Grand Preceptor Dong remained expressionless, letting out a small sigh.
“What… what are you laughing at?” Lord Liang asked seriously. “If no one does anything, and no one impeaches him, doesn’t our plan fail?”
Qin Zijin’s smile vanished. His tone became so gentle it was almost merciful. “Does Lord Liang still not understand?”
“If we say someone committed a crime, then they have. If we say someone must impeach Gu Huaiyu, then the time has come to impeach him.”
Lord Liang gasped, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. “You mean to frame—”
“To lead,” Qin Zijin corrected softly, as if teaching a child. “To lead a spark of fire, to burn away the darkness and reveal a clear sky.”
He picked up his teacup and took a slow sip. “Have you ever seen someone pruning branches in spring? To ensure the flowers bloom even better next year, some redundant branches must be cut away.”
Grand Preceptor Dong nodded in approval, looking at Qin Zijin with pride. “The court cannot be controlled by the treacherous. If we are to set things right, some must wade into the mire and die for the greater cause.”
Lord Guan’s face filled with respect as he clapped his hands. “These young men will get what they seek! They are willing to be moths to the flame, to strike a stone with an egg for the sake of integrity. Is this not the very essence of a scholar’s character?”
Grand Preceptor Dong added solemnly, “When Gu Yu eventually falls, their deaths will be recorded in biographies and inscribed on monuments for all the world to see.”
Compared to the grand cause of the nation and the destruction of a traitor, the chastity of a few women or the lives of a few scholars were merely dust—ants swept away in the flood of a great era.
If the death of one could save ten million, it was a worthy death. If a single lie could bring about the purification of the world, it was a service to the state.
Behind the screen, Xie Shaoling’s spine went rigid. He felt as if he had been plunged into a cellar of ice.
In that room, filled with warm steam and the fragrance of tea, every word sounded like a thunderclap in his ears. These men were laughing while they arranged the deaths of sacrifices like unimportant chess pieces—and these were the “Pure Stream” of the court, the “Blue Skies” in the eyes of the people, the role models for all scholars.
These were the men he had once respected, promoted, and aspired to become.
Beside him, Dong Danyu was as white as a sheet, his eyes wide with horror.
Xie Shaoling’s fingertips went numb. He could barely hold his fan.
“Master Plum” had once advised him to “take a long-term view of things.” At the time, Xie had thought the man was just a coward afraid of death.
Now, he finally understood. Had Master Plum known all along?
Did he know how these “Pure Stream” officials used the hearts of the people as a game board and paved their way with corpses?
Did he know that beneath Qin Zijin’s refined exterior was a cold, calculating face?
Had he… been trying to save Xie all along?
***
The Qionglin Banquet was the first grand feast following the announcement of the imperial examinations, and one of the most solemn ceremonies of the Imperial House.
Usually, it was a routine affair: the Ministry of Rites presented the lists, and the Hanlin scholars accompanied the wine. But this year was different; it was the first time the young Emperor had personally hosted the banquet since his ascension.
The high-ranking officials were mostly veterans from the late Emperor’s reign, their hair and beards white with age. The younger generation struggled for a chance to stand out. Tonight’s feast was the golden opportunity for a meteoric rise.
However, this opportunity only belonged to the Pure Stream faction. The officials of the Gu faction had already received word: their “Leader” would not be attending, as was his custom.
The man was always thus: he did not attend court, he did not attend banquets, he did not pay homage at the shrines, and he did not offer formal greetings. He sat alone in the Chancellery, suppressing the entire court with his presence alone.
A single, casually spoken “inappropriate” from him carried more weight than the combined words of a hundred officials.
If their leader didn’t show his face, how could they, his “running dogs,” dare to stand out before the Emperor? If they appeared too eager and were misunderstood as betraying their master for favor, they would truly find themselves in a place beyond redemption.
While Gu Huaiyu didn’t attend the Qionglin Banquet, he did visit the Empress Dowager’s palace.
The two siblings had relied on each other since childhood. With their parents dying early, their bond was incredibly deep. When Gu Wan was married into Prince Rui’s estate as a consort, she couldn’t bear to leave her brother behind, so she brought the young Gu Huaiyu into the estate to be raised with her.
Rumors in the palace claimed the Empress Dowager was as beautiful as an immortal but had a heart as deep as a well—a modern-day Daji or Mo Xi. They said she was a natural temptress whose dancing and singing had so enchanted Emperor Rui that he cleared his harem of three thousand to favor her alone every night.
But since the late Emperor’s passing and the new Emperor’s ascension, she had lived in seclusion. Few had seen the true face of the “femme fatale who ruined the nation.”
Gu Huaiyu stepped into the bedchamber. The noon sun was bright. A woman dressed in simple, elegant clothes sat before a loom, her fingers flying as the shuttle darted like a butterfly.
She was so focused that she didn’t notice Gu Huaiyu enter. Only when he stood by the loom, his shadow falling across the silk threads, did Gu Wan look up. her eyes were as gentle as water. “Yulang, you’ve come?”
Gu Huaiyu leaned lazily against the loom. “What is Sister making?”
