Something to Fall Back On
If this matter were not handled properly, Bai Jingyan — with her savage methods and merciless temperament — really might hand the letters over to His Majesty.
If those letters reached the Emperor, the Li clan would face annihilation, but the Bai family would have earned a monumental merit to its name.
Li Mu's two strategists could not conceal their astonishment. The prowess of the Zhenguo Commandery Princess, striking down like lightning without leaving the slightest room for maneuver, left them dumbfounded.
Yet when they thought it over carefully, it made sense. This was a woman who had burned one hundred thousand surrendered soldiers to death without so much as blinking. A Commandery Princess like that already had Li Mu by the throat — why would she bother suppressing her fury and grinding it out, haggling over every point with him?
Now everything was clear. All the Zhenguo Commandery Princess had wanted was for Li Mu not to aid the Liang King, the very man who had slandered the late Duke of Zhenguo. It was when Li Mu went so far as to drag the Gaoyi County Princess into it, striking at her through marriage, that the Commandery Princess had been enraged.
Seen from her position, it was the same. She had given a clear warning, and he had touched the very sister of her house all the same — of course she would be furious.
The Commandery Princess had taken it as a provocation and moved without mercy. That was all.
Their mistake had been to regard her as just another highborn daughter among the capital's great houses. She was an extraordinary woman who had commanded battlefields.
The strategist in the blue robe rubbed his hands together again and again, an anxious look on his face, and finally spoke.
"The Commandery Princess demanded a proper explanation before sundown. She broke the Sixth Young Master's legs herself, didn't she? And then she blocked the Chancellor's path and hurled that blood-soaked boy down in front of his carriage, right before all those eyes. Where in the world is there a person so insolent?"
The strategist in white frowned, agonized over it for a long while, then lifted his head.
"There is nothing left for it. We must discard the Sixth Young Master."
"Explain."
Li Mu said.
To Li Mu, the safety of his entire family, the lives of his whole clan, mattered more than his son's grievances — more, in the end, than his son's very life.
"Chancellor, let us make public what the Sixth Young Master did last month."
The white-robed strategist went on, his face grave.
"No one in the capital is ignorant of how the Bai family cherishes the common people as their own children. Suppose we say the Sixth Young Master committed a wrong, and that Madam Li covered it up afterward. Then we claim the Commandery Princess learned of it and went to him for the sake of justice. The Censorate will surely poke its nose in, of course — but is that not better than letting those letters fall into His Majesty's hands?"
Li Mu's face turned deathly pale. He sank into deep thought, his features frozen.
Seeing that Li Mu did not refuse, the white-robed strategist pressed on.
"If you resolve to do this, go straight to the palace and beg an audience with His Majesty. Confess your guilt at having raised your son poorly. Say that after the incident, Madam hid it from you and handled the aftermath herself. Say that when the victim was wailing her grievance before the government office with no evidence to prove her claim, the Commandery Princess happened upon her; that once Her Highness learned the truth, today's events came to pass."
"Absurd!"
The blue-robed strategist spoke with earnest gravity.
"The Commandery Princess's intent was that we not harm the Bai family. If we use this method, the people's opinions will be divided. They may well ask why Her Highness did not hand the evidence over to the authorities and instead took matters into her own hands. And worse — if we provoke her temper, those letters could go straight to the palace. This could bring calamity down upon the Chancellor's estate."
The blue-robed strategist turned to look at Li Mu.
"Chancellor… if the estate is to survive this crisis, there is no way but to enter the palace and confess the crime yourself. Tell His Majesty the truth as it happened. Say that you covered for the Sixth Young Master, but that not a day has passed since when you could rest easy.
As for why the Commandery Princess broke his legs and then brought him to you — tell His Majesty it was her private justice, done because she feared that if she sent him to the authorities, they would be too cowed by your power to judge him according to the law!"
When Li Mu hesitated, the blue-robed strategist's voice rose louder.
"Chancellor — it is said that only by driving oneself to the edge of death does a path to life open. If you and the Sixth Young Master do not bear this cost, you cannot satisfy the Commandery Princess's demands. The estate will be in danger! And with matters this urgent, there is no time to deliberate further."
Li Mu clenched his fist and slammed it down on the table with all his strength.
He was suffocating with rage and humiliation. No one alive could be more furious than he was at this moment.
Bai Jingyan had broken his own son's legs — and now he was the one who had to fret over how to protect her reputation and that of the Bai family.
To suffer this outrage and, far from striking back, to labor to curry favor with her — someone was bound to notice. Someone was bound to realize that Bai Jingyan had him by the throat. Yu Xiang, that crafty old fox above all, would sniff it out the fastest.
Yu Xiang had appeared to have withdrawn from the world, living quietly, but in truth he had merely been keeping out of sight while standing in opposition to Li Mu all along. If Yu Xiang went to Bai Jingyan and offered terms that might sway her, she could very well hand him those letters. What would Li Mu do then?
But there was no room in Li Mu's mind for such distant worries. Bai Jingyan had demanded an answer before the sun went down. The fire in front of him had to be put out first.
Gritting his teeth, he made his decision.
"I must show Bai Jingyan sufficient sincerity. We will say this: Bai Jingyan found the evidence and delivered it to the authorities, but after a fortnight of silence she went to investigate today and discovered that the evidence she sent had been destroyed. That is why she broke Li Mingtang's legs.
I will enter the palace myself — the rest I leave to you two! But if we simply move as Bai Jingyan wills, trouble is certain to follow! If I, having suffered such a great humiliation, bow my head at once without even thinking of revenge, every scheming mind in the capital will conclude that the Commandery Princess holds my weakness in her grasp. And if someone who bears me a grudge joins hands with her, they might well drive me to my death!"
Li Mu clasped his hands toward the two strategists as he spoke.
"So think deeply on my behalf, both of you. On what must be done from here."
The moment Bai Jingyan returned to Qinghui Courtyard, she gave Nuo Ping his orders. She instructed him to send word to the prefect of Suyang that she would arrive there on the twenty-fifth of the month, and that she intended to settle the affairs of the Bai clan's kin.
Nuo Ping had barely left, and she had just finished half a cup of tea, when Bai Jinchi came running in.
"Sister, why didn't you call me when something this entertaining was happening? I should have been the one to whip Li Mingtang within an inch of his life."
Chun Tao brought tea for Bai Jinchi and stood anxiously off to one side.
"Eldest Miss, you broke the legs of the Chancellor's own son — and worse, you threw him down right in front of the Chancellor's carriage. What if the people think the Commandery Princess's estate has grown too arrogant? What if they start looking at us strangely…"
Hearing Chun Tao's words, Bai Jinchi had to admit that such violent action was unlike her sister's usual way of doing things.
"Sister, will you be all right?"
"If you have something to fall back on, there is nothing to fear."
Bai Jingyan looked at Bai Jinchi.
"Conversely — the fact that I show no fear means I do have something to fall back on. Only a display this drastic will make Li Mu genuinely afraid."
Lifting her teacup, Bai Jingyan spoke in a low voice.
"What the people think is Li Mu's problem to solve. With his abilities, he'll handle it well enough. Let's sit back and watch."
Just as Bai Jingyan had predicted, once the hour of Shen passed — the hour between three and five in the afternoon — word spread that the Left Chancellor Li Mu had entered the palace and confessed his crime.
The Chancellor admitted he had broken the law for private reasons — for the sake of his son. His son had violated a woman and driven her to her death, and had even prevented the victim from ever bringing her case before the authorities. There were more than a few among the people who had witnessed the poor woman weeping bitterly outside the government office.
Then, the story went, the Zhenguo Commandery Princess had learned of the matter by chance, investigated the truth, and submitted the evidence to the authorities — only for the officials, terrified of the Chancellor's power, to secretly destroy it.
That such an outrage had occurred in the very capital, no less.
And so it was that the Commandery Princess had broken the Chancellor's son's legs and thrown him down before his carriage.
The people spared no praise. They recalled how the Commandery Princess had once punished, in the middle of the street, a concubine-born son of the Bai family who had tormented a commoner. They recalled how the fourth young miss Bai Jinchi had once whirled her whip at deceitful wretches who stirred up trouble before the Bai estate — and how, in the end, it was the young miss herself who was made to take punishment for it.
Every mouth overflowed with praise for the Bai family of the capital, who cherished the common folk. So it was no mere saying, people marveled, that the Bais loved the people as their own children.
They rejoiced that the Zhenguo Commandery Princess had stepped forward where even the authorities had not dared intervene — for the wrongdoer was the spoiled son of the Left Chancellor himself.
Before the Emperor, Li Mu had wept aloud as he confessed. He said that since covering up his son's crimes, not a single day had passed in peace of mind; that he still felt the sting of his conscience; that betraying the Emperor's trust weighed on him terribly. He said that when the Commandery Princess uncovered the affair, he had felt, paradoxically, relieved — that guilt and shame had crashed over him together, and so he had come to beg punishment from the throne.
The Emperor had trusted Li Mu firmly, and though he burned with anger at what Li Mu had done, he could not help feeling, as he looked at the man, a strange kinship of suffering.
The Left Chancellor's son had crossed Bai Jingyan, and lost both his legs for it.
The Emperor's own son had done what displeased her as well, and Bai Jingyan had pressed him for it — so that he had been forced to strip his legitimate eldest son, the King of Xin, of his title, reduce him to commoner status, and banish him to a provincial posting.
But then, even in the most ordinary of households, where children were many, one or two were bound to be born troublemakers. And what father anywhere left his son's messes to clean themselves?
Were all families expected to be like the Bai family of the Zhenguo Duke Estate — to cast their own kin into ruin for the sake of justice every time a child did wrong?
In the capital, noble houses and official families covering up after their own sons' mischief were hardly few in number. Was Yu Xiang not forever laboring to clean up behind a grandson who poked and prodded in every corner of the realm?
Li Mu had simply had the misfortune to catch Bai Jingyan's eye. And Li Mu had only himself to blame, in the end. If he was going to cover for his son, he should have done it cleanly — instead he had been caught red-handed by Bai Jingyan of all people. Who was there to blame for that?
But no emperor of a realm could speak such words aloud.
"That is enough."
The Emperor looked down at Li Mu, who knelt on the floor, tears and snot streaming down his face as he berated himself for betraying the sovereign's trust, and opened his mouth.
"I know your heart ran ahead of you out of love for your son. See that your son's wounds are treated properly first. To drive a woman to death is not the same as killing her by one's own hand, but he violated another man's wife all the same — by rights he should be exiled, or serve twenty years of hard labor, or have both legs broken. Since the Zhenguo Commandery Princess took that labor upon herself in your stead… let the punishment be counted as served!
For the crime of raising your son poorly, I sentence you to forfeit half a year of your salary. Go back, pay restitution in silver to the victim's family, and see this matter properly concluded. Let it end here."
At the thought of Bai Jingyan, a sudden headache came over the Emperor, and he spoke with his eyes tightly shut.
"Do not trouble yourself over the Commandery Princess. Withdraw."
"My deepest gratitude, Your Majesty!"
Li Mu raised his head, tears streaming, and bowed low once more.
"I could not ease Your Majesty's burdens, and instead gave Your Majesty yet another cause for worry — a hundred deaths would not suffice to atone! That Your Majesty should cherish this guilty servant so — even were I to serve you with a loyalty that shattered this body, I could never repay such grace. I shall never forget Your Majesty's kindness for as long as I live, and I will devote this one body wholly to your service."
"Enough! Spare me your honeyed words. Go!"
Reclining against a golden cushion, the Emperor waved Li Mu away with a flick of his hand.
Li Mu rose cautiously, bent his back into a deep bow, and withdrew reverently from the great hall. Only when he had backed away to where the bluestone floor beneath his feet caught the sunlight did he straighten his spine.
He let out a long breath. The forfeiture of half a year's salary was nothing at all. If the Emperor still believed in him, that was enough.
Li Mu walked out of the palace with his fists clenched tight. What mattered most to him was the Emperor's trust, and the trust of the man who would one day be Emperor. Nothing else mattered.
He considered this the greatest difference between himself and Bai Weiting. Bai Weiting had been upright and noble in conduct, renowned among the common people. What Bai Weiting had wanted was a conscience with nothing to hide, even looking up at heaven.
But Li Mu did not care how the people saw him. Even a pang of conscience troubled him not at all. The only things he cared for were the Emperor's heart toward him and the Emperor's trust in him.
So long as those letters vanished — so long as the Emperor could never lay eyes on them — there was nothing in this world he needed to fear.