The night was pitch black, tightly enveloping this estate that spanned several acres, the residence of the Grand Secretary.
The clamor had long faded, after this day.
A dark, narrow covered corridor lay hidden in the depths of the estate, the goat-horn lanterns on either side burning only with a dim, yellowish glow.
Xie Miheng, the Vice Grand Secretary and Minister of Rites, was walking along this silent corridor with two other Grand Secretaries of the Inner Cabinet.
Their steps were extremely hurried.
Xie Miheng glanced back at the already tightly closed estate gate, unable to hide his surprise: "Your Excellencies, since the beginning of spring, the Grand Secretary hasn't personally called for such a closed-door cabinet meeting in over half a year. On ordinary days, even when the treasury was empty, all essential matters were transmitted by the chief steward, Xu Zhong, through written notes. We acted according to the Grand Secretary's approvals and red markings, but there has never been such a tightly guarded, serious affair as tonight. It's truly strange. My heart is unsettled; I feel a major event is imminent."
One Grand Secretary responded in a low voice: "Today, during the day, Xu Youde brought up three ledgers at the Golden Throne Hall and then proposed that malicious scheme of verifying the four seals together. Not only did he push Lord Shang into a corner, but he also obtained His Majesty's imperial decree. Damn it all! Could it be that the Grand Secretary has summoned us urgently tonight just to devise a plan for the Ministry of Revenue? Whoever wants to handle this mess, let them!"
"Devise a plan?" Xie Miheng frowned deeply, his gaze revealing extreme gravity. "That father-and-son pair, the Xu family—one is a tiger and wolf with astonishing military achievements, the other a mad dog who has issued a fifteen-day military ultimatum! They intend to peel the skin off the Ministry of Revenue! This urgent summons tonight isn't solely about saving face for the Ministry of Revenue. Hell, I'm afraid real blood may be spilled!"
He looked up at the waning moon shrouded by dark clouds, his voice hoarse: "The Grand Secretary summoning us late at night—this Great Qian court is likely on the verge of earth-shattering upheaval!"
When they reached the end of the covered corridor, the heavy padauk wood door was already in sight. This was the innermost core of the Grand Secretariat: the Cangshu Pavilion.
Pushing the door open, there were no extravagant furnishings typical of noble estates, nor any attending servants.
Inside the entire Cangshu Pavilion, there was only emptiness and harsh cold.
Mahogany shelves, rising from floor to ceiling, stood in the shadows, stacked with top-secret archives. Each scroll bore the rise-and-fall blood and tears of the Great Qian dynasty, carrying the heavy taxes of the nine provinces and the birth-and-death registries of countless lives.
In a dim corner of the room, a bronze crane statue stood silently. From its sharp bronze beak, strands of pungent aloeswood incense smoke slowly emerged. The scent had no calming effect; it only carried a bitterness that made the mind tense.
Outside the window, the cold moonlight filtered through the intricately carved wooden lattice, slanting onto the golden bricks of the floor. The crisscrossing shadows of the window frames stretched long on the ground, mottled and twisting, giving off a suffocating sense like the iron bars of a cage. The heavy atmosphere of power struggles at the core of the cabinet slipped through the air.
The three cabinet officials held their breath, their gazes all fixed on the figure at the deepest part of the room.
Xu Jie, the Grand Secretary.
During the day, he was the awe-inspiring elder statesman of three reigns on the court. Tonight, however, he was not wearing the crimson crane robe that signified his authority. He wore only a coarse gray Taoist robe, his figure somewhat stooped and gaunt before the vast archives, exuding a burnout nearing its end.
Xu Jie was standing before the innermost mahogany shelf. He held an ancient bamboo scroll with heavily worn edges in his hands, flipping through it by the faint candlelight.
Hearing the door open and the footsteps of the three men, he did not even raise his eyelids, nor did he spare even a sidelong glance at these influential core cabinet officials of the Great Qian court. He only very slowly raised his withered right hand and, with dried-out fingers, casually pointed to three hard wooden cushions on the floor.
Xie Miheng and the other two did not even dare breathe loudly. Casting aside all the arrogance they held at court, they respectfully lifted the hems of their robes and sat cross-legged on the cushions.
Silence lingered in the pavilion for a long time. Only the aloeswood incense smoke from the bronze crane billowed eerily under the moonlight.
After a while, Xu Jie finally moved. His dried fingers, with extreme slowness, stroked the edge of the bamboo scroll, producing a harsh rustling sound.
"This volume, the Sacred Record of Great Qian, is the sole surviving manuscript written by the great scholar Li Jingshan at the founding of the dynasty during Emperor Taizu's reign." Xu Jie's voice sounded. Gone was the warmth of the court or the majestic vigor when guiding the state; only an extreme hoarseness of weathered experience remained.
His eyes still on the bamboo scroll, he recited word by word: "The Great Qian dynasty has ruled for two hundred and sixty years. Emperor Taizu established the world with Confucianism, laying down moral principles and rectifying human relations. The vitality of literary culture was at its peak, like the sun at high noon, spreading mercy across the four seas and nine provinces..."
Xie Miheng and the other two, hearing these magnificent words praising the orthodox Confucian tradition of Great Qian, all lowered their heads slightly, their faces solemn.
At that very moment, Xu Jie's speech suddenly paused.
Then, his tone became unnerving cold without warning—a chill even more piercing than the late autumn night wind: "But in the latter half of this text, there remains a secret annotation left by the former Director of the Imperial Observatory..."
"The constellations shift; the Mandate of Heaven changes. If chaos arises in the northern stars, an unusual army springs forth; if the southern orbit deviates, machinery disrupts the way—then the constellations of Great Qian will rearrange, and the Mandate of Heaven will transfer. The destiny of Confucian governance has revealed the death throes of its final days!"
These words struck like a thunderbolt, crashing violently onto the blue bricks of the Cangshu Pavilion.
Upon hearing such shocking, subversive statements bordering on treason, Xie Miheng and the other two cabinet elders were terrified, their faces turning pale. Glancing at each other, their eyes were filled with extreme shock and dread.
The moral destiny of Confucianism, the end of its cycle?
This was equivalent to putting the very foundation of their entire civil official faction, and even the fate of Great Qian itself, on a blazing fire!
"Grand Secretary!" Xie Miheng could no longer remain seated, his voice urgent and spirited in rebuttal. "You are the leader of all civil officials under heaven, the pillar of all scholars within Great Qian! What is this annotation? It is nothing but the mad ravings of remnants from the former dynasty, spreading rumors and falsehoods! To put it bluntly, it is complete nonsense!"
"We, the civil officials of Great Qian, assist our sovereign with the sacred texts of the sages, with the vast, righteous spirit of heaven and earth!"
The other two Grand Secretaries also nodded repeatedly, their expressions panicked as they echoed.
Xu Jie quietly listened to Xie Miheng's impassioned remarks, without immediately interrupting.
He simply rolled up the bamboo scroll very slowly.
When he turned to face these three pillars of Great Qian, illuminated by the cold moonlight outside the window, Xie Miheng caught sight of a rare exhaustion and cloudiness in the Grand Secretary's eyes.
It was not the dejection of losing a political struggle, but a compromise and desolation born of seeing the endless cycles of all worldly matters.
"Speak not in earnest?" Xu Jie let out a bitter smile, moving with sluggish steps to stand before Xie Miheng, looking straight down at this Vice Grand Secretary, who had always prided himself on his stratagems.
"Miheng, at this advanced age of mine, my essence and blood are spent, and my vitality has decayed. This outer shell of a body is already tough on the outside but weak within. Standing in the Golden Throne Hall during the day, I can still pretend to possess composed strategy," Xu Jie sighed heavily and deeply low in his voice.
“But in the dead of night, as I listen to the creaking decay of these old bones, I know that everything under heaven must flourish and then decline. Yet, for what it’s worth, these bones of mine might still hold out for a few more years. But the celestial signs and the hearts of men—these are things no one can grasp.”
Xu Jie lifted his head, gazing into the endless darkness of the ceiling. “There are certain intangible matters of fate, the sweeping currents of the age, that one cannot help but believe in.”
Xie Miheng’s heart shuddered, a chill running through his entire body.
Deeply versed in the ways of the court, how could he fail to catch the grievous warning hidden in Xu Jie’s words?
Just as things had reached this point, Xie Miheng was about to speak and offer his counsel.
Then the situation changed.
One moment, Xu Jie was steeped in the weariness of old age, lamenting the mandates of heaven.
But in the next, all fatigue vanished from his murky, aged eyes, replaced by a glaring, venomous sharpness.
Slap!
A precious set of ancient bamboo slips was hurled heavily onto the long desk before Xu Jie.
The dull thud echoed through the empty Scripture Repository Hall, carrying a pressure that felt as though it could shatter the skulls of Xie Miheng and the others, causing even the sinking incense smoke from the bronze crane’s beak to snap and break apart.
Xu Jie’s face turned cold and stern as iron, his loose gray Taoist robe stirring as if moved by an unfelt wind.
His voice no longer carried any trace of world-weariness—only the decisive ruthlessness of the Grand Secretary, arbiter of life and death, cutting straight to the point.
“But fate is fate—the chess game of the court must still be played by men.”
Xu Jie’s icy gaze swept over the three men kneeling before him, his words measured and deliberate as he unveiled the true core of tonight’s secret council.
“I have summoned you here tonight to discuss only one matter.”
“To determine the life or death of the Minister of Revenue, Shang Qitai!”
