Chapter Thirty-Four: The Fading Sunset (Part Two)

Jiu Zhu’s worries were not unfounded. The Tang Empire was far from unified; the friction between the Celestial Strategies and Divine Strategies was but one thread in a tangled web. What truly made one’s heart tremble was the strife among the imperial family itself. Every imperial succession throughout history had been accompanied by bloody slaughter. It was once said that the number of restless souls in the Daming Palace far exceeded those in any place of punishment in the Eastern Capital.

Since the reign of the Empress Dowager, one prince after another had fallen at the foot of the white jade steps before the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The blood that stained those steps had left faint crimson traces, remnants of the pitilessness of the royal house...

...

By the time the three left the Ancestral Temple, dusk had already settled. The slanting sun spilled across the streets of the Eastern Capital, casting their elongated shadows far behind them.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone on the red glazed tiles of the Daming Palace, making the palace roof glow an even brighter red. In the context of Jiu Zhu’s story, that crimson gleam seemed almost a mockery.

The three youths walked in silence down Zhuque Avenue, the grandest thoroughfare of the Tang. Not a word passed between them; each bore a quiet melancholy.

“Where do you suppose the eldest son’s descendant, the one Master Jiu Zhu spoke of, is now?” Yang Zixu finally raised his head and, gazing at the sinking sun, could not help but ask.

“He’s probably not in the Eastern Capital,” Chu Ge replied with a soft sigh. “If he were within these walls, surely the Office of the Imperial Clan would have caught him.”

The royal family’s means extended well beyond the reach of the Office of the Imperial Clan. Who could say what dark secrets lurked within Daming Palace? If they truly wished to kill a prince lost to the world, no one would ever know.

“The old man who passed away... contingency... protection... contingency... protection... Taizong...” Yang Zixu muttered to himself, a bold idea forming in his mind, though he dared not voice nor trust it.

“What are you mumbling about?” Li Fu asked.

Yang Zixu walked down Zhuque Avenue, head bowed, plagued by an odd sensation, as if something vital was slipping just out of reach. He dwelled on Master Jiu Zhu’s tale, his thoughts replaying its every detail, yet something still seemed to be missing.

“I’d wager that person is right here in the Eastern Capital! And he’s been living under the protection of some contingency left by Emperor Taizong or a lord of the Lingyan Pavilion since childhood!”

Suddenly, Yang Zixu looked up—and found a face barely a fist’s distance from his own. Startled, he stumbled back several steps.

“It’s not even night yet, why are you already jumping out of your skin?” the newcomer said.

It was Yang Ning. He looked at Yang Zixu’s flustered reaction with a hint of displeasure, frowning in annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” Yang Zixu asked.

Yang Ning sighed, explaining, “After what happened in front of Shanglin Park today, word has spread throughout the capital. When the three of you entered the Ancestral Temple, the Shangguan family sent people to repair the gate at Shanglin Park. Marquis Diwu instructed me to wait for you three to come out.”

Li Fu and his companions were a little surprised—the Shangguan family had sent people to repair the gate so quickly?

“What did Master Jiu Zhu want from you?” Yang Ning paused, then asked curiously.

“Do you think the ‘seed’ Master Jiu Zhu spoke of could be... him...”

Li Fu studied Yang Ning, pointed at him, and said with utmost seriousness, “What seed?”

Yang Ning was taken aback, not understanding what Li Fu was talking about. The way the three of them looked at him—as if he were some kind of monster.

“I think it’s possible!” Yang Zixu was the first to agree with Li Fu’s speculation.

“I wouldn’t rule it out. Otherwise, why would Marquis Diwu adopt him?” Chu Ge nodded after a moment’s thought.

“What nonsense are you all going on about? Are you three alright?” Yang Ning was completely lost.

“He’s an orphan?”

“Yes. Marquis Diwu took him in from childhood. No one knows his origins.”

“The Celestial Strategies were founded by Emperor Taizong.”

“Exactly. Not only does the Celestial Strategies defend the borders of Tang, but it also ensures the legitimate succession of the imperial throne.”

“That matches what Master Jiu Zhu said.”

“Then that’s it...”

The three seemed to forget Yang Ning was right there and began discussing the matter in earnest on Zhuque Avenue.

“Did your visit to the Ancestral Temple drive you mad?”

Yang Ning frowned, watching the three of them mutter to each other as if possessed, speaking words he could not understand.

But soon, the three fell silent and fixed their gazes on Yang Ning. The more they thought about it, the more convinced they were that Yang Ning was the very person Master Jiu Zhu had spoken of.

Yang Ning was so unsettled by their stares that he forgot what he’d meant to say. The four pairs of eyes darted back and forth, making the scene awkward beyond belief.

At last, Li Fu sighed, “But perhaps not. If Brother Yang Ning really is that ‘seed,’ wouldn’t keeping him at Marquis Diwu’s side be far too conspicuous?”

Yang Zixu ignored him and instead leaned in, scrutinizing Yang Ning’s face closely, missing entirely the spark of anger in Yang Ning’s eyes...

“Ow! Why’d you hit me?”

Yang Zixu clutched his forehead and hopped in pain.

That blow, of course, came from Yang Ning. He paid Yang Zixu no heed and instead turned to Li Fu with a serious look. “Did you really meet Master Jiu Zhu?”

Li Fu replied, “Yes, we did.”

“Did he tell you anything?” Yang Ning pressed.

Li Fu hesitated, uncertain whether to share Master Jiu Zhu’s story with Yang Ning.

“Let’s go back to Celestial Strategies first. This isn’t the place to talk,” Yang Ning said, glancing around. Indeed, though dusk had fallen, Zhuque Avenue was still crowded; it was hardly a safe place for such a conversation. Who could say whether spies from other houses lurked among the crowd? Especially with so much at stake.

Li Fu now regretted his earlier careless words.

The red sun dipped ever faster towards the west, and even in the depths of winter, a few streaks of scarlet cloud could still be seen—a rare sight. Yet none among them were in the mood to appreciate this beauty. Preoccupied, they walked on.

Looking down Zhuque Avenue toward Chang’an Street, the area in front of Shanglin Park was bustling with activity—members of the Shangguan clan everywhere. Two grand gates leaned against the street’s wall, while a crowd of onlookers gathered nearby. Today, the Shangguan family had lost all face in the Eastern Capital.

A prominent member of their clan had been killed, the family head had gained nothing at Shanglin Park, and now their own juniors had smashed the gates. They had no choice but to repair them, swallowing their pride and ignoring their humiliation.

Behind the Shangguan family stood the Divine Strategies and the favored imperial consort, but even they could not withstand a few offhand words from Master Jiu Zhu. He had not even mentioned the incident, yet the Shangguan family obediently moved to repair the gates at Shanglin Park.

...

“Do you think it’s worth it, destroying the bonds between fathers, sons, and brothers, just for that cold, unfeeling seat?” Li Fu suddenly asked, drawing his cloak tighter against the chill—whether from the wind or something else, he could not say.

“What do you think? That’s the supreme throne, after all,” Yang Zixu replied scornfully, casting a sidelong glance at Li Fu.

“I wouldn’t know. Never sat on it, and I don’t care to,” Chu Ge answered indifferently, shrugging his shoulders.

“What seat?” Yang Ning asked, puzzled. He had no idea what Li Fu and the others were discussing, but his curiosity about what had transpired in the Ancestral Temple only grew stronger.