Chapter Sixty-Four: Debates in the Imperial Court

“You shouldn’t have come today, young master,” said Madam Liu, looking over at the boy. Seeing he showed no sign of anger, she continued, “The prison is damp and cold, and you’re still so young, young master. If you’re worried, you could just send someone trusted by the heir to take care of things. I can tell that even the heir himself doesn’t like you coming to this place.”

When there was no reply for a long while, Madam Liu glanced up to see the young master’s brows tightly furrowed. He might not appear angry, but she knew this meant he was very displeased.

Madam Liu stood and knelt before Ming, “Young master, forgive me.”

She did not beg for mercy, simply remained kneeling.

“If it weren’t for my great-uncle, I wouldn’t even be here. Do you understand?” he asked.

Madam Liu nodded; this she knew well. The heir had many to care for him. When trouble arose, Lady Chen, the Duke of England’s second son Xue, even Young Lord Gu came—there was no need to worry over someone so precious. But her young master was different. He was but a distant branch of the Jiang clan, only earning respect by his talent, and raised by the heir as a nephew.

Though he needed the heir’s support, the young master’s abilities had drawn notice even from the Empress Dowager, who rewarded him by sending over several palace maids to serve him.

His future was bright; he could not afford a single misstep. The heir cared for him, but what real help could he offer? Beyond the title, the heir held no real office or authority.

The young master had no hereditary post; in the future, he would have to rely on the imperial examinations. His reputation must remain spotless, unmarred by the slightest stain.

To frequent the prisons was deeply inappropriate for him.

“I know you mean well. But my great-uncle is who he is—no one is to slander him. Don’t speak, don’t even think it. Otherwise... you’ll go back to where you came from.”

Madam Liu was so frightened she shivered. These nursemaids released from the palace by special grant seemed to enjoy honor, with noble houses vying to employ them for their children. But if dismissed by their employers, there was nothing but ruin ahead.

Especially with the Empress Dowager so fond of the heir—she would not even have the luxury of death.

“Young master, please! I will never speak out of turn again. I will serve you faithfully, wholeheartedly, and without complaint.”

Jiang Ruoming softened his tone. He had no real intention of sending her back—servants from the Empress Dowager could not be dismissed at a whim, not even by someone as beloved as his great-uncle.

But this foolish woman lacked such understanding.

He respected her only because his great-uncle had personally requested her to be his tutor, and so showed her more regard. Yet now, she too looked down on his great-uncle, as outsiders did, for his lack of achievement.

“Go sit down,” he said.

“Thank you, young master.” Madam Liu felt secretly relieved; the young master was still considerate of her.

Jiang Ruoming turned away, taking out the coursework assigned by his tutor from a wooden box nearby, and resumed reading.

~~

In the Hall of Diligent Administration, Emperor Chenqing sat high on the dragon throne, idly playing with the imperial brush and vermilion ink. On a black lacquered throne at the side sat Prince Anping, upright and proper, turning a carved walnut in his sleeve.

Behind the dragon throne hung a dense curtain of pearls, with a folding screen beyond, and still further back, another seat of honor.

At that moment, a eunuch approached, stooped, holding a memorial sealed in red, and respectfully presented it to the left of the Empress Dowager.

“A memorial sent in haste from Inspector Cheng Kang of Huainan.”

The lady official beside her took it, then handed it to the Empress Dowager.

Jiang Ke opened it and saw bloodstains still on the paper. If the crimes reported within were true, chaos surely reigned in Huainan.

“Transmit my order: dispatch five thousand troops from the Capital Garrison to march through the night. Let Captain Xue Mingrui of the Imperial Guards lead them, but take no rash action. Protect Inspector Cheng Kang and ensure his safety. If there is indeed unrest in Huainan, suppress it in one swift move.”

As she spoke, the attendant kneeling by her desk swiftly drafted the decree.

The attendant rose and presented the decree. Jiang Ke glanced over it, nodded, “Seal it.”

The attendant nodded, returned to her place, and solemnly took the seal from a lavish brocade box to press it on the decree.

When all was ready, she offered it up again.

Jiang Ke did not look at it again, only waved her hand for it to be delivered immediately.

She leaned on her hand, reclining slightly, her head throbbing as the sounds of heated argument from the front hall echoed through the palace, several imperial censors’ voices ringing out.

“What is happening out there?”

The chief eunuch, Yu Yuan, received the order, sent a junior eunuch to investigate, and soon returned with a tense look.

“...”

“Speak!” she commanded.

Yu Yuan fell to his knees. “Forgive me, Your Majesty—they... they are discussing the heir.”

By “the heir,” Yu Yuan naturally meant Jiang Ke’s most beloved nephew, the Heir of Duke Wei.

Jiang Ke’s displeasure showed, but long accustomed to power, she was not one to blindly shield her kin. Yet Jiang Lan was her nephew, and she knew his character well.

“What are they saying about Lan’er?”

She folded her arms, hands resting gracefully, looking at the trembling servants before her.

“...They say,” Yu Yuan’s head bowed lower still, sweat dripping onto the floor, “They say the heir acted lawlessly, assaulted and killed a man in public, his conduct disgraceful... They demand severe punishment as a warning to all.”

A loud crack rang out as Jiang Ke slammed her hand on the armrest. None of the palace staff dared breathe.

She listened to the debate outside.

“He must be punished!”

The former heir of the Duke of England, Xue, brother of Jiang Lan’s mother and now Duke Xue, stepped forward. “Sir Yan, your words are unfair. The deceased was a servant attached to the Jiang estate, notorious for his misdeeds. The heir went only to investigate and punish him. The accusation of murder is unproven.”

Inspector Yan Jin, who had spoken earlier, first saluted the young emperor on the throne, then turned to the Duke of England.

“The evidence may still be unconfirmed, but there are witnesses and proof the heir did assault someone. A country has its laws, a family its rules. Is the heir above the law?”

“Well said, Sir Yan. If everyone obeyed the law, perhaps the late Marquis Yong’an’s son would not have died.”

Another inspector stood up, and soon a chorus of censors echoed his words. They knew well the heir might not truly have killed anyone, but such a golden opportunity to strike at the Empress Dowager’s kin could not be missed.

“But the reason the heir acted was because those men were bullying the weak, abusing women and men alike. Are we to cling to the letter of the law and let innocents suffer at the hands of villains? Is that what rules and laws are meant for?” Xue Zuo, just past forty, was famed among the capital’s aristocracy for his elegance and learning. He had married the Grand Chancellor’s eldest daughter, Gu Qingcheng.

Xue Zuo stood tall, gentle in bearing but unyielding in spirit.

“...This—” the inspector faltered, but Yan Jin stepped up again.

“But the root of the matter is that the heir failed to keep his own men in check, allowing the steward of Maple Leaf Manor to act with impunity. At the end of the day, the heir bears responsibility for lax discipline.”

A wave of satisfaction swept through the assembled censors. One way or another, Jiang Lan’s reputation would be ruined—either for failing to control his servants or for malicious violence, neither a name to be proud of.

Xue Zuo sighed and continued, “It is true the heir was remiss in disciplining his servants—I do not deny this. But to accuse him of deliberately allowing his men to run wild is to twist the facts. If that were so, why did he risk his life to intervene at the scene? According to my knowledge, he had only a single clan elder of over sixty at his side—no help at all—yet he stepped forward without hesitation to save others from danger. Is that not worthy of praise? And now you would debate his guilt here? Your Majesty!”

Xue Zuo turned toward the dragon throne and bowed deeply. “Forgive me, but I cannot agree with the inspectors’ arguments or conduct.”

From the moment Jiang Lan’s case was raised, Emperor Chenqing set aside his distractions and analyzed the situation carefully. With Yan Jin and his fellows using their powers of remonstrance to attack his cousin relentlessly, the political lines on the court became clear: Yan Jin and Xu Rui, leveraging their censorial authority, were performing their roles with ruthless perfection; Xue Zuo, Grand Master of Ceremonies and Grand Chancellor of Personnel Xing Ke, stood firmly with the Empress Dowager, defending the heir regardless of the opposition’s sharp tongues; while Chancellor Gu and Prince Anping’s factions remained aloof, unconcerned.

Chenqing wished to protect his cousin.

“The Duke of England speaks well.”

The censors on the other side darkened, as if ready to dash themselves against the pillars in protest.

Chenqing quickly added, “But Sir Yan’s words also have merit.”

Seeing the censors’ expressions ease, Chenqing congratulated himself on his own cleverness, but sighed inwardly at his misfortune—why had his father left so soon, leaving a court full of troublesome old men for him to handle? It was all too much.

His gaze fell, almost by accident, on the fifth row below, on a young nobleman in scarlet robes, ethereal as an immortal. The air around him seemed untouched by the turmoil, and a pang of frustration and grievance welled in Chenqing’s heart.

“I wonder what Scholar Gu thinks of this matter?”

All eyes turned to the center, to Gu Ruo, the distinguished young Lord Gu—even Prince Anping on the dais looked over.