Palace Maidens, Destinies Bound to the Imperial Palace (8)

Having unburdened herself of the past, Yong Hui-yeon agreed to remain at Yuwol Pavilion for the time being. She left Yeongyeon's chambers with a face that had grown noticeably brighter.

Only Jin Myeong and Zheng Hui remained in the room.

"The Eastern Depot will be established soon."

Jin Myeong opened in a grave tone. From this point forward, the conversation belonged to Holy Mother Palace.

"It will stand above even the Three Judicial Offices and the Brocade Guards."

The Three Judicial Offices — the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Censorate, bundled together as one. All three sat at the heart of the realm, governing law, oversight, and penal affairs: in plain terms, the institutions that judged a man's life and death. Their luster had faded, however, the moment the Brocade Guards appeared.

The Brocade Guards held the same authority as the Three Judicial Offices, yet answered to no interference and no supervision — a personal army and a secret service that obeyed the Emperor's word alone. The prison of the Northern Zhenwusi, in particular, was so infamous that the saying went: once you went in, you did not come out again until you were at least half a cripple. To set even that organization beneath one's heel was a degree of power almost too vast to imagine.

"The Brocade Guards? Beneath it? Heavens… The Grand Director's prestige grows by the day."

"Yes, Holy Mother. They are breaking ground north of the Forbidden City's Dong'an Gate, which is still under construction — but operations will begin before the capital is moved."

The "East" in Eastern Depot came from that very location: the yamen that would sit north of Dong'an Gate.

"Because of Suchengye, I take it. And what does the Grand Director intend to do?"

"The court will not publicly announce the founding of the Eastern Depot, nor will it name Suchengye. If it did, the rebels would know in advance and prepare."

"You mean the New Year's Day ceremonies?"

Zheng Hui, who had been listening in silence, cut in.

Before summoning Yeonghwa and Shanghua, Yeongyeon and Zheng Hui had already received a rough briefing from Yong Hui-yeon on Suchengye. One of the points had been this: the rebels were probing whether the Directorate of Palace Accoutrements — which produced the ceremonial regalia and tents for imperial processions — and the Directorate of Palace Grounds, which cleared and secured the roads, were making preparations for the New Year's Day rites, along with the Court of Imperial Entertainments, which arranged the banquets and the food. The purpose of that inquiry was obvious. Every one of those offices was required the moment the Emperor stepped outside the palace. What else could it mean, if not that Suchengye was planning something for the New Year's Day ceremonies?

And that "something," as Jin Myeong well knew, would be an assault by the Blood Death Archery Corps.

"Exactly so, Civil Chancellor. If we cannot smother the plot entirely, it is better that it proceed on the date they have already set — so that we, too, can be ready."

Know the hour at which your enemy means to strike, and the work of stopping them is already half done. He could not tell anyone that he knew of the Blood Death Archery Corps itself — but quietly folding an archer assault into the defensive plans would be enough.

"I suppose so. From what that child told us, they are a remarkably thorough organization, Wusang."

"Which is probably why they have lain so quiet for twenty years."

What the three of them had just heard from Yong Hui-yeon amounted to this.

First: Suchengye had not been born in the year of the Yongle Emperor's accession, but four years earlier. It was not a seventeen-year-old conspiracy but a twenty-one-year-old one — a fact even Jin Myeong had not known until now.

The organization's name and purpose he already understood. The truly critical matters were the composition of its leadership and the location of its stronghold — and astonishingly, even Yong Hui-yeon knew little of either. She knew the Grand Preceptor Song Jeon and the strategist Yi Yugyeong, but of the other commanders besides Song Jeon, and of Wuncheonwon's whereabouts, she knew nothing. She had never met them. She had never been there.

Taken in by Song Jeon, Yong Hui-yeon had been raised at an estate in Hangzhou, some five hundred li from Yingtianfu. The estate was, in effect, a Suchengye branch, and she had spent her childhood there with Yi Yugyeong. Then one day Song Jeon took Yi Yugyeong away to Wuncheonwon, and the two girls were parted. Yi Yugyeong, who had caught Song Jeon's eye, was trained as a military advisor. Yong Hui-yeon, left behind, was nothing more than a consumable asset for the Covenant.

"Every piece of intelligence is produced by human hands, yet never delivered by them… They seem a cut above even the Beggars' Guild, Holy Mother."

"The Civil Chancellor is right. Getting at the truth of this will be no easy thing."

The gravest difficulty, as Zheng Hui and Yeongyeon had said, was that every method Suchengye employed to keep its identity hidden was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠technique of the highest order.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first: there was no personal exchange between branches. Even when a plan or a matter required discussion, they met in a separate location, wearing masks. A rank-and-file member might not even know that other branches existed; only the leadership knew the locations and the faces of the other cells.

The second: every scrap of information was carried by messenger birds. And those birds were not raised by the branches themselves, but bred by some other organ and then sent out. No man can outrun a bird in flight. Tracing the path of intelligence backward to find Wuncheonwon and Suchengye's headquarters was a task that bordered on the impossible.

And yet Jin Myeong's expression was easy, as if to say that however capable Suchengye might be, they were not quite so formidable as all that. Why wouldn't he be? In his previous life, the Eastern Depot had gone undefeated for twenty-nine years. He was certain this time would be no different. There was no warrior who could hold out forever under the lash.

"A tail that grows too long is bound to get stepped on. Catch them every time they come, beat them, coax them, let them go, and set a tail on them — do that long enough and an answer will present itself. How goes the manor under construction in Shuntian Prefecture?"

"Smoothly. No difficulties."

Watching the son she had raised at her breast grow into a man, take on a great role, and throw himself into the fight filled Zheng Hui with a pride almost too large for her chest. The boy she had always seen as a child now held the sixth-rank post of Jeonbu, and commanded the trust of both the Crown Prince and the Grand Director.

In the year Zheng Hui had been watching him, Jin Myeong had changed — changed more than she would have believed possible. Ten months ago he had been nothing more than a callow child. Then, one day, he had stumbled upon a once-in-a-millennium fortune, learned martial arts, and ten months later he was a different person entirely. A man who could sit in this very room and discuss the great affairs of the realm without the slightest shortfall. They said a seat made the man — and ever since he had entered the palace, that seemed truer than ever.

Senior Sister… our Myeong-ah has already grown this much.

Zheng Hui thought of Jin Myeong's birth mother, long since dead — the woman who had once been the eldest senior sister of the Thirteen Hui.

"I looked into it at the palace. You've chosen the site well."

"No need to be too close. No reason to be too far, either."

Jin Myeong and Zheng Hui looked at each other and smiled.

Theirs was a sect of women. To keep from being tossed about at the Emperor's whim, a proper distance was required — neither too near nor too far. Close enough that they could slip the capital's influence when they needed to, and use it when they needed to. Precisely that far, and no farther.

"This old woman and the Civil Chancellor are already scouting wine houses and inns to purchase in the area, Wusang."

Besides, a woman trained in martial arts could never become an imperial consort, so there was little to fear on that score — this was merely a precaution against the one-in-a-thousand chance. And Jin Myeong had Zheng He and the eunuch brotherhood behind him, the Crown Prince Zhu Gaochi, and even Noble Consort Wang. Unless Jin Myeong himself were to fall, such a thing could never come to pass.

"I'll handle it. If you need anything, just say the word. I'll put the squeeze on the Ministry of Works."

The work of building Holy Mother Palace a new home in Shuntian Prefecture, and the preparations to found the sect, were proceeding without a hitch.

The next day, half a shichen before noon, at Jangan Palace.

Jin Myeong had entered the moment Xi'an Gate opened. The household of Crown Prince Zhu Gaochi had gathered at Jangan Palace — the principal consort, Crown Princess Zhang, and her children alone. They had assembled to attend the noon ceremony of rewards and honors.

The eldest son, twenty-two-year-old Zhu Zhanji; fifteen-year-old Zhu Zhanyong; fourteen-year-old Zhu Zhanshan; and ten-year-old Princess Ju Jeong-won. Lined up by height, they made a rather snug and lively little procession.

"Come here, Jeonbu. Give me your hand."

Just as they were about to set out for the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Princess Ju Jeong-won suddenly let go of Zhu Zhanji's hand, walked straight up to Jin Myeong, and held out her own — meaning, quite plainly, that she intended to hold his hand and walk with him.

Out of the question. If the civil officials saw it, they would faint dead away, then march straight to the Yongle Emperor and chew him to pieces for a minister laying hands on a member of the imperial blood.

"Your Highness, how could this humble servant dare to set his hand upon the jade body?"

It was impossible. And yet the child standing there with her round, shining eyes and her hand held out was so unbearably precious that refusing her was almost more than he could bear. He had no choice but to look to Crown Princess Zhang and Zhu Zhanji.

"Princess, come to Mother. You must not put Jeonbu in an awkward position."

"Jeong-won follows Jeonbu more than her own elder brother now. How unkind."

Even with Zhang and Zhu Zhanji coaxing her, the princess shook her head and would not budge. At last Zhu Gaochi, who had been standing at the front of the party with his hands clasped behind his back, stepped in.

"Hahaha! Crown Princess, Imperial Grandson. We cannot even recall the last time We held the princess's hand. Come here. Today you shall walk holding your father's hand."

"Hnnngh… Yes, Father. I shall do so today."

She took the hand her father offered, however reluctantly, and as she was led along she twisted around to look back at Jin Myeong.

"Hahaha! 'I shall do so today,' is it? Has it come to this — that even a father must plead?"

"Hohoho! It seems even Your Highness has been pushed behind Jeonbu now."

Laughter bloomed across every face in Zhu Gaochi's family. Zhu Gaochi, worn down by days of grinding official labor, and Zhu Zhanji, exhausted from his lessons in kingship, both looked as though the fatigue had been swept clean away.

"Jeonbu."

"Yes, Your Highness the Crown Prince."

"Jeong-won is this fond of you."

Zhu Gaochi, it seemed, was growing more and more like his father — becoming a master of coded speech. What he meant was this: your rank will rise today, but for Jeong-won's sake, do not leave Jangan Palace. Look after this family well from the Directorate of Ceremonial. And, beyond that, the matter of Zhu Zhanji's eventual ascent to the throne.

"How could it be otherwise? This humble servant has only two legs."

"Hahaha! Let us go."

"Yes!"

Pleased with an answer that showed Jin Myeong had understood him perfectly, Zhu Gaochi laughed in high spirits. When a eunuch said he had only two legs, it meant one foot was planted with the eunuch brotherhood and the other with his post of duty — and with no foot left over, he could not step anywhere else. He would not leave. They could rest easy.

The last thing, he buried in his chest.

A short while later, Zhu Gaochi's family went straight through the inner court to Fengtian Hall. Jin Myeong took the long way around the inner court's walls and came to a halt before Shengchen Gate.

Fengtian Hall and the plaza before it were the place where the Emperor, together with the civil and military officials of the realm, presided over the great ceremonies of the state. Jin Myeong was waiting, now, to be admitted onto that very plaza.

When Shengchen Gate opened and he stepped through, a brilliantly painted timber palace would reveal its full majesty atop a three-tiered white marble terrace.

"Jeonbu! Our congratulations."

The Baihu officers of the Brocade Guards assigned to Shengchen Gate offered him their greetings. Both were men who had survived the attempt on Zhu Gaochi's life. A eunuch acknowledged by Gongsun Dajing — who himself commanded the respect of the Brocade Guards' young Baihu. The two of them were genuinely glad that Jin Myeong, a man who was as good as their benefactor, had once again performed a great service. Had it been any other eunuch or official, they might have been jealous. But this was the eunuch who had saved the Brocade Guards. A bond of comrades sealed in blood could leap over rank, politics, and faction alike.

"You have my thanks, both of you. Come by my residence sometime."

"How could we refuse? We are the ones who should thank you, Jeonbu."

And then it began.

All at once, the sound of drums.

Boom. Boom. Duum. Duum-duum-duum.

The drums were coming from the plaza beyond Shengchen Gate.

Boom. Boom. Duum. Duum-duum-duum.

A horn blast followed, rolling across Fengtian Hall Plaza, over Shengchen Gate, and up into the sky. Like the welcome for a great army returning victorious from war, the drums and the horns beat the air of the plaza and set it burning.

The inner bar was drawn. The guards hauled the enormous doors inward.

As the gates opened, civil and military officials in full ceremonial dress stood in long ranks to the left and right of the pale marble plaza. Down the center, Brocade Guard warriors were drawn up in two files. And far away, upon the three-tiered terrace, sat the Yongle Emperor, Noble Consort Wang, and the House of Zhu.

In that instant —

Shiiing!

The two Baihu drew their sabers and crossed them over Jin Myeong's head, opening a path.

Then, with the drums and the horns filling all under heaven —

Jin Myeong unclasped the hands he had held neatly before his chest and straightened his back. With a flick of his arms he rolled the wide sleeves of his court robes and pinned them, then clasped his right arm behind his back.

Step. Step.

He began to walk toward the terrace where the Yongle Emperor waited in the distance.

The moment Jin Myeong climbed the steps and came level with Shengchen Gate, the rite of the Brocade Guards drawn up on the plaza began.

Boom. Boom. Duum. Duum-duum-duum.

On the heels of the drums —

Shiiing!

A thousand Brocade Guard warriors standing in the center drew their blades as one. Long sabers charged with the Nine Dragons Grand Luo flared in a golden wave and rang out, sharp as struck bronze. A tide of gilded steel, every point aimed at the toes of the man across from it. Across the plaza before Fengtian Hall, a golden sea heaved and shone.

And then —

Gongsun Dajing, Qianhu of the Imperial Brocade Guard Command, who held overall command of the ranked warriors, led the cry — and a thousand voices answered as one, until all under heaven shook.

In that uncontainable vibration —

A thunder of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wings. Tens of thousands of birds perched throughout the palace took flight at once, and for a single instant the sky above Fengtian Hall went black.

It was a spectacle.

Gongsun Dajing called, and a thousand warriors answered. Gongsun Dajing called again, and a thousand answered again. The last line they spoke with one voice —

Stamp.

On the word minister, a thousand long sabers pointed to the sky.

Clang!

The blades that had been raised to heaven crossed with those of the men opposite, sparks leaping from the steel, and a roof of gilded sabers formed along the path that ran from Jin Myeong all the way to the Yongle Emperor.