In the late autumn of the sixth year of the Yonghong reign, today marked a grand imperial audience, the last grand assembly before the onset of winter. Except for the six kings who had already arrived in the capital, nearly all the senior officials stationed outside the capital had also “rolled” into the city with their entourages. Among them was the legendary general Gu Jiantang, rumored to be finally relinquishing his post as Minister of War, and the famed general Lu Shengxiang from the Spring and Autumn Campaigns. Other veteran generals, still holding noble titles, donned their court robes and joined the tide of officials. At the dim break of dawn, they emerged from mansions scattered across the city, converging onto the imperial avenue, slowly flowing toward the gates of the imperial palace.
Tai’an City stood as the center of the empire, the imperial avenue stretching sixteen miles long like the waist of a newlywed bride, undoubtedly the most magnificent central axis in history. With nine major north-south roads and nine east-west avenues, the city layout mirrored celestial constellations. The architectural complexes along the axis were grander and more imposing than those of any previous dynasty.
The Xiama Wei Inn was located between the inner and outer city walls, just half a mile from the Yong’an Bridge, which spanned the Longxu Ditch. Commoners believed that the waterway coalesced into the whiskers of a dragon, but since the Liyang Dynasty revered fire, a bridge was erected to suppress and tame the water dragon. A modest carriage made its way slowly along the imperial avenue toward the Zhaojia Jar (Zhao Family Jar) at the main gate of the imperial city. Outside the first gate of the palace, two ornate archways stood on either side, named Fuwen and Zhenwu. The Ministry of War and the Ministry of Justice, associated with martial and yin elements, lay behind the Zhenwu archway on the left. The Ministry of Rites, the Ministry of Revenue, and the Hanlin Academy, associated with civil and yang elements, lay behind the Fuwen archway on the right. The name Fuwen had once been inscribed by the venerable Master Song, though it now bore a new plaque.
Today’s morning audience was of extraordinary importance, and the area around Zhaojia Jar was packed beyond capacity, filled with carriages of all kinds and servants crowding the streets. After twenty years of peace under the Liyang Dynasty, even the parking of carriages during morning audiences had developed into an unwritten etiquette. Officials of higher rank and noble titles parked closer to the palace walls, while those of lower rank parked progressively farther away. Many officials of moderate rank, well-versed in courtly customs, simply walked to avoid disputes over parking space. Life as an official under the emperor’s gaze was no easy feat.
A grand gathering of no fewer than a thousand officials stood before the gates. Among them were elderly men with white hair who had never managed to rise past the fifth rank, ambitious men in their thirties already holding the rank of fourth grade, and seasoned officials in their forties wielding the power of entire ministries. There were high-ranking ministers in yellow and purple robes, imperial relatives in dragon-patterned robes. Some joked that if a terrestrial immortal were to wreak havoc during the morning audience, the Liyang Dynasty would suffer a great loss. Others joked that the jade ornaments worn by these officials alone would constitute an immense fortune. Still others claimed that understanding the hundreds of faces at the city gates meant understanding the entire structure of the Liyang Dynasty.
The Zhang Party led by the astute Prime Minister Zhang Julu, the Gu Party led by General Gu Jiantang, the remnants of the Sun Party left leaderless after Sun Xiji departed the capital, and the collapsed Qing Party—these were merely the broad divisions visible on the surface. Beneath them lay a tangled web of factions: royal princes, imperial in-laws, Hanlin scholars, eunuchs, Guozijian officials, censors, officials of hereditary privilege, and newly appointed jinshi. Some factions were deeply entrenched and enduring, while others were fading with the setting sun. Not a single person dared to claim mastery over navigating this murky swamp of intrigue, not even the Prime Minister himself.
The city gates remained tightly shut, not yet opened. Over a thousand officials with the privilege to enter the court stood in their designated places, some still engaging in idle chatter among various circles, but most sensed the storm brewing in the air. They held their breath and remained unusually silent, exchanging only hushed whispers with their trusted allies.
The carriage from Xiama Wei arrived slightly late, struggling to find even a narrow gap to squeeze in. It halted at a distance, and a white-robed young man stepped down, dressed in a manner that raised eyebrows. Several officials, fearing they might miss the audience, rushed past without even glancing back. One middle-aged, dark-skinned, and corpulent man ran with particular difficulty, panting heavily. As he brushed past the white-haired youth, he bent over, hands on his knees, drenched in sweat. His court robe bore the insignia of a fifth-grade official, the Chief Sacrificial Official of the Guozijian, a relatively prominent position in an otherwise obscure ministry. Yet the sight of his bulging backside, straining the seams of his robe, was far from dignified. As he gasped for breath, he caught a glimpse of the young man beside him, strolling calmly with a rare jade belt at his waist. The man, though lacking in political acumen, possessed a keen eye for courtly details, and he found the sight puzzling. Could this be a distant scion of the Zhao clan? Only those with the most remote ties to the imperial lineage would dare to walk instead of riding. Squinting closer, he was startled to see the young man wearing a robe styled after the imperial dragon robe, with five-clawed dragons embroidered in full, not a single dragon or claw missing. The fat man hurriedly raised his head for a better look and grew even more perplexed. The young man had white hair but a youthful face. Though his appearance was unrefined, the man was known for his sincerity. He gritted his teeth and hurried after the youth, whispering anxiously, “My lord, forgive my boldness, but I’ve never heard of such a robe before. Please, do not wear it carelessly. If you have inherited a noble title from the previous dynasty, you must not wear this robe today. A few steps ahead, there are many censors and palace eunuchs watching closely.”
The fat man’s words were blunt and ill-mannered, which perhaps explained why he remained stuck in the obscure Guozijian.
The white-haired youth glanced at him and smiled faintly. The fat man, stubborn as ever, continued his chatter, “My lord, please don’t ignore my words. A few years ago, a distant prince’s son, ignorant of court etiquette, wore an old-style robe to court and was stripped of his rank and title before even entering the gates. Today is one of the most important audiences in over a decade. My lord, heed my advice—go back and change into the proper robe. Better to be late and punished than to be punished for breaking protocol.”
The white-haired youth furrowed his brows slightly and continued walking in silence.
The fat man on his right noticed the young man’s sword hanging at his waist and slapped his thigh in despair, groaning like a man who had just suffered a calamity, “Oh, my lord, you truly have no fear in your heart. Wearing a sword into the palace…”
The white-haired youth with the white dragon robe, naturally the first-time attendee of the Liyang court, the heir of Beiliang, Xu Fengnian, smiled faintly and said, “Master Sacrificial Official, are you saying I’m seeking death?”
The fat man chuckled awkwardly, waving his hands in embarrassment, “I don’t deserve the title of Master Sacrificial Official.”
The stout, dark-skinned man, holding a rank equivalent to a vice-minister in the Guozijian, finally refrained from further commenting on the breach of protocol, having at least retained enough sense to avoid complete ignorance. Yet the anxiety gnawed at him. After walking only fifty or sixty steps, he couldn’t help but ask in a low voice, “My lord, may I ask where you serve in court, and do you have a powerful patron or any connection to a noble within the palace? If not, I truly advise you not to attend this morning audience. The capital is far more rigid in its rules than the provinces.”
Xu Fengnian, the young man with the Beiliang sword at his waist, replied softly, “This is indeed my first time in the capital, and no one has instructed me on the rules. My father is still alive, and this robe was sent by the court to my residence. I don’t believe I have violated any protocol. As for the sword, if it truly offends the court’s decorum, I shall consider it a lesson learned. At worst, I’ll leave the city without entering the palace, for no official from the Ministry of Rites greeted me upon my arrival.”
Upon hearing that the robe was newly bestowed by the court, the fat man felt relieved, assuming the young man would surely be stopped at the city gates. He patted Xu Fengnian’s shoulder and praised, “Whatever the case, my lord’s courage and bearing are admirable.”
As Xu Fengnian and the fat man walked together along the tail end of the imperial avenue, the latter, though poor in wealth, held a respectable position in the Guozijian and had the privilege of advancing a few dozen steps further. Do not underestimate the significance of those few dozen steps. How many officials, on their first and last audience with the emperor, stood at the farthest edge, unchanged through the years. Even a single step closer to the city gate was a great fortune, hence the saying that fifty steps could mock a hundred.
As they walked forward, the fat man felt an odd shift in the atmosphere. Accustomed to being ignored and mocked, he felt increasingly uneasy. As he and the young heir from some unknown corner of the empire advanced, the officials around them parted with complex expressions, retreating step by step like a receding tide. The stout man spotted many of his Guozijian colleagues and, as usual, planned to sneak in quietly. But to his shock, the Left Sacrificial Official of the Guozijian, Huan Wen, was not mingling with the Prime Minister as usual. Instead, he was smiling toward the stout man, a sight that sent chills down the fat man’s spine.
The stout man, often ridiculed for his poor appearance, approached the Guozijian ranks. Huan Wen, known among the officials as “Lord Huan,” patted his shoulder and chuckled, “Wang Tonglu, you’ve done well.”
The other Guozijian officials exchanged knowing glances, leaving Wang Tonglu even more bewildered. Huan Wen, the thin and ever-smiling Left Sacrificial Official, teased, “Tonglu, when did you manage to board the great ship of Beiliang? You’ve been hiding your talents well. Don’t forget this old man when you rise to prominence.”
Wang Tonglu scratched his head in confusion, “Lord Huan, what are you saying? I don’t understand.”
Huan Wen glanced sideways at the young man who should have died twenty-one years ago and smirked, “Take a look at that fellow. Did you wonder why he dared to wear a white dragon robe and carry a sword into court?”
Wang Tonglu nodded vigorously, “Yes, yes! I tried to warn him, but he just smiled and ignored me. I was so anxious!”
Even Huan Wen, seasoned in court politics, found himself both amused and exasperated by his obtuse subordinate. He gave Wang Tonglu a heavy pat on the shoulder, “You fool, you must have gone mad compiling the new calendar. Haven’t you noticed that everyone is avoiding you like a plague?”
Wang Tonglu flushed red with frustration, his dark face turning visibly crimson, “Lord Huan, please don’t tease me anymore. If you don’t explain, I’ll claim a stomachache and skip the audience!”
Huan Wen burst into laughter, “That young man is the heir of Beiliang, the one said to have taken the heads of Xu Huai and Fifth Mo. You, my friend, have just experienced a once-in-a-century case of riding on someone else’s tiger.”
Wang Tonglu nearly collapsed in shock, saved only by Huan Wen’s support. The old man chuckled, “Stand straight, you clumsy oaf. I’m too old to hold up your two hundred pounds of winter fat.”
Wang Tonglu stretched his neck to catch a glimpse of the young man’s snow-white back, groaning, “Lord Huan, I really do have a stomachache.”
Huan Wen, known among the capital’s officials for his mentorship of juniors, scolded with a smile, “What a disgraceful sight. At least your talent matches your weight. Follow me closely.”
Wang Tonglu’s legs trembled as he muttered, “Yes, sir…”
Outside the main gate of the imperial palace, a fan-shaped formation took shape, exuding an awe-inspiring aura.
At its forefront stood Prime Minister Zhang Julu and General Gu Jiantang.
Also present were Prince Zhao Bing of Yan Chi, Prince Zhao Yi of Guangling, Prince Zhao Sui of Jiaodong, Prince Zhao Ying of Huainan, and Prince Zhao Heng of Jing’an, the five great royal princes.
Among them was Chen Zhibao, clad in a brand-new crimson dragon robe.
Behind him, the young man in the white dragon robe stood alone, surrounded by a sea of officials.
Isolated and unsupported.
Just like Beiliang and its thirty thousand iron cavalry.
Xu Fengnian’s face remained expressionless as he silently recited, “Xu Xiao, this time, I walk in your stead!”
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