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“Greetings to Huangshang. May he live ten thousand years.”
“Aiya, no need for that between childhood friends,” Emperor Liu Chenfeng said with a wave of his hand and flick of his sleeve. “Come, Minister Zhu, and have a seat; it’s been awhile since we had a match.”
Zhu Mingli rose at the command and turned to look at the weiqi board set up on a table placed between two chairs. Next to it sat the bowls of black and white stones and, between those, a plate of familiar looking pastries.
“Zhu-fei sent peach blossom cakes today,” the Emperor said as he noticed where Mingli’s attention lay.
“My sister has always held great admiration for Your Majesty,” Mingli responded as he waited for the Emperor to sit first—in front of white, of course. Mingli bit back a laugh as he sat at black.
“If that were the case, she would send these on days I wasn’t inviting you over, as well,” the Emperor replied as he picked one up and took a bite, letting out an agreeable rumble at its texture and flavor as a few crumbles of pastry flaked onto his collar.
“Then I shall remind her to whom her loyalty lies,” Mingli replied with a dip of his head only to have the Emperor wave it all off with a wide yellow sleeve.
“Leave her be,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I hear there should be good news soon.”
A look of surprise and delight was all Mingli allowed before placing the first stone on the board. To say anymore risked inviting calamity. “It was our mother’s dowry maid who taught her,” he said, instead, as he took up a pastry of his own. “Did she tell Your Majesty that?”
Conversation kept to lighter affairs, smattered here and there as the board filled up, their minds on the game too much to dig into politics.That was until the Emperor sighed in frustration and dropped his white stone back into the bowl. “I cede,” he grumbled then turned to his tea. “We grew up learning together and still I cannot beat you.”
“Perhaps Your Majesty wishes to take white next time?” Mingli asked.
The Emperor thumped his fist against the table. “When I beat you, it will be with no advantage so no one can claim otherwise,” he argued before laughing at the repetition of their usual fight. “Besides, Niangniang tells me regularly that it is good for even the Emperor to be reminded he is still a human.”
“Huangshang is the Son of Heaven,” Mingli disagreed.
“But even the Heavens can change,” the Emperor replied in a far more serious tone.
So they were finally getting to what he had truly invited Mingli for. “This Official is always ready to hear Your Majesty’s concerns.”
The Emperor sighed as he stood, walking back over to his desk and the reports piled thereon, picking out a handful and tossing them over, one by one, as he explained. “From Jiangling, word of corpses gathering and dispersing again near Luanzanggang. From Langya, word of the death of Lianfang-zun and his wife. From Hejian, word of a change in leadership among the Cultivators. From Hanyang, word of the destruction of a Guanyin Temple, a bevy of sins committed by Lianfang-zun and the return of the Yiling Laozu and Ghost General.”
Mingli dare not pick up and read the missives, themselves, despite the Emperor’s implicit allowance, but he had heard whisperings enough to have some understanding of what had happened. More importantly, however, he bowed and spoke, “Your Majesty has always kept a distance from the Cultivation Clans.”
The Emperor nodded once. “Mn,” he agreed. “My father was too close to Qishan Wen and look what happened when they tried to overcome the other clans. Had they succeeded, do you think they wouldn’t have tried to overturn the heavens, as well?”
“Wen Dingxiang was a true scoundrel, tricking your father with promises of immortality while draining the Imperial coffers. And the people suffered for it when the Cultivators brought their war to our peoples’ lands,” Mingli spoke carefully, knowing just how closely he tread a very dangerous line. “But Your Majesty renounced cultivation among the dynasty and pushed the clans back. Even Xie-pin, whom your father married to you young, renounced her family and name and spent ten years raising her son at the Imperial Mausoleum, returning only once Your Majesty recalled her for the sake of her child. And Prince An has clearly been taught well, showing no desire to reach too far.”
“Minister Zhu has much to say about the Imperial family,” The Emperor scolded, to which Mingli was quick to drop to his knees.
“This Official dares not,” he pleaded, but the simple fact that he had only been scolded meant his words had been what the Emperor wanted to hear.
The Emperor took a deep breath, closed his eyes and released his breath long and low. “My father courted the cultivation clans too closely, indeed. After the war, when he stepped down amidst the chaos wrought and raised me up, I cut off all contact with them. Even sending a wife and child from that accursed clan away. It was Lianfang-zun who built the Tower system, however, which now protects our people across the land. Without assistance from the throne; without request of recognition.” He paused for a moment and raised an eyebrow before added, “Without approval, either.”
He moved to pick up his tea only to remember the tea had been set at the weiqi board, not at his desk, so slipped his hand behind his back and walked back in that direction. “It was Lianfang-zun who reached out to Us after his ascension to Chief Cultivator and Lianfang-zun who facilitated greater communication of the state of our borderlands when it came to damages caused by spiritual events. He always maintained a proper distance with the court and kept his business to that which served Us. His actions have always suited his name.”
The Emperor paused then, pouring tea for himself then picking up the cup to stare into it. “Just months ago, was he not the leader of the clans?” he asked. “Was he not praised for his capabilities and morals? And now he is hated by all, marked a criminal in all aspects and morally bankrupt, yet Yiling Laozu walks amongst our people causing problems without check, a child sits in his place in Lanling and his title goes to an unknown entity.”
Drinking his tea, the Emperor set the cup down firmly on the table and turned to Mingli, who remained on the floor, though simply kneeling now, rather than with his forehead pressed to the ground. “Minister Zhu’s wife’s family is from Hejian, if I remember correctly,” the Emperor said, his shoulders square, hands clasped behind his back.
Mingli nodded his head. “Your Majesty speaks right,” he confirmed. “This official’s wife’s family originally came from Jizhou. Her grandfather brought his line here when your great grandfather granted him the status of an Imperial Official, but the other branches remain on the ancestral lands.”
“Does Minister Zhu, then, know anything about the Qinghe Nie clan or its current leader, Nie Huaisang?”
Mingli paused then, a furrowed brow enough to draw out the Emperor’s own frustrations and restlessness. “Speak what you know.”
“This official only hears so much, Your Majesty,” Mingli finally replied. “But, of what this official has heard, it has little to say about the current leader of Qinghe Nie.”
“Speak straight with me, Old Friend,” the Emperor said with a shake of his head and a flap of his hand commanding Mingli to stand.
Mingli acted as directed, standing once more and admitting, “He is known among the people of the land as “The Headshaker” and it is said for every one question you ask him, he gives three “I don’t know”s.”
“And yet this inept clean head has been chosen as the next Chief Cultivator?”
“The Cultivation World is separated from our own by a thick fog,” Mingli replied. “Perhaps there are truths we are unable to discern at such distance.”
The Emperor hummed his agreement and reached up to stroke his beard. “Minister Zhu has a son who recently scored quite high in the Imperial Examination, did he not?”
“Not so high,” Mingli demurred.
“Perhaps,” the Emperor pressed, “now would be a good time for him to visit his ancestral home to give thanks for their guidance.”
Mingli could see exactly where this line was headed and bowed his head as he cut it off. “Unfortunately, my son has already left the capital as an assistant to Official Wan, who is overseeing the salt tax audit this year. He is due to arrive in Jiankang in the next week.”
The Emperor huffed.
“If it is simply information Your Majesty desires,” Mingli suggested instead, “my wife’s nephew is a junior official in the Secretariat. He has been at home observing his filial duties after his grandfather’s passing. He has already reached twenty-five months if your Majesty wishes to recall him. I can send a letter asking him to bring more information. He is a sharp child and knows how to be discreet.”
“Do it,” the Emperor sighed and waved his hand toward the door, excusing Mingli to his new duty to the throne.
Mingli bowed and backed away. Before he could turn and leave, however, the Emperor called out. “If I were to desire more than information?” he asked.
Mingli felt his heart stop in his chest, leaping up to his throat where he was forced to swallow it back down. “It is said that strong Cultivators have the ability to level mountains and drain seas, but Your Majesty surely knows what is best for your people. This humble servant simply asks that Your Majesty remember the Zhu family is one of scholars. A trained envoy might be better suited should Your Majesty wish to open dialog with the new Chief Cultivator.” He didn’t need to say the military should be turned to for a fight; the understanding was there. He looked up curiously from his dip, unable to help but ask: “This official might also ask His Majesty why, after all these years, he would choose to interfere in the Cultivation World after over a decade of non-interference on both sides.”
The Emperor frowned, his face showing the stress of his position. “Like a father protects his children, it is the duty of the Emperor to protect his people,” he reminded his minister. “A mass murderer with unchecked power now roams the edges of our land and risks uprooting our hard-won peace with his ghost flute and fierce corpses. Those responsible for handling him choose not to do so. Power hungry cultivators have meddled in Imperial affairs and destroyed the common people’s lives in living memory already. How could I sit by and risk allowing it to happen again? If the Cultivation World will not manage itself, perhaps it is time for the throne to firm up its borders.”
Mingli bowed deeply. “Your Majesty speaks wisely and truly has a compassionate heart for the people. May the Heavens smile upon your efforts.”
“Go,” The Emperor commanded as he moved back to his desk. “See what information that nephew of yours can bring about this Headshaker and any news of Yiling Laozu’s activities. I have my own ways of managing the rest.”
At the final dismissal, Mingli slipped out the door as the Emperor’s Head Eunuch—excused upon Mingli's earlier arrival—returned, and made for the gates of the palace and streets of Chang’an. He would have to prepare his family to survive whatever happened these next few years…and have his wife warn her family’s sect leader of the interest about to be directed his way.