everyone out of the residence, but this one refused to leave.

Hearing voices, the Vermilion Bird guard stationed nearby finally rose, sternly dragging the man away. As he was dragged, the man was still resentful, not fearing Luo Wei: “Your Highness, Your Highness! Why do you let them harm...”

Luo Wei pretended not to hear, sitting down where Ye Tingyan sat yesterday, and spoke: “I heard you wanted to see me.”

She glanced at Ye Tingyan, who understood and dismissed everyone, though he stayed ten steps away. Here, almost no words could be heard, but their expressions could be seen—Luo Wei wouldn’t let him listen, but he was indeed curious about what Song Lan wanted him to observe between them.

Song Zhiyu glanced at Ye Tingyan beside her, smirking mockingly: “I heard my case was handled by this favorite minister of Song Lan recently. Just now, I saw your intimate expressions. So, is he your secret advisor?”

Luo Wei showed no surprise, her hand didn’t even tremble: “Your insight is still as sharp.”

“After Brother’s death, you have changed your appearance,” Song Zhiyu laughed, “This is good too. Being so candid is much better than your previous act of concealing and pretending to be modest.”

Luo Wei blandly said: “You wanted to see me; what exactly do you want to say?”

Song Zhiyu retorted: “Don’t you have anything to ask me? I’m afraid that after my death, you’ll regret not coming to ask me, so I risked calling you here.”

“The person who sent Afēi into the palace was Shukang; you know this well. Why take on this blame?” Luo Wei calmly said, “Oh, let me guess. Over the years, you’ve realized your extensive involvement in the matter back then. Song Lan won’t spare your life, destined to kill you sooner or later. With such complete evidence, what use is your dying struggle? Tired of waiting for death, you decided to seek a quick end, right?”

Song Zhiyu widened her eyes: “Master Gan once said you were clever; I never admitted it. Today, I have no choice but to acknowledge it.”

After saying this, she leaned closer, staring at Luo Wei’s face, lowering her voice: “Wait, you actually knew the mastermind behind the Citang Case? Oh, poor Song Lan urging me to ‘be sensible,’ he’s certain I wouldn’t dare tell you.”

“No, he sent these trusted guards precisely to test if you know, through me. It seems your days aren’t easy either—but Song Lan doesn’t know his trusted aides have become your secret advisors. What a round of intrigue within intrigue. Su Xu, you’re truly born to fight in the royal family.”

Luo Wei winked at her, softly speaking: “Exactly, otherwise how could I be called clever?”