The Emperor's Heart

It had been snowing for days, and the air was damp and biting. Every breath turned into mist, clinging to one’s face with a wet, uncomfortable chill. Xia Yunhe, wrapped in heavy robes, still felt the cold seeping into her bones. She raised a hand to wipe the moisture from her brow, paying no mind to her surroundings, when she was suddenly struck hard, stumbling nearly to the ground.

Fortunately, Li Fushun was quick-witted; he reached out and steadied her. The chubby chief eunuch’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to scold whoever was so blind, but upon recognizing the person, he extinguished his temper as quickly as a fire deprived of wood.

Xia Yunhe rubbed her arm, her gaze following the guard. He wore a black silk cap inlaid with gold thread and pearls, and was dressed in dark, close-fitting attire. His eyes were sharp, reminiscent of a hunting falcon. She found it strange—the man seemed to be in a great hurry, offering a nod of apology before striding away. Looking in the direction he had come from, Xia Yunhe saw the red walls and dark tiles, and the massive plaque hanging above the eaves: The Imperial Study.

Li Fushun led the way, announcing her arrival at the door. Once permission was granted from within, he ushered Xia Yunhe inside.

The floor heating kept the room warm. Emperor Hehui was still dressed in his imperial robes, a faint smile on his face. That morning, at the grand court assembly, the Ministry of Revenue had reported a rare hailstorm; livestock had perished, and the Jiangdong region was frozen solid. The disaster was far from optimistic. Seeing the Emperor’s expression, Xia Yunhe averted her gaze and stood composed, tucking her concerns deep within her heart.

"Yizhi, how many years have you been in Shangdu?" Emperor Hehui suddenly asked.

Xia Yunhe replied in a calm voice, "Since leaving home at the time of the Grain in Ear, it has been two years, six months, and three days."

A soft chuckle came from the throne. "You remember it quite clearly. Your health has always been delicate; you should keep warm during the winter and keep tonifying medicines on hand. When I saw you as a child, you weren't like this—you were like a wild little monkey, splashing about in the water and even daring to flick it onto my clothes."

"I was headstrong and unruly as a child, inadvertently disturbing Your Majesty."

"Don't be so stiff like the others. When I look at my own sons, I often think of you back then—lawless and fearless. Of course, you were younger and shorter than them, about this tall." The Emperor held his hand out to gesture near the desk.

The Emperor went on to speak of the Seventh Prince’s apprenticeship ceremony, inquiring about the health of Old Madam Xia and offering his regards. When the conversation turned to her father, Emperor Hehui sighed deeply, reminiscing about their old bond and even shedding a few tears.

"Your Majesty, since my father’s passing, every time I see his old belongings, I am overcome with sorrow. Recalling how my father often spoke of the 'Night Watchers,' I, too, am often troubled by their plight."

At this, Emperor Hehui interrupted her. "I know about the Xia family's affairs, and I know the Night Watchers suffer at the border, but unfortunately... your health is poor."

Xia Yunhe met the Emperor’s gaze, seeing the profound meaning in his eyes. She suddenly realized that the Son of Heaven’s eyes and ears were everywhere in the capital; her movements from yesterday were already as clear to him as fire in the night.

Her heart tightened, and she knelt, robes sweeping the floor. "Your Majesty, I simply could not bear to see the old, weak, and disabled among the Night Watchers left uncared for. I wished to provide them with a generous pension to share in Your Majesty’s burdens."

The room fell silent, filled with the oppressive scent of sandalwood. The Emperor’s majestic voice drifted down from above. "Very well. It is only fitting for the Xia family to handle this. You may attend to it privately."

"I obey your decree."

The Emperor laughed twice, personally helping her up. He invited her to appreciate his calligraphy and paintings, and even bestowed upon her a pair of gold-dusted, five-colored wax papers, telling her to teach the Seventh Prince calligraphy. The audience between the monarch and his subject was harmonious.

As soon as she stepped out of the palace gate, a memory flashed through Xia Yunhe’s mind. She had seen that guard before, in the Zhao Prison. He had presented an object to the Duke of Ding, who then displayed it to her in front of the Crown Prince.

A letter of treason... "Xia Yunhe, open your eyes and look clearly."

The handwriting was identical to hers; it was chilling.

Shaking off the memory, she lowered her eyes and gripped the wax paper in her hand. She would have to ask the Third Master Fu to investigate who had forged her handwriting. She took a few steps, then paused.

She pondered the words one by one: "Third... Master... Fu?"

Fu San had been hesitant yesterday, the Emperor had issued a warning today, and connecting this to the hurried guard from that morning... As the pieces fell into place, she felt a chill run through her. The Emperor had long since thoroughly dismantled the Xia family's intelligence network; why would he ever need her to manage pensions?

Yet, he had indeed agreed to let her handle it privately. Was it merely a ruse to go with the flow, or was there another motive?

Looking around, she felt lost. Shangdu was like a deep pool, drawing everyone deeper into its depths. A cold wind blew, and she broke into a cold sweat, coughing repeatedly. These schemes and counter-schemes were truly tormenting. Fu San could no longer be trusted, and while Zhen Niang was loyal, she was too straightforward. She would have to investigate this herself.

After the snow, the sky cleared, and the sun shone brightly for days.

The streets of Shangdu were bustling, crowded with merchants and soaring pavilions. With the end of the year approaching and the Emperor’s birthday near, the city was filled with lanterns and colorful decorations. It was a scene of great industry and festivity. Soon, the city would observe a three-day holiday, and everyone would be drinking and rejoicing.

Xia Yunhe strolled through the streets, immersed in the noise and the scent of everyday life. The vibrancy of the world slowly nurtured her heart, and she felt herself coming back to life.

Unfortunately, her investigation had made no progress. It was not that there were no imitators, but rather that the imitations were poor. In her previous life, seeing that "treasonous" letter had left her speechless; the brushwork, the spacing, the endings of the strokes—it was as if another version of her had written it. The control over detail was so precise that she knew none of these people were who she was looking for.

With no leads, the matter seemed to have reached a stalemate.

She watched street performers and storytellers for a while, stopped by a teahouse to hear the latest gossip, and continued to wander aimlessly. After turning onto Heifang Street, the high walls blocked the city's clamor, carving out a pocket of silence. The walls were covered in withered ivy, and following the guidance of the dry vines, she arrived at a place of tranquility amidst the noise.

The study was small, with pine and juniper bonsai lining the door. Beside it sat an ink-washing pool, and a basin pond held five golden carp swimming leisurely.

The plaque above the door was inscribed in ancient clerical script: "Mo Bai Zhai" (Ink Cypress Studio). Entering, an elderly man with silvery brows and crane-like hair was wielding a brush, writing: "Shine without dazzling; the quiet water flows deep. Harmonize with the light, mingle with the dust; expand and contract with the times."

Xia Yunhe stood quietly to the side, not wishing to disturb him.

The studio was simply furnished: a desk, a daybed, a censer, a brush, and an inkstone. To the right stood a bookshelf divided into three tiers. On the top were two stacks of xuan paper. On the wall hung a horizontal scroll inscribed with "Ink Rhyme Lingers in Fragrance" in a vigorous, archaic, and weathered style—identical to the old man’s own hand.

When the old man finished, Xia Yunhe addressed him as "Master Mo Bai" and praised the calligraphy on the wall. The old man stroked his beard and laughed. "Little friend, you may not know, but that was not written by me. It was a copy by my nephew, Xu Xing. I found his imitation so convincing that I hung it here, which often fools people—a bit of an amusing diversion."

Xu Xing? A forged script?

Xia Yunhe was both delighted and startled. She thought to herself that she had finally found a lead, and she bowed to ask, "May I ask where Master Xu is currently employed?"

Master Mo Bai sighed and shook his head. "Zihuai is determined to achieve academic success, but he has failed the examinations repeatedly and lives a destitute life. I often provide him with assistance, and he occasionally comes to borrow xuan paper."

Just as she was about to ask when Xu Xing might return, she heard someone call out from behind: "Master Xu, I have come to borrow some draft paper."

Her heart leaped. She turned around, and upon seeing the person, her brow furrowed—it was the sharp-eyed guard from before.

Today, he wore a simple blue-grey gauze robe that softened his lethal aura. His face was flushed and appeared slightly weary, with sweat on his brow, and he carried three packages of herbal medicine in his right hand.

Seeing Xia Yunhe, he was also taken aback. Master Mo Bai, unaware of the tension, enthusiastically introduced them.

Through the introduction, Xia Yunhe learned his name was Chen Haizhou. Xu Xing had once done him a kindness by providing a meal, and the two had become close friends.

Chen Haizhou greeted Xia Yunhe with a smile. "I was in a rush that day and bumped into you, Master Xia. I hope you will forgive me."

"Commander Chen was on official business; it is of no consequence."

Master Mo Bai asked in surprise, "So, you two know each other?"

Seeing Xia Yunhe reveal his title, Chen Haizhou’s expression shifted slightly. He took a subtle look at her and gave a dry laugh, turning to the old man. "We met once in the palace. Master Xu, Zihuai has caught a cold, and I have come to pick up some paper on his behalf."

Hearing his nephew was ill, the old man’s brow furrowed, and he asked for details, saying he would visit the next day. Chen Haizhou told him not to worry and, concerned for Xu Xing’s health, left in a hurry with the paper.

Xia Yunhe found it interesting that the Commander was always in such a rush.

The situation became clearer in her mind. She chatted a bit more with the old man about calligraphy, but noticing he was becoming weary, she took her leave, promising to visit again soon.

A few days later, the Seventh Prince donned his student robes. With attendants offering wine and a guide leading the way, he performed the apprenticeship ceremony, offering five rolls of silk, two dou of wine, and five pieces of dried meat.

Xia Yunhe gifted him brushes, ink, paper, an inkstone, and calligraphy books, encouraging him to study hard.

Half a month passed in a blur of activity.

One day, while Xia Yunhe was sitting in her home, organizing the information she had gathered on the forgers, the heavy grey cloth curtain was suddenly thrown open. A gust of cold wind rushed in, and she quickly protected her papers to keep them from flying away.

Zhen Niang entered carrying a tray of mung bean cakes, calling out happily, "Young Master, Third Master has arrived."

Standing at the desk, she peered through the gap in the curtain. Sure enough, Fu San was standing outside, rubbing his hands, hunching his back, and occasionally breathing into his palms to warm them.

Xia Yunhe hid the papers in a box and told Zhen Niang to let him in.

Fu San entered with a stooped posture, his expression respectful. He bowed and said, "Young Master." He then produced a stack of luowen paper from his robe. "This is the remaining roster of the Night Watchers."

"So many?" Xia Yunhe was startled. Unsure of Fu San’s intentions, she took the list and sat on the edge of the kang to examine it. Her expression, initially calm, grew darker the more she read.

"There are three hundred and eighty-four names on the list. Three hundred and forty-five have died in battle. Only thirty-nine remain."

No wonder the Emperor was willing to let her provide for the disabled soldiers; the once-great Xia family Night Watchers had been whittled down to almost nothing.

Since ancient times, monarchs had always secured their own power; Emperor Hehui was no exception. Perhaps from the day her grandfather, Xia Can, pledged his loyalty to the court, the fate of the Night Watchers had been sealed.

She looked up at Zhen Niang and smiled. "Zhen Niang, go out for a moment. I have something to discuss with the Third Master."

Zhen Niang acknowledged the order and stepped out.

Once Zhen Niang was out of earshot, Xia Yunhe said slowly, "Third Master, do you know Chen Haizhou?"

Hearing the name, Fu San looked shocked. He glanced at her with trembling lips, then fell to his knees and began to kowtow repeatedly, stammering, "Young Master, I did not intend to deceive you. It’s just... just that Commander Chen was sent by the Emperor. I did what I did, and the Old Madam agreed to it."

"The Old Madam agreed?"

"The Old Madam said everything was to protect the Xia family, and also... to protect you, Young Master. She said that beneath the eaves of a monarch, one cannot tolerate another sleeping soundly. The fate of your father is proof of that."

"Enough! You don't need to say more." Xia Yunhe gritted her teeth, interrupting him, but then she heard a voice calling from outside.

"Master Xia, please prepare yourself. The Seventh Prince’s first lesson is beginning; we are here to escort you."

There was a commotion outside. Xia Yunhe straightened up and motioned for Fu San to be silent.

She pulled the curtain aside just as Li Fushun was about to lift it. He folded his hands and smiled at her. "The Seventh Prince has been practicing his calligraphy for days and is clamoring for your guidance."

Xia Yunhe nodded. "Allow me a moment to prepare."

She dropped the curtain and heard Zhen Niang coaxing Li Fushun to wait in the courtyard.

Back inside, she saw Fu San hunched on the floor, glancing at her before lowering his head again. Xia Yunhe felt a pang of sympathy; he was a fellow villager and a servant of the Xia house for years. She helped him up and bowed deeply. "Forgive me, Third Master. I lost my composure. But there are many ears about; do not speak of this again. Wait until the palace attendant and I have left before you emerge."

Fu San nodded blankly, clumsily returning the gesture in imitation of her.

The heart of the Son of Heaven was difficult to fathom. She would have to make other plans.

After a quick wash, Xia Yunhe put on a smile and followed Li Fushun into the palace.