Chapter 107: Disaster Born of Self-Interest

Page (1/3)

At Lijing Gate, when Hou Sizhi was absent, the gate’s registrar took charge of relaying news from the outside world to Quance. Unlike Hou Sizhi, the registrar lacked subtlety and did not discern which pieces of information were crucial to Quance; he simply recited all the official reports from the court without filtering.

Quance sat cross-legged on the soft, brocaded bed, dressed in luxurious garments. His eyes were half-closed, his expression neither joyful nor sorrowful. From a distance, he looked like an enlightened immortal, surrounded by mist and clouds, listening to prayers.

As the registrar read on, he grew drowsy, his voice lowering in tone and becoming more earnest. Occasionally, when Quance furrowed his brow, the registrar’s nerves would tense for a while.

“Fan Cilu died at home.”

“Wei Yuanzhong was demoted and expelled from the capital.”

“Yan Baili was exiled three thousand li.”

…

Quance’s brows twitched, and he interrupted, “Wait, why was Yan Baili exiled?”

The registrar was momentarily stunned but instinctively explained, “He was impeached by the supervising censor Fu Youyi, found guilty of false accusations, and also of disturbing the imperial examination system; hence, the court decided on exile.”

Quance heard this but appeared as if he did not, his face calm and unruffled like still water.

The registrar snapped back to attention, somewhat resentful, and snorted lightly, “The Empress Dowager held a special palace examination at Luocheng Palace for three thousand tribute students, appointing Cui Shi, a scholar from Dingzhou, as the top scorer of this session. The decree mandates that after the metropolitan examination, there shall be a palace examination, establishing a perpetual rule.”

Quance sighed deeply and declared with certainty, “I suppose all forty-five tribute students connected to me must have been disqualified.”

“Hmph, don’t flatter yourself with guesses or think too highly of yourself,” the registrar found a chance to retort sarcastically. “Among the forty-five tribute students, except for Ge Hui, who abandoned the palace exam, the rest all ranked in the second class and obtained the Jinshi degree.”

Quance remained unperturbed, merely twitching the corner of his mouth before falling silent again.

Though a civil official, the registrar had long mingled in the treacherous confines of Lijing Gate and bore a bad temper, especially intolerant of prisoners brazenly flaunting themselves under his nose. In a fit of anger, he stood up, flung a stack of scattered papers into the air, and tossed them about wildly, leaving behind a curt remark, “Figure it out yourself,” before storming out.

Quance stood motionless, staring blankly at the prison gate, making no move to pick up the papers from the floor. After a moment, he lifted his head slowly, his cheeks spreading into a grin, “Ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha…”

His laughter grew louder and louder until tears welled in his eyes, nearly causing him to choke.

Footsteps approached rapidly, growing louder as if drawn by his laughter. A corner of white cloth fluttered in—the figure of Hou Sizhi. “Brother, what’s going on here?”

Page (2/3)

Quance crouched on the ground, clutching his stomach, the remnants of laughter catching in his throat, each breath punctuated and labored.

Hou Sizhi was furious, kicking aside a retainer behind him. “You scoundrels! What have you done? Fetch my whip!”

“Stop, Brother Hou, it’s nothing,” Quance managed to say as he struggled to suppress his laughter and helped himself up. “It’s not them; I just thought of some ridiculous people and matters, and couldn’t hold it in.”

Hou Sizhi was puzzled but waved his men away, rolling up his sleeves and sitting down. “Locked up in this dark place, what could possibly make you laugh so heartily?”

Quance pointed at his own nose. “Brother Hou, do you find this man amusing?”

“Don’t joke,” Hou Sizhi’s teeth tingled with unease. When Quance was struck down, he was blunt and unresponsive, causing much worry. Now that he seemed a bit better, he grew arrogant and wild. “I have some idle news to share with you.”

But it was no ordinary gossip. In the northern market, a private residence experienced flooding—a common occurrence—but within the waters were corpses, mostly young and strong, numbering over forty. Two people survived, though strangely, they dragged half-burned bodies and went to the Luoyang government offices to surrender themselves, revealing their origins and identifying the perpetrators.

Wei Yuanzhong, the magistrate of Luoyang, had already left his post. His temporary replacement, the deputy magistrate, was terrified halfway through hearing their story and dared not listen further. He ordered strict surveillance and petitioned the Court of Judicial Review, the Censorate, and the Autumn Officials’ Department for a joint investigation.

Hou Sizhi sympathized with the deputy magistrate. “It’s understandable he’s so timid. You don’t know—the two confessed their master was Wu Yanxiu, and the perpetrator was the steward from Wu Yizong’s household.”

“I suppose the judiciary won’t take this case lightly,” Quance murmured. Provoking two powerful factions of the Wu family was no small matter.

“Don’t be anxious; there’s more to the story,” Hou Sizhi teased, deliberately withholding. “The steward from Wu Yizong’s household was eyeing Forgetting Love Valley and the Yishui Pleasure Boat…”

He paused, only to see Quance’s indifferent expression, showing no urgency. Hou Sizhi had forgotten that if there were truly serious issues, either he would have concealed them from Quance or revealed them early for strategy discussions. Presenting it like a riddle could hardly signify a grave matter.

Finding no amusement, Hou Sizhi revealed the truth. “Forgetting Love Valley is one thing, but at Yishui Pleasure Boat, a singer, four dancers, and two divine maidens served the steward. They strangled him while he was drunk, then drowned themselves together. The boat declared permanent closure. The scandal rocked the pleasure district. Some said Wu Yanxiu exacted revenge; others claimed Wu Yizong silenced him; still others said the steward’s demise was retribution for his own misdeeds. Because of this mess, Wu Chengsi confined Wu Yanxiu at home, dismissed several servants from Wu Yizong’s estate, and divorced a concubine—rumored to be the steward’s sister.”

Such a tangled web of poison alarmed Quance. “The deputy magistrate of Luoyang will likely petition for reinforcements again…”

“Of course,” Hou Sizhi sipped his tea, “and someone has taken the case.”

“Who would dare take on such a case?” Quance asked in surprise.

“Newly appointed Minister of Justice, Di Renjie,” Hou Sizhi named the familiar figure. This man, despite a troubled fate, had finally secured a position in the capital.

Quance was momentarily speechless, filled with admiration. The old gentleman indeed had guts, choosing a tough nut for his opening case.

“Brother, I firmly believe this matter has nothing to do with Princess Yiyang’s household, but some parties might disagree,” Hou Sizhi saw Quance’s indifference and hastened to enlighten him. “You are always wise; if you have any hints or words, I can pass them along for you.”

Page (3/3)

Quance paused. “Brother Hou, I appreciate your intention. But please don’t act rashly. If you too become a prisoner, I don’t know how I would carry on.”

Hou Sizhi shook his head repeatedly. “No, it’s not about me acting on my own; the Empress Dowager’s decree allows me to deliver messages to you, and if you have orders, I must obey.”

Thoughts raced through Quance’s mind, suddenly a pang struck his heart, yet his face brightened with joy. “In that case, I shall trouble you, Brother Hou. I have a few words I wish you to convey.”

After some reflection, Quance wrote a note and handed it to him.

Hou Sizhi smiled wryly. “If it were simple, you wouldn’t bother putting it to paper.”

Quance waved him off, signaling it was no trouble.

“How shall I gain their trust?”

“No need to gain trust. Just give it to Quan Xiang, the steward in my court. He knows how to handle it.”

Hou Sizhi nodded and took the note.

Quance settled his mind and carefully pieced together the sequence of events. He was nearly certain that no one had been scheming against him. The person he had been communicating with all along was the Empress Dowager herself. Had he declared his stance at the court meeting that day and firmly denied guilt, Li Ruo Chu would not have admitted guilt either, and Yan Baili would have died for false accusations. Unfortunately, he confessed, resisted no opposition, and surrendered to the imagined Li clan.

The Empress Dowager’s fury was understandable, but how Princess Taiping persuaded her to spare him physical harm remained a mystery.

He found himself utterly ridiculous, believing he could mention a scheme against his life to the Empress Dowager and walk away unscathed. Retribution follows like a shadow; the Empress had begun plotting against him—and he was the first target.

The more the Empress trusted him, the less she tolerated his tentative, uncertain steps. She wanted Quance to understand that in this world, only she could decide his life and death, his wealth, and his future.

So be it. Born a pawn, to bow beneath her pomegranate skirt was a futile matter.

Yet, sometimes, a well-prepared pawn can play the role of the player.