Shadow guards

The ninth day of the fourth month, in the eighth year of Jianxi.

Xiao Huaijin's character for "heaven" was beginning to look quite respectable.

He did not think so himself, discarding each one he wrote and pushing the paper over for his imperial father to inspect whenever he finished a row. Between reviewing memorials, Xiao Lin took it, glanced at it, and said, "Write it again." So Xiao Huaijin wrote it again. After a dozen or so attempts, Xiao Lin set down his brush, lifted him onto his lap, and guided his hand through another. This time, Xiao Huaijin did not stiffen-he had grown used to the warmth of his imperial father's hand. He even tugged at the wrist as the brush touched down, making that left-falling stroke longer than his imperial father had intended.

"...Too long."

"It looks better longer."

Xiao Huaijin tipped his head back, pressing the back of his head against his imperial father's chest.

Xiao Lin did not argue. He folded the paper and tucked it into his sleeve.

That afternoon, there was an additional person in the imperial study. Kong Wu stood outside the screen, clutching a roster, and had already waited for an incense stick's worth of time. Liu An had signaled three times for him to wait a little longer, and he had pretended not to see every time. Only after the wet nurse led Xiao Huaijin away for refreshments did he step into the hall.

"Your Majesty, I have finished investigating Zhao Bao's background."

Xiao Lin looked up from his memorials.

"Zhao Bao entered the Imperial Guard in the third year of Jianxi on Shen Boyong's recommendation, and was transferred to the Eastern Palace as captain of the front-gate guards in the sixth year. His record lists him as a native of Hejian Prefecture, but I sent men there-" Kong Wu lowered his voice a little. "Zhao Bao is not from Hejian. He was an orphan the Shen Clan brought back from Liaodong years ago, raised by Shen Boyong's steward. The Shen Clan altered his registered birthplace. Before joining the Imperial Guard, he spent three years guarding the chancellor's residence."

"Go on."

"The Eastern Palace currently has twelve guards: four at the front gate, two at the rear gate, and six on patrol. Three of the twelve are former Shen Clan retainers-Zhao Bao, Sun Cheng of the patrol, and Qian Qi at the rear gate. We have found no problems with the others for now." Kong Wu paused. "There is something else. When His Highness the Crown Prince was first born, the Eastern Palace was assigned two wet nurses. One is the nurse still serving there. The other resigned and returned home in the twelfth month of the fourth year of Jianxi. I searched the old files and discovered that her resignation memorial had been held up for three days-the person who held it up was an overseer in the Imperial Household Department at the time, surnamed Shen."

Xiao Lin tapped a finger against the imperial desk. The fourth year of Jianxi. Xiao Huaijin had been only one year old. The Shen Clan's hand had already reached into the Eastern Palace.

"Is she still alive?"

"I sent men to look for her. She returned to her hometown in Xuzhou that year, but there was no further word of her after she reached Xuzhou. The neighbors said they had never seen her," Kong Wu said. "She may already be dead."

Silence settled over the hall for a moment. Xiao Lin lifted his teacup, did not drink, and set it down again.

"Leave Zhao Bao in place for now. Sun Cheng and Qian Qi too. Let them fly like kites, and see who else is holding the strings."

"Understood. But-Your Majesty," Kong Wu took half a step forward, "the Eastern Palace has none of our own men at present. Shall I secretly transfer two men from the Imperial Guard, disguised as cleaning servants? They would not draw attention."

Xiao Lin did not answer immediately. He looked at Xiao Huaijin's drawing of "a big person and a little person" on the desk-the crooked curve at the corner of the crowned adult's mouth. The ink had dried completely, and the paper was a little wrinkled.

"Assign men from my personal attendants, but do not send them into the Eastern Palace. Station them outside the walls, with a new shift each day. Watch for just one thing-anyone who has dealings with the Palace of Nurtured Elegance or the chancellor's residence. Record their names, the times, and what they say."

"...Not inside the Eastern Palace."

Kong Wu repeated those words, then suddenly understood. Keeping them outside the Eastern Palace was the safest arrangement until the Eastern Palace itself could be trusted. He said, "I will see to it at once," and was about to withdraw when Xiao Lin spoke again.

"One more thing."

Kong Wu stopped.

"What is Zhou Rucheng doing these days?"

Kong Wu was taken aback. Zhou Rucheng-the third-place scholar from the late emperor's reign-had taught His Majesty for thirteen years and was the imperial tutor. But after ascending the throne, His Majesty had merely given Zhou Rucheng a nominal post at the Hanlin Academy, bestowed a few gifts on holidays, and rarely seen him. Kong Wu considered before answering, "Lord Zhou has been at leisure at home these past two years, compiling books."

"Send word tomorrow summoning him to the palace. I intend to choose a grand tutor for the crown prince."

Xiao Lin paused. "Keep it quiet. Have Liu An go in person."

Kong Wu frowned slightly. Choosing a grand tutor was neither a great matter nor a small one, but sending Liu An in person-that was an honor second only to the personal delivery of an imperial edict. He did not know why His Majesty had suddenly taken such an interest in an old Hanlin scholar who had been idle for years, but he knew not to ask what he should not. He acknowledged the order, bowed, and withdrew.

On the tenth day of the fourth month, Zhou Rucheng entered the palace.

The old fellow looked older than his years, his hair entirely white, though he was still nimble on his feet. He entered the Hall of Mental Cultivation and was about to kneel upon seeing Xiao Lin seated behind the imperial desk when Xiao Lin spoke first.

"There is no need to kneel, Grand Tutor."

Zhou Rucheng froze for a moment. Xiao Lin had never addressed him to his face as "Grand Tutor" since ascending the throne. He straightened and studied the pupil he had taught for thirteen years, feeling that something about him had changed. His face was as cold as ever, his eyes and brows unchanged, but when he looked at someone-there was something held beneath that coldness, something difficult to put into words.

Xiao Lin dispensed with pleasantries and went straight to the point.

"The crown prince is four this year and beginning his education. I want you to become his grand tutor. Your salary will be doubled, you will be granted quarters in a side courtyard of the Eastern Palace, and you may enter the princes' schoolroom at any time."

Zhou Rucheng was silent for quite a while. During his years of leisure, he had not been unaware of which way the winds blew at court-the Shen Clan was powerful, the noble consort favored, and the crown prince had no place in the emperor's heart. Now His Majesty had abruptly summoned him back to tutor the crown prince; there was probably more behind this than teaching. But he had taught this man for thirteen years, and knew one thing: Xiao Lin never acted with only a single purpose.

"May this old subject venture a question?" Zhou Rucheng began. "Why has Your Majesty chosen me?"

Xiao Lin looked at him. In his previous life, Zhou Rucheng had taught Xiao Huaijin for thirteen years, from the age of four until the final month before disaster struck. Before the palace coup, the Shen Clan had fabricated charges against Zhou Rucheng and imprisoned him, and he had died in the Ministry of Justice's prison. No one had collected his body. Only after the seventh day following Xiao Huaijin's death had Xiao Lin remembered to ask what had become of the grand tutor. By the time he asked, the man was already rotting in prison. He owed this old man a life.

"You taught me. I trust you."

Zhou Rucheng lowered his head and straightened his cuffs. This was probably the most forthright thing he had heard Xiao Lin say since his accession. He asked no further questions, merely saying, "This old subject obeys," before withdrawing. As he stepped out of the hall, he saw Liu An standing beneath the covered walkway. The two old men exchanged a glance without speaking, but each read the same meaning in the other's eyes: the skies over this palace were about to change.

On the twelfth day of the fourth month, Xiao Huaijin formally became his pupil.

The ceremony took place in the eastern side chamber of the imperial study. It was simpler than ancestral custom prescribed, but nothing essential was missing. Xiao Huaijin wore a newly made apricot-yellow robe-the wet nurse had stayed up for two nights altering the overlong sleeves-and knelt on a cushion to kowtow to Zhou Rucheng. Afterward, he called him "Grand Tutor" in his soft, childish voice.

Zhou Rucheng looked at the four-year-old child, who knew what memories stirring within him. He glanced back at Xiao Lin, who stood in the doorway with little expression on his face. But Zhou Rucheng noticed the sheet of paper peeking from his sleeve-the edges were already worn fuzzy, and he could faintly make out a big person and a little one on it. He helped Xiao Huaijin up.

Xiao Huaijin looked up at this white-bearded old man and felt that he was different from his imperial father-his imperial father was cold, like the wind outside the window on a winter morning, but you knew he was there. This white-bearded old man was warm, like the red date porridge his wet nurse cooked.

After the ceremony, the wet nurse led Xiao Huaijin back for lunch. Xiao Lin kept Zhou Rucheng behind.

"Grand Tutor. Deliver the crown prince's schoolwork to the Hall of Mental Cultivation yourself each day. I want to see every piece."

Zhou Rucheng agreed. Then he weighed his words and asked a question.

"Does Your Majesty have specific requirements for the crown prince's schoolwork, or do you simply wish to look at it?"

"I want to see all of it."

Xiao Lin said. Then he paused and added, "He usually writes with his left hand. Do not force him to change. Take it slowly."

Zhou Rucheng was taken aback. He had taught Xiao Lin for thirteen years, and Xiao Lin had always spoken only of results, never the process. Yet the man before him was actually discussing which hand a four-year-old child used more deftly. He said nothing more, merely nodding. But his steps were a little lighter as he left the hall.

Late that night, Xiao Huaijin finished his last sheet of characters and fell asleep sprawled over the low table. The wet nurse carried him to the couch, and he turned over drowsily, tucking the brush in his hand beneath his pillow. Early the next morning, he climbed out of bed and shuffled in his shoes to the window, where his horn bow lay on the sill. There was a faint tooth mark on the bow's back. He picked it up and rubbed the mark, then turned back with a smile.

"Nanny. From now on, Imperial Father will look at me every day."

He said it without hesitation, as though stating an answer he had found only with great difficulty.

That afternoon, an unexpected visitor arrived at the Hall of Mental Cultivation. Sun Jingtang, Minister of Revenue, requested an audience, saying he had an urgent matter to report. Xiao Lin had him admitted. Sun Jingtang was a veteran official who had served two emperors and overseen the Ministry of Revenue for more than a decade. He never formed factions and spoke little. Xiao Lin bore him no particular ill will, but had never been close to him either. After entering and paying his respects, Sun Jingtang took a ledger from his sleeve.

"Your Majesty, the Ministry of Revenue has finished checking this year's spring tax accounts. But there is one expenditure I have reviewed three times, and it still seems wrong. In the third month this year, the Ministry of War withdrew a sum from the Ministry of Revenue-not a large sum, fifty thousand taels-under the heading of repairs to the Capital Garrison's arms and equipment. I took an extra precaution and sent someone to inquire at the Capital Garrison. They said they had made no recent repairs to their arms and equipment, nor had the silver reached their accounts."

Xiao Lin sat up straight. Fifty thousand taels was neither a great sum nor a small one. But falsifying military funds was a beheading offense. If the Ministry of War dared do this, someone more powerful must be backing them. He asked Sun Jingtang where the silver had gone. Sun Jingtang said it had been remitted to a merchant firm in Hejian Prefecture called the Hengtai Firm, whose registered owner was surnamed Shen.

Shen. Xiao Lin lifted his teacup and took a sip.

"Who else knows about this besides you?"

"Only myself and Vice Minister of Revenue Zhang Qian. I personally promoted Zhang Qian. He can be trusted."

"Do not breathe a word of it. I will have the Ministry of War investigated in secret."

Sun Jingtang acknowledged the order, left the ledger on the desk, and withdrew. Xiao Lin opened it, looked at the line reading "Capital Garrison arms and equipment repairs-fifty thousand taels," then closed it again. He remembered now. In the eighth year of Jianxi in his previous life, he had investigated the Ministry of War, but the noble consort had not long entered the palace and was then at the height of his favor. Out of consideration for the Shen Clan, he had merely sent the accounts back to be redone without digging deeper. He did not know how much that fifty thousand taels had later become. But he knew one thing-maintaining private soldiers cost silver. Xiao Yu had already maintained three hundred private soldiers at fourteen.

He locked the ledger in the lowest drawer of the imperial desk. No one but him could open that drawer. Inside were also a list Kong Wu had delivered, a draft edict confirming Zhou Rucheng's return to teaching, and that little drawing folded into a neat square-a tiny bit of ink stained its corner, smudged there when Xiao Huaijin had added a small flower beside the figures after finishing the drawing. Xiao Lin had not wiped it away. He locked the drawer and began reviewing the next memorial.