Chapter 3
1446 Words
A dark shadow darted quickly past the carved lattice window on the west side.
Not a single leaf stirred on the old trees in the courtyard.
Gao Changgong’s wrist turned; the longsword at his waist slid half an inch from its scabbard in silence.
A pale hand covered the hilt.
Pushed it firmly back.
Gao Changgong tilted his head toward her. The bronze mask hid his expression, but his eyes held a cold, sharp question.
Zheng Wantang did not look at him. She walked past the blade toward the door.
“Han Changluan!”
Her sharp cry cut through the mourning hall.
The door slammed open. Han Changluan stepped over the threshold, his horizontal blade dripping blood, a gust of wind scattering the shredded funeral paper at his feet.
“What are the Princess’s orders?”
Zheng Wantang raised her hand, pointing toward the west window. “There’s a rat outside. Catch it alive.”
Han Changluan launched himself forward, blade and man vanishing into the night.
Before ten counts could be counted, a heavy thud echoed.
A servant in grey short-padded clothes was thrown onto the floor beside the coffin, his forehead cracking against the stone, blood pooling.
“Mercy, Princess! This humble one lost his way in the night! I saw nothing!” The servant kowtowed frantically, smearing dirt across his face.
Zheng Wantang descended the steps and stopped before him.
Her gaze fell directly on the soles of his feet.
“Lost your way?”
Her voice was flat. “The servants’ quarters and latrine are in the east courtyard. The soles of your shoes are stained with red clay from the pigeon coop on the west side.”
The man froze, sweat dripping down his temples.
Zheng Wantang ignored his reaction. “Search the inner pocket of his left sleeve.”
Han Changluan stepped forward, ripping open the grey fabric.
A wax-sealed pellet rolled out.
Han Changluan crushed the wax, unfolding the silk square inside. After reading the tiny characters, he presented it with both hands.
Four small words, written in charcoal: The Prince is not dead.
Zheng Wantang took the silk between two fingers and dropped it into the brazier beside her.
The flame caught, and it vanished to ash.
“What did Zu Ting promise you?”
Exposed, the servant raised his head and shouted, “I am Minister Zu’s man! If you touch me today, the Minister will raze this mansion tomorrow!”
Zheng Wantang didn’t even turn.
“Kill him.”
Han Changluan froze. He had expected this timid, hesitant princess to order, at most, the family’s punishment.
Zheng Wantang glanced at him sideways.
That one look. Han Changluan did not hesitate.
Steel flashed.
Blood splattered across the nanmu coffin lid. The servant’s head rolled from his body.
Zheng Wantang pulled out a handkerchief, wiped her fingers, and dropped the soiled cloth into the brazier.
“Clean this up. Report a thief to the authorities.”
“Effective immediately, seal the mansion.”
“This subordinate obeys!” Han Changluan’s hands tightened within his folded salute. He lowered his head, his voice deepening with severity.
The mourning hall fell quiet again.
Gao Changgong stepped from the shadows of the hanging drapes. He looked at the body on the floor. “You kill more cleanly than I.”
“Let him live, and tomorrow your whole household dies.” Zheng Wantang walked toward the exit. “The study.”
They crossed the courtyard.
The night wind carried the scent of blood.
Two lamps were lit in the study.
Zheng Wantang sat at the desk, pulled a sheet of paper, and wrote three names.
Gao Wei. Lu Lingxuan. Gao Changgong.
Gao Changgong took off his mask, placing it on the corner of the table, watching her write.
Zheng Wantang circled “Gao Changgong.”
“These three powers originally stood in a tripod, balanced against each other.”
The brush hovered, then pressed a heavy dot inside the circle.
“But after the Battle of Mang Mountain, the people knew only Prince Lanling. Your reputation broke the balance.”
She raised her brush, meeting his eyes. “The Emperor fears you will rebel. He will join forces with the consort clan and destroy you.”
“Opening the coffin today was merely a test. Without your corpse, he will find no peace.”
Gao Changgong’s palms pressed flat against the desk edge, his knuckles white. “Great Qi is the Gao family’s kingdom. I will never betray the Gao.”
Zheng Wantang dropped the brush.
“In the game of power, blood means nothing. If you refuse to contend, you only wait to die.”
Gao Changgong’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
“What strategy do you have?” he asked.
Zheng Wantang wrote “Luoyang” in the empty space at the edge of the paper.
“Turn their scheme against them. See your funeral through. Secretly move your loyal men and your assets to Luoyang.”
“With leverage, you can stay in this game.”
Gao Changgong leaned forward, his shadow covering her.
“Who are you?”
The timid, fearful Zheng woman could never have such vision, such ruthlessness.
Zheng Wantang leaned back in her chair. “The one who can keep you alive.”
Gao Changgong’s hand shot out, closing around her wrist, the pressure immense, directly suppressing her pulse.
“What do you know?”
“I know that if you wait, Northern Qi will fall and you will have no way out.”
Sudden, urgent hoofbeats sounded outside.
Han Changluan pushed the study door open.
“Emergency military dispatch! One hundred thousand Northern Zhou troops have attacked Jin Province! The Emperor orders His Highness to lead the army immediately!”
Silence filled the study.
Zheng Wantang tore down a wall hanging, revealing a goatskin military map behind it. She grabbed a paperweight and slammed it down on the position of Jin Province.
“This is a trap! You’re barely healed from your wounds, and Yuwen Yong chooses now to invade? Someone in Yecheng is feeding them information!”
Gao Changgong straightened, reaching for the mask on the table.
Zheng Wantang moved, blocking him.
“They inspect your coffin by day, send you to war by night! The moment you leave Yecheng, your supplies will be delayed, your reinforcements stalled. They’re using the enemy’s blade!”
“Move aside.” Gao Changgong stepped around her, fastening the mask back over his face. His voice was muffled by the bronze, utterly flat.
“You know this is a death sentence, and you’ll still go?” Zheng Wantang’s hands closed on the edge of his armor.
“If Jin Province falls, Great Qi’s gates are open.”
He lowered his head, looking at her.
“Within ten days, hundreds of thousands in Ji Province will be slaughtered.”
He raised his hand, peeling her fingers, one by one, from the iron plates of his armor.
“There is no other choice.”
Zheng Wantang caught his sleeve, her fingers tightening.
Rough metal cut into her fingertips, drawing blood.
Gao Changgong stopped.
He turned his hand, wrapping the injured fingers in his palm, closing gently.
“Wait for my return.”
He released her, turned, and crossed the threshold.
Torches flared in the courtyard. Guards gathered.
Hoofbeats rolled down the long street, swallowed by the darkness of Yecheng.
The study door stood open. Wind lifted the paper on the desk.
Zheng Wantang did not move.
The rough warmth of his touch still lingered in her palm.
In this world, retreat and cowardice meant nothing.
Either you let them devour you, or you stand on their bones.
She grabbed the sheet of names from the desk and threw it into the brazier.
Flames lit her face.
You go meet the enemy’s blade. The ghosts in Yecheng are mine.
“Lin Ruo!”
The round maidservant stumbled through the doorway. “My lady…”
Zheng Wantang returned to the desk and sat, pulling the jade hairpin from her hair.
It fell loose around her shoulders.
“To the front hall. Bring me all the mansion’s ledgers, the name registers, and the list of every servant who has been in contact with an outsider these past two days.”
Lin Ruo, cowed by her tone, dared not ask questions.
Zheng Wantang took up her brush again, loading it with ink, pressing it hard to the paper.
“Spread the order.”
“Seal the gates. Anyone who comes near, break their legs and throw them out.”
“From now on, in this household, I give the orders.”
- Writer
