In the spring of the 23rd year of the Kaiyuan reign, the capital of Chang'an glittered under countless lanterns, the night sky glowing like an ocean of stars. Among the lively neighborhoods, the mansion of Grand Tutor Ling Hao shone brightest, dazzling like a pearl in the dark.
Tonight was no ordinary night. The Qionglin Banquet, a grand feast to honor the newly appointed scholars, was being held at the Ling residence. Guests in embroidered robes streamed through the open red gates, their laughter echoing across the street, where carriages lined up like a dragon of light.
Inside, the courtyard sparkled as if it were daylight. Crystal lamps hung under the eaves, casting warm brilliance across jade tables laden with exotic dishes and fragrant wine. Maidens in gauzy silks drifted through the crowd, carrying golden cups with graceful steps. The air was thick with the mingling scents of tea, wine, and sandalwood.
At the center of attention stood a young man in white.
**Ling Yuan.**
Chosen by the Emperor himself as the top scholar of the new imperial examination, he was now the pride of the Ling family and the envy of the capital.
Barely twenty, tall and upright like a pine tree, his plain white robe only made him stand out more among the richly dressed guests. Surrounded by fellow scholars and noble heirs, his calm, elegant bearing shone like a beacon.
"Brother Ling, your words at court today were brilliant! 'Water can carry a boat, but it can also overturn it'—such bold truth, and the Emperor himself nodded in praise!" one scholar declared, raising his cup.
Ling Yuan smiled, returning the toast with quiet warmth.
"You flatter me. It was but the guidance of my father and teachers. How could I dare take the credit alone?"
His modesty only drew more admiration. Even senior ministers nearby stroked their beards in approval.
"Grand Tutor Ling has raised an extraordinary son."
"A true pillar of the state in the making."
Not far away, in the shadows of a pavilion, stood an elderly servant in a gray robe—Old Zhong. He had raised Ling Yuan since childhood. Watching his young master now—dignified, humble, and shining before all—his wrinkled face softened with pride.
When Ling Yuan's gaze drifted through the crowd, he saw his father.
Grand Tutor Ling Hao did not join the revelry. He stood quietly under a palace lantern, his purple robe draped simply, eyes calm and unreadable. The joyful music around him seemed far away.
Ling Yuan excused himself and walked over.
"Father."
Ling Hao turned, and a faint smile touched his lips. "Yuan'er. You've done well today. The Emperor favors you, the world admires you. How do you feel?"
"It feels like a dream," Ling Yuan admitted. "Yet also… a heavy responsibility." Then he frowned slightly. "But Father, you seem troubled?"
Ling Hao's gaze swept across the hall, lowering his voice.
"Yuan'er, do you see all these smiling faces? Beneath them lie countless schemes. The Qionglin Banquet marks the start of your rise—but it may also pull you into dangerous tides. The Emperor's favor is a double-edged sword, and the crowd's flattery may be poisoned honey."
He paused, his tone heavy.
"Court politics is not just the wisdom of books. One misstep, and you may fall into an abyss. Look there…"
He subtly pointed toward a stout old man at the center of another circle of officials—**High Chancellor Gao Wenchang**, the most powerful minister of the realm. Surrounded by fawning subordinates, Gao's booming laughter filled the air.
"His influence stretches across the empire," Ling Hao warned. "Tonight, your brilliance may already have drawn his eye. Remember this—outstanding trees are the first to be cut by the wind."
Ling Yuan straightened, his expression solemn.
"I understand, Father. I will walk upright, remain just, and never betray the Ling family's principles. I will serve the country with a clear conscience."
Ling Hao's eyes softened with pride, yet a shadow lingered in them. He drew from his sleeve a smooth jade pendant, plain except for a single carved character: **Ling**. He pressed it into his son's palm.
"Keep this close. If ever you face desperate danger, this may grant you a chance to survive. Remember—living is more important than glory."
Ling Yuan gripped the cool jade. The joy of the night dimmed, replaced by a heavy sense of fate. Before he could reply, a cheer rose—imperial wine had arrived. The feast surged to new heights.
By midnight, guests began to depart. Ling Yuan, as the star of the evening, escorted the last group to the gates. The cool wind cleared his head as he turned back to the brightly lit mansion, jade pendant still clutched in his hand.
"Master, the night grows cold," Old Zhong said gently, placing a cloak over his shoulders.
Ling Yuan nodded, about to return inside.
But then—
From the far end of the street came the chilling sound of armor clashing, a rhythmic, heavy march growing rapidly closer.
The festive air shattered.
Old Zhong's face turned pale. He shoved Ling Yuan back toward the gate.
"Master! Inside, now!"
Ling Yuan turned, stunned—only to see flames.
Torches flared like a fiery serpent, encircling the Ling mansion in an instant. Armored soldiers filled the night, their blades gleaming with merciless cold.
The red gates of celebration were now surrounded by fire and steel.
Then came a voice—sharp, cruel, echoing like thunder:
"By imperial decree! The traitor Ling Hao is guilty of conspiracy! Arrest the entire Ling family! Those who resist—kill without mercy!"