CT - 64

In the blink of an eye, it was late summer. The heat was even more oppressive than at the height of summer. Yan Lang was drenched in sweat when he entered the Fengle Restaurant, complaining repeatedly about the heat to the girl who was leading the way for him, making her laugh incessantly.

After ascending three flights of wooden stairs, he saw Ye Tingyan sitting by the window, leaning back and watching the street scene. The lingering glow of the setting sun shone on his face, and he seemed somewhat lost in thought, languidly fanning himself with a folding fan, without a trace of sweat on him.

Yan Lang sat cross-legged in front of him, raised a hand to call for ice, and drank a full cup of bayberry iced drink before recovering and teasing, “Is Third Young Master perhaps a jade person? With skin like ice and bones like jade, he’s unaffected by such hot weather.”

Ye Tingyan turned his head, closed his folding fan, and held the fan’s handle to his chest, saying half-jokingly, “I suffered some injuries years ago; my heart meridian is cold, only my hands are somewhat warm, so naturally, I’m not afraid of the heat.”

When Yan Lang first met this person in Youzhou, he had been tricked many times. Hearing this, he merely said, “How can there be such a strange injury? You’re tricking me again!”

Ye Tingyan half-opened his fan to hide his face and smiled, but remained silent. Yan Lang looked down and saw an inscription on his fan: “Now haggard, composing a soul-summoning ode.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, “Haggard, composing a soul-summoning ode; a scholar’s cap often brings misfortune. Does a civil official like Third Young Master also feel that studying is useless?”

Ye Tingyan raised an eyebrow in surprise: “Has the young general read this line?”

Yan Lang said, “Waving a feather fan, adjusting his scarf, a youth amidst battle dust—my father read it and greatly admired the heroic spirit of Zhou Yu from the Three Kingdoms, who commanded armies with such ease on the battlefield.”

Ye Tingyan smiled slightly, slowly unfolding the fan in his hand: “Since ancient times, heroes emerge from youth. The young general is no less than Zhou Yu.”

“Far from it, far from it.”

Yan Lang waved his hand and looked again, finding that the latter half of the line was not inscribed on his fan, only the three fragmented lines: “Meeting an old friend in Xiaoxiang, a youth amidst battle dust, now haggard, composing a soul-summoning ode.”

Yan Lang then laughed, “Our meeting here can be considered ‘meeting an old friend.’ You strategize in my father’s army, truly comparable to a hero like Zhou Yu. But Third Young Master is still young, in the prime of his life; how can you be called ‘now haggard’?”

Ye Tingyan answered casually, “I was just writing for fun.”

He coughed lightly and asked, “Has His Majesty permitted you to leave the capital?”

Yan Lang wore a troubled expression: “Only allowed out of the mansion gates. Leaving the capital seems a distant prospect, but I’m not in a hurry to leave. Northern Youzhou has been peaceful these days, and I’m happy to stay longer in this blessed haven of Bianjing.”

Ye Tingyan knew immediately that he wasn’t telling the truth but didn’t press the matter, merely saying, “If you’re not in Northern Youzhou, it might not be peaceful.”

Yan Lang said, “Then why don’t you, Lord Ye, persuade His Majesty for me?”

Ye Tingyan raised his cup and sighed, “I wonder if I have that much influence.”

The two exchanged smiles, enjoying their meal immensely. The next day, Yan Lang entered the palace and sent a message to Luo Wei.

“The young general says this person has deep thoughts; using him burns your hands, but killing him would be a pity.”

Luo Wei glanced at Zhang Suwu, who was relaying the message, and smiled wryly, “He has such high standards; such high praise is not easy to come by. It seems Ye San indeed has some capabilities in Youzhou.”

Zhang Suwu said, “If not for that, he wouldn’t have gained His Majesty’s trust.”

As they spoke, they passed by the window of the Imperial Library. Xu Dan was reading by the window and immediately stood up to salute when he saw her. Luo Wei waved her hand, inadvertently noticing several bamboo bookmarks placed on the desk behind him. The bookmarks were exquisitely made and adorned with dried lotus petals.

Her expression subtly changed. She tentatively asked, “Lord Xu is quite elegant, even making bookmarks from lotus petals.”

Xu Dan looked back, smiled, and said, “Empress flatters me. How would I dare pick lotus in the palace? These flowers were found by me by chance under the window a few days ago. I couldn’t bear to see them wither, so I made them into these. Does Your Majesty like them?”

As he spoke, he handed one over. Luo Wei took it, thinking that after Ye Tingyan stopped staying overnight in the palace, she visited the Imperial Library every two days, but she didn’t see the seasonal flowers he usually arranged, so she hadn’t visited Gaoyang Terrace.

It seemed then that it wasn’t that he hadn’t arranged them, but that Xu Dan had inadvertently picked them up.

“Empress...”

Luo Wei clutched the bookmark, turned, and walked away. Xu Dan looked up, just about to say something more, but saw that the Empress had already taken his bookmark without a word and hurried away.

________________________________________

After that, the two found no time to meet.

The censors had long been dissatisfied with Yu Qiushi, but were deterred by his immense influence and dared not speak out. Now that the wall had fallen, everyone pushed it down, and impeachment memorials piled up in the study of the Qianfang Back Hall. Only one old official in the Censorate spoke out to dissuade the others, stating that “after Yu’s departure, the court will surely be in peril,” but unfortunately, no one understood. They only laughed at him, thinking he was intimidated by the Grand Tutor’s years of power.

Upon hearing this, Ye Tingyan smiled wryly at Pei Xi, “Among all the civil and military officials, only one old official sees clearly.”

Pei Xi said, “Isn’t that exactly what Young Master desires?”

At that time, Luo Wei was feeding fish in the withered lotus pond behind Qionghua Palace. Zhang Suwu also asked the same question. After Luo Wei scattered the last of the food in her hand, she clapped her hands and stood up, taking the handkerchief he offered, and sighed, “I’m only worried about a lack of successors in court.”

She turned and walked towards Qionghua Palace, casually adding, “However, new talents always emerge in the empire, so there’s no need to worry excessively.”

________________________________________

In late summer of the fourth year of Jinghe, the Censorate and the Censorate jointly impeached Grand Tutor Yu Qiushi for “disrespect,” “disobedience,” and “lack of humility,” along with major charges of corruption and collusion.

Everyone initially thought that the Grand Tutor only needed to appear and offer some defense, find a few scapegoats to take the blame, and even if he suffered a great loss of vitality, he could still retreat unscathed—he had done so in many similar incidents before.

But Yu Qiushi remained silent.

This only fueled everyone’s arrogance. The Emperor sent the elite guards, Suzaku, to conduct a thorough investigation for another month. At the end of July, after the imperial concubine’s family visit, the Emperor ordered Yu Qiushi’s arrest, the confiscation of the Yu family mansion, and the imprisonment of all involved.

Imperial Concubine Yu was pregnant and lived deep within the palace, so she naturally avoided implication. Princess Changshou Shkang and her consort were granted a return to the princess’s mansion under house arrest, awaiting the results of the Three Judicial Offices’ trial.

The dismissal of the Prime Minister was now a foregone conclusion.

Officials in court who were close to Yu Qiushi were all on edge. The clever ones prostrated themselves before the Emperor’s study, weeping and half-concealing their actions in confession; the foolish ones submitted their resignations or spoke out against the injustice during morning court and were investigated alongside him.

The Three Judicial Offices initially intended to proceed according to precedent, but the Emperor’s direct Imperial Guards, Suzaku, firmly held the dominant authority over Yu’s case, causing everyone to be angry but dare not speak. Now, eager to remove Yu, the censors also temporarily held back, planning to advise on the unreasonableness of Suzaku’s interference in judicial matters after the dust had settled.

Although Ye Tingyan was a close minister to the Emperor, few knew about his private leadership of Suzaku. This time, in eliminating Yu, he took the main credit and also mediated numerous times between the censors and the Emperor, earning him favor with many—though he was not a pure scholar-official, he repeatedly and subtly defused the tense confrontations between the Emperor and some upright officials.

Those who didn’t understand dismissed him, but the clever ones who saw the situation clearly understood his painstaking efforts and secretly admired him.

On July 10th, the Three Judicial Offices, trembling, submitted a memorial stating that gold and bronze objects, along with a counterfeit tiger tally, were found in the Grand Tutor’s residence. The previous assassination attempt by the Lin family and the widespread rumor of “False Dragon Roar” in the capital were finally brought to light.

The Empress and the Grand Tutor had always been at odds. This time, to avoid accusations of borrowing a knife to kill, she did not intervene at all. The Emperor personally reviewed the memorials from the Three Judicial Offices with a vermilion brush, clearly labeling it “great treason.”

Previously, everyone thought the Emperor only wanted to dismiss the Prime Minister. Unexpectedly, his dispatch of Suzaku to investigate was not merely for dismissal—he still remembered the humiliation of being a puppet and the pressure of the Grand Tutor’s power. With this charge made public, the court and the public were in uproar. The Emperor then issued an edict, declaring his intention to personally govern after his Chongyang birthday.

The Grand Tutor was gone, and the Empress remained silent. Although many worried internally, no one spoke out in opposition, as the Emperor had already reached adulthood, and personal rule was inevitable.

Yu Qiushi was imprisoned in the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon, awaiting execution in autumn.

How swift was the change in power! Yesterday, he was “Grand Tutor Yu,” wielding life and death power from his high position; today, he had fallen to the status of a prisoner.

Upon learning that Song Lan had secretly visited Yu Qiushi in the dungeon late at night, Zhang Suwu was somewhat worried, but Luo Wei firmly stated, “He won’t say anything.”

Yu Qiushi had said that day, “You will surely not live,” meaning that even if Song Lan decided to eliminate him, he would use his life before death to force Song Lan to believe that Luo Wei knew the truth of the Thorn Blossom case. From the day they formed a pincer-like formation in court, such a mutually destructive outcome was destined.

The strategy of striking at the heart was to make him reflect on his life during this time and regret his past actions. Yu Qiushi was a stubborn and capable minister. Even if he knew he was wrong, he would not admit it. He had to be completely shattered, his courage failing him, feeling that he had betrayed profound grace and could no longer bear to live, before he would give up.

If he himself had not lost the will to live, no one could have eliminated him so smoothly.

Luo Wei burned the “Zhongni Mengdian” calligraphy she had copied, considering it a premature memorial for him.

She remembered when she was young, her father hosted a banquet at home, and Yu Qiushi also attended. Several officials who would later become political rivals in life and death sat at the same table. Even if they argued heatedly over differing views, they could still reconcile their grievances over drinks.

How young they all were then, with clear ideals and simple thoughts, free from personal gain, collusion, emotional disputes, factional divisions, and endless confrontations. The garden was filled with the fragrant scent of fine wine. Someone, on a whim, beat a drum for merriment, singing a tuneless “Man Ting Fang.”

Later, those bygone days scattered like clouds. Those who attended the banquet were either far apart, serving different lords in the same court, or separated by life and death, their souls returned to the heavens. Everything had vanished.

As the ashes of the burned scroll quietly died out, Luo Wei suddenly felt a visitor from beyond the lattice window behind her. It was already past midnight, and the late summer cicadas were still chirping ceaselessly.

She turned to look and saw Ye Tingyan wearing the Suzaku official robe he wore when they first met in Qionghua Palace, his ponytail tied high, a short knife in his hand.

What was different from before was that when she turned, he didn’t show his usual lazy smile. He just stared at her fixedly. She looked closely too and saw the silver reflection of the moon in his pupils.

The two gazed at each other for a long time in such an eerie silence until Ye Tingyan spoke first. His tone was very calm, without complaint, but his words were very, very slow: “After leaving that flower, I waited for a long time at Gaoyang Terrace, but you never came.”

Luo Wei didn’t explain, but suddenly asked, “Then what did you do while you were waiting for me?”

Ye Tingyan was puzzled. After some thought, he replied, “I watched the sunset.”

Luo Wei took a step closer, leaned against the lattice window, and looked up.

“On the night I waited for you, I also watched the moon.”