ITIEQ C84

Chapter 84 – Yet Still the Bright Moon Shines on the Ditch

Very soon, Shen Qinghe saw the red‑cedar forest Xiao Yuanzheng had spoken of.

On land, leaves burned red; in water, their reflections, also scarlet—an unbroken expanse of beauty, as though stepping into some celestial realm.

Even someone like Shen Qinghe, never much moved by aesthetics, was momentarily captivated. He lifted the carriage curtain to gaze at the scenery—natural and untouched though this era was, most roads were still rough earthen tracks, the southern jungles plagued with miasma. True beauty shaped purely by heaven and earth was rare to come upon.

Seeing his enjoyment, Xiao Yuanzheng ordered the army to halt here for rest. Soldiers filled their waterskins, horses lowered heads to drink.

The emperor himself climbed from the carriage, clumsy as he adjusted the entwined tassels of his regalia. Then he extended a hand toward the carriage interior.

“Come down, stretch your limbs.”

Shen Qinghe wanted to, but when that august hand was stretched before him, his spine prickled; it felt improper. Yet neither could he leave the sovereign hanging. After hesitation, he let his fingertips barely brush the sleeve before hopping nimbly down as if fleeing.

Lowering his gaze to that sleeve, still retaining the faintest touch, Xiao Yuanzheng smiled softly and withdrew his hand.

His boots pressed into crisp fallen leaves, yielding gently beneath, crunch sharp as new snow. A clean, woody fragrance drifted long to his nose.

The gentry of Great Yong always loved to convene at secluded brooksides—this cedar grove would be an excellent site for autumn excursions indeed.

Behind came heavier footsteps. Shen Qinghe glanced back, murmuring inwardly: As expected. The indigo‑clad figure followed, no guards at his side.

“Your Majesty.”

“Mm.”

Shen Qinghe recalled: before, their dealings had not borne such awkward formality. Now something felt strange, unbecoming. He shook it off—such thoughts ruined the purity of lord‑and‑minister ties.

The Emperor of Zhaohuan was upright, upright to the point of severity. Blame it on sudden whims, or his own wandering imagination—nonsense, all.

Emptying his head of such clutter, Shen Qinghe began the conversation: “What has brought Your Majesty out of the palace? What of morning court?”

“Here in plain clothes,” Xiao Yuanzheng spoke wearily. “Every day the court debates only one matter. Hearing it repeated, it grows tiresome.”

Shen Qinghe chuckled—in truth the emperor had taken annual leave, gone on retreat. Hearing the latter words though, he sobered. One matter? What else but the uproar—the Dragon Cavalry of the Northwest shredding the web of local noble powers. Their keening protests resounded still.

At that palace banquet, everyone thought the emperor would now restrain himself. Reality had multiplied offense instead.

He teased: “So Your Majesty came to hide for some peace?”

Xiao Yuanzheng frankly admitted, “My head truly ached with it all.”

Commander Zhao had said the emperor was a block of wood. Who knew such a sober sovereign could evince rare humor.

But banter aside, Shen Qinghe never forgot what work fell to him. War meant men, horses, provisions. True his means were limited—but with granaries he could fill to bursting, world‑leading armaments, unprecedented tactics—how could he not raise a force to smash nobles, topple clans?

The vision so delighted him he let the words tumble out: “Books always say: history is written by the victors. Ages hence, the world shall remember only a resplendent Emperor Zhaohuan, not the Five Noble Clans whose names will be forgotten. Best if I too be raised Generalissimo of All the Realm’s Forces—and as for my chosen Emperor, naturally remembered as the most sagacious sovereign beneath heaven.”

In his mind, this was a foundation worthy heaven and earth. In his former life, upward paths were narrow; he struggled desperately only to stand beside those born lucky. Here it was the same, yet different—times of peace reward compliance; times of chaos, those who seize fate. This soil, this chance—it was Shen Qinghe’s great fortune.

Xiao Yuanzheng listened with smile, nodding at moments, as though wholly certain such a bright future would come.

The wind lifted his robe wide; red leaves fell like rain.

Shen Qinghe plucked one from his brow. He knew many things: how to build and expand the academy, how to attract talent, how to use the system’s vast library—all clear in his grasp. He knew too that once victory was seized, he would stand immensely high—even shoulder‑to‑shoulder with Great Yong’s emperor himself.

Yet there were things he did not know. Often when he spoke, his eyes shone bright, scattering secret sparks not of this world. And whoever glimpsed that hidden light must have thought himself lucky indeed.

“Oh, right.” He turned suddenly. “Books also say such meritorious ministers end by marrying a princess, and live happily ever after. But alas—I searched the palace high and low, not one princess! I suppose I can only—”

His jest cut short as he stumbled and fell back—caught swiftly by a firm hand.

His sleeve slipped, wrist bared, the other’s palm pressed there. “Careful.” Xiao Yuanzheng’s arm steadied his waist.

The cedar floor was not so harmless, hiding jagged stones that caught his heel. The boastful youth had nearly cracked his skull.

Leaning on the emperor’s hold, Shen Qinghe clutched the sleeve to rise. “Indeed, one mustn’t be too smug. Pride invites punishment.” He flexed his foot. Not twisted, still fine. If injured while strolling, how Yueguang would laugh!

“Wait!” He bent to snatch what had fallen—a string of agate beads near invisible against red leaves. “This mustn’t be lost.”

Xiao Yuanzheng watched as he rubbed beads and looped them twice—then slipped the necklace over his own neck. “This way, it won’t fall.” He admired its fit.

Nearly a hundred red agates, each with fine filaments, richly exquisite. More: Master Yunci of Bao‑hua Temple himself had blessed them—a talisman against evil. Xiao Yuanzheng did not tell him by rite such beads hung by clasp or belt. He merely hoped the temple’s blessing held even one‑in‑ten‑thousand truth—warding this man from harm.

“I,” Xiao Yuanzheng said at last with formal self‑reference, “shall never have a princess.”

“…Why not?” Shen Qinghe was startled.

A flicker passed the emperor’s gaze, rippling calm waters.

Standing so close, Shen Qinghe felt it sting against him.

With a sigh Xiao Yuanzheng answered: “Perhaps… yet still the bright moon shines on the ditch.”* Then: “Even with all blessings, still no princess shall be born.”

(*Chinese proverb: even the pure moonlight illuminates foul ditches, meaning fate sometimes twists unjustly.)

Shen Qinghe’s lips trembled. “If illness—then treat early! One mustn’t hide disease fearing doctors—”

Xiao Yuanzheng broke into laughter. Shen Qinghe, realizing his words, wished to slap himself.

He bolted ahead. The presence chased with unhurried pace. Yet Shen Qinghe dared not look back.

Wrong. Something felt terribly wrong!

This was not illusion, nor conceit, nor misunderstanding—the signs shone plain as day.

Though worldly, gooseflesh rippled across him. After steps only he was seized again by the wrist. This time, the spark jolted through him, and he flung the hand away as if shocked.

A faint arch lifted the emperor’s brow. Slowly: “Further lies the forest’s depths. Wild beasts uncertain. Let us turn back.”

Back at camp, Shen Qinghe found no chance to speak.

“Hey! Where’d you run off? I turned and you—” Yueguang approached, but paused, eyes caught on the red agate necklace at his teacher’s throat.

“It’s nothing,” Shen Qinghe brushed him off, ducking under the curtain into the carriage. His thoughts were tangled thick. What if Xiao Yuanzheng forced to ride with him? But it proved needless. An attendant led forth Xu‑shuang, the tall steed. The emperor leapt to saddle—returning the rest of the journey on horseback.

Good. It left Shen Qinghe time—though better not to think at all!

For under heaven, what monarch and minister behaved so?!

Outside, voices buzzed. He stilled his ears. Among the captured nobles from the You and Yan clans, someone had tried to flee during the halt. But in this forest floor, thick with leaves, they soon were caught and hauled back.

Bound wretches still writhed at soldiers’ feet. Guards asked how the emperor would decide.

From horseback, Xiao Yuanzheng pondered, then spoke: “Since you long so for your homeland, then stay.”

Faces lit—foreheads knocked ground in thanks, chanting ‘long live’.

But the emperor never looked at them. “Once past this forest—execute them.”

Shrieks flipped in an instant from joy to terror, piss soaking through, acrid stench rising. Soldiers were used to it: each was seized, each mouth gagged against foul appeals.

Shen Qinghe, listening hidden, started slightly. Xiao Yuanzheng—so ruthless.

Soon cries ended, silence settled. Through the curtain he glimpsed only the emperor’s profile.

The majestic voice cut cold: “The You clan neglected Run’an dike. Ruin swept fields, corpses piled. They bought up land cheap, hoarded vast acres. The Yan clan repeated it—Ping’an collapsed next year. Their guilt deserves death. Together, they embezzled over one million taels of dike‑repair silver. Their crime is heavy; ten thousand deaths, still too few.”

A million taels!

And profiteering off disaster—snatching land, bleeding twice. Rage showed in every soldier’s face. Truly damnable!

From his hidden place, Shen Qinghe too was seized. Before he had seen only the emperor’s benevolence at court. Never this—the famed warrior who quelled the Western King, who crushed rebellion.

In such a poisoned age—could some gentle reed‑stem truly hold the throne so long?

A shame only now he understood.

Carriage moved on. Shen Qinghe lay back, arm for pillow on the hard plank.

But—not too late.

Footnotes for Readers:

1. Dragon Cavalry / 龙骧营 – The emperor’s elite Northwest expedition army, name suggests “soaring-dragon.” 
2. Five Noble Surnames / 五姓 – Historic powerful aristocratic clans in Chinese tradition, here stand-in for entrenched nobility. 
3. “Bright moon shines on the ditch” / 明月照沟渠 – Classical idiom, meaning even pure light may fall upon filth; used self-depreciatingly to suggest fate’s injustice or unworthy fortune. 
4. Sutra-beads blessed by Yunci of Bao‑hua Temple – Plausibly a top-tier Buddhist master blessing the necklace, invoking notions of divine protection. 
5. You (尤) and Yan (严) clans – Fictional noble houses guilty of corruption during flood relief, accused of seizing land and embezzling silver.