Chapter 110: Joys for Some (Part I)

In the first month of the first year of the Tian Shou era, a series of complex and far-reaching cases in the Eastern Capital Luoyang finally came to a close.

At Lijing Gate in Shanglin District, the personal guard of Prince Yue, Li Zhen, was captured. Letters found on him revealed that the case implicated twelve branches of the Li clan, including Duke Huaiyang, Li Xun. Officers from Lijing Gate swiftly scoured Luoyang and beyond in pursuit.

Not long ago, Wu Yanxiu and Wu Yizong, tailing cautiously, stirred up trouble by fabricating and embellishing accusations, spreading strife and bloodshed throughout Luoyang. Within days, several pages were lost from the imperial genealogy of the Li royal family. Fortunately, the ancestors—Emperor Gaozu Li Yuan and Emperor Taizong Li Shimin—were vigorous and their descendants numerous, capable of weathering storms. Otherwise, by now the Li family would have been extinguished.

The aftermath of this incident lingered. The newly appointed Minister of Justice, Di Renjie, burning with anger, submitted a report sternly impeaching Hou Sizhi of Lijing Gate for disrupting justice, encroaching on legal authority, and acting recklessly.

Empress Wu issued an edict reprimanding Hou Sizhi, yet bestowed money, silk, and a residence as wedding gifts—inside and outside, her stance unmistakably clear.

A month later, Quan Ce finally emerged from the dungeon three levels underground. His face pale, he looked up at the sun in the sky. The sunlight was dazzling yet so dear and lovable.

At Taichu Palace, Xianju Hall, Empress Wu wore a golden phoenix robe. Her upper garment was thin and translucent; before her chest, a deep crimson cordia fruit swelled prominently. Between the two tender mounds lay an enticing, bottomless cleft. She paced the hall holding a painting, examining it, then herself, occasionally stretching out her hand to measure, her expression sullen. Attendant Shangguan Wan’er stood nearby, her expression a mix of sorrow and joy.

“Criminal Quan Ce, pay homage to the Heavenly Empress,” Quan Ce knelt deeply. He wore no official robe; still imprisoned, he donned the ornate silk clothes supplied by Lijing Gate, markedly different from his usual attire—bright colors, embroidered patterns, excessively flamboyant.

“Rise. Do you still remember this painting?” Empress Wu’s voice was gentle and steady, not like a summons to a criminal, nor mentioning charges or faults. She spoke as if chatting.

Quan Ce was momentarily dazed. Raising his head slightly, he recognized the corner of the painting depicting a prosperous figure—it was the one he had drawn. Above the neck was Empress Wu; below, the full-body sketch of Bingbing. He was somewhat startled. When the painting had gone missing, he had worried, never imagining it ended up in the Empress’s hands. “I remember, Your Majesty. I meant no disrespect…”

“Enough,” Empress Wu snapped, “Have you truly seen such a figure?”

Quan Ce choked but resolutely lied, “I have not seen it in reality, only imagined and sketched it at random.”

“Hmph.” Empress Wu snorted, tossing the painting aside and gracefully sitting on the couch, glancing at him. “If the peace-loving ladies saw this, they might be pleased. No wonder she fussed over you... Not stupid. If you had only come to your senses a little earlier, I wouldn’t have bothered keeping your dignity.”

“Your servant thanks the Heavenly Empress for her grace,” Quan Ce bowed deeply.

Empress Wu stared at the back of his head for a long moment, then left the couch and approached him. “I offer you two paths: to the Lintai Bureau to compile books, or to the Northern Ministry to command troops. Choose.”

“I wish to compile books,” Quan Ce answered without hesitation, preferring the quieter post. He needed a period of silence. Always stirring up trouble before the court and constantly appearing was no blessing. Though the recent academic fraud incident was ultimately proven baseless, and the Li royal family still showed patience, if he kept skirting the edges, dancing with Empress Wu, the fabrications might become reality, and he would be truly besieged.

Empress Wu laughed coldly and kicked him in the shoulder with force, sending him tumbling. “A useless thing with no responsibility can never become great. I refuse to let you have your way. Get out.”

Quan Ce rose slowly and backed toward the door. Empress Wu buried herself in paperwork but glanced sideways. Shangguan Wan’er, having served the Empress for thirteen years, was well attuned to her moods. She rose and followed Quan Ce out.

They walked side by side, Quan Ce noticing a subtle melancholy about her. Neither spoke.

They silently passed Taichu Palace and reached Chongguang Gate. Quan Ce stopped and looked at her sideways. “Wan’er, to survive in this world, everything is trivial. Our greatest comfort to each other is that today, we are still alive. May you be grateful and joyful with me.”

He did not know why she was downcast, but knew that those struggling to survive like them had no right to linger in sorrow. A single word of resentment at a moment of peace could cost a life.

Tears slid down Shangguan Wan’er’s full cheeks. She gazed at him intently, lips trembling as she managed a faint smile. “Darling, the Empress has granted me an outside residence in Sigong District, adjacent to Shanglin District. Darling, remember to visit.”

Quan Ce’s heart jolted sharply. Clever as he was, he understood the implication. Both he and Shangguan Wan’er bore the sins of their birth; the only difference was gender. In any era, a woman carries an extra wound. The Empress’s gift of a residence likely came with permission to indulge in pleasures. Such sanctioned decadence, seemingly absurd, effectively cut off any chance for Wan’er to marry well. Her supporters in the court and scholarly circles would henceforth harbor only lascivious thoughts, no admiration.

Thus, Empress Wu could safely use her—just as she had subjected Quan Ce to imprisonment and torment to break him.

Quan Ce reached out, briefly grasped her hand, then gently let go. Words failed him; any would have been superfluous.

They bowed to each other with solemn grace, exchanged a knowing smile, then turned away in opposite directions.

Outside the palace gate in the square, Princess Yiyang, Princess Gao’an, Fuqu, and Wang Hui, along with Zheng, Lu Zhaoyin, and Cui Rong—all family and friends who had heard of the news—came to welcome him. Princess Gao’an held him tightly, sobbing loudly. These days she had been stretched thin caring for the Yiyang Princess’s household, utterly exhausted. Quan Ce’s safe return finally allowed her to release her pent-up grief.

Quan Ce comforted her carefully, his gaze roaming as he greeted each familiar face. Seeing Juedi and Shaza Fu, he nodded slightly. For the sacrifices made for him by the Wordless Stele, his only repayment was to live well.

The group returned to the residence, stepping over the brazier. Princess Gao’an busily arranged for him to change clothes, bathe, and burn incense.

That evening, a grand banquet was held. Relatives and friends gathered to welcome Quan Ce back. Guests filled the hall. Princess Taiping and Wu Youji came together, bringing the Empress’s decree appointing Quan Ce as Deputy Director of the Lintai Bureau and Acting General of the Left Yulin Guard, assigned to guard the palace.

Expressions varied. The Lintai Bureau was formerly the Secretariat, responsible for managing classics and books, proofreading texts for reference—a quiet office. The Deputy Director rank was mid-fourth grade, neither high nor low. It seemed like banishment to a cold office, yet the military rank of General of the Left Yulin Guard was a palace elite commander, equal to the Thousand Riders, overseeing the imperial guards’ scheduling—a position akin to a chief attendant minister, suggesting trust. The subtlety was worth pondering.

Quan Ce calmly accepted the decree and respectfully invited Princess Taiping and her husband to take their seats. The banquet resumed its lively atmosphere.

Late at night, in the study.

Quan Ce listened attentively as Juedi and others recounted the events surrounding the Wordless Stele.

“How severe were the casualties?” Quan Ce asked softly.

“Sixteen dead, dozens wounded. Of the Eight Steeds, two more were lost; only three remain,” Juedi’s voice choked with emotion.

Quan Ce was silent for a long time, then asked, “Where did she go?”

Quan Zhong knew whom he meant. “Returned to Mount Song.”

“That is good,” Quan Ce nodded, turning to Yunu. “In the future, you will stay by her side to receive orders.”