CT - 63

A few nights later, in the summer.

Zhang Suwu entered the hall with a candle and found that it was past midnight, but Luo Wei was still awake.

The tumultuous chirping of cicadas came from outside the lattice window. Luo Wei sat by the couch, from which the sheer curtains had all been drawn back, somewhat lost in thought. Seeing him enter, she looked up, a dark shadow beneath her eyes.

“Has the Empress not slept well?”

“I dreamed of some old acquaintances and couldn’t sleep again after waking up.”

“What kind of old acquaintances?”

Luo Wei smiled and replied, “I dreamed of my uncle.”

She closed her eyes, leaning back against the cold phoenix carving on the headboard, reminiscing: “Uncle was stricter with my elder brother, but very kind to me. Even father never secretly took me into the palace to catch crickets. When I was little, I always thought it would be great to become someone like him when I grew up. I never imagined that one day, I would have to...”

She abruptly stopped, suddenly opened her eyes, and asked, “Has he not come?”

Zhang Suwu shook his head.

In recent days, rumors of Yu Qiushi’s disrespect had been rampant. The cause was Ye Tingyan, who had collected the court gazettes written by Yu Qiushi over the past three years and found several improprieties within them.

For instance, “sun” was mistakenly written as “moon,” suggesting an intent to confuse black and white; when describing the tide at Qiantang, it said “waves are like barbarians,” not avoiding the character “lan” (which was part of the Emperor’s name) and even placing “barbarians” in the same sentence as the Emperor’s given name, raising suspicions about his intentions... There were a total of eleven such writing errors. The Yu faction in court initially disbelieved it entirely, forcing Ye Tingyan to display every single gazette.

Everyone repeatedly confirmed them, then fell silent.

Yu Qiushi had excellent penmanship and was a cautious person. These few gazettes used almost different brushstrokes, yet every instance could be corroborated by his previously circulated calligraphy. Even if someone had deliberately framed him and imitated his handwriting, it would be impossible to mimic every style so perfectly.

Moreover, his personal seal was on the gazettes.

After the gazettes were issued, they were all sealed and stored by the Department of State Affairs. Unless each gazette was replaced before it left the palace gates, there was no way they could be fake.

Who could spend three years setting up such a poisonous trap?

When Chaolan intermittently informed Luo Wei of the news she had gathered from various palace servants, Luo Wei was still practicing calligraphy at the desk. She smiled for a long time upon hearing it.

She could now write with both hands. Her diligent practice these past few years had finally come in handy.

Zhang Suwu burned all the imperial tutor’s calligraphy scrolls that the Empress had collected over the years in the back garden. Before burning them, he specifically counted them; the most frequent scroll written by Yu Qiushi was “Zhongni Mengdian” (Confucius’s Dream of the Offering).

The sage dreamed of dying between two pillars. Was he, in his deepest heart, also yearning to become a saint?

“Good and evil retribution, like shadow following body”—though he spoke grandiosely, would he also feel fear?

No answer would likely be found.

After this incident, the Yu faction in court visited his residence one after another, curious about how the Grand Tutor would respond. Unexpectedly, Yu Qiushi acted unusually, closing his doors and refusing all guests. No matter who came, he did not step out of his mansion.

Equally unusual was the Emperor’s attitude.

In the past, there had been many such incidents, including the assassination attempt during the late spring hunt and the bronze cup incident at Huiling Lake. The Emperor, who wielded great power, treated this Grand Tutor with respect as a teacher, yet also harbored many misgivings. He had never once held him accountable. Whenever someone offered advice, he would even comfort Yu Qiushi.

But now, everyone in court knew that Ye Tingyan was a trusted minister of the Emperor. His exposure of such a matter naturally led people to suspect the Emperor’s instruction, and the Emperor’s silence after the incident further solidified this belief.

The Empress remained uninvolved, naturally saying nothing more.

Yu Qiushi claimed illness and excused himself from morning court, offering no defense whatsoever.

On the third day of his absence from morning court, the then Censor-in-Chief impeached him in court, eloquently listing seven charges against Yu Qiushi. The censors and chief ministers had always been at odds, but in the past, due to Yu Qiushi’s influence, most of those who spoke out in impeachment were demoted. Over time, no one dared to speak up anymore.

Now, with someone leading the charge, everyone readily echoed, and for a time, a storm seemed imminent.

With the censors creating momentum, Song Lan naturally handed the matter over to the Censorate but appointed Ye Tingyan to preside over the trial along with the Suzaku. It was a bit irregular for the Suzaku to intervene, but given the extraordinary circumstances, no one spoke much.

Ye Tingyan had also been staying overnight at the Ministry of Rites these past two days.

Luo Wei had expected him to come to her for discussion as usual that night, but he never arrived.

After receiving Zhang Suwu’s reply, Luo Wei was silent for a long time, staring blankly out the lattice window. Zhang Suwu was about to advise her to rest early when he suddenly heard her let out a soft laugh.

The candlelight flickered. He asked somewhat curiously, “What is the Empress laughing about?”

Luo Wei propped her chin in her hands and said, “I suddenly had a very bizarre thought.”

“Bizarre?”

“Yes,” Luo Wei said, supporting her chin, “I’ve never thought this way before, but today, I suddenly feel...”

She suddenly paused, not continuing, but instead sincerely sighed, “I wonder how long this cicada’s song will last?”

________________________________________

Song Yaofeng carried a bowl of ginseng soup through the corridor and happened to see her husband, Yu Suiou, standing in front of the study door, raising and then lowering his hand, remaining silent for a long time.

Seeing his wife, he quickly took the ginseng soup from her hand and said in a small, crestfallen voice, “Just now, my elder brother knocked on the door, but father didn’t answer him either.”

Song Yaofeng was silent for a moment, then said, “The Grand Tutor hasn’t had food or water for two days now. How can this go on? Husband, you should break down the door. Even if you have to kneel to your death, you must make him drink the ginseng soup.”

Yu Suiou asked, “Will that truly work?”

Song Yaofeng sighed, “We have to try.”

So Yu Suiou held the bowl of ginseng soup and knocked on the door, calling out loudly, “Father, please open the door and eat, take care of your body, and your children and grandchildren!”

As before, there was no response. Yu Suiou hesitated for a long time, then finally used his sword to break open the door—Yu Qiushi was strict in raising his sons, and both were very afraid of him. But Yu Suiou was simpler than Yu Suishan. At this moment, for his father’s health, he no longer cared about propriety.

The room was dark.

That morning, Yu Qiushi went to Xiuxiu Temple to pray, and encountered a heavy rain. He returned soaked but disregarded it, rushing to his study, saying he wanted to see the rewards sent by the Empress that morning.

After that, he shut himself in the study and never came out again.

Rumors about the Grand Tutor in court were rampant, and public opinion was like the pouring rain that day. Yu Suishan had never seen such a spectacle since birth. He cried outside his father’s study for a long time, even saying things like, “If father doesn’t come out soon, it might be a disaster for the whole family,” but Yu Qiushi remained oblivious.

Although Song Yaofeng did not know what Yu Qiushi had said to Luo Wei that day, she vaguely guessed some things.

She lit the candle at the entrance of the study. After only a few steps, she heard Yu Qiushi’s low murmuring.

He was slumped on the floor in front of the desk, clutching several gold-sealed memorials. The study was in disarray, with overturned tables, crooked chairs, and scattered books. Only these few memorials were neatly stacked beside his hand.

She recognized them as memorials written to him by the late Emperor.

“On the 24th day of the third month of Xinyou year, I have thoroughly reviewed your memorial. This action is greatly beneficial to the people, excellent... The wind is cold and the dew is heavy. You will return soon. Upon your return, I will bestow a banquet at Qianfang, and I will get drunk with you.”

“...Upon hearing of flooding in Jiangnan, I have tossed and turned, unable to sleep. All offenses are mine. You draft a self-incriminating memorial on my behalf, to be presented for discussion tomorrow.”

The room was pitch black, not a single character visible, yet Yu Qiushi repeatedly mumbled, seemingly able to recall the contents of each memorial even with his eyes closed.

Seeing him like this, Yu Suiou’s heart ached. He knelt down, bending his legs, and called out in a deep voice, “Father!”

Yu Qiushi paid him no mind, still muttering as if distraught: “...I have served the ancestral temple for twenty-two years. Today, being ill, I fear I will pass away. I am forced to entrust you with my son. The great edifice of the nation sways precariously. Though Zhoudu and Huai’an are gone, the oath at Juhua Temple remains, and the Great Yin’s mountains and rivers will be eternally bright... The Crown Prince is young, his indecisiveness is my fault. I hope you will not hesitate to guide him. His benevolence, loyalty, filial piety, integrity, and uprightness will surely prevent you from suffering the misfortune of Han Xin and allow you to enjoy a long life... I...”

He stopped chanting at this point, then suddenly burst into loud laughter as if recalling some joyous event. Yu Suiou listened, trembling with fear. Holding the candle, he shuffled forward on his knees. The moment he illuminated the scene, he was so shocked he almost fell—in just a few days, his father’s originally just slightly graying hair and beard had turned completely white!

Song Yaofeng stood still. She turned her head and saw the box that Luo Wei had sent that morning.

The box contained the testimonies of the palace servants who survived by the late Emperor’s side before his death, the testimonies of the imperial physician saved by Song Zhirain, and the imperial edict entrusting his heir, written by the late Emperor when he first became seriously ill.

That edict was separately given to Song Qi and Song Yaofeng, containing the content Yu Qiushi had just recited.

Song Qi’s copy of the edict was destroyed, but Song Lan absolutely never expected that she still held a copy.

A dull ache rose in her heart, but her expression remained indifferent. Yu Qiushi knelt on the ground, haphazardly tidying the memorials he had scattered, occasionally looking up to see the Princess’s expressionless face behind the flickering candlelight.

“You...”

He opened his mouth, just about to say something, when he suddenly heard a commotion outside the door.

It was Yu Suishan, who had brought several household guards and stormed into the study. Seeing the study door wide open, he paused for a moment, then quickly rushed in, shouting as he walked, “Father, the house thief is actually within our home! I know the gazettes have father’s personal seal. The more I thought about it, the more I felt something was wrong. That seal was always carried close by father; how could it have been manipulated? Just now, I led soldiers to search, and indeed, found large and small personal seals in the Princess’s room. The ironclad proof is here. Father, she is indeed in league with the Empress! This is their frame-up!”

Song Yaofeng listened to this accusation without even blinking an eye. Yu Suishan grew angrier with each word and raised the green jade seal in his hand, throwing it at her. Yu Suiou immediately shielded her, and the hard jade struck his forehead, causing blood to trickle down his pale face.

Yu Suishan was both anxious and furious, shouting, “Second Brother!”

Yu Suiou covered his forehead: “Elder Brother, there might be a misunderstanding in this matter...”

Hearing the endless quarrel between the two, Yu Qiushi raised his hand and smashed the paperweight beside him, roaring at Yu Suishan, “Enough! You are presumptuous! How can a princess of the dynasty be insulted by a mere child like you! Is this not plotting, plotting—”

He leaned on the desk beside him and managed to stand up. Only then did Yu Suishan see his father’s appearance and immediately knelt down in fright. Yu Qiushi hadn’t finished his sentence, pointing a trembling finger at him as if choked. Yu Suishan looked up and saw him vomit a large mouthful of blood.

“Father!”

Chaos erupted in the study. Song Yaofeng saw the state of the father and two sons, put down the candle in her hand, and withdrew, slowly pacing to the central courtyard.

The face of everyone she passed in the Yu mansion was filled with panic.

What a familiar look of panic, exactly the same as back then.

Song Yaofeng looked up and saw that the summer night moon was perfectly round.

She gazed at the moon, smiling as she murmured, “He has no will to live. The art of striking at the heart is ultimately the most effective.”