Spring, the fifth year of Yuanyou.
Nearly a year had passed since the case.The Grand Councilor dismissed, Consort Liu confined, the Vice Minister of Revenue and Hanlin academician suspended pending inquiry. The scraped-away name remained hidden.
Zhao Xu never asked why.He went to the Imperial City Guard each day, read dossiers, conducted interrogations—all as usual.But he had begun asking other things.
"Aheng, what did the Empress Dowager eat today?"
"Osmanthus cake, red bean porridge, steamed fish."
"Did she finish it?"
"She did."
"Did she say it was too sweet?"
"No. She said it was just right."
He nodded and jotted a note in a small notebook he kept, ever since she had sent him that box of old letters. On the cover, four neat characters:Empress Dowager's Daily Life
He recorded what she ate, how many hours she slept, whether she coughed.She had started coughing the previous winter—mild, occasional, like a slight throat irritation. The imperial physician called it wind-cold, prescribed medicine, and it eased for a few days. Then it returned.
Every time he went to greet her, he paused outside the door first, listening for coughs.If he heard them, he frowned.If not, he smiled faintly.He said nothing. Only wrote it down.
On the seventh day of the third month, court assembly.The Grand Tutor presented a matter: the Bian River had flooded, submerging villages in Chenliu and Weishi counties. Grain was needed for relief.
In years past, the Empress Dowager would have decided.This time, she listened, then turned slightly and glanced at Zhao Xu.
A brief look—but he saw it.He tensed, then sat straight.
"What does Your Majesty think?" the Grand Tutor asked.
Zhao Xu's fingers tapped lightly on his knee—a habit he'd had since he was nine, when he was thinking.He recalled the relief records in the City Guard dossiers.Second year of Yuanyou: Yellow River breach, ten thousand shi of grain allocated. Less than thirty percent reached the victims.Third year of Yuanyou: Huainan drought, eight thousand shi allocated. Half stolen by local officials.
He had read those dossiers dozens of times. He remembered the numbers, the stolen grain, the starved people, the falsified reports.But he also knew: if he said "officials will steal it," the Tutor would demand proof, ministers would object, the Empress Dowager would stay silent.He could not say that.
"Allocate from the Ministry of Revenue's ever-normal granaries," he said, voice not loud but steady. "First, three thousand shi."
The Grand Tutor nodded, about to speak—when Zhao Xu continued.He did not look at the Tutor, his gaze fixed on the light outside the hall, as if deep in thought.
"Three thousand is not enough. At least ten thousand victims in Chenliu and Weishi. Three thousand shi gives less than three pecks per person. Not enough to last days." He paused. "Add two thousand. Total five thousand shi."
A hush fell over the court. Ministers exchanged glances.Five thousand shi was not an extraordinary sum.But that was not the point.The point was: the Emperor had not asked the Empress Dowager.
The Grand Tutor smiled. "Your Majesty speaks truly. But from which depot shall we dispatch?"
Zhao Xu turned to him, eyes calm as still water.
"From the Capital Circuit Transport Commission. Chenliu is near Bianjing; river transport takes three days." His finger tapped again. "Send two thousand shi immediately for emergency. The remaining three thousand from ever-normal granaries, in three batches. First tomorrow, second in five days, third in ten. This preserves reserve grain while ensuring victims do not go hungry."
What he did not say:Three separate groups, unconnected, mutually supervised.If the first arrived, the second en route, the third still stored—no one could bribe all three.This method he had found in old dossiers.Shenzong Emperor, his father, had used it for disaster relief.
The Grand Tutor stared at him a long moment, then bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty is sagacious."
After court, Zhao Xu did not go straight to the Empress Dowager.He returned to the City Guard, pulled the relief dossier, and turned to the third year of Yuanfeng.On that page, his father's vermilion comment:Dispatch in batches.
Strong, steady characters.He read it a while, closed the dossier, then walked to Funing Hall.
The Empress Dowager sat in the side hall, holding a teacup, not drinking, not setting it down.
"Empress Dowager, today you—"
"Today what?"
"You let me decide for myself."
She set down the cup and looked at him. Her hand slid from the rim to her knee.
"You are fourteen. No longer small."
"But—"
"But what?"
"You are still here."
She smiled faintly, warmth in her eyes.
"I am here. So you must decide more. When I am gone, you will be used to it."
She lifted the cup and took a sip.A tickle rose in her throat. She turned aside, covered her mouth with a handkerchief, and coughed twice—softly, as if afraid to be heard.The lid clinked faintly against the cup. She squeezed the handkerchief tight, knuckles whitening.When she finished, she set down the tea, folded the handkerchief, and tucked it into her sleeve.Slow, steady, as if nothing had happened.
Zhao Xu sat opposite, motionless.His gaze moved from her handkerchief to the teacup, the ripples still fading on the surface.He knew what those coughs meant.The physician called it wind-cold, but he had seen the medical records.Her pulse had been floating and weak since winter.The physician dared not write it. But he saw.He said nothing.
"Empress Dowager."
"Mm?"
"Did you review memorials today?"
"I did."
"How many?"
"A dozen. Not many."
"Tomorrow I will review them for you. You only need to check after."
She looked at him a long time, then nodded.
"Very well."
Zhao Xu stood, reached the door, then turned back.
"Empress Dowager."
"Mm?"
"Have the physician come again tomorrow."
"For what?"
"Check your throat. You've coughed days."
She did not answer. She lowered her head, lifted the cold tea, and drank.
"Very well. Let him come."
Zhao Xu smiled and left.His robe brushed the stone pavement, light footsteps—just like when he was nine.
But at the corner of the palace path, he stopped.He looked back toward Funing Hall. Doors closed, curtain half-drawn. Nothing visible inside.He stood a moment, then continued.No sigh, no frown.He pulled out his notebook and wrote on the March page:
Empress Dowager coughed twice today.
That night, he came to the Imperial Garden.He sat under the osmanthus tree, staring at its bare branches. The moon was round, bright on his face.
"Aheng."
"Mm."
"The Empress Dowager let me decide today."
"I know. The Grand Tutor said Your Majesty is sagacious."
He was quiet a moment.
"For the relief, I used the Yuanfeng three dossier. Father used batches. First tomorrow, second five days, third ten. Three groups, no knowledge of each other. No one can steal it all."
I looked at him, moonlight on his shoulder. His profile was calm—not empty, but settled, like he had thought long and finally understood.
"You knew they would steal?"
"I did. Second year Yuanyou: ten thousand shi, less than thirty percent reached people. Third year: eight thousand, half stolen. They won't change. But Father's method stops them. So I used Father's method."
He did not say he would investigate them. Did not say he would punish them.He knew the men remained, the corruption would continue.But he also knew he could not move them yet.So he used his father's way: turning their greed against them.
"Did she know?"
"She did. She read my proposal and agreed."
"She said 'agreed'?"
"She said—" He paused. "'Your father did the same.'"
Wind blew. The osmanthus had not yet budded, branches bare and swaying.
"Aheng."
"Mm."
"Is she struggling to hold on?"
"No. She is teaching you."
"Teaching what?"
"Teaching you to decide without her. Teaching you to pretend not to hear when she coughs."
He looked down at his hands—already large, long-fingered, defined. He turned them over, staring at the faint calluses: from bows, brushes, dossiers.
"I can decide," he said. "But she must hold on too."
He took the notebook and added one more line:
Decided today. Allocated five thousand shi in batches. Grand Tutor said sagacious. Used Father's method.
He stared a while, closed it, and put it away.
"Come. Court again tomorrow."
He stood, brushed off his robes, and walked toward Funing Hall.A few steps, he turned.
"Aheng."
"Mm?"
"Make osmanthus cake for her tomorrow. Less sugar."
"Alright."
He smiled and left.Moonlight stretched his shadow long.No longer the shape of a child.Broad shoulders, straight waist, steady steps.Like a tree, roots deep, branches still growing.
But one thing had not changed:At the corner, he tilted his head and glanced toward Funing Hall.A small, quick motion, involuntary.Just like when he was nine, looking back to see if I followed.
She was there then.She is there now.Only now she coughs.She covers her mouth so he won't hear.He pretends he doesn't.He doesn't say it.He only writes it down.
That night, I wrote on a slip of paper:
He decided today.Five thousand shi, in batches.Used his father's old method.Grand Tutor called him sagacious.
He knew officials would steal.He did not accuse them.He used a way that made stealing impossible.
She coughed twice.Hid it with a handkerchief.He pretended not to hear.Wrote it in his book.
He has grown up.Learns to decide.Learns old methods for new troubles.Learns to pretend not to hear her cough.
Still, at the corner, he looks back.She is still here.She coughs.She thinks he doesn't see.He sees.He doesn't say.He only remembers.
I tucked the note under my pillow, with all the old ones, the jade, the wheat stalk, the dried golden osmanthus petal.
Almost five years.From nine to fourteen.From too short to reach osmanthus, to a head taller than me.From messy notes to ruling in court.From "I'll take care of you" to "I used Father's method."
He has grown.But the glance at the corner?Still the same as when he was nine.
End of Chapter 34