Chapter Twenty-One: Planning for the Future

“Is something happening in Caizhou? Does the Duke have intentions in this matter?”

“No intentions.”

At the White Horse Temple, Quan Ce’s conversation with Xue Huaiyi began on a sour note. Xue Huaiyi, favorite consort of the Empress, was indeed lawless and wild, but he wasn’t stupid. He had never laid a hand on the Li family, nor would they be so tactless as to provoke him; thus, they coexisted in uneasy peace.

“I earned my title of Great General through my own abilities, leading troops into battle… That is my wish. Yet to turn my sword inward against my own people is beneath me. To the north, we have the Turks; in the east, the Khitan; in the west, the Tibetans and Qiang. The realm is unsettled, the world unpacified. The chance to don armor and take the field will not be rare. Why force the sons of China to shed their blood in vain?” Xue Huaiyi sat cross-legged on his cushion, his back to Quan Ce, his tone impassioned yet broken by pauses, robbing his words of force. From time to time, he glanced back furtively.

Quan Ce smiled. He wondered who had written Xue’s speech; it brimmed with the spirit of a hero, but lacked political sense. “My lord, let these words pass only between your lips and my ears. Do not repeat them to others.”

Xue Huaiyi spun around, indignant. “Why not? Not fighting our own kin but only the barbarians—surely that is the true nature of a man! Is that wrong?”

Quan Ce’s eyelids drooped as he replied softly, “My lord, since when have you and Prince Yue become kin?”

“If you disdain turning your sword inward, where does that leave the Empress?”

Xue Huaiyi slumped to the floor with a crash, his face twisted with anger and remorse, muttering over and over, “I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him…”

Quan Ce saw through him. This grand monk, relishing a chance to posture with noble sentiments, would surely spread his words around. Heaven knows how many people he’d already shared them with. For Quan Ce, this was an advantage. He quickly feigned anxiety. “My lord, what’s this? Have you already told someone? What sort of person are they? Do they have a conscience?”

Xue Huaiyi’s face turned ashen. “Sir Quan, you know I serve the Empress with all my heart. If a villain took advantage, it was never my intent. Please, you must help me.”

“My lord, it’s too late. Even if you had no intention, you are now implicated in Prince Yue’s rebellion.” Quan Ce sighed deeply.

Xue Huaiyi’s face darkened, his thick, bushy brows twitching wildly. He spoke with difficulty, “Is there no other way? Then I’ll don my armor and march to war! Who do I fear? Once dead, nothing matters.”

“My lord, you need not go yourself,” Quan Ce replied with a sly smile, like a cunning adviser. “Caizhou lies in Henan, merely a few hundred miles from the Eastern Capital. Suppressing the rebellion with troops from there is both proper and justified. All you need do is recommend a general from the Eastern Capital to the Empress, prove your loyalty, and cultivate your own influence. Isn’t this killing three birds with one stone?”

“You want to go? No… you’re not important enough. You want to go along?” Xue Huaiyi eyed him suspiciously, growing impatient. “You’re clever. If there’s some hidden benefit, say it plainly. I won’t let you get your way otherwise.”

Quan Ce sighed long and mournfully before explaining, “I cannot defy my father’s wishes. He holds high hopes for me, yet bears a grudge against the Thousand Oxen Guards and has long sought to move me to the Left Martial Guard under General Qu Chongyu, but has never succeeded. Now, I hope to use your influence, my lord, to accompany General Qu on campaign and finally fulfill my father’s wish.”

Xue Huaiyi burst into hearty laughter. “Excellent, excellent!” His expression darkened abruptly as he glared at Quan Ce, then struck him with a palm like a fan, scolding, “Scoundrel! Do you take me for a fool?”

Blood streamed from Quan Ce’s nose and mouth. He bowed deeply, “Your insight is peerless, my lord. I was impudent. Please reconsider.” His heart pounded; Xue Huaiyi was a crucial link. If he couldn’t be swayed, all hope was lost.

Xue Huaiyi’s eyes darted about. The plan, though self-serving, benefited both sides. Suspicion lingered between Quan Yi and Qu Chongyu, but there was no evidence of treason. Yet with the Quan father and son compromised, Xue himself would also be in danger. The more he thought on it, the more he resented the wretched Taoist who’d written his speech—if not for his bald head, his intentions must be sinister. He should be forced to shave his head as penance.

Shave his head? A sudden inspiration struck Xue Huaiyi. He broke into a slow grin and raised Quan Ce up. “Enough; your filial piety moves me. I’ll overlook your cleverness, but if I help your father, you must do something for me in return.”

“Whatever you ask, it is yours, my lord.” Quan Ce felt a measure of relief.

“Good.” Xue Huaiyi nodded in satisfaction. “I have no need of your money. I want you—to acknowledge me as your master.”

Quan Ce was taken aback. Since his arrival in Luoyang, he had anticipated such a request. Now, with Xue pressing the matter, he had no grounds left to refuse. He gritted his teeth—after all, it was only a change of hairstyle. “As you wish, my lord. But the shaving of my head must wait until after the campaign.”

Xue Huaiyi chuckled wickedly, savoring Quan Ce’s inner struggle. “I want you to acknowledge me as your master, not that golden Buddha.” He pointed irreverently at the great statue in the hall.

“Disciple Quan Ce pays his respects to Master Xue.” He knelt and performed the formal salute, thus sealing the bond of master and disciple.

Xue Huaiyi, delighted, helped him up. At last, he had tamed this clever youth and felt a sense of achievement. “These are troubled times; the initiation ceremony can wait. I’ll send notices to both capitals, making our relationship public. From now on, we share fortune and misfortune.”

“Come, let’s go see Qu Chongyu.”

Xue Huaiyi, never one for subtlety, immediately prepared the full regalia of a duke. He paraded ostentatiously through the streets of Luoyang and arrived at Qu Chongyu’s residence, only to find the guards assembled, horses readied, and Qu himself in full armor, his expression blank and resolute, as if about to set out on a great undertaking.

“Greetings, my lord.” Qu Chongyu bowed, glancing darkly at Quan Ce, who had arrived with Xue Huaiyi.

Quan Ce felt a wave of relief. Qu’s demeanor suggested he had no intention of accusing Quan Yi, but was more inclined to arrest him personally. The web of confusion Quan Ce had spun had triggered the old soldier’s ferocity. With evidence in hand, should the situation turn dire, Qu might kill Quan Yi outright to save himself.

Unaware of the tension between Quan Ce and Qu, Xue Huaiyi grasped Quan Ce’s hand. “General, Quan Ce is my beloved disciple. I ask that you look after him in the future.”

Qu Chongyu’s expression was conflicted. “General Quan is of noble birth, a trusted guard of the Empress and the Duke himself. I dare not presume.”

“You will, and sooner than you think,” Xue Huaiyi laughed, striding boldly into Qu’s residence.

Xue Huaiyi wasted no words, making his intentions clear: to recommend Qu Chongyu to lead the troops against the rebels, with Quan Ce transferred to the Left Martial Guard to accompany the army.

Qu Chongyu’s mind raced, but he could not see through the intrigue. Still, to be sent on campaign was a good thing. Crushing the Li family’s remnants would clear him of suspicion.

As they departed, Quan Ce spoke with meaning, “General, my father’s concern for my future has troubled you many times. To avoid suspicion, it would be best to communicate openly with the Empress rather than through private letters.”

For my future? Or for his own ambition?

A dog of a father, yet a tiger of a son—Quan Yi’s intentions were painstaking.

Daming Palace, Hall of Delight.

The Empress, feeling unwell, rose languidly. After her bath, she did not bother to change, her long black hair falling loose as she attended to state affairs.

Both Xue Huaiyi’s and Qu Chongyu’s memorials lay before her. In recent days, the affairs in the Eastern Capital had grown increasingly tangled. Reports contradicted each other—first claiming Quan Yi colluded with Qu Chongyu, then that father and son had fallen out, then that someone had attempted to assassinate Qu, and Hou Sizhi even accused Xue Huaiyi of treasonous intent.

“Hmph, all for the sake of ambition,” the Empress mused, half-believing the reports before her. She wished to close the matter, but it would not be so easily done.

“Your Majesty, several ministers from the Secretariat and Chancellery request an audience,” Shangguan Wan’er, veiled in gauzy silk, entered gracefully and knelt by the Empress’s side, their soft warmth mingling, filling the hall with fragrance.

“Let them in. Have the Hanlin scholars and attendants wait for instructions outside,” the Empress replied, showing no intention of changing her attire. After nearly a month of recuperation, her figure was more alluring than ever. While she might not match the beauty of the woman in Quan Ce’s painting, she came close enough. Why hide it? Let them see, then.

[End of section.]