The news of the American diplomatic protest had spread through the upper echelons of the Forbidden City like a fever. The Emperor's cold, silent fury was a palpable force, and every minister and courtier walked on eggshells, terrified of drawing its attention. Every department was in a state of quiet panic as the Spymaster's agents began their grim work.
In his lavish office in Tianjin, however, Yuan Shikai was not panicking. He was energized. He stood before a large mirror, adjusting the fit of his ministerial robes, a predatory smile gracing his lips.
"The Emperor is furious," Madame Song observed, her voice a calm statement of fact as she reviewed the latest dispatches from the capital. "Spymaster Shen Ke has been unleashed with a broad and terrible mandate. His agents are everywhere. They say he is turning the court upside down."
"Excellent," Yuan said, turning from the mirror. He strode to his desk, radiating an aura of supreme confidence. "An angry, suspicious Emperor is a distracted Emperor. He is a tiger chasing its own tail. While he is busy tearing apart his own court looking for ghosts, we can continue with our real work." He patted a stack of production schedules. "Besides, did he not give me his 'full trust'? A ruler's trust is a weapon. It should be used."
His calculated calm was soon put to the test. An aide announced the arrival of Spymaster Shen Ke himself. Not a subordinate, not a liaison, but the man himself. The visit was unannounced, a clear power play, a sign of the investigation's gravity.
Yuan instructed that the Spymaster be shown in immediately. He greeted Shen Ke not as an investigator, but as an honored colleague, all warmth and gracious hospitality. "Spymaster! An unexpected pleasure. To what do I owe the honor of a personal visit? Can my humble ministry be of service to your vital work?"
Shen Ke was not swayed by the performance. His face was a pale, unreadable mask, his eyes holding the flat, weary look of a man who had not slept in days. He accepted a cup of tea but did not sit. "Minister Yuan. I am here on the direct authority of the Son of Heaven. As you know, a traitor has committed a grave act of treason, endangering the Empire and insulting the throne. My investigation is comprehensive."
The meeting was a masterclass in political theater, a duel fought with poisoned courtesies and veiled threats. Shen Ke was polite, his questions deferential, but each one was a sharp, probing scalpel. Yuan was the picture of a loyal minister, his face a mask of patriotic outrage, eager to assist the Spymaster in any way he could to root out this vile treachery.
"It is a despicable act," Yuan declared, his voice booming with feigned sincerity. "To think that one of His Majesty's own servants would dare to act without his divine guidance… it is unthinkable! I have already instructed all my department heads to cooperate fully with your agents."
"I appreciate that, Minister," Shen Ke said, his voice a soft whisper. "You are a man of great influence and insight. Perhaps you could offer your own perspective. The traitor, whoever he is, must be a man of considerable means and authority."
This was the moment Yuan had been waiting for. He would use the investigation not to defend himself, but to subtly redirect its path, to cast a shadow of suspicion upon his great rival, Meng Tian.
He adopted a look of reluctant, troubled concern. He sighed heavily. "Spymaster, this pains me to say. But in a search like this, we must look at all possibilities, however unpleasant. You must look for a man with audacity. A man with proven foreign contacts. And perhaps, a man with a history of… independent action."
He let the words hang in the air. "Consider our great hero, Admiral Meng," he continued, his tone that of a man forced to speak an unwelcome truth. "A brilliant commander, of course. The Empire owes him a great debt. But he has spent much time away from the capital, away from the Emperor's civilizing influence. His pacification of the south, while successful, was… unusually swift. Were all his methods reported to the throne?"
He leaned forward, as if sharing a painful confidence. "He has cultivated deep, personal ties with the Nanyang merchants, a group known for their extensive dealings with both the British and the Americans. And I am told by my own sources in the south that his official reports to the throne were not always… entirely complete. They painted a picture of a stability that did not quite exist on the ground."
He shook his head, as if saddened by his own thoughts. "Perhaps, in his zeal to serve the Empire, he took some… unauthorized initiative? A man with such a brilliant mind for unconventional strategy might see a plot like this not as treason, but as just another clever tactic in a larger war. A way to destabilize the Americans while the Emperor's gaze was turned north."
It was a brilliant, poisonous insinuation. It took known facts—Meng Tian's success, his independent streak, his connections—and wove them into a plausible narrative of betrayal.
Shen Ke listened, his face remaining a perfect, unreadable mask. He knew Yuan Shikai was a venomous snake. But the logic… the logic was sound. Meng Tian was hiding things; his own agents had confirmed it. He did have the strategic mind to conceive of such a plot. And he had motive—a desire to prove his worth and deal a blow to the Western powers. Yuan had not offered proof, but he had offered something just as valuable: a plausible alternative suspect. He had successfully muddied the waters.
"Your insights are valuable, Minister Yuan," Shen Ke said finally, bowing slightly. "I thank you for your candor in this difficult time."
After the Spymaster had departed, Yuan Shikai stood alone in his office, a triumphant smile on his face. "The Emperor suspects me, but he has no proof," he said to Madame Song, who had entered from an adjoining room. "And now, Shen Ke will waste his time and his resources chasing the honorable Admiral's shadow. This gives us the time we need."
He walked to a large, ornate safe, hidden behind a painted screen. He worked the combination and opened the heavy door. From within, he retrieved a new, even thicker file. It was the next phase of Project Atlas, a detailed and devastating plan for economic warfare prepared by his prized asset, Analyst Riley. It contained a comprehensive breakdown of the American telegraph networks, their stock exchange vulnerabilities, and the personal financial secrets of several key US senators.
"The Emperor thinks the American incident was a failure, a blunder," Yuan murmured, his fingers tracing the plans. "He is wrong. It was a test. A probe to see if we could touch them. We now know that we can."
He looked at the new file, his eyes burning with a cold, terrifying ambition. "Now that we have their attention, we will prepare a true blow. Something that will make a coal miners' strike look like a child's tantrum."
He had faced the Emperor's suspicion, the direct scrutiny of his Spymaster, and had emerged not only unscathed, but with a distinct advantage. He had tasted the poison of the court's intrigue and had found it to be an intoxicating stimulant. His private war was about to enter a new, far more dangerous phase.