Chapter Twenty-six: A Game of Chess
Somewhere within a pavilion in the Eastern Capital, the faint scent of ink and paper lingered in the air. A half-unfurled, faded ink painting hung in the center of the room. Suddenly, a breeze swept through, sending coils of incense smoke winding upward. Two middle-aged men sat facing each other at a table. The northwest window allowed a clear view of four youths on Vermilion Bird Avenue below.
“At the entrance to the Shanglin Park today, that boy’s abilities far surpassed my expectations. It seems the old drunkard did not hold back in teaching him.”
A middle-aged man, dressed in robes whiter than snow, gazed calmly and elegantly at the person opposite him. “Now it seems the old drunkard was right, after all.”
The face before him was gentle and jade-like, refined and courteous; his eyes were deep and boundless, and his bearing was one of steady, tempered strength—a steel forged a hundred times over. Yet, faintly discernible, there was a heavy aura of killing intent about him.
The man lowered his gaze to the stalemated chessboard before him and said, “In your opinion, can this boy ever grow to reach where we stand now? I truly can’t understand what that drunkard is thinking, sending him into the Eastern Capital like this. Not only did you not stop him, you even let him cause an uproar outside the Shangguan estate. His Majesty was furious with your Celestial Strategy Division for what happened yesterday. The Grand Protector could barely extricate himself in court, harried by the censors. Do you realize how many people are demanding your impeachment? Prince Fu, the Marquis of Martial Valor, Prince Han, Prince Qing’an, and Gao Xianzhi, Protector-General of Anxi—just among the imperial clan and princes, no fewer than seven have submitted memorials, not to mention the censors under their command. Memorials are piling up, nearly burying the desks of the Secretariat. His Majesty already issued an imperial decree yesterday, but with today’s affair at the Shanglin Institute, it was rescinded. Now, I fear a new edict will soon arrive at the Secretariat, and within the hour, you at the Celestial Strategy Division will likely receive it. I truly don’t know what you and the old drunkard are thinking. Now, your position as Marquis of Martial Prowess is far from secure.”
“The Eastern Capital has been quiet for two hundred years. That night, fifteen years ago, when the old drunkard stirred up so much trouble, I sensed something was wrong. Now, in retrospect, he was right.”
The Marquis of Martial Prowess clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the pavilion window, gazing at Li Fu in the distance on Vermilion Bird Avenue. He said indifferently, “Emperor Taizong made a mistake back then, and his measures on his deathbed were far too hasty. Perhaps even he could not have foreseen that the events before the Black Tortoise Gate would still affect the Great Tang today. Though Lord Zhangsun altered part of the situation at the time, Great-grandfather’s sudden passing ruined all subsequent plans. Yet, two centuries ago, on that one night, ‘he’ appeared and rekindled hope for everything.”
At this, he turned around and fixed his gaze quietly on the man in gray. “However, it was at the most critical moment that you suddenly changed your stance—and not just once, but twice—which forces me to be wary of you.”
The man in gray said nothing, simply studying the unfinished game before him.
“But His Majesty… is, after all, my brother.” The gray-clad man finally looked up.
In the pavilion, a deep silence fell, utterly at odds with the distant clamor from the great avenue.
The Marquis of Martial Prowess was silent for a long time before he spoke. “Then why, all these years, has he planted spies at your side? Why have you guarded so closely against him? Did you ever tell him of our plans?”
The man in gray replied, “You know the imperial family is cold and unfeeling. Back then, I thought we were wrong—great-grandfather had been dead for so long, who could truly know his wishes?”
“So that’s it? But don’t forget why he once resolved to kill those people. You know well the ruthlessness of the imperial clan—were it not for our youth and Lord Drunken’s protection, do you think the two of us would be playing chess here today?” The Marquis of Martial Prowess pointed toward the distant Daming Palace.
“These past dozen years, are you truly unaware of what he’s done? Appointing only his favorites, entranced by Shangguan Qian in the rear palace, letting the Shangguan clan control half the court. At this rate, the Shangguans will become a second Wu family. From the Shenwu era to two centuries ago, has the blood of our Great Tang sons not flowed enough? Do you wish to see another age of darkness?”
“Perhaps we should never have entered the Hall of Lingyan in the first place.”
At these words, the expression of the man in gray shifted. “Even if we hadn’t learned the Hall of Lingyan’s secrets, others would have found them. Forget it, you and the old drunkard are both stubborn to the core. My days of idleness are over—you two madmen have bested me.”
Hearing this, the Marquis of Martial Prowess was silent for a moment before suddenly bursting into hearty laughter. “You’re speaking the truth, are you?”
The man in gray shook his head, face filled with helplessness and self-mockery. “Otherwise, do you think I’d come here to play chess with you, an incorrigible loser? Besides, I think Lord Drunken chose the wrong person back then—or perhaps, given the circumstances, there was simply no one else to choose.”
He picked up a black stone and placed it on the board. “You’ve lost.” Then, with a change in tone, “But it’s just as well Lord Drunken didn’t choose me. Otherwise, I’d have thrown aside the crown and abandoned that snarling throne long ago—it’s far too hard for my liking.”
The Marquis of Martial Prowess laughed, “With your temperament, you wouldn’t have lasted long even if you’d been bound to that seat.”
The man in gray stood, stretching lazily, and put the black stone back into the bowl. “Whether it’s yesterday or today’s incident at Shanglin Park, you’re in for trouble. What’s more, the Celestial Strategy Army’s strength far surpasses any other in Great Tang. You give His Majesty little choice but to guard against you. A prince wielding military power is always sensitive, and your influence now eclipses even the old drunkard’s in his prime. What do you imagine His Majesty thinks?”
“No matter. At worst, I’ll cede some inconsequential military authority. No one will dare move against the Celestial Strategy Division for now.” The Marquis frowned at the chessboard. “Still lost, did I?”
“Let me give you one more piece of news,” the man in gray continued, his voice cold and expressionless. “Last night, the imperial family dispatched four Golden Guard Commanders to the south—they’re targeting the old drunkard. You’d better be careful. Lose this time and there’ll be no more chances.”
“What?! To the south? Toward Liang Prefecture?”
The Marquis of Martial Prowess was shocked, his entire body trembling as though struck by lightning. His face changed instantly.
“What do you think?” The man in gray sighed. “The plot you and the old drunkard hatched in the Hall of Last Song left traces, after all. If even I could find them, do you think His Majesty couldn’t?”
“How did you find out?”
The Marquis blurted the words, visibly shaken.
“In matters of war and strategy, I can’t match you. In courtly intrigue, I’m no old drunkard. But when it comes to intelligence and overseeing the realm, can either of you outdo the Office of the Imperial Clan? Rest assured, I’ve already swept away the traces you and the old drunkard left behind. His Majesty hasn’t found much—he merely suspects. But since he sent the Golden Guards south last night, he’s clearly uneasy. With Lord Drunken’s sudden involvement today, his suspicions are only confirmed. This matter won’t stay hidden long—you’ll have to accelerate your plans.”
The man in gray looked deeply worried.
“I didn’t expect Lord Drunken to intervene in this matter. Since he has, we must hasten the next step—there’s so little time left…”
The Marquis gazed at the man in gray, dazed, a little lost for a moment.
“This game, set up over eight centuries, now depends on how you play it. I’ll do my best to buy you more time, but I must return to the Office of the Imperial Clan. We should see each other less. Unlike you, I don’t command hundreds of thousands of troops. I must rely on my own means to survive…”
With a faint smile, the Chief of the Imperial Clan let his scholarly air fall away, replaced in an instant by a palpable scent of blood.