According to popular rumor, Shen Wanjin was the greatest salt merchant in Yangzhou.
When he first entered the salt trade, other merchants handled no more than two or three thousand jin of salt in a year. He alone dared undertake the distribution and turnover of ten thousand jin of government salt, earning himself the name “Shen Wanjin,” Shen Ten Thousand Jin.
For all that he later amassed a fortune great enough to rival a kingdom’s, before his rise he had been a notorious gambler. When he could not repay a debt, an enemy had chopped off half his little finger. Everyone in Yangzhou knew that old story.
The mysterious fire a month earlier had almost wiped out the Shen family. Their gold, silver, pearls, and jade had all been reduced to ashes, and even the bodies were unrecognizable. Only one charred skeleton recovered from the ruins was missing part of the little finger on its right hand, and that was taken as proof that it was Shen Wanjin. Everyone at court and throughout the country now accepted that he had perished in the flames, leaving the missing million taels of salt-tax silver an unsolved mystery as well.
But Gongsun E knew that however thoroughly a corpse was burned, many traces upon its bones could not be faked.
He picked up a pair of bamboo tweezers, lifted the damaged little-finger bone, and examined it closely beneath the candlelight.
Part of Shen Wanjin’s little finger had been missing for years. If the injury had occurred while he was alive, thick callus would have formed over the broken bone, and its edges would have grown rounded and smooth. The end of this bone, however, was flat and sharp. It had plainly been cut recently.
…It was almost as though someone had deliberately prepared a skeleton for others to identify.
Gongsun E slowly laid down the tweezers, the dancing candle flame reflected deep in his eyes as he considered something. After a moment, he wrapped the charred bones and ring together in the bundle, extinguished the candle, and left the room.
Wei Xiao was suspicious by nature. He certainly would not believe Gongsun E’s offer to join him so easily. A stronger dose of medicine was called for.
At midnight, Gongsun E slipped quietly out of the Chief Eunuch’s residence.
Wei Xiao did not learn of his departure until the following morning.
The fifteenth day of each month was the customary day for a grand court audience. Dawn had yet to break, and the courtyard lay in a dim gray haze.
Wei Xiao stood before a mirror while attendants bowed around him, carefully helping him into his court robes. His dark-red python robe looked indescribably luxurious in the gloom, yet carried a somber air. Years spent close to the emperor had steeped his bearing in authority. Even without speaking or moving, he radiated an intimidating pressure.
After hearing the guard’s report, Wei Xiao paused almost imperceptibly while straightening his collar, but did not turn. His dark eyes remained fixed upon his reflection in the bronze mirror as he asked in a low, chilling voice:
“When did he leave?”
The guard lowered his head still further. “Reporting to Your Excellency, Lord Gongsun left at midnight. You previously ordered that no one in the residence was to obstruct him in any way. Since Your Excellency had already retired, I dared not disturb your rest and did not report it at once.”
Wei Xiao said nothing.
The face reflected in the mirror betrayed neither happiness nor anger. No one could discern his thoughts.
Gongsun E had left. That was precisely what Wei Xiao had expected.
Had he really imagined the man would stay and spend every day in the company of a castrated man?
Yet he had only declared his desire to join Wei Xiao yesterday. To disappear without a word that same night was far too strange. Something about it was wrong…
A shadow passed through Wei Xiao’s eyes at the thought. His mood sank, and after a long while he spoke without betraying any emotion:
“You may go.”
The guard withdrew with a bow, as relieved as if he had received a pardon, and dared not say another word.
Wei Xiao stood silently for a moment before suppressing the questions roiling within him and turning toward the door. Daylight was beginning to show outside, and his sedan chair already waited at the steps. He swept his sleeve aside, climbed in, and allowed no further expression to cross his face.
At a quarter past the beginning of the mao hour, the gray sky had grown a little brighter, though it was still far from clear.
A crowd had already gathered before the Meridian Gate. Civil and military officials stood in dense ranks waiting to attend court. Some wore scarlet robes, others green; they clustered in twos and threes, speaking in low voices as they discreetly exchanged inside information about affairs of state.
The moment Wei Xiao stepped down from his sedan chair, the surrounding whispers abruptly fell silent. Then several nearby courtiers turned to greet him with clasped hands and carefully measured smiles.
“The Chief Eunuch has arrived.”
“Greetings, Your Excellency.”
The Eastern Depot answered directly to the emperor, outside the Three Departments and Six Ministries. It possessed powers of surveillance, interrogation under torture, secret memorials, and impeachment. Its methods in the capital were ruthless, its authority formidable, and people dared do little more than cast wary sideways glances.
As Director of the Eastern Depot, Wei Xiao held still greater power.
Plenty of officials despised his cruelty, but even more openly sought to curry favor with him and establish connections.
Wei Xiao regarded the eager, smiling faces with cold eyes, the barest suggestion of a curve appearing at his mouth. Those who did not know him mistook it for a smile and redoubled their flattery. Anyone familiar with him would have recognized it as contempt as cold as ice. He regarded them as clowns performing tricks, not worth so much as a round of applause.
Wei Xiao knew perfectly well what these people thought of him.
Before his face they bowed and scraped, practically pressing their cheeks to the floor. Behind his back they changed their tune and cursed a eunuch who had risen to power. How could a rootless thing like him deserve to stand above the hundred officials?
He did not need to hear the insults himself. They were always the same handful of lines. After all these years, his detractors could not even invent anything new.
Wei Xiao sneered inwardly, the contempt at his lips deepening.
He had always hated the glare of the blazing sun. Keeping his eyes lowered, he idly folded both hands inside his scarlet sleeves. The surrounding compliments buzzed around his ears like flies, and the longer he listened, the more irritating they became.
Perhaps it was because false affection and feigned goodwill were things one must never allow others to see through.
Once you saw through them, they became a bare skeleton stripped of flesh, hollow and wretched, with nothing left concealed.
Then again, what was wrong with false affection?
It was better than empty hands and having nothing at all…
His thoughts had begun to stray when a young eunuch carrying a tea tray approached and pulled him back to himself.
“There is still some time before the morning audience, and the weather is hot. Please have some tea to cool yourself, Your Excellency.”
The attendant wore the robes of someone serving in the emperor’s presence, a position that afforded him a certain dignity even before ordinary ministers. Yet he was exceedingly respectful toward Wei Xiao.
Wei Xiao glanced at him, raised the cup, and took a sip. His voice was low and icy, barely audible to anyone beyond the two of them.
“Did Gongsun E enter the palace to see His Majesty last night?”
His feelings for Gongsun E had never made him lower his guard. The man’s inexplicable departure last night had awakened his instinctive suspicion. Had Gongsun E changed his mind and taken the evidence directly to the emperor to impeach him?
But the young eunuch’s answer dispelled that suspicion the very next moment.
“His Majesty retired early last night and granted no private audiences to officials. Lord Gongsun did not enter the palace, either.”
Wei Xiao said no more. He placed the teacup back on the tray with a faint, crisp click. The young eunuch bowed and quietly disappeared into the crowd.
Gongsun E had not gone to see the emperor last night.
Although he had his answer, Wei Xiao felt no better. If Gongsun E had actually presented an accusation, at least Wei Xiao could have traced his intentions and decided whether to strike first or wait and observe.
But Gongsun E had done absolutely nothing, leaving him without even a basis for guessing…
Wei Xiao slowly rubbed his fingertips through the fabric of his sleeves, his gaze idly roaming over the officials crowded before the Meridian Gate.
Just then, to his surprise, the noisy crowd suddenly fell silent.
A figure dressed in white slowly came into view.
High officials wore scarlet or purple, those colors being marks of status. Yet among all the civil and military officials, Gongsun E alone wore a frost-white official robe, its fabric discreetly embroidered with a xiezhi, a mythical beast associated with justice. A jade belt encircled his waist. Against the many-colored court robes, he stood out at once.
The office of Criminal Investigation Commissioner had been created only under the present dynasty. The emperor had personally decreed the colors of Gongsun E’s uniform and publicly praised him: “His nature is like carved jade, his heart like frost and snow.” The robe was plain, but it accentuated his upright, noble bearing and the still composure of his features. Officials along his path stepped aside almost in unison, yet not one came forward to exchange greetings.
Everyone feared the Eastern Depot’s brutality, but Wei Xiao’s faction was always open to profit. With enough gold and silver on the table, even longstanding enmities could be settled. Gongsun E alone was famous for being impossible to sway. When the emperor entrusted him with a case, he upheld the law without allowing even the slightest personal favor to interfere.
Noble families, honored aristocrats, civil officials, and generals were all mired in the same muddy waters of court politics. Everyone had allegiances and, to some degree, secrets that could not bear the light of day. They understood that becoming too close to Gongsun E would bring trouble, so no one dared seek his friendship.
Gongsun E himself seemed equally uninterested in befriending anyone.
He proceeded steadily along the path the officials had opened, soon drawing level with Wei Xiao.
Wei Xiao instinctively raised his eyes. In the past few days he had grown accustomed to Gongsun E’s sudden displays of intimacy. He fully expected the man to stop, smile, and utter a few more of those mad declarations about joining his side.
Instead, Gongsun E merely checked his step. His gaze passed unhurriedly over Wei Xiao’s face, and then he gave a courteous little nod in greeting.
No smile. No pleasantries. Not even a moment’s lingering attention.
The next instant he looked away and walked steadily past Wei Xiao without turning his head.
Wei Xiao: “…”