Chapter Nineteen: The Rise of the King of Yue

Xuanyin Gate was the eastern entrance to the Purple Palace, watched by many eyes and ears, so anything that happened there would be known throughout the Eastern Capital within days. Stories spread from mouth to mouth, distorted and exaggerated, growing stranger each time, until they circled back to Princess Yiyang’s mansion in Shanglin Ward as a tale so bizarre it hardly resembled the truth: Quan Ce, the Middle Captain of the Thousand Oxen Guards in the Eastern Capital, imitating Zhou Yafu’s strict regime at Xiliu Camp, stood guard and refused to let his father, Quan Yi, enter the camp. A conflict ensued; Quan Yi’s bodyguard was beheaded, and Quan Yi himself was violently seized, suffering severe injuries. Quan Ce, remorseful, begged his father’s forgiveness and punished himself with two hundred lashes, administered by the guards. By the time the punishment ended, he was barely alive; father and son nearly perished together.

Officials and gentry from all over the Eastern Capital sent envoys bearing gifts and medicines to express their concern. When Princess Yiyang heard the news, her joy at receiving these gifts vanished, replaced by terror. Clutching little Quan Luo, she rushed to the unnamed courtyard, only to find Quan Ce sprawled on the bed like a boneless worm. Chrysanthemum held a bundle of blood-stained garments and burst into tears at the sight, her legs giving out as she flung herself forward, crying, “My son, what has happened to you, my son?”

Her trembling hands could not hold onto Quan Luo, who was about to fall to the floor, but Quan Ce reacted swiftly—leaping from the couch, arms raised, and caught her safely. The chubby girl was oblivious to the danger, giggling with her thumb in her mouth, stomping on his face with her tiger-head shoes.

Quan Ce smiled, tilting his face up for her to tread. “Chichi is brave—bolder than her mother.”

Princess Yiyang was stunned by the sudden turn of events. Her tears stopped as she saw her son still lively and able to move, and she broke into laughter amid her relief, hastily asking, “How are your injuries, my son? Does it still hurt?”

“Mother, do not worry. I am fine. Liujin, what are you laughing at? Stop gawking and take the little lady,” Quan Ce soothed his mother, rolling his eyes at Liujin, who was too brazen—watching the commotion and laughing so hard her gums showed.

Liujin covered her mouth, quickly stepped forward to take Quan Luo, while Chrysanthemum helped Princess Yiyang back to the bed.

“My son, have you called a physician?” Princess Yiyang did not wait for an answer, lifting his clothes to inspect the wounds. Seeing the torn flesh, her tears fell again. “How can this be? Injured so badly—was it truly your own men who did this? Such people have no loyalty or honor, truly despicable.”

“I have not called a physician—these are only flesh wounds. A little powder for the cuts and a few days of rest will suffice. My subordinate merely followed orders; after administering the punishment, he knelt all night in my office and fainted.” Quan Ce sighed. The man was a distant relative named Hu Chang; his name had often been mocked among his peers—Hu Chang, likely welcomed by the madams of Pingkang Ward.

“My son, so loyal and filial, should not suffer this,” Princess Yiyang stroked his face, seeing him wince in pain, her heart aching. She held him, sobbing softly. Blood ties run deep, especially between mother and child; as her eldest grew more sensible and considerate, she cherished him all the more. After a while, she abruptly stopped crying. “No, I am not reassured. It is best to call a physician for certainty. Someone, come quickly!”

“Madam, this is Quan Zhong,” came the voice of a household servant outside.

“Go, summon a physician—bring several, and hurry,” Princess Yiyang ordered.

“Yes, I will go at once.”

“Wait,” Quan Ce called out, pausing before speaking loudly, “Bring the barefoot doctor you brought from Chang’an. If he has any folk remedies, we might use them.”

Quan Zhong acknowledged and departed briskly.

Princess Yiyang wished to tend to her son herself, but Quan Ce persuaded her to rest. Quan Luo joined in, crying sharply, so Princess Yiyang had no choice but to leave with her daughter.

Soon, the physicians arrived; their diagnoses proved reassuring, but the barefoot doctor was rather aloof, staying in a side room of the unnamed courtyard and refusing to see visitors.

Shazha Fu carried Quan Ce to the side room. The so-called barefoot doctor was bound hand and foot, masked and gagged, with Quan Zhong and a square-faced man in martial attire waiting inside.

Quan Ce had urged Xue Huaiyi to openly surveil key figures in the Eastern Capital, alarming them—not only to thwart Quan Yi’s collusion with Qu Chongyu, but also to stir the waters and flush out hidden vipers among Quan Yi’s circle.

The one sent to transport stones to Chang’an was someone else; Quan Zhong, after leaving Luoyang, soon returned to keep watch on the mansion, and caught Xiao Song red-handed.

Quan Ce waved his hand; Quan Zhong removed the blindfold. Xiao Song saw him and looked as if he'd seen a ghost, his eyes wide and lifeless, his mouth producing only muffled noises.

“You needn’t speak. Listen to me first,” Quan Ce limped closer. “You are not a death warrior, but this time, you have no way out.”

He spoke frankly; as the son who had caught his father’s confidant, even if he had suffered a beating, the charge of unfilial conduct was unavoidable. To cover up the matter, Xiao Song would have to die.

Quan Ce watched Xiao Song’s expression, speaking slowly, “I found many soft yellow slips in your room. This paper should not appear in the mansion.”

“My relatives like to use soft yellow slips for messages. Since Father arrived in Luoyang, all the letters from Chang’an have passed through your hands, using these same slips.”

“You are merely a courier; you should not need soft yellow slips, yet you have them. Father acts based on the messages you deliver; when Xue Huaiyi began to monitor him, you fled. Why?”

Seeing Xiao Song’s face turn ashen, Quan Ce felt certain he was nearing the truth. “You are a traitor.”

Xiao Song lifted his chin; Quan Ce waved his hand, and Quan Zhong removed the gag.

“Never expected—ha, Quan Yi, that fool, could have such a cunning son.” Xiao Song gasped sharply, indifferent to life and death, now fearless. “What does it matter that you guessed? The Empress’s spies are everywhere; anyone with dissent will not live long.”

Quan Ce sneered, curling his lip. “You must be mad. A few private meetings—so what? You have no evidence.”

“No, we do,” Xiao Song smirked. “Why else would I call him stupid? Chang’an ordered Quan Yi to send a letter to persuade Qu Chongyu…”

Quan Ce staggered, his facial muscles twitching.

Xiao Song was delighted by his reaction, his sinister smile growing wider. “He wrote it—not many words—for the sake of his future, urging Qu Chongyu to think twice and lend him a hand. He’s just a minor official in Luoyang—what does he need the General of the Left Martial Guard for? Hehehe, hehehehe…”

“Where is the letter?” The square-faced man punched Xiao Song in the groin, grabbed his throat and pressed him for an answer.

Xiao Song’s bizarre laughter choked off, his face reddening as he shook his head in triumph. “You won’t get it. By tomorrow at the latest, that letter will be on Qu Chongyu’s desk.”

He strained his neck, bones audibly cracking, fixing his gaze on Quan Ce. “Guess how he’ll respond? Heh heh…”

Quan Ce closed his eyes.

The square-faced man twisted his arm, snapping Xiao Song’s neck.

“Who are you?” Quan Ce asked him.

“Reporting to the Young Master, he is Shazha Shu, my clansman, working with Quan Zhong,” Shazha Fu explained, and as Shazha Shu pledged loyalty for the first time, he knelt in formal salute. “Master, what are your orders?”

Quan Ce looked up, feeling as if the ceiling was collapsing and the walls closing in, suffocating him.

Bianzhou, Junyi County—the Prefect, Di Renjie, hurried back to his office after traveling day and night.

Within a month, he had thrice traveled incognito to neighboring Ruyang County in Caizhou to visit the Prince of Yue, Li Zhen, the father of Li Chong, Prince of Langya, who was killed in a mutiny. Li Zhen had been restless lately, arousing suspicion in nearby counties, but only Di Renjie went to speak earnestly with him.

As for the results, Di Renjie could only smile wryly. Each time he went, Li Zhen spoke more than he did, berating Di Renjie thoroughly. He always returned dispirited, but after a few days, he would go again. No matter what, he had to fulfill his duty to find peace of mind.

Early the next morning, an official burst in like a whirlwind. “Prefect, the Prince of Yue has rebelled!”

Di Renjie sprang up in shock, calling out, “Report to the Empress at once—Li Zhen, Prince of Yue, has rebelled! Send heavy troops to suppress him!”