Chapter Sixty-One: Killing Without Taking a Life

The official decree appointing him as Deputy Minister of the Court of State Ceremonies was swiftly issued. His health began to improve, and Quan Ce intended to return to his residence, but the Empress Wu forbade it, ordering him to recuperate for several days in the Shangyang Palace.

Princess Taiping would occasionally visit, and upon seeing his gloom, invited him to enjoy musical performances together. Her tastes were peculiar; she disliked singing, finding it vulgar, disliked dancing, deeming it noisy, and even disdained ensembles of multiple instruments, considering them too chaotic. Thus, the music she invited Quan Ce to appreciate was often pure, played by a single instrument.

“Elder Brother, why do you still look so languid? Is the melody too plain for your liking?” Princess Taiping cast him a sidelong glance, not waiting for his reply, and chuckled lightly. “I forgot, though you are well-behaved now, you have always been a frequent visitor in the world of romance and naturally prefer more flamboyant tunes.”

Even so, Princess Taiping had no intention of changing her preferences and continued to listen to a distant melody played on the transverse flute.

Quan Ce was silent, staring at her, his heart tangled in a myriad of emotions.

One task entrusted to him by the Empress Wu was to make Lady Ruilai disappear from Wu Youji’s side, and to make Wu Youji lose hope. Although the instructions did not explicitly demand Lady Ruilai’s death, it was a death in all but name; at the very least, Wu Youji must be convinced she was gone forever.

He had long known this was inevitable, and had once reproached himself for being unable to intervene, but he never expected that the task would fall upon his own shoulders, leaving him anxious and distressed.

The tortures of Lijing Gate were manifold, mere brief torments of the flesh, but a single utterance from the Empress Wu had lashed his soul, a punishment that would last a lifetime.

“Elder Brother?” Princess Taiping called to him reproachfully, feeling strange at his unwavering gaze. “If you truly dislike it, go wander in the gardens, but you are not fully recovered yet—no horseback riding.”

Quan Ce returned to himself, thought for a moment, then said, “Princess, this melody is elegant; it is not that I dislike it. Merely, a tune lingers in my mind, yet I know little of music and cannot compose it, which troubles me.”

“Oh? Tell me, I know a fair bit about music myself. If it is truly worthwhile, I could compose it for you.” Princess Taiping became interested, dismissed several musicians, and sat opposite him, listening as he hummed. At first, she found it amusing, but soon recognized the structure and patiently considered the tones and modes.

Transcribing guitar melodies into ancient notation was no easy feat; after half an hour's busy work, they had only a rough draft. Princess Taiping was not impatient, feeling quite accomplished. “In the coming days, I’ll invite some masters to refine it. By the way, Assistant Minister Wu is quite versed in music; I’ll ask him to consult.”

Quan Ce heard the name he least wished to hear, and his heart clenched.

Princess Taiping, oblivious, continued to critique, “The first half of this tune is gentle and joyful, with a touch of entanglement. The turn is deeply sorrowful, rich and moving, touching the heart.”

---

“Princess...” Quan Ce began, but was interrupted. Princess Taiping glared at him with slight annoyance. “We are not strangers; just call me Aunt.”

“Yes, Aunt.” Quan Ce smoothly complied. “Have you ever heard the legendary tale of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai?”

“Of course, the butterfly lovers. Are you suggesting...” Princess Taiping widened her eyes, turned to savor the score she had written. “Indeed, there’s no need to invite others to refine it.” She picked up her brush, marking the paper with full concentration.

Quan Ce smiled, and when she paused, he quickly asked, “Aunt, what do you think of Ma Wencai, the character in the story?”

Princess Taiping gave him a curious look and teased, “Born in a noble family, he is a man among men. If you fancy a lady and cannot win her, I can arrange it for you, hmm?”

“No, no,” Quan Ce waved his hand in denial, a flicker of hope extinguished in his heart.

He stayed in Shangyang Palace for seven days. Princess Taiping was preoccupied with composing and paid him little mind, while he agonized over how to act with the least harm possible, and gradually formed a plan.

Upon returning to the Princess Yiyang’s residence, he first went to greet his mother. Princess Yiyang embraced him tightly, weeping over him yet again. Quan Zhu was faring well; the five-year-old had grown chubbier and sturdier, and upon seeing Quan Ce, clung to him like sticky taffy, calling him “big brother” with endearing sincerity.

Quan Luo, however, was different. After more than ten days apart, she no longer recognized this “big brother.” When he reached out to her, she burst into loud cries, only calming once he withdrew his hand, content to play with her coral beads, a gift from Quan Ce. The little girl recognized objects, not people, which left Quan Ce feeling quite sullen.

Princess Yiyang summoned Fu Qu to join them for lunch. Observing their interactions, it was clear that Fu Qu had gained Princess Yiyang’s approval after their shared ordeal, taking charge of many household affairs. Quan Luo was fed by Fu Qu during the meal, and the little girl behaved perfectly, opening her rosy mouth and eating whatever she was given.

Quan Ce enjoyed the lively company of his family, yet his doubts remained unresolved. Upon returning home, his father, Quan Yi, was nowhere to be seen. His mother made no mention of it, and he dared not ask.

“Elder Brother, Young Lord Zheng, Young Lord Lu, Young Lord Han, Scholar Cui, Senior Official Du, and Junior Supervisor Li are here to visit,” the porter announced from outside.

“Go ahead, don’t tire yourself,” Princess Yiyang permitted. Fu Qu rose to tidy his attire, watching him leave on tiptoe. Princess Yiyang saw this, her heart a complex mixture of emotions.

The guests were all close friends and acquaintances, unconstrained by formality. Seeing Quan Ce alive and well, they relaxed, and none stayed long. Colleagues from the Hanlin Academy, including Song Zhiyuan and Zhang Shuo, also came to visit. The newly appointed Minister of the Court of State Ceremonies, Dou Lu Qinwang, sent representatives to offer condolences and urge him to assume his post soon.

---

He was busy until dusk before finding peace, returning to the secluded courtyard, where he pulled Fu Qu into the study.

“My lord,” Fu Qu, more anxious than he, flung herself into his arms like a fledgling returning to the nest, clinging tightly, her cheek pressed to his neck, cold tears falling as she murmured, “You frightened me so, frightened me so.”

Quan Ce lifted her and set her on his lap, embracing her closely. “Fu Qu, I did not see Father today; he’s not in the estate?”

“It’s strange,” Fu Qu quickly raised her head. “As soon as the consort recovered a little, he went out alone. When he returned, he was gravely ill, barely conscious. Once he improved, he refused to stay in the estate and went to the Song Mountain Observatory, two hundred li away, to recuperate.”

Quan Ce frowned in thought, a sudden realization dawning on him, and he slowly turned, his voice hoarse, “Fu Qu, arrange for there to be no bright colors in the courtyard from today onward. Have me wear plain garments. Tell others I narrowly escaped death and am making vows, avoiding luxury.”

Fu Qu nodded obediently, asking nothing, and went out to make arrangements.

Quan Ce leaned his elbows on the desk, covering his face with his hands. When an emperor wishes to kill, he destroys not only lives but hearts. His father's concubine and that eight-year-old illegitimate brother were likely gone.

Quan Ce felt some sorrow, but more fear.

Tang was a dynasty vast and magnificent, its grandeur swallowing rivers and mountains, but its glory belonged to only a rare few. Most people merely scraped by, enduring hardships.

Who could say how much longer he would survive?