Chapter Ten: The Two Princes Stir Up the Capital (Part One)

As noon approached, the snow finally ceased, but the sky remained overcast and oppressive, shrouded in a heavy gray that pressed down upon the spirit. The wind was not fierce yet bitingly cold, its chill seeping into the bones of all it touched. The air itself was laced with the unique, stifling odor of the Imperial Prison—a stench most foul, making it a most disagreeable place to be. Yet Cui Xuanzhe was entirely unbothered by any of this; on the contrary, he relished the atmosphere. Especially as he gazed down from the small raised platform at the crowd of kneeling prisoners, he struggled to suppress the urge to burst into triumphant laughter. Killing was hardly a noble deed, but the slaying of enemies—now, that was an entirely different matter. And if, after wiping out one’s foes to the last, there came a promotion, was it not the most splendid fortune imaginable? How could one not be elated at such a turn of events?

Three years—it had been three years. Cui Xuanzhe had never once forgotten the humiliation he suffered three years ago. Even now, the memory burned with unresolved hatred. Three years before, a mere clerical error in a memorial had led to his public chastisement by Chancellor Shangguan Yi before the entire court. His performance evaluation suffered grievously, and he lost all hope for promotion that year. After nearly twenty years navigating the treacherous waters of officialdom, he remained a minor censor of the eighth rank—a pitiful state indeed. But now, fortune had turned; he could finally wash away his old shame. How could he not be wildly excited?

“Reporting to Lord Cui, Lord Hou: the appointed hour approaches. I await your instructions.” Just as Cui Xuanzhe was eagerly plotting how best to capitalize on his role as overseer of executions, a red-robed official hurried up the platform, cupped his fists, and announced loudly to both supervisors, Cui Xuanzhe and Hou Shanye.

“Hmm.” Cui Xuanzhe, putting on all the airs of authority, merely grunted noncommittally and turned his face slightly, casting a questioning glance at Hou Shanye, the Presiding Justice seated on the lower dais.

A petty man, reveling in brief success! The sight of Cui Xuanzhe’s pompous demeanor filled Hou Shanye with annoyance. In terms of rank, Hou was the Presiding Justice of the Supreme Court, a solid fifth rank, far above Cui Xuanzhe’s eighth rank. In terms of power, his office wielded real authority, unlike the Censorate, which could only submit memorials. Even in the Empress’s favor, Hou believed himself superior. And this was his domain—the Imperial Prison fell under the Supreme Court’s jurisdiction. How dare this outsider flaunt himself?

“Lord Cui, I leave the matter to your discretion,” Hou Shanye replied, his tone lukewarm. Though he had no wish to indulge Cui Xuanzhe’s vanity, such an occasion was not the moment for discord.

“Hmph.” Cui Xuanzhe, cold and sensitive by nature, instantly perceived Hou’s slight and his good mood soured. Yet, unable to quarrel at such a critical moment, he could only scowl, snatch a metal token from the lot, and toss it before the reporting official, raising his voice sharply: “Proceed with the execution!”

“Yes, sir!” Sensing Cui Xuanzhe’s displeasure, the official dared not dawdle. He picked up the token, held it aloft with both hands, strode to the edge of the platform, swept his gaze over the crowd, and shouted at the top of his lungs: “The hour has struck! Execute by beheading!”

“Lord Shangguan, forgive me—duty compels me to send you on your way!” As the order was given, the executioner beside Shangguan Yi gave a cold, twisted smile, hefted his great blade, and lowered his voice. Gripping the handle with both hands, he raised the sword high, preparing to strike.

It was over—at last, it would all be over. Perhaps this was for the best. Shangguan Yi, struggling to lift his eyelids, glanced at the executioner’s blade, its edge gleaming cold against the snowy light. A wave of relief washed over him. He had long accepted death; when he had been ordered to draft the edict deposing the Empress, he had known his fate was all but sealed. Yet he did not regret it. Even if given another chance, he would not have chosen differently—there were decisions a chancellor could not evade. Now, all would soon be in the past, left to the verdict of history. Weary, he closed his eyes, awaiting the final moment, a faint, serene smile appearing on his haggard face.

“Spare him!”

“His Highness Prince Lu has arrived!”

“His Highness Prince Zhou is here!”

...

The executioner’s blade had already been raised, but before it could fall, shouts erupted. Squads of armored guards escorted two youths in princely robes as they surged into the Imperial Prison from outside—Li Xian and Li Xian, the two brothers, had arrived just in time.

Danger! Li Xian’s sharp eyes instantly spotted Shangguan Yi, neck bared for the blade. In panic, he barked, “Seize them!” Instantly, several of Prince Zhou’s bodyguards leapt forward like a whirlwind, pushing aside the stunned executioner and encircling Shangguan Yi with crossed swords, keeping the Supreme Court officials at bay.

A close call—they had made it! Seeing Shangguan Yi safely shielded by his guards, Li Xian’s heart finally settled, secretly rejoicing at their luck. Shangguan Yi’s survival was the key to this affair. As long as he lived, there was hope for a reversal; if he died, even justice would become impossible to uphold. Not only would they fail to check the Empress’s faction, but they might even fall into a deadly trap themselves. The journey from Prince Lu’s residence to the prison took but the time to burn an incense stick—hardly long enough for such a crisis to arise. But Li Xian had insisted on waiting until after seizing Shangguan Fu and discovering the account books before moving on the prison, nearly ruining everything. This reversal of priorities infuriated Li Xian, though he could not say so openly. He could only let Li Xian have his way. Fortunately, they had arrived in time—perhaps fate itself intervened.

“Your humble servants, Censor Cui Xuanzhe and Presiding Justice Hou Shanye, pay respects to Your Highness Prince Lu and Your Highness Prince Zhou.” Neither Cui nor Hou had expected the two princes to burst into the prison at such a critical hour. Seeing Shangguan Yi now under the protection of Prince Zhou’s guards, both men were rattled but dared not neglect their courtesies, hurrying forward to bow deeply before the princes.

“Enough ceremony. I apologize for our abrupt arrival and any disturbance we may have caused. I beg your indulgence, my lords.” Though Li Xian held the key evidence—Shangguan Fu—he still worried that storming the prison might bring disaster. But seeing the two officials so flustered, his confidence grew. He smiled gently and raised his hand in a gesture of easy politeness, as if exchanging pleasantries on a casual visit.

“Not at all, not at all. We are merely carrying out our duties by imperial command. To receive such guidance from Your Highnesses is our honor,” the two officials replied. Seasoned courtiers both, they would not be swayed by Li Xian’s amiable words. Exchanging a quick glance, Cui Xuanzhe took the lead, firmly stating that the execution was conducted under imperial orders. Though his tone was humble and deferential, his meaning was clear enough: the princes had no authority to interfere. According to Tang law, princes without official posts were forbidden from meddling in state affairs unless commanded by the emperor; otherwise, it was a serious violation.

“Oh? By imperial command, you say? How interesting. As I understand it, executions of this gravity are to be carried out only in spring or autumn. Is it truly appropriate to proceed in the dead of winter? Is there an edict from my father, the Emperor? I am most curious, Lord Censor—might I see this edict?” Li Xian was determined to rise in court by reversing the verdict against Shangguan Yi and would not be intimidated by Cui Xuanzhe’s thinly veiled threat. He fixed the two officials with a skeptical stare, watching as they grew more uneasy, then smiled sardonically and pressed his questions.

“This… this…” Cui Xuanzhe, flustered by the barrage, could not form a coherent answer. He turned helplessly to Hou Shanye, hoping for rescue, but Hou stood motionless, eyes lowered, showing no intention of coming to his aid.

“Heh, Hou—” Li Xian, still youthful and quick to pounce on victory, was about to shift his attack to Hou Shanye, failing to notice the latter’s calculated refusal to help his colleague.

What a muddle-headed boy—so eager for a verbal victory, yet blind to divisions among his foes. He’ll never achieve great things like this! Li Xian overlooked the rift between Cui and Hou, but Li Xian noticed at once, his mind quickly grasping Hou Shanye’s intent to save himself. Seeing Li Xian about to change his target, Li Xian grew anxious and cut in sharply, “Lord Censor, are you perhaps forging an imperial edict? How bold of you!”

“Indeed—since you claim to have the imperial edict, surely you can produce it for us? Why not let us see it?” Interrupted mid-question, Li Xian could not help but feel a flicker of irritation, his brow furrowing. Still, he restrained himself, following Li Xian’s lead and pressing Cui Xuanzhe further.

Panic—sheer panic seized Cui Xuanzhe under the princes’ relentless questioning. He trembled uncontrollably, sweat pouring from his brow, his mouth twitching without being able to utter a single word. There was an imperial decree in the case of Shangguan Yi, but it specified execution only after the spring thaw. No such order existed for an early execution. The Empress’s secret verbal command did exist, but it was a covert order, not something to be revealed in public. Desperately, Cui Xuanzhe could think of no plausible excuse, and an uncanny silence fell over the execution ground…