The court officials had barely absorbed the news of the banquet celebrating with the people when they heard that Liu Xi had been beaten. Alarmed, they wondered whether the young emperor had acted on impulse or intended to declare war on the Grand Empress Dowager.
If it was merely an impulsive outburst, he would probably be sent back to the ancestral temple to reflect, just as before. If he truly intended to challenge her, his defeat was certain. But the regent, who had long been waiting for an opportunity, might also make his move. The imperial family of Great Yao could face enormous upheaval.
Before anyone could reach a conclusion, another story emerged: the young emperor had tricked the regent into visiting Zhaoyang Hall, then secretly chained the doors shut to trap him inside.
The officials: “…”
Regent Xie Yun, former commander of the Northern Defense Army, was a legendary figure who could fight his way through a Jie military camp and back out with only a spear. He might have exchanged military command for civil government, but the palace’s handful of guards was still no match for him. The young emperor wanted to lure him into Zhaoyang Hall and kill him? What was he thinking?
According to the servants of Zhaoyang Hall, the regent had kicked the doors open in front of the young emperor. He had not even spared the man responsible for locking them, kicking him half to death before sweeping away.
Everyone knew the regent rarely used force himself since turning to civil affairs. He had clearly been genuinely enraged this time. No one knew how he would deal with the young emperor.
Just as the officials assumed His Majesty would once again hide in Zhaoyang Hall, too frightened of the regent to attend court, he did something else that shocked them—he withheld the document appointing Qin Huaiyuan, Marquis of Wuying, as an assistant commissioner.
The Chief Military Commission had originally been established by Great Yao’s founding emperor to oversee the armies of the realm. Over time, with the tacit approval of successive sovereigns, it had become a place packed with imperial relatives and nobles. By the late emperor’s reign, it had fallen entirely into the Qin clan’s hands.
Throughout the capital, even the beggars beneath the city walls knew the Chief Military Commission belonged to the Qins. Yet when the Grand Empress Dowager sought to transfer her own nephew there as an assistant commissioner, the young emperor blocked it. Many were astonished.
“So the young emperor really means business?”
“Tsk. I doubt he has a chance. The one in Shoukang Palace still controls the imperial troops and the Golden Feather Guard. What can he use against her?”
“That’s what you don’t understand. Have you heard about the banquet celebrating with the people? If you ask me, he isn’t selling invitations. He’s calling for allies!”
“Useless. Who would dare go? Would you? Or you?”
“Hey! Don’t talk nonsense! If the Golden Feather Guard hears that, I’ll lose my head!”
“Relax. This is Juxian Teahouse. The Golden Feather Guard won’t come here.”
“The young emperor is too naive. He really thinks someone will help him. A banquet celebrating with the people? There probably won’t be a single guest on the day…”
“…”
Juxian Teahouse was the largest teahouse in Yanjing. The Golden Feather Guard, one of the palace’s four guard divisions, had originally been the emperor’s personal guard. Now it obeyed only the Grand Empress Dowager.
Dressed in pale jade-green brocade, his dark hair secured high with a gold crown, Song Liang posed as a wealthy young gentleman. He sat in a private room on the teahouse’s second floor, listening to people outside gossip about him for a full two hours.
He seemed to have become an insignificant supporting character in the struggle among Xie Yun, Chancellor Yin, and the Grand Empress Dowager. There was little praise and little outright abuse—only mockery, contempt, and absolute certainty that this emperor would be the death of himself through sheer stupidity.
Song Liang listened without the slightest disturbance. Zhou An, disguised as his attendant, looked increasingly grim. Eventually, he could not hold back.
“Aren’t you angry?”
“Not particularly,” Song Liang said. “I’m not someone who cares much about other people’s opinions.”
Zhou An protested indignantly, “But you clearly love it when people flatter you!”
“…”
Song Liang lifted his eyes and glanced at him.
Zhou An silently slapped his own mouth. “This servant spoke too much.”
Song Liang looked away and took a sip of tea. Richly fragrant, smooth on the throat, with a lingering sweet aftertaste—it really was excellent. He could not even get tea like this in the palace, yet the teahouse served it to guests.
【The private room costs ten taels of silver, after all,】3085 said. 【At Great Yao’s prices, that would support a family of five for three years.】
Song Liang could not help marveling. 【The male lead is really rich.】
【Of course. He’s the male lead. He can be disabled or rotten to the core, but he must be rich. Otherwise, readers won’t like him.】
Song Liang: 【So that’s why I’m still poor despite being emperor?】
【Possibly.】
Resentfully, Song Liang took another great gulp of the excellent tea. Zhou An immediately lifted the pot to refill his cup and thoughtfully explained that refills were unlimited. He would ask for another pot shortly. Song Liang gave him an approving look, then lowered his head and drank enthusiastically. Whenever he finished, Zhou An poured more.
When Helan Ze entered, he found this uncultured master and servant drinking as though they had died of thirst in their previous lives.
Helan Ze: “…”
Even dragon robes could not give the man an air of nobility. Concealing the contempt in his eyes, Helan Ze approached with a smile.
“This tea is called Fragrant Mountain Orchid Mist. It comes from the heights of Fragrant Mountain in the north, where clouds and mist linger year-round. It has a naturally fresh, cool fragrance. If you like it, I’ll have someone give you some to take back.”
“Give me plenty,” Song Liang said without a trace of politeness. “These pastries are good too.”
“…”
Helan Ze’s smile stiffened slightly. Although Prince Duan’s household stood outside Yanjing’s center of power, it possessed legitimate imperial blood—purer even than that fool Chen Min’s. Had the Grand Empress Dowager not interfered years ago, his father should have inherited the throne rather than the late emperor.
As Prince Duan’s heir, Helan Ze was of noble birth. Even after his mother died, his stepmother, though indifferent toward him, had never dared disrespect him. His acquaintances were naturally the sons of distinguished families or, at the very least, proud scholars of integrity like those in the Hanlin Academy. This was his first time dealing with someone so uncouth. Unfortunately, the man had a face identical to the young emperor’s, forcing Helan Ze to remain patient and coax him.
Unwilling to waste further words, he raised his hand slightly and made a special gesture. An instant later, a black-clad figure dropped from above and stood before them.
“Ah!”
Zhou An had never imagined someone was crouching on the rafters. Frightened out of his wits, he landed on the floor.
To Helan Ze’s surprise, however, Song Liang remained perfectly calm in contrast to his attendant’s panic. He even studied the black-clad youth who had appeared out of nowhere with curiosity.
“You wear black in broad daylight too? Doesn’t that look even stranger?”
“…”
The youth, wearing a half mask that covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose, had not expected such a question either. Unsure whether to answer, he looked toward Helan Ze.
“From now on, he is your master,” Helan Ze said.
The youth nodded and answered Song Liang, “When wearing black, I remain concealed in dark places such as the rafters. I won’t be discovered.”
“Oh,” Song Liang said. “What’s your name?”
“Xuan Seven.”
Song Liang considered this. Heaven, Earth, Xuan, Yellow—the third tier of the Night Owls, ranked seventh. Helan Ze had not entirely fobbed him off. At least he had not sent someone from the lowest tier.
“That name sounds awful. When we get back, I’ll look through a dictionary and find you a better one.”
His main purpose today was to collect his new man, and his second was to get some fresh air now that his leg had finally healed. Song Liang had no intention of wasting more time here. He stood, stretched, and prepared to leave.
“Go change your clothes and bring all your belongings.”
Then he turned to Helan Ze.
“Go get my tea and pastries. Plenty of them. I have enough people to carry everything.”
Helan Ze: “…Very well.”
The masked youth looked from Helan Ze to Song Liang. It was the first time he had ever seen his former master obey someone so readily, though his expression was far from pleasant.
Before leaving, Song Liang made a detour to the teahouse’s dozing bookkeeper. He tossed down a gold-embroidered brocade pouch and said casually, “I want news of His Majesty’s banquet celebrating with the people spread throughout Great Yao within a month.”
The bookkeeper lifted his sleepy eyelids and opened the pouch. His eyes brightened slightly. Inside lay a lustrous, perfectly rounded pearl the size of a pigeon’s egg. Its quality was exceptional, unmistakably an imperial tribute from the Eastern Sea.
Song Liang tapped a fingertip against the ledger before him.
“‘Delicate clouds weave their artistry; flying stars convey their longing.’ I pay, you do the work, and no third party may know. I believe I have the rules right.”
The bookkeeper lowered his eyes and answered in a slow, quiet voice, “You do.”
Only then did Song Liang curve his lips and turn to leave.
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