Chapter 135: Fire of the Divine Palace (Part 3)

During the first few days of the first lunar month, Quan Ce was on official leave.

The two hundred thousand strings of copper coins that Wang Xu had demanded were delivered to him on the fifth day of the New Year. This was not Quan Ce's idea, but rather an arrangement made by Rui Lai. She had sent a letter full of complaints, criticizing him for constantly dumping troublesome burdens on her while he went off to enjoy his leisure, swearing that the next time he visited Mount Song, she would give him a taste of her wrath.

Complaints aside, Rui Lai's actions were executed with absolute precision. She had taken a few small packets of gunpowder from the Directorate of Waterborne Transport, ignited one, and tossed it into the bell tower of White Horse Temple. Adjacent to this bell tower were the monks' quarters, where many monks lived, making it convenient for both security guard duties and ringing the bell to mark the hours. The gunpowder exploded. Since the bell tower was constructed entirely of stone, it suffered no structural damage, save for being scorched pitch-black by the smoke. However, the monks residing in the quarters met with a most miserable fate; dozens of bald heads were lacerated and torn apart by the blast, and one particularly unfortunate monk took the full force in his eyes, leaving him a bloody, mangled mess.

Xue Huaiyi flew into a rage. That bell tower was the very place where the New Year's bell-ringing ceremony had just been conducted, a site upon which Empress Wu herself had stepped. For it to suffer a gunpowder attack was an extremely ominous sign. Daring not to submit a memorial to the throne that would expose and escalate the matter, he resorted to a covert investigation to trace the origin of the gunpowder. First, his inquiries led him to the Directorate of Waterborne Transport. Following the trail through numerous twists and turns, it ultimately pointed straight to Wang Xu. It also did not help that Wang Xu usually lacked political shrewdness, wearing his emotions and prejudices openly on his face, and had never once shown civility or respect to the likes of Xue Huaiyi or Shen Nanmiao. Once the suspicion landed on him, Xue Huaiyi believed it instantly.

"Hmph, I was just fretting over how I couldn't get a grip on that punk, and someone conveniently delivers himself to my door. It would be impolite of me not to accept!" Xue Huaiyi's face twisted into a ferocious scowl as he waved a hand the size of a winnowing fan. "Send word to Quan Ce: tell him that if he doesn't come immediately, Princess Gao'an will soon find herself a widow."

At Taichu Palace, within the Directorate of Waterborne Transport, specifically in the office of the Junior Supervisor of Works:

Wu Youxu's forehead wrinkles were deep enough to pinch a mosquito to death. He fixed his gaze on the low-ranking eighth-grade official in blue robes standing opposite him, raised his teacup, and took a small sip. "Given your official rank, you actually dare to direct your superiors in their duties? I am quite curious: who gave you the audacity?"

"This subordinate wouldn't dare. It hardly counts as directing, hehehe." The blue-robed minor official smiled as brightly as a blooming chrysanthemum, nodding and bowing like a boneless creature. "This subordinate speaks purely out of good intentions. By now, it is no longer a secret that there is gunpowder stored within the Directorate. Such a lethal weapon can be deployed in military battlefields, but it can also be used in sinister plots. The Junior Supervisor is a man of pristine character, and this subordinate cannot bear to see you unwittingly dragged into dark conspiracies and suffer unmerited implication."

Wu Youxu stared at him for a long while. "Although the Directorate of Waterborne Transport is not a vital military stronghold, it is still an office of the imperial court. Which petty villains and bandits would dare to break ground upon the Grand Duke's head?"

Having completed his mission of delivering the message, the minor official saw no need for further persuasion. He hunched his back, refilled the supervisor's teacup, and slipped quietly out of the office.

Wu Youxu sat alone in the office with a gloomy expression for a long while. He thought until exhaustion weighed him down, yet he still could not grasp the crux of the matter. With a bitter laugh, he realized he simply lacked the talent for court intrigue. Even by retreating to such a desolate and quiet office as the Directorate of Waterborne Transport, he still could not escape conspiracies and right-and-wrong. Vast as the world was, there was no place left where one could find peace of mind.

Outside the door, hurried footsteps sounded, and his clerk burst into the room. "Junior Supervisor! Word just came down from the warehouse... some gunpowder has gone missing..."

Wu Youxu snapped his head up. "Such a thing has actually happened? How much was lost?"

The clerk shook his head, looking ashamed. "Your subordinate only heard the news and did not inquire about the details. I will go and ask right now."

"There is no need," Wu Youxu waved a hand, standing up. He turned right outside his door, made another turn down the corridor, and entered the office of Wei Ji, the Grand Supervisor of Works. Cutting straight to the point, he stated that despite holding the undeserved title of Junior Supervisor, he wished to dedicate himself entirely to technical craftsmanship and engineering methods, leaving all other administrative matters behind. He requested Wei Ji to grant this wish.

Upon first hearing this, Wei Ji initially suspected that this newly elevated imperial prince was dissatisfied with something, and attempted to probe with diplomatic laughter. However, seeing that Wu Youxu's determination to relinquish power was absolute, Wei Ji gladly accepted. Wei Ji was exceptionally enthusiastic about official advancement and bureaucratic career progression; back then, he had been willing to endure the condemnation of all officials in order to construct the Shangyang Palace with extravagant luxury, all to pander to the Empress and win her favor.

Having a prince of the imperial Wu clan sitting within the Directorate of Waterborne Transport had made him feel profoundly awkward, as he never dared to speak or act with absolute authority. Since the prince was voluntarily taking a step back—regardless of his underlying motives—he, the Grand Supervisor of Works, could finally live up to his true title. As for some lost gunpowder, he did not give it a second thought. When he constructed the Shangyang Palace, out of every ten portions of precious timber allocated, only six were actually used; the rest had vanished, diverted straight to the lumberyards of his hometown in Yongzhou.

At White Horse Temple, Quan Ce's arrival this time lacked the grand scale of his previous visit. Xue Huaiyi assumed the posture of an inquisitor, leading him directly into the chaotic wreckage of the monks' quarters.

"Dalang, Buddhism teaches that all living creatures suffer, and Heaven possesses a profound virtue of cherishing life. How did you manage to provoke the Prince Consort of Princess Gao'an so deeply as to perpetrate such a heinous and vicious deed within this pure, transcendental sanctuary?" Xue Huaiyi randomly strung together phrases of righteous indignation and unfathomable grief.

Quan Ce pulled a sour face. "Master Xue, surely there must be some misunderstanding in all of this."

Xue Huaiyi flicked his wrist and tossed a sheet of paper to the ground. It was the private ledger record secretly kept by the chief administrator of the Directorate of Waterborne Transport after Wang Xu's household members extracted the gunpowder. The ink was clear upon the page, providing conclusive evidence of the crime.

Quan Ce did not catch the paper, letting it flutter helplessly down to the floor. A wave of guilty warmth flushed across his face; he recognized the handwriting instantly—it belonged to Yuniang. Waving his hand to dismiss his attendants and guards, he bowed deeply. "Master Xue, Buddhist law is boundless, and mercy is its foundation. Surely you would not deign to quibble with my uncle by marriage. Quan Ce is willing to offer ten thousand strings of cash as incense money, and earnestly implores Master Xue to raise your hand and show mercy."

"Ten thousand strings?" A greenish glint flashed in Xue Huaiyi's eyes. "Dalang, you run such a massive business, yet you are being altogether too stingy."

Quan Ce forced a bitter smile. "It is not that I am stingy, but just the other day I lent twenty thousand strings of copper coins to my uncle, leaving my pockets rather empty."

Xue Huaiyi rolled his eyes, waved his hand, and patted Quan Ce on the shoulder. "Ah, hahaha, let us not speak of such worldly filth. Since the preceptor has laid this matter bare before you, I harbor no intent to pursue it further. However, I am troubled by a heavy grief in my heart, and I must rely on Dalang to help me untangle and resolve it."

Naturally, Quan Ce knew where his grief lay. He rubbed his chin. "Quan Ce is dull-witted and my considerations are limited. Whatever clumsy methods I might think of... The Lantern Festival is a time of nationwide celebration, and Her Majesty will ascend the Tianjin Bridge on the Luo River to rejoice with the common people. That presents the absolute best opportunity. Only... Master Xue, you will have to suffer a bit of physical hardship."

"Dalang, dispense with the false modesty! Speak quickly, what do you mean by physical hardship?" Xue Huaiyi asked, unable to contain his impatience.

"During the Lantern Festival, lanterns will illuminate all of Luoyang, filling ten thousand homes with light. When Her Majesty makes her imperial procession to Tianjin Bridge, if a gigantic Buddha image were to rise up, it would perfectly verify the prophecies of the Commentary on the Great Cloud Sutra. If this Buddha image were to be painted with vermilion essence and fresh blood, it would surely radiate a brilliant, dazzling luster. However, Tianjin Bridge is magnificent and stands two hundred feet tall; the height of the Buddha image should ideally be no less than that. Master Xue, you will have to endure some suffering," Quan Ce explained clearly.

Xue Huaiyi was overjoyed. "This strategy is brilliant! Brilliant! I once cast the Palace of Myriad Phenomena and expounded the Great Cloud Sutra, rendering great service to the Great Zhou and to Her Majesty. Her Majesty merely forgot—she merely forgot! If this Buddha image can stir Her Majesty's recollections of the past, then the likes of Shen Nanmiao—mere flatterers and actors—what are they worth worrying about? Hahaha! Hahaha!"

Quan Ce accompanied him in a round of laughter and offered a reminder, "Master Xue, the vital energy and blood within a human body are limited and cannot be excessively depleted. From today until the Lantern Festival, there are still more than ten days remaining. It would suffice to draw blood each morning and evening, proceeding gradually over time. You must not rush for quick success and damage the fundamental foundation of your body."

Xue Huaiyi's eyes flashed momentarily before he paternally patted Quan Ce on the shoulder. "Dalang possesses filial piety; the preceptor understands. Naturally, I will act according to my capacity."

Quan Ce smiled and nodded, knowing full well that this big bald monk was bound to pull some crooked stunt, which filled him with a mild sense of disdain. The man wanted to vie for imperial favor yet begrudged putting in genuine physical effort; truly, he was a creature impossible to respect. "Master Xue possesses great loyalty and righteousness, and Quan Ce's admiration knows no bounds. However, my uncle by marriage..."

"Rest assured, Dalang, we are all family here, hahaha!" Xue Huaiyi laughed arrogantly. "The preceptor promises you two things: it will not go through official legal channels, and it will cost no lives. You may set your mind completely at ease."

For a fleeting second, an ugly expression crossed Quan Ce's face before he smoothly restored his smiling countenance, wearing the resigned look of someone who accepted his defeat. "Everything is at Master Xue's disposal."