The 19th day of the 9th month, Shaosheng Era, Year 3. The Grand Court Assembly.
Zhao Xu sat upon the Imperial Throne in the Chongqing Hall. The curtains had been withdrawn two years ago. Morning light surged through the palace gates, illuminating the golden bricks at his feet. Hundreds of officials prostrated themselves, shouting "Ten thousand years" in unison. His gaze swept across the hall—from Lü Dafang to Fan Chunren, from the Hanlin Academy to the Censorate.
The Censor-in-Chief, Zhao Tingzhi, stepped out of the ranks. Clad in crimson robes, holding his tablet upright, he walked to the center of the hall and knelt.
"Your servant has a memorial. I impeach Empress Shen on three counts."
The hall fell deathly silent. The officials held their breath, silently weighing the gravity of these words.
"First: Disrupting the system through commerce. The Empress privately established a tea house outside the palace, vying for profit with the common people. It is known to all of Bianjing and damages the dignity of the state. Second: Overstepping boundaries by interfering in politics. The Empress has repeatedly intervened in palace affairs and consorted with merchants, disrupting the laws. Third—" He paused, raising his tablet even higher, "Spreading heresy to confuse the populace. Rumors in the palace say the Empress knows the past and future, communicating with spirits. In ancient times, King Huai of Chu favored Zheng Xiu, and Duke Huan of Qi loved Lady Wei; both were bewitched by the arts of petty people."
Zhao Xu tapped his fingertips on the armrest. The sound was short and abrupt, like a skipped heartbeat.
"Master Zhao says the third count is that the Empress practices sorcery?"
"This servant dares not make assumptions. But the rumors are rampant and cannot go uninvestigated."
"Then have you investigated?"
Sweat beaded on Zhao Tingzhi's forehead.
"You say she disrupts commerce. Let me ask you: which article of the Great Song Law states that an Empress cannot engage in trade? You say she interferes in politics. Let me ask you again: when the Dowager was alive, the Empress sent daily meals to ask after her health—did that count as interference?" Zhao Xu's voice was not loud, but every word seemed ground out from stone. "You say she spreads heresy. Let me answer that for you—what she practices is not sorcery; it is arithmetic. She knows how to calculate the daily turnover of a tea shop, not the fate of your life."
Zhao Tingzhi prostrated himself, his forehead pressed against the golden bricks. "This servant is loyal to the state—"
"Your loyalty, I have seen," Zhao Xu's voice suddenly softened, as if discussing something trivial. "But your falsehoods, I have also seen. Withdraw."
Zhao Tingzhi stood up and retreated to the ranks, his hands trembling so much that his tablet nearly slipped.
Zhao Xu's gaze swept the hall again. Lü Dafang looked down; Fan Chunren was motionless; Zeng Bu was expressionless.
"Regarding the Empress opening a tea house, I am aware. The Dowager saw the ledgers of 'Tea Ji'. The Dowager said the tea was too expensive, so the Empress lowered the price by one coin. The Dowager did not forbid it. The three matters Master Zhao raised today were all known to the Dowager. She did not intervene while she was alive, and now that I have assumed personal rule, neither will I."
He placed his hands on his knees.
"Court is adjourned."
The officials bowed. Zhao Xu stood up and turned to walk toward the back of the hall. After a few steps, he spoke without turning around.
"Zhang Dun, stay."
Zhang Dun stood at the very back of the ranks. From the start of the assembly until now, he had not spoken a word or raised his head. Even as the others retired, he did not look up. He simply stood there, like an old tree planted in a corner.
The palace doors closed. The sunlight was cut off, and the hall darkened, leaving only the candles on either side of the throne flickering. Zhao Xu remained seated on the throne; Zhang Dun stood in the center of the hall.
"Master Zhang did not speak today."
"This servant had nothing to say."
"Zhao Tingzhi impeached the Empress, and you have nothing to say?"
Zhang Dun raised his head. His eyes were calm, a平静ness that seemed capable of containing everything yet revealing nothing.
"Your Majesty has already rejected it. This servant has nothing to refute."
Zhao Xu looked at him for a long time.
"Master Zhang, why do you think Zhao Tingzhi chose today to strike?"
Zhang Dun remained silent for a moment. His fingers twitched slightly within his sleeves.
"Zhao Tingzhi is a former official of the Yuanyou era. The old Yuanyou officials are not reconciled."
"And you? You are an old official of the Xining era. Are you reconciled?"
A wind blew through the palace gates, causing the candle flames to flicker.
"This servant is an old official of Xining. The old Xining officials only do; they do not speak."
Zhao Xu smiled. It was brief, slightly bitter. Like a man who had waited a long time and finally heard a truth.
"Master Zhang, you may go."
Zhang Dun knelt, kowtowed, stood up, and walked toward the exit. As he reached the door, Zhao Xu's voice came from behind.
"Master Zhang. Regarding the third count Zhao Tingzhi mentioned today—spreading heresy. What is your view?"
Zhang Dun, with his back to the throne, faced the surging sunlight, casting his shadow onto the golden bricks.
"This servant has not heard of heresy. This servant has only heard of—Fire Weapons."
He pushed open the door and walked out.
Zhao Xu stared at the closed door for a long time. Fire Weapons. A term he had only discussed with A-Heng. In the study of the Imperial City Bureau, amidst those files about the Western Xia. She had never told anyone else. Where did Zhang Dun hear it? He found it himself. This man, Zhang Dun, never relied on hearsay. He relied on files, on numbers, on those invisible but tangible threads hidden beneath the court.
That evening, Zhao Xu came to the Qingzhou Palace to find me. He sat by the couch, clutching a cup of cold tea.
"A-Heng. Someone impeached you today."
"I know."
"How did you know?"
"The Dowager told me." I pulled a slip of paper from my sleeve and unfolded it. "'Someone is going to impeach you. Three counts: Commerce, Interference, Heresy.'"
He looked at the note. The Dowager's handwriting was neat. The final stroke trailed downward. Her hand was no longer trembling. The last character she wrote was "Heresy." That long stroke looked like a knife wound.
"When did she write this?"
"The night before the impeachment. She foresaw the wind."
He took the note, placed it in his palm, looked at it for a while, folded it, and tucked it into his own sleeve.
"A-Heng. Zhao Tingzhi said you practice sorcery. That you know the past and future, communicating with spirits. He was right. You do. You come from a thousand years later. You know I will die. You know the Dowager will die. You know—" He paused, "You know I couldn't reach the osmanthus flowers."
He grasped my hand. Hot and tight.
"Aren't you afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid they will investigate you. Afraid they will find out who you are. Afraid they will take you away from me."
"You can protect me."
"How do you know?"
"Because you said so. At the Imperial Ancestral Temple, you knelt before your ancestors and kowtowed three times. You said, 'If she is afraid, I am here.'" I looked at him. "I am not afraid."
He pressed my hand against his cheek.
That same night, Zhang Dun returned to his residence without lighting the lamps. He sat in his study, in the darkness, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. One. Two. Three.
Fire Weapons.
He had seen this term in the files of the Imperial City Bureau. In the fourth year of Yuanfeng, Emperor Shenzong campaigned against the Western Xia and once used fire weapons to besiege the city. Later, the battle turned unfavorable, and the blueprints were captured by the Western Xia. Later still, those blueprints appeared in the Liao Kingdom. Later, someone brought them back from Liao. Later—That person's name had been crossed out from the files by him.
He didn't cross out just a person. He crossed out an entire line of the court. The Dowager had ordered him to do it. She said it was not the time to investigate. He said, "Very well." He had waited two years. Now, the Dowager was dead. The Emperor had assumed personal rule. Zhao Tingzhi had impeached. The Emperor had rejected. And he, at the palace gate, had dropped a word.
He sat in the darkness, his fingers still tapping. One. Two. Three.
Waiting for the wind. The wind, it was time to come.
[End of Chapter 50]