Chapter 15

Wei Tong had no idea of the storm his casual remarks had whipped up in Xuan’s heart. The suspicions Xuan once harbored now seemed to have been washed away by those few offhand sentences?

Yet it was only a passing interlude. Soon, Kangxi had no choice but to tear his attention away from the matter. Late in the seventh year of Kangxi’s reign, though the Emperor already had a firstborn son, Chengrui, ministers began submitting memorials claiming that His Majesty’s lap sat empty, proof of some failing in virtue. Such audacity could only have been orchestrated from behind the scenes, and as to who that someone was, no guess was needed.

No matter how Kangxi’s temper roared, this was a time for endurance. “Endure” became the word he practiced most in the seventh year of his reign.

Wei Tong sensed the atmosphere shifting, but the small study was thinly staffed and rarely visited. He knew the seventh year of Kangxi’s reign was going badly for the Emperor, but Kangxi ultimately could come to no real harm, so Wei Tong now poured everything into looking out for himself.

Liu Cheng’s side didn’t keep pressing him either. Presumably they knew Kangxi’s cautious temperament; if Wei Tong acted rashly, finding a replacement as good would be harder than scaling the sky. And so, ironically, these became Wei Tong’s rare days of leisure.

After taking up reading and practicing characters, Wei Tong also set himself to memorizing passages he found worthwhile. He dared read the books in secret, but he dared not copy them down. Palace eunuchs and maids had no right to privacy; if an inspection turned up anything, his little life was forfeit. But idle days begged for occupation, and enriching himself this way was good. No one had ever complained of knowing too much.

Wei Tong had told Xuan before that he truly wanted to travel beyond these walls. Achieving that in ancient times would be hard; Wei Tong might toil his whole life and never walk out of that palace gate. But keeping a hope alive in one’s heart was good too. Besides, it was scenery from this era that was truly worth seeing; by modern times, who knew how much of it would be ruined?

Until one day, Zhang Jiu came looking for him. That day, Wei Tong was squatting outside the courtyard, tracing characters in the dirt with a twig. At the sound of footsteps he sprang up, scuffing the spot over with his shoe until nothing of it remained.

But when he lifted his head, it was Zhang Jiu he saw. Wei Tong dropped the twig in surprise and stepped forward. “Zhang Jiu? What brings you here?” Zhang Jiu’s dark face looked wrong, the usual brightness in his eyes dimmed. Wei Tong immediately sensed something amiss, glanced toward the inner room where Zhao He should still be napping, and led Zhang Jiu around the back to find a place to sit. “Did something happen to you?”

At Wei Tong’s words, Zhang Jiu shuddered. His eyes darted in every direction until he was certain no outsider was near; only then did he say in a low voice, “Wei Tong, Wei Tong, I don’t know who else I could go to. But, but I’m so scared. If they find out, will they kill me?” As he spoke, his hand clutched instinctively at Wei Tong’s sleeve, and the more he said, the lower his voice fell and the harder his grip tightened, until the fabric had been wrung full of creases.

Wei Tong let him grip it. From what Zhang Jiu had just said, he gathered the man might have stumbled onto something and now feared being silenced. Had anyone else been standing before him, Wei Tong would have turned and walked away without a backward glance. Kindness wasn’t a flaw, but it had to be measured against one’s means. Only… the person who had come to him was Zhang Jiu.

He didn’t have many close friends. Dali, Zhang Jiu, Wenxi, Fugui, a handful. Whatever troubles these few had, if Wei Tong could help, he would never abandon them.

It took a long stretch of coaxing before Wei Tong finally steadied Zhang Jiu’s nerves. “Zhang Jiu, if you come to me, at least let me know what actually happened. If you tell me nothing, how can I help you? This is an open courtyard. You can see for yourself, there’s no one here but us. If anyone comes in, you’ll spot them at a glance. Only like this can we speak freely.” Wei Tong knew exactly what Zhang Jiu feared most; having picked out the right reassurances, Zhang Jiu finally calmed enough to talk.

The night before, Zhang Jiu had drunk too much water in the heat before bed, and in the dead of night a full bladder had dragged him out to relieve himself. Afterwards he felt loose and easy all over, but sleep had fled, so he took the long way back, planning to walk off the restlessness before returning to bed. And right there on the path, he had seen something he was never meant to see.

“I swear I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Wei Tong, you know how it is. Few people pass that spot on the west side anyway, and there were rumors now and then of lovers meeting there. When I heard noises, I assumed it was that, and I wanted to sneak closer for a peek. Who knew I’d hear something worth my life.”

Zhang Jiu hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Two low, heavy voices, both sounding male. He had felt a twinge of disappointment and was about to leave when one of them abruptly raised his voice. “With His Excellency pinning the little Emperor down so hard right now, what have you got to be afraid of!”

That one sentence rooted Zhang Jiu to the spot. He didn’t dare leave either, terrified that any noise on his way out would betray him to the two men at once.

Afterwards their talk sank deeper and deeper, and the more Zhang Jiu heard, the more his whole body shook. He clamped both hands over his mouth, not daring to make a sound, and even after the two finally left, he still didn’t dare move. By the time he came back to himself, he was soaked through with cold sweat.

He tossed and turned for two days before hurrying to consult Wei Tong. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell his master; Liu Jinzhong had been unwell lately. Though Kangxi had granted him special leave to remain in the palace, he surely had no strength to handle such a matter.

When Wei Tong heard the whole story, his first act was to throw a punch at him, then say in a low voice, “You should have told your master the moment it happened.” A matter this big, even with Liu Jinzhong half-paralyzed in bed, he should have crawled up to report it to the Emperor.

After all, one of the two men in Zhang Jiu’s story was none other than Liu Cheng’s nephew, Liu Yu!

Liu Yu’s actions must have come on Liu Cheng’s orders. And those things he had said… So Liu Cheng was still holding onto an account book. The man had nerve. If this ever came to light, the people Liu Cheng answered to would likely kill him on the spot!

But Zhang Jiu hesitated for a long time, and in the end still shook his head through gritted teeth. “Wei Tong, I know you mean well, but I don’t want to be mixed up in this anymore. No one should know I went out that night, and no one saw me. So let’s just pretend it never happened.”

Wei Tong stared at him, stunned, though his face soon smoothed over. “You’re afraid.” Zhang Jiu gave a bitter smile. “Who wouldn’t be? It looks like Grandpa Liu and Liu Yu are both his men, and the Emperor’s too young to hold his own. Where the court finally lands… we have no idea. How could I dare gamble my own life on it?”

“Zhang Jiu, staying silent is gambling your life all the same.” Wei Tong pronounced each word deliberately. Everything Zhang Jiu had said before was excuses; Liu Jinzhong’s poor health was nothing but cover for his own fear. His coming to Wei Tong at all showed his heart wavered. He simply didn’t dare.

“Enough, enough. Wei Tong, I never should have told you any of this. I’m sorry for dragging you into it. But let it end here.” They might live in the Inner Palace, but Qingning Palace was the Emperor’s own residence, and the maze of rumors ran thickest here. News of Oboi’s behavior reached their ears more and more often; each man drew his own conclusions. Wei Tong simply hadn’t imagined Zhang Jiu had not one shred of faith left.

And that, indirectly, showed just how dire Kangxi’s position was.

Wei Tong couldn’t talk Zhang Jiu around, nor could he go over his head and say anything to those above. And who could he even tell? Liu Jinzhong? Gu Wenxing? Liang Jiugong? Barred from leaving the small study freely, he couldn’t reach any of them. Besides, the one who had shown his face was Liu Yu, not Liu Cheng. Exposed, Liu Cheng could simply claim Liu Yu had acted alone, maybe even bite back at Zhang Jiu. That was what Zhang Jiu feared most of all.

Wei Tong combed through what he had heard. First, Liu Cheng held an account book, presumably recording certain dealings; it must be a backup he had left himself, for otherwise, secrecy demanded no such thing exist. Second, Liu Yu was more highly valued by Liu Cheng than Wei Tong had first imagined; otherwise there was no way he would have been told of this. Third, who exactly was the man meeting Liu Yu? Fourth, that man had said he seemed to have caught the first trace of something, but wasn’t sure, and would confirm it at their next meeting.

Zhang Jiu said he had never heard that man’s voice before. Judging by the silhouette, he was tall and broad, at least a head taller than Liu Yu, and while the two had been gesturing, Zhang Jiu thought he had glimpsed an archer ring on his hand. But across the whole Imperial Palace, men fitting that description numbered not one hundred but eighty at least; there was no narrowing it down. And how on earth had the man gotten into the palace at all?! After the palace gates were locked for the night, apart from the patrolling imperial guards, no one could… The guards?

Wei Tong went cold with a jolt, then shook his head. That was hardly strange in itself.

He locked the thought away. What worried him was Zhang Jiu. He could only hope to visit when his rest day came around in a few days.

But barely three days later, Fugui came.

The silent eunuch brought him one piece of news. Zhang Jiu was dead.

Drowned. A slip by the water’s edge.