The candle in the Imperial Study burned through the night.
It was just past dawn when the Emperor finished the last memorial, the wind outside the window carrying a heavy, muffled weight.
The Imperial Attendant tapped the door softly. "Your Majesty, another urgent report from the border."
The Emperor looked up. "Who delivered it?"
"It is... from the old Địnhyuăn regiments."
The Emperor's hand paused.
"Present it."
It was a stark, unadorned military message, the handwriting crude and strong, clearly from a field commander and not a clerk.
General Shěn is grievously wounded.Morale at the front is shaken.Should the General fall—the frontier will certainly collapse.
The Emperor read it in silence for a long time before speaking.
The Attendant cautiously ventured, "Your Majesty, should the Board of War be summoned for deliberation?"
The Emperor let out a sudden, humorless laugh. It was not a sound of pleasure, but a bitter, self-mocking chuckle—the sound of someone who had foreseen the ridiculousness of his own fate.
"What use is the Board of War?" The Emperor set the memorial down. "All they care about is the size of the Shěn family's influence, and whether it poses a threat to the court."
He looked up, the candlelight catching his eyes.
"But what We fear is the Shěn family's death."
The Attendant froze.
The Emperor rose and walked to the window, pushing a panel open. The swirling snow and wind rushed in, cold as a drawn blade.
"Do you know what the Shěn family is?" The Emperor's voice was soft. "They are the blade in Our hand for three generations."
He raised his hand, as if grasping something invisible.
"The first generation, Shěn Xiāojiāng—fought the realm for the late Emperor."
"The second generation, Shěn Jìngshān and Shěn Chéngyuăn—held the frontier for Us."
"The third generation, Shěn Xī and Shěn Huái—stabilized the empire for Us."
"But a blade too sharp cuts the user; and if the blade breaks—the border falls."
The Attendant held his breath.
The Emperor continued, "If the Shěn family lives, We fear their strength; if the Shěn family dies… We fear the chaos of the realm."
The statement was like a stone dropped into the deepest well of a chasm—no splash, but a chill that resonated in the listener's heart.
The Emperor closed his eyes, speaking low. "Do you know how many times the Shěn family has fallen?"
"When the Old Marquess died, it was half of the late Emperor's defense line collapsing."
"When the eldest son died, the northern army's spirit broke by a third."
"When the second son died, the cavalry lost its backbone."
"If Shěn Xī dies too…"
He tightened his grip on the window frame. "We fear the entire Northern line will be buried with her."
The Attendant lowered his voice in inquiry, "Then why does Your Majesty rely so heavily on the Shěn family?"
The Emperor did not answer immediately.
After a long pause, he said simply:
"Because the Shěn blade—it not only slays the enemy, it wards off the ill winds and dark specters that We cannot slay Ourselves."
The Attendant looked confused: "Ill winds and dark specters?"
The Emperor chuckled faintly. "The court, the Imperial Clan, the outer relatives, the powerful provincial governors… these are the truly terrifying ones."
"Can We execute them? No."
"Can We rule without them? Also no."
He spoke a chilling truth: "The stronger the Shěn family, the less they dare to stir; if the Shěn family dies, they will become restive."
The Emperor closed the window and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Ten soldiers dying on the frontier will not trouble the capital. One Shěn dying shakes the capital to its core."
"If the Shěn family is extinguished—the mandate of Heaven will tremble."
The Attendant felt a chill run down his spine and risked a question: "Then… why did Your Majesty not send more reinforcements to General Shěn? Why not more provisions? Why—"
The Emperor gave him a level, distant look. "Because We desire the realm, and We desire the Imperial Authority."
His voice was low, yet weighted with the snowstorm outside:
"The Shěn family must live, but must also be wounded; they must be strong, but must be curtailed; they must be able to hold the border, but they must hold only the border."
That was the Imperial Calculus. The fatal knot tying together four threads: human life, military morale, family loyalty, and the survival of the empire.
He slowly returned to the Imperial Desk, lit a fresh candle, and gave his orders:
"Bring Me My private seal."
The Attendant hurried forward.
The Emperor took the brush and wrote upon a fresh urgent document:
Immediately divert thirty percent of the Metropolitan grain reserves to the border.Convey to General Shěn: The New Year falls upon the North, and snow blankets the Inner Chambers.Should she return, a seat in the court shall remain for her.
The language was gentle, yet it carried an undeniable command.
The Attendant did not understand: "Your Majesty, what is the meaning of this message?"
The Emperor closed his eyes in profound weariness.
"We do not fear the Shěn family's strength; We fear their death."
"We fear a border left undefended, We fear the enemy exploiting the weakness, We fear the court turning chaotic."
He opened his eyes, his gaze sharp.
"And more than anything, We fear the day Shěn Huái comes to the Imperial Hall, bearing his sister's ashes, and demands an accounting from Us."
That was the Emperor's deepest truth.
The world often said: The Emperor fears his meritorious subjects will grow too powerful and threaten the realm.
But only the man who sits on that cold chair knows:
What truly keeps an Emperor awake at night is the death of his old ministers, the exhaustion of loyalty, and the realization that the world holds no one left who can be trusted to serve.
The candle flickered.
The Emperor softly stated:
"When the Shěn family dies, Our realm, too, will be broken."