Chapter Thirty-Five: Scorching Sun, Burning Heart (Part Two)

Eastern Capital Luoyang, Renhe Quarter, situated at the southeastern corner of the city, embraced by two branches of the Yi River, its scenery picturesque and serene. Though far removed from the imperial palace, the price of property here remained high and unyielding. Nobles and wealthy merchants of the Eastern Capital delighted in purchasing estates in this quarter, using them for leisure and repose on days of rest, to nurture both body and mind.

Or perhaps, there were other purposes as well.

At dusk, a procession of carriages and horses departed from a residence in Renhe Quarter. The master lingered at the gate for a moment before striding onto his carriage. The lady, dressed in noble finery, held the hand of a child with features as delicate as carved jade, waving long and hard, bidding the carriage farewell.

Not long after the carriage left, at the back gate, a servant in a green robe and cap wheeled out a barrow, heading out through the nearest Changxia Gate. Once outside the city, about four li distant, someone awaited by the roadside. The servant abandoned the barrow, mounted a swift horse, and galloped westward along the official highway.

The horse beneath him began to thrash wildly as if seized by madness, its forelegs trembling, until it collapsed headlong to the ground.

The servant was flung far, crashing heavily onto the road. His bones screamed in pain, several iron nails embedded in his flesh, agony wracking him until he howled. As he struggled to collect himself, two gleaming cleavers pressed coldly against his neck.

Tonight, the official road between the twin capitals was fraught with unrest.

At a relay station near Tong Pass, a case of food poisoning occurred. The villains, cunning and sly, had smeared poison upon the tableware. All guests at the station fell victim. The station’s clerks and guards, busy with official duties, escaped harm. Fortunately, the poison only caused weakness, not death. Soon, several black-clad, masked bandits burst in. A desperate struggle ensued; the assailants were fierce, murdering several. The defenders believed themselves doomed, but a whistle sounded, and the bandits feinted, scattering and fleeing. It turned out they had accomplices who snuck in through the back door, making off with a carriage belonging to the Princess of Gao’an.

The station sent for physicians overnight, triaging by rank. The doctors, unskilled in such street tricks, labored long, only restoring movement; the numbness and fatigue lingered. As soon as Prince Wang Xu could move, he ordered immediate departure. The party, supporting themselves on stair rails, struggled to descend, but before they reached the ground, the relay station was engulfed in flames. Again, bandits attacked; whether the previous lot returned or new ones were drawn by interest, none could tell. This time, their numbers swelled, their cruelty deepened. Lime powder, darts, and hidden weapons showered down with clattering menace.

The station chief, desperate, exclaimed, “Heavens curse them! Hold fast, do not let harm come to the Prince!”

The guards’ courage had already bled dry; they cowered behind pillars and doors, shouting but refusing to venture forth. The bandits ignored them, charging directly at Prince Wang Xu’s group. Loyal servants and guards, bodies weak and soft, tried to shield their master, but were hacked down mercilessly, without a hint of compassion. Wang Xu, terror-stricken, collapsed. Wang Hui gripped the stair rail, desperately shielding a servant behind him, a posture that made the bandits unexpectedly gleeful. With a leap and a flurry of kicks, they sent Wang Hui sprawling, then brought a rain of cleavers down upon the servant, reducing him to minced flesh.

A whistle sounded, and the bandits scattered in chaos.

“Pfft…” Wang Hui, struck in the chest, spat blood, his legs bleeding profusely. Seeing the servant shredded to bits, he was seized by nausea and bitter regret. He should have heeded his elder brother’s warning; the road to the Eastern Capital was truly a pit of dragons and tigers.

Wang Xu, drenched in cold sweat, moved slightly and murmured, “Set out, to the Eastern Capital.”

“Father, after all that, why still go to the Eastern Capital?” Wang Hui asked, bewildered.

Wang Xu glared at him, “To cure your illness.”

Wang Hui shrank back, not daring another word.

At the Bright Palace, in the Hall of Joyful Attendance, the many sons and nephews of the Li and Wu clans gathered to pay their respects to Empress Wu, offering early New Year greetings. Not all had the privilege of appearing here: Wu Sansi, Wu Chengsi, Princess Taiping, and Emperor Ruizong came with their whole households; Wu Youji and Wu Youning arrived alone, while others from the collateral branches brought only a few representatives, seated in humble positions.

Inside the hall, kinship was celebrated, the atmosphere harmonious.

Quan Ce hid behind a curtain, jotting down a brief note: “His Majesty enters the Hall of Joyful Attendance with Princess Taiping and the Wu clan to offer New Year greetings.” He paused, his gaze drifting toward Wu Youji, whose gentle nature never changed, welcoming even the youngest with a smile. He stole a glance at Princess Taiping, seated beside the Empress. From Quan Ce’s angle, only her profile was visible: a long neck, a face bright as silver, a figure more robust than her mother’s.

Much gossip surrounded the marriages of these two, but the truth was elusive.

Quan Ce’s thoughts wandered until, unawares, someone turned the conversation toward him.

Wu Yanxiu, the third son of Wu Chengsi’s household, recalled their earlier dispute over the imperial horse. “Grand-aunt, I want the Imperial Steed. Please grant it to me.”

“The Imperial Steed?” Empress Wu, cheeks flushed from wine, pondered for a moment before recalling, “That horse from Emperor Gaozong—I’ve already given it to Quan Ce. Yanxiu may choose another.”

“I want none other, only the Imperial Steed!” Wu Yanxiu pouted and pleaded.

“Impudent!” Empress Wu cast aside her cup and rebuked him sharply. The atmosphere tightened as Wu Chengsi slapped his son and both knelt in penance.

Quan Ce rose and respectfully yielded, “Your Majesty, the Imperial Steed is proud, difficult to handle. If Your Majesty permits, I would gladly choose another mount.”

Empress Wu fixed her gaze on him, breath unsteady. “Why is that?”

Quan Ce, uncertain, dared not answer rashly and kept silent.

“I’ve heard you moved into the Gao’an Princess’s residence?” Empress Wu suddenly asked, seemingly unrelated.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Alone in Chang’an, my aunt worried for me, so she had me move into her estate for care.” Quan Ce, unable to discern her intent, answered truthfully. In the Princess of Gao’an’s residence, he lived like a pampered young lord, showered with affection, yet felt ever more the weight of responsibility.

“Do you know Taiping?”

The questions grew stranger by the moment. Even with two lifetimes’ experience, Quan Ce was at a loss, kneeling, “Your Majesty, I am anxious. I recognize Her Highness, the Princess.”

Empress Wu’s interest suddenly faded. “Enough, enough. The Imperial Steed is yours; keep it well. Dismissed.”

Emperor Ruizong left with Empress Wu. Princess Taiping made a deliberate circuit, stopping before Quan Ce, casting a cold glance at his face, then swept her sleeves and departed.

Quan Ce was last to exit the hall. Someone awaited him: Wu Yanxiu, as bold as ever, charged at him like a leopard. But the effect was less than desired. Quan Ce, trained in both martial discipline and the rigors of war, was no longer a novice. He merely swayed, did not fall. Instead, Wu Yanxiu, too forceful, stumbled back several steps and landed on his rear.

Quan Ce stepped forward, offering a hand. Wu Yanxiu slapped it away, scrambling up, his face red with anger, then slowly shifting to smugness. He pointed at Quan Ce’s nose, “Quan Ce, just wait. You want to save your wretched uncle? Not only will you fail, but I’ll see you dead as well! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that damned horse joins you in the grave!” With a huff, he strode off.

Quan Ce watched his retreating figure, neither sad nor joyous.