Chapter 55 - The New Emperor's Shadow
On the sixth day of the twelfth lunar month, Shen Tingjiao ascended the throne. He took the regnal name Jiayu, and the era was rechristened Xinghe. Both the imperial title and the era name had been personally selected by Yin Zhuli; they carried the profound meaning of nurturing the people’s livelihood and enriching the nation.
The grand coronation ceremony was held at the Chengtian Pavilion. Shen Tingjiao had insisted on streamlining the expenses multiple times. Fortunately, with Yin Zhuli overseeing the arrangements, the budget was kept under tight control. She was a woman who knew the value of every copper, and her Chief Steward, Hao Jian, was a man so miserly he could squeeze oil from a stone. Consequently, while the ceremony was modest, it lacked none of the required solemnity and majestic gravity.
On that day, the sky was clear and the sun was mild. The civil and military officials of the court stood in two disciplined ranks along the sides of the great stone staircase. Yin Zhuli stood at the very base of those nine hundred and fifty steps, watching from afar as he accepted the kneeling homage of the assembled ministers. As the thunderous, soul-stirring strains of the palace music rose into the air, the figure atop the stairs—clad in the imperial dragon robes with wide sleeves and the ceremonial beaded crown—exuded an aura of absolute hegemony. It was a presence so radiant it seemed to part the clouds and bring the warmth of spring back to the frozen earth.
Yin Zhuli could not help but squint her eyes against the brilliance.
The ascension of a new emperor brought a mountain of administrative trifles, but the most pressing matter was the formal investiture of the Empress Dowager and the Empress. Shen Tingjiao selected an auspicious day to confer the title of Empress Dowager upon his mother, Consort Dowager He. While the former Empress Dowager Fu was permitted to retain her title, the reality of the palace was cold and stark; beyond that empty honorific, she truly possessed nothing else.
The ministers waited with bated breath, but the Jiayu Emperor remained silent regarding the position of Empress. He did not breathe a single word concerning the status of the former Empress, Qu Lingyu.
Those who held a place in the imperial court were all shrewd individuals, and soon, dark rumors began to circulate in the shadows.
Inside the Imperial Study, Empress Dowager He broached the subject of the Empress’s selection for the third time. Her voice was calm, yet it carried an underlying current of maternal pressure. "My son, your mother knows you hold deep affection for that Yin Zhuli. But you are now the sovereign of a nation. That Yin family... they are nothing more than parasites who scavenged their wealth from the chaos of war. Do you have any idea how much profit those merchants reap from every conflict—from the warhorses and fodder to the iron halberds and cotton garments? Do you truly intend to establish Yin Zhuli as your Empress?"
Fu Chaoying was in full agreement with this sentiment. "Your Majesty, now that you have taken up the heavy burden of this vast realm, you cannot afford the luxury of womanly compassion. Qu Tianji was the Princess Consort’s biological father, yet she meticulously plotted his demise. How can a person with such a scorpion’s heart be allowed to remain by Your Majesty’s side?"
Cai Chang, an elder statesman from the previous administration, added his voice to the chorus. "I implore Your Majesty to reconsider. Though the Northern Zhao dynasty was corrupt, the Great Xing would never have been able to pacify the world within a mere six months if not for the betrayal of the Yin clan. When the cart in front overturns, it serves as a warning to the one behind. We must not repeat the mistakes of the past."
Shen Tingjiao sat quietly, his fingers idly tracing the contours of a paperweight on his desk. It was carved from fine Qiantian yellow stone into the likeness of the divine beast Baize. The craftsmanship was exquisite. Years ago, Yin Zhuli had casually picked it up from a street market in Chang'an, and somehow it had found its way onto his desk. He had grown accustomed to using it, and when he moved into the palace, the servants had brought such trifles along with his essentials.
There were six close ministers present in the study, all of them seasoned veterans of the court. Seeing the new Emperor smiling without speaking, they found themselves unable to fathom his thoughts and eventually lapsed into a hesitant silence.
When no further advice was offered, Shen Tingjiao took a shallow sip of his tea and spoke softly. "Since there are no other matters, you may all withdraw."
The officials began to see which way the wind was blowing. Gradually, those opportunistic sycophants began to submit memorials detailing the faults of the Princess Consort of Fulu. This particular woman was, unfortunately, riddled with flaws from head to toe. Had she remained a commoner in the marketplace, her wanton behavior would have been a mere trifle, but for her to serve as the "Mother of the Nation" was a notion that invited endless scrutiny. If one were to truly list every instance of her unchaste and unladylike conduct, the entire court wouldn't have to do anything else for a year.
Shen Tingjiao looked through the twenty-odd memorials, which were all largely identical in their condemnation. He sipped his tea in silence, and after reading them, he set them aside—yet he kept them atop the pile of matters still awaiting his decision.
A new reign meant a thousand things required rebuilding, and Great Xing was in desperate need of capable men. Because He Jian had been Shen Tingjiao’s tutor—previously just a scholar living off the Prince of Fulu’s charity—he now leaped to the position of Imperial Preceptor. Shen Tingjiao appointed him as Chancellor, and no one in the court dared to object.
Zhang Qing, the Emperor’s adopted son, possessed extraordinary martial skills. He was appointed Commander of the Imperial Forest Guards and put in charge of the capital’s defenses, becoming a rising star in the court. Many of Shen Tingjiao’s former attendants also received rewards and titles. Yin Zhuli often joked that when one man attains the Dao, even his dogs and chickens ascend to heaven. Knowing her loose tongue, Shen Tingjiao never took offense.
After the morning court sessions, the ministers would inevitably crowd around He Jian to exchange a few words and curry favor. He Jian was a man of humble bearing, hiding his sharp brilliance behind a mild exterior, yet he was a master of strategy. It had been his idea for the Ninth Prince to approach Yin Zhuli in the first place.
Shen Tingjiao treated him like a father, consulting him on almost everything. One day, a minister ventured to ask, "Lord Chancellor, His Majesty has delayed the appointment of an Empress for so long, but the inner palace cannot remain empty forever. We have submitted many memorials, yet there is no response. What do you think is truly on His Majesty’s mind?"
He Jian merely smiled. "Did Censor Jian also submit a memorial?"
The speaker was indeed an Investigating Censor, and he looked somewhat embarrassed. "Lord Chancellor, this is simply the collective will of the officials..."
He Jian patted his shoulder with a grin. "In truth, whether an Empress is appointed, or who she might be..." He raised a hand and pointed toward the heavens. "None of those people have the final say."
With that, he strode away, leaving the ministers utterly perplexed. If the Emperor and the Dowager didn't decide, then who did?
During those days, Yin Zhuli remained in the palace, though not out of any newfound sense of propriety. Zhang Qing’s Imperial Guards would not allow her to take a single step outside the palace gates. She stayed in Zhaohua Palace, her situation indistinguishable from house arrest.
Shen Tingjiao was buried in state affairs and did not visit her at night. She was not one who could sit still; for the first two days, she occupied herself by gathering the first dew from plum blossoms to brew tea, but by the third day, her temper began to flare. Unfortunately, the guards Zhang Qing had sent to "protect" Zhaohua Palace were exceptionally skilled. She had no desire to truly harm them, so she could only glare in frustration.
Shen Tingjiao had placed many playthings in Zhaohua Palace to amuse her, even keeping peacocks, pheasants, and cranes within the grounds. At that moment, she was in the study, using a charcoal brazier to roast a pheasant. Shen Tingjiao walked in from the outside, entering the study directly without waiting for an announcement.
Seeing the room filled with oily smoke and the once-proud pheasant stripped of its feathers, sweating grease over the fire, he couldn't help but chuckle. "It seems you have truly become one who 'cooks the crane and burns the zither'—a destroyer of elegant things."
Yin Zhuli sucked the grease from her thumb and tore off a drumstick, handing it to him. "The seasoning is lacking, so just make do."
Shen Tingjiao did not take it. He studied her closely; her eyes were like the rain-washed landscapes of Jiangnan, filled with a misty, emerald depth. "The weather is cold. Eating like this might upset your stomach."
Yin Zhuli took a bite herself and said nothing more. Knowing she was displeased, Shen Tingjiao turned and poured a cup of hot tea for her, his voice soft and tender. "I am going to visit my Imperial Brother tonight. Would Zhuli like to come along?"
The way he spoke, leaning close to her ear with that familiar mix of tenderness and doting, was the same as before, yet he no longer seemed weak. Yin Zhuli felt a strange sense of displacement. It was as if she had raised a kitten, only for it to grow into a tiger after many years, and now she was the one being looked after.
Sensing the flicker of unease in her eyes, Shen Tingjiao wrapped an arm around her waist. A hint of a smile danced in his gaze, like the grass by a mountain stream in early spring. "Let us go."
The first snow of December fell suddenly upon Chang'an. In weather cold enough to turn dripping water into ice, the street vendors had all packed up early to return home. The long streets were dark and silent, save for the muffled, crunching sound of footsteps breaking through the thin ice.
Shen Tingyao had originally been held in a secret villa within the city, but they were now traveling in a different direction. Yin Zhuli knew this boded ill. Now that Shen Tingjiao held absolute power, his only remaining threat was this former Emperor, who had been publicly declared dead in the chaos of the rebellion. Fu Chaoying could not bear to kill him, but Shen Tingjiao could never truly tolerate his existence.
Had he brought her here today simply to show her the fate of a political rival as a warning?
At the thought, she looked up at Shen Tingjiao. The accumulated snow brightened the night. Sensing her gaze, he gently squeezed her hand, his smile so refined and ethereal it surpassed even the beauty of the snow.
After half an hour, the carriage arrived at a small courtyard. The guards were not palace personnel, but Zhang Qing was already waiting there. Without waiting for orders, he took a key and opened the door. Shen Tingjiao led Yin Zhuli into the inner courtyard. Zhang Qing unlocked another door, and as they stepped inside, Yin Zhuli felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
In the dead of winter, Shen Tingyao was chained to a wall with iron links as thick as a man's wrist. The chains had been driven through his collarbones, effectively crippling his martial arts.
Seeing the two of them enter, he let out a cold sneer and turned his face away.
Yin Zhuli merely observed the color of the blood around his wounds. Shen Tingjiao’s voice rang out again—soft and clear, yet laced with a terrifying ruthlessness. "Imperial Brother, have you been well?"
Shen Tingyao spat at him fiercely but remained silent. Shen Tingjiao didn't mind. With a slight wave of his elegant hand, servants brought in a large bronze cauldron. Without further instruction, they piled firewood beneath it and struck a flame.
Before long, the bronze cauldron began to glow a dull, fiery red. Shen Tingjiao pulled Yin Zhuli into his arms and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Imperial Brother, living like this... how is it different from being a mere husk? It is only right that you depart for the Yellow Springs early to seek your next reincarnation."
Looking at the glowing cauldron, Shen Tingyao’s expression finally broke. "Shen Tingjiao! If you want to kill me, then do it cleanly! Why must you subject me to such torture?"
Shen Tingjiao chuckled, his smile blooming like flowers in the warmth of spring, carrying the faint scent of storax. "Imperial Brother, Empress Dowager Fu caused my mother decades of lonely suffering. I am willing to personally see you off; you should be grateful."
The servants standing in two rows stepped forward. Without blinking, they unchained Shen Tingyao. Despite his desperate struggles, they hauled him toward the red-hot bronze cauldron. The moment his flesh brushed against the rim, a plume of thick smoke rose, and the acrid stench of burning skin filled the air. Yin Zhuli felt a phantom pain in her own feet and instinctively recoiled.
She was a merchant; though she was well-traveled and had seen much of the world, this was the first time she had witnessed the horrific spectacle of a living man being roasted alive. Shen Tingjiao held her firmly, letting her lean against his chest. His voice was as warm as the morning sun in April. "Do not be afraid, Zhuli."
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