Nalan Xuan’s expression remained rigid. As though his grip were not already tight enough, he clenched his right fist even harder. Of everyone present, only Nalan Xuan and Xiao Dezi knew that something was hidden within that fist. And only Nalan Xuan knew what that seemingly insignificant object meant. Precisely because he knew where it had come from, he could neither understand nor accept it. Three words consumed every corner of his thoughts: Why was it?
“Your Majesty, the Commandant of the Palace Guards requests an audience,” Mo Yan said, breaking the strange, oppressive silence.
“Admit him.”
At the command, the Commandant of the Palace Guards strode inside like a gust of wind and dropped into a formal salute. “This subject pays his respects to Your Majesty. May Your Majesty—”
Before he could finish the customary court formula, Feng Xuanyi cut him off impatiently. “Did you capture the assassin?”
“R-Reporting to Your Majesty…” The commandant’s expression had been grave from the moment he entered, but now cold sweat poured down his face. Asked directly about precisely the subject he dreaded most, he began stammering, his gaze shifting uncertainly as he tried to circle around the answer. “The man… the man… this subject…”
“I asked you one thing: did you catch him or not? What are you standing there stammering for?” Feng Xuanyi’s face was dark and his gaze vicious, every word sounding as though it had been forced between clenched teeth. Were it not for the restraint expected of an emperor, no one doubted he might have walked over and beaten the man himself.
The Commandant of the Palace Guards naturally understood the fury contained in those few words and how close Feng Xuanyi was to the limit of his restraint. Yet there was a reason some things were difficult to say. Facing the supreme ruler of the realm only made his hesitation worse. One wrong sentence could cost more than his own life. It could implicate his family and bring punishment upon his entire clan. Hundreds of lives could hang from a single careless word. “This subject discovered some clues, but…” The commandant swallowed. “But the evidence concerns one of the imperial consorts. This subject did not dare force entry into her palace without authorization, so I must request Your Majesty’s instructions.”
Feng Xuanyi pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows. His expression was so severe that he resembled Judge Bao preparing to condemn a criminal, as though he wanted to devour someone alive. The atmosphere around him seemed to scream danger, making everyone else hold their breath in terror. Only two people remained comparatively unaffected. One was Nalan Xuan, the victim himself. His face was deathly pale, yet his expression was impossible to read—almost a cold smile, almost completely blank, with a darkness no less severe than Feng Xuanyi’s. The other was Mo Yan. If anyone in the imperial harem deserved to be called someone who could read the emperor’s mind—understanding Feng Xuanyi’s thoughts almost before he voiced them—it could only be Chief Steward Mo, who had served at his side for nearly twenty years.
Elio’s Notes: Judge Bao, or Bao Zheng, is a famous Song-dynasty official celebrated in Chinese culture as an incorruptible and stern dispenser of justice. Comparing someone to him emphasizes an exceptionally severe, intimidating expression.
“My lord, worrying over the matter by yourself will not produce an answer,” Mo Yan said smoothly. “Why not tell His Majesty everything you know? His Majesty can determine the rights and wrongs of the matter far better than Your Excellency exhausting yourself with speculation. If you happen to misunderstand His Majesty’s intentions, what began as loyalty and diligence might unfortunately be mistaken for disobedience instead.”
Mo Yan’s words were exquisitely diplomatic. He never directly told the commandant what he should or should not say, yet with perfect courtesy he had managed to point out every necessary thing. On the surface, he seemed to have spoken at length without saying much at all, even taking an enormous detour around the point. In reality, he had neatly diffused the tension between sovereign and subject before it could spill into bloodshed. He had conveyed Feng Xuanyi’s wishes clearly yet tactfully, while simultaneously providing the commandant with a graceful way out by framing his hesitation as conscientious loyalty.
“This subject and a squad pursued the assassin around nearly half the imperial garden, and then…” Following Mo Yan’s advice, the commandant decided that rather than weighing every word himself and perhaps overlooking something, he might as well report the facts exactly and allow the emperor to judge. As for whether he lived or died afterward, he could only leave that to Heaven. “We saw the figure suddenly disappear into Luoxiao Palace. This subject feared Consort Shu might be in danger, so I immediately led the men after him. However, Consort Shu’s personal maid stopped us outside the palace gates and said Her Highness had already retired for the night. Because the search was urgent, we had not had time to obtain a verbal order from either Your Majesty or Her Majesty the Empress. We therefore did not dare force our way inside, so…”
“So you simply came back?” Feng Xuanyi laughed from sheer fury, his icy voice making everyone’s hair stand on end.
“This subject would not dare. I was concerned for Consort Shu’s safety, so I remained outside the palace with a squad of guards for quite some time. I thought that if anything happened, we would be able to intervene immediately. Yet after waiting a long while, we heard nothing. We began to suspect that perhaps we had seen incorrectly and lost the assassin elsewhere. But just as we were preparing to leave, we discovered a pool of blood beneath the western wall of Luoxiao Palace.” The commandant paused. “If this subject and the others were not mistaken, and if the blood truly belongs to the assassin, then there are only two possible explanations for why Consort Shu ordered her maid to prevent us from entering and remained silent for so long.”
The Commandant of the Palace Guards was clearly an intelligent man. He recounted the matter from beginning to end without omitting a detail, and his reasoning followed naturally from the evidence without sounding forced. More importantly, he knew when to stop talking. He brought the matter exactly to the point where even a fool could understand what was being implied—and then fell silent just before tearing through the final layer of paper.
Elio’s Notes: “Piercing the window paper” is an idiom meaning to state openly what everyone already understands but has deliberately left unspoken.
There were only two possible explanations for Consort Shu’s silence. The first was that Consort Shu herself had already been killed, and the assassin was so extraordinarily skilled that he had slit her throat before she could even cry out or struggle. The second—and the possibility everyone present naturally leaned toward, as well as the true reason the commandant had hesitated for so long to speak—was that the assassin had been sent by Consort Shu Meng herself. The assassination had failed. The assassin had been wounded. Every imperial guard in the palace had been mobilized to capture him alive. With nowhere else to go, he could only have returned to his mistress, seeking protection and waiting for an opportunity to escape.
At those words, the entire room fell silent. No one dared make so much as a sound. The two most favored people in the imperial harem had apparently come into direct conflict, and now the matter involved something as sensitive as an attempted assassination. What might have begun as nothing more than jealousy and rivalry for imperial favor had unexpectedly erupted into an enormous scandal. Worse, both sides were backed by prestigious and powerful clans. Whom the emperor personally favored was one matter. The political balance of the imperial court was another entirely. Even Feng Xuanyi, who had spent the entire evening hovering on the verge of losing control, seemed to cool somewhat as the implications settled upon him. Strangely enough, Nalan Xuan—who had been sitting on the bed until now with the bored air of someone listening to an absurd joke—suddenly looked genuinely stunned.
“Where is Consort Shu?” Feng Xuanyi asked. His low voice was as cold as an early-spring night.
“This subject returned alone to report. The remaining men are still stationed outside Luoxiao Palace.”
“Prepare the imperial procession for Luoxiao Palace.” Feng Xuanyi’s expression remained unreadable. After a brief pause, he added, “Send word to Fengyi Palace as well. Have the empress go there.”
“Yes.” Mo Yan accepted the order and withdrew.
Feng Xuanyi had only just risen to leave when, before the attending servant could announce the emperor’s departure, the deathly pale Nalan Xuan abruptly stood as well. The sudden movement, combined with severe blood loss, made him stagger violently. Xiao Dezi’s heart nearly leapt from his chest as he rushed over and caught his master.
“I’m going too.” It was not a request. It was not a discussion. It was a calm, unwavering decision. His warm voice had become slightly hoarse, yet the determination within it left no room for argument. No one dared bargain with the sovereign of an entire nation in such a manner. Still less did anyone dare speak to him in a tone that sounded almost like an order, especially in front of officials, palace maids, and servants alike. No one except Nalan Xuan. Virtuous Lord, recipient of extraordinary imperial favor. The long-lost younger son of Marquis Dingbei, the veteran statesman of three reigns. Nalan Xuan.
With his injured left arm barely usable, he nevertheless acted with complete disregard for himself. He snatched up the clothing draped over the folding screen with one hand, and before anyone could react, he had already walked out through the doors with a face white as paper. The servants were so frightened that none dared breathe. Imperial Physician Liu, who had only just managed to catch his breath, nearly stopped breathing altogether.