Chapter Twenty-Nine: Arrival at the Highest City of the Great Zhou!

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Dusk enveloped the capital.

The city’s lanterns had just begun to glow.

Countless pinpricks of firelight shimmered across the city; from above, they resembled a sea of reflected blossoms, a vision as beautiful as it was unreal.

The flying barque gradually slowed its descent, the seals of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau engraved on its hull gleaming softly, granting it free passage through the city’s intricate web of arcane formations.

Beneath the night sky, this magnificent city appeared as a colossal beast lying in wait, with the brilliantly lit Forbidden City for its eyes, the broad avenues its pulsing veins, and the towering walls its armored scales.

Pei Xiunian had seen the ruins of many ancient capitals before, but only through screens. To stand here, before a living, breathing imperial city, was to truly comprehend the meaning of grandeur.

At last, the barque touched down smoothly atop the headquarters of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. Pei Xiunian quickly schooled his features into a calm, unruffled expression, suppressing all emotion.

He drew a deep breath and, escorted by Zhao Congrong, descended from the barque. The rooftop was unguarded by the Imperial Guard or Embroidered Uniform Guards; only across the way, in a stone pavilion, a master and disciple played chess, otherwise the space was deserted.

Zhao Congrong bowed respectfully to the white-haired, otherworldly elder and said softly, “Grand Astrologer, the Third Prince has been brought back. The flying barque belonged to the Hangzhou branch and is now returned.”

The Grand Astrologer responded only with a nonchalant “Mm,” continuing his play. The young female disciple opposite him fidgeted, her chess piece tapping restlessly upon the board.

Pei Xiunian surmised that this old Daoist was indeed the Grand Astrologer, but perhaps because the man never looked up from his game, Pei Xiunian didn’t feel the awe he’d expected in meeting such a legendary figure.

Without dwelling on it, Pei Xiunian made his way down the stairs.

The Imperial Astronomical Bureau, devoted to observing the heavens, was built tall. Through the lattice windows, he could see the dense ranks of Imperial Guards and palace troops below, with squads of Embroidered Uniform Guards stationed upon the eaves.

Truly a grand reception.

Though the Bureau stood not far from the Forbidden City, they still traveled by carriage, accompanied on both sides by a stately escort, their march disciplined and orderly.

The moonlight gleamed off the armor of the palace troops, dazzlingly bright.

Such extravagant display could not help but stir thoughts of power and the storms that churned beneath its surface.

—

Meanwhile, the chess match atop the Bureau continued. Ordinarily, a game might go on for two or three hundred moves before a victor emerged, but already, after just a few dozen, the white pieces showed signs of collapse, the momentum lost.

Luo Xiaoning tossed her white piece back into the box with a huff. “Teacher, I concede. I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

The Grand Astrologer did not stop her, merely said gently, “As the Deputy Astrologer, destined to become the Imperial Preceptor, how can you hope to divine the stars with such a restless heart?”

Luo Xiaoning shrugged. “Did you not once say, ‘On the path of the Dao, there are no fixed rules—follow your heart’? I am obedient! My heart now says I’m hungry and should go downstairs for soup dumplings!”

She held up a finger and bent it halfway, explaining, “The Crispy Pavilion closes in half an hour. If I can’t get soup dumplings, I’ll have to raid the imperial kitchens using your name.”

The Grand Astrologer smiled helplessly, wondering if he’d erred in his teaching, and that he ought to have swapped her for Li the Blind’s infamous protégé.

“Before you go, let me ask you one more question.”

“Oh?” Luo Xiaoning nodded eagerly, like a chick pecking rice.

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The Grand Astrologer rose slowly, invisible energy rippling around him as he asked calmly, “Of the people, the court, and the dynasty—if the Bureau could choose but one, what would you choose?”

Questions of ultimate purpose were the last thing Luo Xiaoning wished to contemplate. Her immediate goal was more pressing: to snatch two baskets of soup dumplings before closing. The crab roe buns were surely already devoured by some rich dog—such a pity.

But if she answered truthfully, she’d only be punished with endless lines of copying the classics. Last time, she’d had to pay a few students from the Imperial Academy to help, and according to them, their brushes wore out from the ordeal.

Pitifully, she hunched her shoulders. She couldn’t afford to outsource her punishment now. But thinking it through, the three were mutually dependent; choosing only one would doom them all. Still, she answered, “In my opinion, preserving the dynasty is the Bureau’s true foundation.”

With his back to her, the Grand Astrologer nodded slightly. “Mm. Do not forget tonight’s words. Off you go.”

“Farewell, Teacher!”

Light as a swallow, Luo Xiaoning vaulted over the railing and floated down, legs crossed, arms pillowing her head, drifting off like a leaf in the wind.

—

Pei Xiunian alighted from the carriage and at last stepped within the resplendent palace of the Great Zhou—into the Forbidden City.

Scarlet walls rose on all sides. Passing through the Meridian Gate, he beheld the vast expanse of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, its towering halls roofed in gleaming glazed tile.

Guided by the chief eunuch, Pei Xiunian made his way to the imperial study to meet Emperor Zhaoning.

Minister Sun and Zhao, having reported, took their leave. The young Deputy Astrologer, forbidden to roam the palace, had already returned to Changqian Palace. Thus, Pei Xiunian would face the emperor alone.

As he walked the grand avenues of the Forbidden City, the night air cool against his face, Pei Xiunian could not help but feel anxious at the coming audience. The palace at night was deserted; he saw no siblings, and the journey was made in silence.

By the time he reached the imperial study, it was past the hour of the dog. No snow fell tonight, and the moon shone bright.

Inside, beneath the lamplight, the emperor—still in the prime of life, tall and imposing—leaned over his desk, reviewing memorials. His dragon robe swept the floor, and even seated, without turning, he radiated an unmistakable imperial presence.

At the threshold, the eunuch announced loudly, “The Third Prince has arrived!”

Emperor Zhaoning immediately looked up. Pei Xiunian dared not falter, bowing deeply: “Your son pays respects to Father.”

The emperor set aside his memorials, his furrowed brow relaxing into a smile. “Nian’er, you’ve returned. Come, sit and tell me about the campaign in Yunchuan.”

When Pei Xiunian entered, the eunuchs withdrew, closing the doors behind them.

Pei Xiunian assumed his actions were already known—how could the emperor not be well-informed? So he confessed all: how he’d recruited wanderers, set fire to the enemy camp, and negotiated with the Princess of Qingqiu—embellishing the story, of course. In the end, he’d threatened, bribed, and cajoled her, and the decoy had been a ruse to fool the Qingqiu.

How was the decoy found? He’d arranged it all in Hangzhou, with plenty to vouch for him.

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As for how the Qingqiu supply line was discovered—that was the work of General Chu’s men, who risked all to uncover it, though the Xiliang troops were prevented from acting by Qingqiu’s tight security. Such secrets were unknown to the staff officers, and now that the outcome was decided, no one would bother to verify such details. General Chu would certainly provide cover for him.

Before the emperor could speak, Pei Xiunian hurriedly knelt to confess, “Your son raised volunteer troops without permission, breaking the law. I beg Father for punishment.”

Emperor Zhaoning waved his hand, smiling, “You were forced by circumstance; such risks are the way of war. Besides, the volunteers disbanded afterward. At worst, the matter will be lightly punished. Tomorrow at court, you’ll be confined to the palace for several days and must copy the relevant law a hundred times. That will settle the matter.”

Pei Xiunian’s offense could be seen as grave—raising a private army could be treason—or as minor as the emperor now made it. That the penalty was so light meant his influence had already grown.

The emperor continued, “This deed cannot compare to your retaking of Yunchuan. Tell me, is there any reward you wish? Speak freely.”

This caught Pei Xiunian off guard. Such matters were not easily decided; rewards were usually debated at court.

He hesitated, unsure what to say.

Seeing his silence, the emperor said, “You’ve come of age. Is there someone you favor? If so, I can help arrange a match.”

This, Pei Xiunian could not answer. Who knew which minister had a daughter of suitable age? If he guessed among the factions he hoped to court, and the minister had no daughter, it would be nothing; but what if the daughter was only eight?

He dared not ponder further, for fear of betraying himself. Noticing the tension in the air, he bowed deeply and said, “While in Xiangyang, I twice encountered Heroine Jiang, and by her guidance, my cultivation improved. Zhao reports I am now equal to those of the second realm.

“So I’ve developed an interest in martial arts. If possible, I would ask Father to grant me a manual and let me choose a fine weapon…”

Emperor Zhaoning, delighted, said kindly, “You are gifted; your devotion to the martial path is commendable. Tomorrow, you may freely consult the Wen Zong Pavilion. As for weapons, take your pick from the armory. If nothing suits, after your confinement, take my edict to the Grand Astrologer and have one made to your specifications.

“But such trifles are not enough to celebrate your great victory. The rest shall be decided at court tomorrow.”

Standing beside Pei Xiunian, the emperor patted his shoulder, his tone earnest, “You must be weary from your journey. Rest early tonight. I’ll have the kitchens prepare a late supper for you—some pastries and soup, perhaps?”

The emperor’s expression reminded Pei Xiunian of childhood, when he’d scored full marks and his father, wallet in hand, asked what reward he wanted—and when he asked only to play a few games of Starcraft, his father was so moved he insisted on treating him to a midnight snack.

Pei Xiunian did not refuse. He bowed deeply. “Thank you, Father. Your son takes his leave.”