Surviving the Succession (A Transmigration Fantasy)

Character Index

Hu Qing/Liang Hongfei: Lord of the Liang clan, previously appointed to the North with reinforcements to the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

Xie Rengui: A talented, baby-faced farmer who became Hu Qing's retainer/aide.

Yilie: Tabuyir's nephew, Kayla's ward.

Zhao Rong: Kayla's son with Ashina.

Qiu Jinwei: The Emperor's personal advisor. Eccentric but very intelligent.

Zhou Yunqi: The Emperor, fifth son of the previous Emperor.

General Yan: Commander of the reinforcements sent to the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

Magistrate Zhen: Magistrate in charge of overseeing the Canton ports.

Secretary Jin: Finance Bureau secretary at the Ministry of Revenue

Derin: Ashina's lady-in-waiting.

Ashina: Personal name Ibilga, princess of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

Han Daizhi: Brain of the Shandong clique, an official at court.

Zhu Simo: The primary mouthpiece of the Shandong clique, a man with staunchly conservative principles.

Jiang She: A member of the Shandong clique.

Han Wan'er: Han Daizhi's orphaned niece.

Halime: Princess of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate, Ashina's half-sister. The Royal Consort, married to Yunqi.

Chuluo Khagan: Khagan of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

Zhang Dingyong: Minister of Justice, Kayla's ally.

Yao Gongzhuo: Minister of War, Kayla's ally.

Hu Qing marched through the army camp, irritation rolling off him in waves and stifling any attempt to approach him. The pitifully lanky soldier at Hu Qing's side jogged to keep up, adjusting his oversized helmet every few steps as it slipped first one way and then the other.

"Commander, over there!" The young soldier pointed at the hooting and hollering crowd as it came into sight.

"I have eyes," Hu Qing snapped. He marched right into the throng. It parted for him as trainees stumbled out of his way.

Hu Qing strode to the center of the crowd, where two young trainees were furiously trying to land a blow on each other with little success on either side. They didn't even seem to notice his approach.

"That's enough!" Hu Qing shouted.

The two men didn't seem to hear him, continuing to shout and throw fists at each other. Hu Qing rolled his eyes and roughly shoved them apart, stepping in between with a hand raised before each man.

"Enough!" Hu Qing barked. A fist connected with his right arm.

Hu Qing slowly turned his head towards the soldier in disbelief. The man gulped nervously. As Hu Qing's silent fury bore into him, the soldier slumped to his knees.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I-I didn't mean to," he said in a small voice. "I was aiming at–"

He cut out with a yelp as Hu Qing backhanded him across the face, knocking him over.

"Idiots! Do you think you're still in the slums? You're a soldier now, and you'd better act like it if you don't want to be sent home!" Hu Qing snarled. "What the hell are you even fighting over?"

He glared at the man left standing. "Money? Wine? Women?"

Hu Qing paused at the look that flashed across the man's face. "A woman? Seriously? You both have wives, get your shit together!"

"My wife's not here," the soldier on the ground valiantly mumbled in a very quiet voice.

"What?"

He quailed at Hu Qing's death glare.

"Nothing, sir."

"You're both on night patrol and latrine cleaning duty for the rest of the month," Hu Qing said.

"But sir!"

"Sir!"

Both their protests cut off as Hu Qing stared them down.

"You're lucky I'm not having you whipped," Hu Qing said in disbelief. "Now get back to your posts. Scram!"

He whirled towards the onlookers. "And you lot! Get back to training!"

The crowd scattered in every direction, eager to be out of Hu Qing's sight.

Only one man approached against the flow, a lopsided smile on his still boyish face. He was nearing thirty now, but didn't look a day past twenty-two.

"Sir," Xie Rengui greeted him. "Shall I have their pay docked as well?"

Hu Qing shook his head. "They're probably not even going to last to the end of the month to collect any pay," he grumbled.

Whirling towards Xie Rengui, he flung up a hand in the direction that the two troublemakers had fled towards.

"I can't stand this! Why the hell am I in charge of training these idiots?" Hu Qing despaired.

"Sir, it's a prestigious post," Xie Rengui said. "The Duke–"

"I know, I know," Hu Qing waved him off. "But these idiots are driving me insane! Compared to the guys back North, they're nothing but trash. And don't misunderstand, I'm not targeting any particular one of them, I'm saying they're all trash. I wish I could just beat some sense into them!"

"You do beat them though," Xie Rengui pointed out.

"And is there any use? They're just as empty-brained as they were a month ago! I can't stand incompetents unless I'm fighting them, and I swear that all the talents in the capital area have already become criminals or Imperial Guards. The fools left to join the army are just that–fools!" Hu Qing groused. "If there was even one promising soldier in the camp, I would stop complaining!"

"If you're used to working with seasoned veterans, it's only normal you'll feel frustrated by fresh recruits," Xie Rengui said reasonably. "You'll get used to it."

"Good gods," Hu Qing groaned.

"Speaking of, if you want to train someone talented, perhaps you'd be better off recruiting them yourself," Xie Rengui suggested.

Hu Qing stopped, glancing at Xie Rengui askew. "You have someone in mind, don't you?"

Xie Rengui smiled placidly. "The Duke's godson, for one."

Hu Qing paused, trying to recall the boy's face and failing. "Which one?"

"The godson, not the ward," Xie Rengui emphasized.

"Oh, the Khitan kid. Yilie, was it? But he's preparing for the martial exam. He'll be an officer, not a common soldier," Hu Qing said.

"Perhaps it would do him some good to have some experience in the training camp of a common foot soldier before the exam then," Xie Rengui said. "Someone who reaches a high position without any grounded experience is far more likely to end up making decisions based on unrealistic expectations–and it would be a pity for a talented youngster like Yilie to end up like that, wouldn't it?"

"I do like that kid," Hu Qing reluctantly agreed now that he actually knew which kid he was talking about. There was a quality to Yilie almost akin to naivete but not quite. Hu Qing couldn't quite put his finger on it, but either the kid was ambitious to the point of casting aside his pride, or he was simply just that sentimental. Why else would a teenage boy approaching adulthood ask to become Wenyuan's godson? Not that Wenyuan wasn't a good guardian, but he was only ten years older than Yilie.

An untimely and unsightly request. But that was what Hu Qing liked about Yilie, despite how little he actually interacted with the kid. Plenty of people swarmed over to Wenyuan when things were going well–the kid had asked Wenyuan to become his godfather at a time when things weren't.

When Wenyuan had a son, things around him began to change. Not all at once, but the shifts were impossible to overlook. The first year of Zhao Rong's life had been quiet and peaceful. The child had been born sickly, and he was constantly besieged with well wishes and blessings, and the hovering of his worried parents. And then the storm had hit–exactly one year ago, when Hu Qing's post as the military liaison to the North was being confirmed in the Imperial Court.

It was merely a formality, given that Hu Qing was already pretty much acting in that capacity up North. General Yan didn't care much for politics, leaving the work mostly to him. Wenyuan had only needed to make it official.

Then Qiu Jinwei, of all people, had shown his face at the convening of the court. The Emperor's advisor had no official title. He had no noble status, or even the robes of an official. But it was clear that he acted in the capacity of the Emperor's mouthpiece–or at least that was what people assumed. So when the Emperor's mouthpiece publicly voiced suspicions as to allowing the Khagan's son-in-law to appoint military officers to the North, the court flipped face almost instantly.

It was assumed that the Emperor was finally putting his foot down, that he did not intend to allow his powerful cousin and brother-in-law to grow any more powerful. Wenyuan could have his domestic reforms and his investigatory capacities, but that was the extent of what he was permitted. There would be no military meddling from him, the father of the Khagan's grandson.

A flabbergasted Hu Qing was recalled to the capital, leaving behind an equally flabbergasted army of men that had grown rather fond of him. It was a clear signal to the entire country, and even to their foreign allies, that Zhao Wenyuan had reached his limits.

Yilie had asked Zhao Wenyuan to be his godfather at a time like that, when it seemed that the imminent downfall of the Zhao household was at stake. And despite his reluctance to drag down a promising young man with him, Zhao Wenyuan had agreed.

Even Hu Qing had reached the capital prepared for the worst. He'd started planning for escape routes just in case the Emperor wanted Zhao Wenyuan dead, mapping out various routes to nations that wouldn't turn them over at the slightest application of pressure. But despite the magnitude of the splash, there were shockingly few ripples. It seemed that Qiu Jinwei's actions had not actually been the Emperor's will, but rather a more personal declaration of war. Yunqi made that clear enough when he vehemently supported Wenyuan's suggestion of giving Hu Qing a military post near the capital, and the court flipped face once again.

That was how Hu Qing eventually found himself in charge of training new recruits as one of the youngest army instructors in the country. As annoying as he found his duties, it was a prestigious position. In retrospect, Yilie had won the gamble.

For now.

Wenyuan wasn't off the hook. The Emperor hadn't ordered Qiu Jinwei to act against Hu Qing's appointment, but he also hadn't stopped his closest advisor from doing so. At the court session where it all had happened, Yunqi had been silent.

Had it actually been Yunqi's wishes after all? No one could tell. But at least Yilie's career didn't seem fated to die in the cradle.

"The kid has good instincts," Hu Qing said. "Or perhaps he's stupid."

"Which do you think, my lord?" Xie Rengui asked.

Hu Qing smiled, ignoring the question. "I'll take him on."

Kayla spun a pen idly in her hand as she waited for the call to connect. She could imagine what the other man's reaction must be at the moment–scrambling this way and that in a panic at the unexpected intrusion.

Finally, he picked up.

"Your Excellency, to what do I owe this pleasure?" As always, his voice was thick with the intent to flatter. Kayla chose to ignore both the oily quality of his tone and the question itself.

"Magistrate Zhen!" Kayla greeted him, smiling even if he couldn't see her.

"My lord!" He responded with equal enthusiasm and increasing uncertainty.

She was silent for a moment.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Indeed, it has."

The conversation fell silent again as Magistrate Zhen hesitated, not sure whether to make small talk or let Kayla make her intentions clear. Kayla spoke before he could make up his mind.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"E-excuse me, my lord?"

"I didn't make you Magistrate of the Canton ports so you could accept bribes for your own purse," Kayla said through gritted teeth.

"My lord, I would never! I have no idea what you're talking about, but you've been misled! I've never taken a single coin for my own use!" Magistrate Zhen protested.

Kayla ignored him altogether.

"Magistrate Zhen, are you daft? Do you think I'm daft?"

"Your Excellency, I–"

"You agreed for a bribe of two hundred silver per ship?"

The other end of the line abruptly went silent.

"My lord, I've never–"

"Don't even bother. I have transaction records with the date and time listed, and names of witnesses I can summon at the snap of a finger," Kayla said in disbelief. "Still have no idea what I'm talking about? Let's jog your memory then! Fifth of May, ten at night in the side courtyard of your house. Twenty-seventh of April, eight at night in the Plum Blossom Tavern in the reserved room on the third floor. A meeting on the twenty-sixth of April to set up the following night. A meeting the day before then in your own goddamn office to set up the meeting on the twenty-sixth. Third of April at the–do I even need to go on?"

There was aghast silence on the other end for a long moment before Magistrate Zhen made a stuttering attempt to reply. A small pause, followed by a second unsuccessful attempt.

"We're talking charges of treason here," Kayla said in disbelief. "You'd risk your neck for small change like this when you're already in line for a pay raise? How on earth did you ever convince me you were talented?"

"Treason, my lord?! I would never dare to even dream of it! I admit I've made a mistake–"

"Many mistakes," Kayla corrected him.

"But I would never dare to commit treason!"

"Then the merchants you were dealing with? The foreign merchants, I remind you?"

"I-I just–I mean, they're just small-time artisans selling their carvings, I didn't think—"

"I'm sure you didn't. Because if you'd used your head even a little, you would know that if they were just wood carvers, a bribe of two hundred silver would be worth more than the import tax or anything they could afford to export. They were smuggling gold out of the country, you stupid bastard!"

"I didn't think they were smuggling gold! I thought it was just a bunch of cheap trinkets to sell back home!"

"Smuggling gold out of the country without an official sales permit is punishable by death, Magistrate Zhen, and the foreign merchants have certainly sailed far out of our jurisdiction by now," Kayla said. "Of course, when we find them, the local merchants who sold them gold beneath the table and the merchants who helped them disguise the gold will be executed. Given that it's probably the only offense we can prove, they'll be given an option to pay a hefty fine to downgrade their sentences to exile. But what about you, Magistrate Zhen? What am I going to do with you? For an official to help foreign nationals evade export charges for gold of all things is downright treason. How much do you think you've cost the government in lost tariff revenues? What the hell were you thinking?"

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Magistrate Zhen gave up entirely on denial and slid right into the area he had the most practice in.

"I truly regret it, Your Excellency! Please believe me, I will never do it again, please have mercy!"

"Believe you? You were denying the charges until just–" Kayla checked the hourglass on her table. "Five minutes ago."

"I know, but I was wrong!"

"You certainly were," Kayla said. "The trade reforms literally dictate the future of our country and you decided to fuck with it for petty change?"

Magistrate Zhen had gone completely silent on the other end of the call.

"I-I'm sorry, my lord?" The evident confusion in his voice made Kayla sigh in despair.

"Magistrate Zhen, let me make this clear to you."

Once again, the other end of the call became deadly silent.

"You do not mess with my reforms. If you want to accept a bribe, then you'd better accept one big enough that it gets you into a position that outranks me, or enough for you to resettle your entire extended family in a different country. If they're not offering at least that much, then it is not worth it for you.."

She heard the panicked stuttering of inhaled air, waiting out the near-hyperventilation patiently.

"So, Magistrate Zhen," she spoke just before he could properly get his bearings. "Did they offer enough?"

His voice came out in a quavering whisper.

"No."

"I didn't think so."

She let the silence stretch out a while longer as he quailed, torn between being too afraid to speak and too afraid not to ask his fate.

"Your Excellency…my lord…what-what will become of me?"

"What do you think?"

"I assume I will be demoted–"

"Of course you will be demoted. What else?"

She could practically hear the scrabbling of his brain over the call, and the moment he realized he was being asked to pitch an offering.

"My lord, I place myself entirely in your mercy. I only beg for a chance to make up for my mistakes, in whatever capacity that you please."

Kayla kept silent.

"And-and-and of course, I will fully support whoever you choose to replace me in the transition of administrations, if you would permit it. And the bribes! The bribes I accepted, I will gladly turn them over to the government–or to whoever you think would be-would be best to handle the funds. My own fortune as well. And whatever else, whatever else you ask of me! Just please don't have me executed!"

Kayla idly flipped the pen in her hand.

"Well, I could allow you to exchange your fortune for your life, I suppose, but what kind of precedent does that create for the others?"

"My lord! Please, I have a son who isn't even three years old yet!"

"So do I. Why didn't you consider that before you acted?"

"Please, my lord!"

"You will not be executed," Kayla said after a long pause. She cut off his immediate effusions of gratitude. "I will not report you. As of now, this is buried. This call never happened. Whatever recording you attempted to make will be destroyed by the Investigator on your roof right this moment–don't–shut up."

Magistrate Zhen's most practiced trade was blackmail.

"He saw you open a recording device with his own two eyes and he's still sending reports to me by the minute. Goodness, do you know how much it costs me just to keep an eye on your little tricks in real time through the relay network? All your intelligence, wasted on petty smarts like this–it's truly a pity, Magistrate Zhen. If you'd gone to the Traditionalists with that recording, they would've used it and then discarded you anyways," Kayla said, starting to feel exhausted by the conversation.

Yes, she had hired Magistrate Zhen for this position because he showed impressive ability to blackmail officials into supporting the reforms with gusto. But now that the situation had changed, it was starting to get annoying really fast.

"Why is there an Investigator on my roof?!" Magistrate Zhen asked near hysterically.

"Why wouldn't there be when the man in charge of the Canton port customs is colluding with foreign agents?"

"They're merchants!"

"Merchants smuggling gold out of the borders without paying export tariffs," Kayla said. "A capital offense, in case you needed reminding."

If he had been faking his panic to get a good recording out of her earlier, he was genuinely starting to panic now.

"Good gods," Magistrate Zhen said despairingly on the other end. "So-so what happens? What do you want from me? I swear that–"

"You're going to request a transfer to Anhai to promote economic development there."

"Anhai? Forgive my ignorance, but–where is that?"

"It's a tiny fishing village along the coast, next to the river that starts from around Quanzhou," Kayla explained in a pleasant voice. "Right now, it has a population of less than three hundred people."

Magistrate Zhen groaned before he could stop himself.

"Don't despair just yet, Magistrate Zhen. Despite your disappointing performance, you're not incompetent. I'm not burying you there, but rather giving you a chance. This is right across the strait from the Penghu Islands, and it has great potential for developing aquaculture. Especially if you enlist neighboring villages as well. And there is something else I want you to do for me there, something I want to put you in charge of."

"Anything," Magistrate Zhen said hollowly.

"We'll talk about that when you get there," Kayla said. "Don't worry, you can leave your family in Canton."

"But sir!"

"Medical conditions in Anhai aren't that great," Kayla said with faux concern. "Given your eighty-seven year old mother and two year old son, wouldn't it be better if they stayed behind?"

She heard a thump as Magistrate Zhen dropped his head onto his desk.

"If you do well, you'll be promoted again. Consider this a second chance," Kayla said. "In the meantime, recommend a successor. Not just any successor, of course. The Investigator on your roof will tell you who."

"Thank you for your leniency, my lord," Magistrate Zhen said weakly.

"I'm only letting you off easy because you're not stupid enough to cross me twice," Kayla replied as gently as she could manage. "But in case you are, just remember–buried is not gone. I can still have your head if I want it."

"I understand. A-and the money?"

"You will use as much of your personal fortune as necessary to subsidize your local development projects," Kayla said. "A touching act of selflessness that will reflect well on you."

"Thank you, my lord."

Kayla ended the call and leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Buried is buried. Anhai was still a small seaside town over a thousand years later, when her mother left it for better opportunities in Malaysia. As long as Kayla had a say, Magistrate Zhen would never hold an important post again. But parading his dirty laundry only provided an opening for the Traditionalists to dig their greedy claws in and shove their own people into all the important posts. For all their posturing about the ills of the mercantile economy seducing farmers and all that, what they really wanted was cash.

Speaking of cash…Kayla flipped through the thick report on her desk again. Something bothered her about it, but she couldn't put her finger on just what it was.

She dragged the communication device closer to make another call.

"Your Excellency?" The clear, crisp voice of the Finance Bureau secretary at the Ministry of Revenue sounded out.

"Secretary Jin, how are you doing?" Kayla didn't wait for a reply. "I hope you're not too busy right now."

"What can I do for you?"

"I need the daily transaction records of the past six months for the port of Canton," Kayla said pleasantly.

"For the entire port of Canton, sir?"

"For the entire port of Canton," Kayla said apologetically.

"I will notify the archivists and have it delivered to your office," Secretary Jin said. "Would you like the records for Quanzhou as well?"

"Might as well," Kayla agreed. "Is there any chance the records are organized by country?"

"It's organized chronologically by week," Secretary Jin said. "If you need the transactions organized by the stated country of origin, I can have our clerks work on it first. When would you like it by?"

Kayla drew a deep breath. "Secretary Jin, I don't like to make unreasonable demands."

She didn't pause to let him make an offer. The thing that she liked about Secretary Jin was that he would not have made an offer that burdened his own men anyways, even when a higher-ranking official was strongly hinting for him to do so. It was why he was still a Secretary after so many years, but also why Kayla liked working with him.

"I would like it as soon as feasibly possible without forcing them to work on nights."

"I can only delegate six men, my lord, so it'll be at least half a month," Secretary Jin said apologetically.

Kayla pushed down a sudden wave of longing for Excel.

"I understand. Thank you, Secretary Jin. I can spare four clerks of my own from the Court of Judicial Review, if you would have them."

"Of course, Your Excellency. I will gladly accept."

"Then I'll leave it to you."

She ended the call, dropping the communication device back onto the desk. Kayla took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

Before she'd had half a minute to herself, there was a knock on the door.

Kayla deactivated the privacy wards around her desk.

"Yes?"

"Apologies, my lord, but the young master was crying for you," Derin said apologetically.

Kayla was at the door in a flash. As she opened the door, Derin deposited a tearful toddler right into Kayla's arms with a smile.

Ashina must need a break.

"Thank you, go and get some rest," Kayla said. Derin bowed and left immediately.

Guess Derin also needs a break.

She turned her attention to the toddler who had stopped crying and was now babbling with his unclear speech.

"Goodness, Rong'er, what are you up to now, you little rascal? Hmm?" Kayla asked, gently nuzzling Zhao Rong's face. Bouncing the two year old in her arms, she headed back into her study, balancing the toddler on one arm and paperwork on the other.

Han Daizhi smiled blandly until Zhu Simo had finished his rant. Having tuned most of it out, Han Daizhi wasn't even exactly sure what his fellow partisan had been talking about, save that it wasn't terribly important. Next to Zhu Simo, Jiang She was more than happy to change the subject.

"So, Brother Han, not that I don't enjoy getting together with my fellow Shandong officials, but what was it that you wanted to talk with us about?" Jiang She asked.

"The recent state of politics, Brother Jiang," Han Daizhi said. "And our next steps."

"Well?" Zhu Simo asked, as impatient as though he had been the one forced to listen to an unrelated topic for so long.

"Are we going to petition against the reforms?" Jiang She eagerly offered.

"No, I'm afraid not, Brother Jiang. There's no point in damaging the reforms at this point–quite the opposite, it's a good thing for us that the trade reforms are progressing so smoothly," Han Daizhi said.

Zhu Simo puffed up his chest, disapproval radiating off him in waves. "Prioritizing merchants will lead to the–"

"Degrading of public morals and the natural order of society, yes, we know," Han Daizhi said a bit impatiently. "But that's not the point right now. I mean that we've made the right choice in letting the reforms go through–surely you've also noticed?"

"I have not," Zhu Simo said with no hint of sheepishness.

Han Daizhi closed his eyes briefly, turning his face away to avoid showing his irritation. It wasn't as though Zhu Simo would have cared–Han Daizhi was just trying to spare himself the inevitable lecture.

Jiang She cleared his throat phlegmatically. "What do you think we should have noticed, Brother Han?"

"The crack in the Reformist faction is growing," Han Daizhi said with great patience. "Qiu Jinwei, Zhao Wenyuan, the Emperor, the tensions between them are intensifying by the day. They stand together unusually well against an adversary, but when things are going well, it all falls apart."

"I haven't noticed that at all," Zhu Simo said.

"Indeed, there hasn't been much movement from either Qiu Jinwei or Zhao Wenyuan since the debacle of appointing Lord Hu to the North last year," Jiang She pointed out. "The Emperor's very skilled at handling his men."

"Is he?" Han Daizhi asked enigmatically.

"Well, is he?" Jiang She pressed while Han Daizhi sipped leisurely at his tea.

"The Emperor is not the key to this," Han Daizhi finally said before Jiang She grew irritated and Zhu Simo lost interest. "Try as he may, the egos of his two key supporters are too large to tolerate the other. It is only a matter of time before it erupts into outright conflict. Just because nothing has happened since the last incident does not mean that all is well–if anything, it is merely the calm before the storm."

"Well, Qiu Jinwei did make Zhao Wenyuan lose face before the court," Jiang She muttered. "But when has the Duke cared about face? He's been shameless from the start."

"Indeed! A man who lacks–" Zhu Simo began.

"Filial piety, yes, we know," Han Daizhi hastily cut him off before Zhu Simo could launch into one of his notoriously lengthy lectures.

"Wrong, it's not just about filial piety," Zhu Simo said gravely. "You lot only ever look at the surface. All the classics you've read and you might just as well have fed them to the dogs! See, it's like this–"

"Brother Zhu, if you could let us talk business before you get started," Jiang She cut in frantically.

"This is the problem with you! All you ever think about is your immediate gain and loss–what use are your petty accomplishments in the face of losing the paltry amount of wisdom you have?!"

"For heaven's sake," Han Daizhi groaned, knowing that Zhu Simo wouldn't stop now. This is what he got for trying to have a normal political discussion, he supposed. The strategizing should never involve Zhu Simo, a lesson he failed to learn again and again. There was no winning. Zhu Simo would throw a magnificent tantrum if they excluded him and drown them in lectures if they included him. If not for the fact that Zhu Simo was strangely popular with men who admired his intellect from afar–indeed, Zhu Simo could only be admired from a distance–Han Daizhi would consider plotting his murder.

"Uncle, Sir Zhu, Sir Jiang," a clear voice rang out from the doorway. All three men paused as a beautiful young woman stepped into the room, smiling brightly and carrying a tray of tea cakes.

"Oh, Wan'er," Han Daizhi said with barely concealed relief.

"Please pardon my interruption," she said. "I thought you might have grown hungry–these are snacks I made for you. I hope that you will accept these humble offerings, crude as they may be."

"How thoughtful of you," Jiang She said gratefully. "What a skilled niece you have, Brother Han!"

Han Wan'er bowed slightly with a smile, never quite directly meeting the eyes of her seniors. Even Zhu Simo nodded approvingly at her flawlessly modest etiquette.

"Thank you, Wan'er," Han Daizhi said. "We'll be sure to enjoy these."

"This one doesn't deserve such praise," Wan'er said humbly. "Then I will refrain from disturbing you further."

She gave another graceful bow before stepping almost silently out of the room.

"You've raised your niece well," Zhu Simo said, having been successfully distracted by the beautiful young woman's sudden appearance. "It is rare to see a girl of her age so modest these days!"

"It is all thanks to my wife's hard work," Han Daizhi said. Grasping the precious opportunity that his niece had bought for him to avoid a two-hour long lecture, he plunged ahead. "Zhao Wenyuan, as we know, certainly never received such an upbringing. At heart, there's no way he can truly tolerate Qiu Jinwei, inflexible and abrasive as the man can be."

Jiang She nimbly placed a tea cake in Zhu Simo's hand to silence the man with a sweet before he could interject.

"He was raised by the Grand Duke, hardly a man of any decency. Zhao Wenyuan was nothing but a frightened, beaten boy for most of his life. I'm sure that even now, he's still a frightened, beaten boy at heart. There will always be some screaming shard inside him that can't bear insults or disgrace, as stubborn and short-tempered as a small child. That's the part of him that will eventually bring us our chance," Han Daizhi said.

"Brother Han has always been good at reading people," Jiang She said. "It is indeed true that children raised by parents with bad tempers tend to have twisted personalities themselves–I've often seen as much in my time as a schoolteacher. But I fail to see how this benefits us? Does it not merely render him a more difficult opponent prone to revenge for the pettiest offenses?"

"He will never be as harsh on us, who he views as his enemies, as he will be on those from whom he feels he deserves recognition from but does not receive it," Han Daizhi said confidently. "When he's cornered or in danger, Zhao Wenyuan's sense for politics will triumph. But when he's allowed enough breathing space for the angry child inside him to come out, he will write his own demise. Just watch–once the Royal Consort is pregnant, he will self-destruct."

"Fear of losing his significance with the Emperor and the Khagan, is it?" Zhu Simo snorted. "What a petty reason!"

"People die for less," Han Daizhi said with a shrug. "To be honest, Zhao Wenyuan has already done his part. The Emperor had him push through the reforms and now they're running smoothly. His significance is already reaching its limits. Do you think him someone who can accept that?"

"No," Zhu Simo and Jiang She said almost in unison.

"Qiu Jinwei also tires of Zhao Wenyuan's influence," Han Daizhi said. "Qiu Jinwei is a man very sensitive to danger, and well-schooled in history. Combined with his unbending personality, he is surely already chafing at the thought of allowing an official of merit to entrench his position of power."

"What does that matter to us?" Zhu Simo asked.

Han Daizhi resisted the urge to smash the man's obtuse head in.

"Our opportunity has come to secure Zhao Wenyuan's downfall," Jiang She offered. "Without him, Zhang Dingyong is the only one who really poses a threat, but the man is not so broadly respected as that. Yao Gongzhuo, despite his position, is not warlike. He defends rather than attacks. The rest of the Duke's adherents are either reliant on his patronage or the type to scatter at the scent of trouble."

"We're not securing anything," Han Daizhi objected. "We are not getting involved in this."

"What?" Zhu Simo and Jiang She spoke nearly in unison, wearing almost identical looks of outrage.

"But why?"

"Coward!"

Han Daizhi decidedly ignored Zhu Simo's insult, intent on pushing through his own train of thought before the man could start a lengthy spiel.

"Whenever he feels threatened, Zhao Wenyuan has a strong tendency for escalating the situation. And once escalated, to destroy his opponent," Han Daizhi said. "This is already a proven pattern, and we will be keeping it at arm's length–no, we will not attack Zhao Wenyuan at all. We will instead clear the stage so that he can secure his own destruction. Let him and Qiu Jinwei fight in peace. Whether he destroys Qiu Jinwei or not, the Emperor will not just sit back and watch quietly. No matter who wins, the Emperor will not be pleased with the other, nor feel secure allowing them to monopolize influence. If we get involved in that mess, we'll redirect the Emperor's attention onto us instead of them. So it must be that the Reformists destroy themselves from within. It must not happen at our hands."

"Sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight," Jiang She said thoughtfully. "I can see the merits to that."

"Well," Zhu Simo said in that tone of voice that signalled he had nothing useful to contribute but was ready to give a sermon. Han Daizhi fought not to roll his eyes and slumped back in his chair, settling in for the inevitable. Jiang She followed suit, chewing glumly on a tea cake.

Outside the room, Wan'er soundlessly scoffed at the sound of Zhu Simo's booming voice. She slipped away from the small alcove she had been listening in from and left, her skirts swishing soundlessly as she walked down the corridor.

Cultural Notes

新仇旧恨/New resentments and old grudges: An Ancient Chinese proverb referring to the piling up of ill will over time.

你不要误会，不是针对你，我是说在座的各位都是垃圾/Don't misunderstand, I'm not targeting you, I'm saying that everyone seated is trash: A popular joke in China from a Stephen Chow comedy movie.

Smuggling in Ancient China: This was punishable by the seizure of your assets, and even death for controlled/regulated items, including gold and silver.

小聪明/Petty Smarts: A mildly derogatory term referring to intelligence used on petty tricks.

安海湾/Anhai: A small seaside city in modern-day Guangzhou, China. It's connected to a neighboring city named Shantou.

Quanzhou: A port in modern-day Fujian province, an important port of the Martime Silk Road.

Penghu Islands: Archipelago located in modern day Taiwan.

圣贤书读到狗肚子里头去了/The classics you've read [might as well] have been fed to the dogs: A Chinese term used to curse out someone well-educated by lacking in either virtue or common sense.

Eye contact in Chinese culture: Avoiding direct eye contact, particularly by lowering your gaze slightly towards someone senior to you in age or rank is considered polite. This has changed over time, leading to some conflicting instructions in modern families. I have been criticized at family gatherings as a child, first for not making eye contact, then for making too much eye contact, all within the span of half an hour.

功臣权势过大/Official of merit [gaining] too much power: A common fear in Ancient Chinese politics was that someone who had achieved great merits and amassed strong influence and reputation would become a threat to the stability of the Emperor's rule, or at least for the next Emperor.

坐山观虎斗/Sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight: An Ancient Chinese saying referring to staying out of a fight and watching on until the best moment to gain benefits.