A day prior, an autumn rain had been falling over the capital region without pause.
It was deep autumn, and the capital was shrouded in days of continuous drizzle. A heavy, damp chill had cloaked the entire imperial city in a gray pall.
Fine raindrops slid down the golden glazed tiles along the shore of Taiye Pond, trickling from the eaves to form puddles on the ground below.
Deep within the Imperial Garden, inside a warm pavilion, a small red clay stove burned high-quality charcoal, its heat gently warming a pot of aged Shaoxing rice wine to perfection.
The rich aroma of the wine, mingled with the faint scent of charcoal, rose through the air, driving off some of the autumn rain's cold and gloom.
What a scene of utter comfort and ease!
The old emperor, dressed in a casual robe of bright yellow silk, reclined half-lying on a soft couch cushioned with gold-threaded bolsters.
Between his fingers, he held a black jade Go stone, suspended above a board of kaya wood, yet for a long moment he failed to place it down.
Outside the pavilion, the rain pattered without end against the lattice windows.
Across from him sat Xu Jie, the Grand Secretary of the Grand Secretariat, his hands folded within the wide sleeves of his robe. His back was slightly bent, his gaze fixed on the intricate go board, waiting in silence.
This mid-game struggle had lasted from afternoon until dusk. The black and white stones were locked in a bitter contest, the position as tangled and uncertain as the undercurrents of the court itself.
Rolling the black stone between his thumb and forefinger, the old emperor shifted the conversation with casual ease to the northern frontier. "If I calculate the speed of a fast horse, and account for this persistent autumn rain, the smoke signals from beyond Zhenbei Pass must have already burned across the sky above the Yinshan Mountains by now."
His tone was unhurried, revealing neither joy nor anger—like a man who had spent a lifetime as the hand that moves the pieces, steady as ever.
Patience and concealment had been the foundation of this emperor's youth. Even after taking the throne in his middle years, he had remained consistent in this regard.
Xu Jie kept his eyes lowered. "Your Majesty sees all with divine clarity. The Helian tribe has bided their time for years. To stir up such a disturbance beyond the pass now, they must have poured out all their strength, intent on breaching the barrier."
A slight movement of the old emperor's fingertip, and the black stone fell upon a corner, sealing off the final lifeline of the white stones.
He raised his eyes to look at Xu Jie, the Grand Secretary who had guided the Great Qian dynasty's affairs for decades, and a glint of scrutiny flickered in his gaze.
"Grand Secretary Xu," the emperor called, his tone laced with a subtle, probing edge. "You pushed Xu Youde's daughter, step by step, into that perilous northern wasteland, letting her stir up storms beyond the border."
"And now, Helian's Iron Cavalry bears down, and the lonely city of Zhenbei teeters on the brink of collapse."
The old emperor paused, sipping a mouthful of warm rice wine from the cup on the table. As the hot liquid slid down his throat, his voice took on a sharp, inquisitive edge.
"I must confess, I am somewhat perplexed. You, the Grand Secretary, who speaks always of the realm's welfare—do you truly feel not the slightest worry that the nation's gates might fall, and foreign horsemen shatter the Great Qian's empire under their hooves?"
Xu Jie's expression remained unchanged. His weathered face, lined with age, betrayed no hint of unease.
He plucked a white stone from the bowl, and his withered fingers, steady as rock, placed it straight into the heart of the black territory, forcing an opening in the midst of a seemingly hopeless deadlock.
"Your Majesty need not worry," Xu Jie replied, revealing the calm confidence of a man who had weathered three imperial reigns. "Your servant may be concerned for the fate of all under heaven, but I do not fear for Zhenbei Pass at this moment."
"Oh?" The old emperor set down his wine cup and leaned forward. "Grand Secretary, what do you mean by that? Explain yourself."
Xu Jie sketched a gesture in the air, pointing at a junction of black and white stones on the edge of the board.
"Consider this, Your Majesty. The art of war teaches that provisions precede movement."
"Across the vast desert, with lonely smoke rising for a thousand li, a long-distance raid's greatest peril is the lack of supplies. The Helian Iron Cavalry, clad in heavy armor, consumes men and horses alike like a bottomless pit."
"We have intelligence reports from the Imperial Guard and the border army: this Left Gully King Ashina Dubi leads a hundred thousand Iron Cavalry southward, boasting he will trample our border garrisons flat."
"Yet behind this vast army of horsemen, there is not a single supply wagon, not a single grain sack for provisions. These riders, spread across the plains, rely entirely on dried rations and sheer will."
Xu Jie's white beard trembled slightly as he shook his head, exposing the absurdity of it all.
"A gamble like this—burning bridges, cutting off all retreat—does that look like the strategy of one who seeks to conquer the Central Plains?" he continued. "Ashina Dubi has spent half his life on horseback. Though he is a barbarian from beyond the frontier, he is no reckless fool."
"As I see it, the Helian tribe's all-out attack reeks of a desperate, life-be-damned frenzy."
"This is not a hungry wolf descending the mountain in search of prey. This is a cornered beast with flames licking its tail. It has no care for the path behind—it has broken from its cage in a wild panic, seeking only a chance to survive."
The old emperor sat up straight, showing renewed interest in this analysis. "So, Grand Secretary, what you are saying is that the Helian tribe's own lands are ablaze?"
Xu Jie stroked his beard and nodded, his gaze drifting past the partially open window of the warm pavilion to the overcast northern sky, as if he could see through to the war beyond the pass.
"Something catastrophic must have occurred," Xu Jie said, choosing his words with care and laying out his reasoning with clear logic. "The lifeline of the Helian left wing lies in Baiyin Grasslands. For tens of thousands of Iron Cavalrymen to abandon their baggage and hurl themselves at Zhenbei Pass like madmen—there must be a grave disturbance within the Helian domain."
"And beyond the Yinshan Mountains, there are no others—save the Great Qian border troops. Tie Lanshan stands firm behind his new walls built of gray iron, never yielding a single step."
Xu Jie withdrew his gaze, meeting the old emperor's eyes. "Those capable of crossing the defensive line and striking the Helian nest at its root are few across the entire northern frontier."
"Other than the Xu girl, I cannot think of a single other with such vicious cunning. On the Tongzhou River, she laid a net that caught the heavens and the earth, and subjugated the water transport guild. Once in the north, she would naturally be able to split the Helian tribe's own flesh and bone."
"This strategy is one of 'removing the firewood from under the cauldron,' cutting off the lifeline of a hundred-thousand-strong army. If the Helian warriors have no food in their stomachs, within three days their morale will surely crumble."
"Zhenbei Pass need only shut its gates and hold fast. Those starving wolves will shatter their fangs against the solid walls and turn to dust and bones. Not only will the Great Qian be safe, but we may also achieve victory without a single battle."
The old emperor listened to this dissection of the northern war situation, laid bare with such precision, and could not help but laugh.
Finally, he laughed out loud, a full-throated roar.
"Excellent! Excellent! A cornered beast with fire on its tail! And a removal of the firewood from under the cauldron!"
He praised repeatedly, yet offered no comment on Xu Qinghuan's deeds in the north.
Suddenly, the old emperor checked his laughter and swept his wide sleeve across the Go board.
A sharp clatter rang out.
The chaotic white-and-black position on the kaya-wood board was swept into a mess. The stones scattered and rolled, falling onto the wool-draped floor, shattering the stillness inside the pavilion.
The old emperor leaned forward, the hem of his bright yellow robe trailing down, and his face took on a solemn, heavy majesty.
He cast aside all reports of victory from the north.
"The northern situation, since it is already solved, is a dead game now. There is no need for further discussion," the old emperor said, fixing his gaze firmly on Xu Jie. "What truly weighs upon my heart is the matter of the capital's sovereignty."
Xu Jie bowed his head, folding his hands into his sleeves, holding his breath, waiting.
"Moving the capital south," the old emperor spoke these two words, and they fell like a millstone upon the ears.
Outside the warm pavilion, a bolt of autumn thunder split the heavy clouds, rumbling and rolling across the sky above the Forbidden City.
"You understand—I have decided to move the capital south to Jiangnan," the old emperor said, leaning back onto the soft couch, rubbing his aching temple, not bothering to hide such thoughts from Xu Jie, a man of the same aristocratic lineage.
"This is a course that must be taken. The Grand Founder established the capital in the north to garrison and pacify the frontier."
"A century has passed, and the noble families of the capital have become an intricate web of power, with aristocratic houses controlling the court. The Six Ministries and Nine Courts have all become their private domains."
"The very foundation of the Great Qian has long been eaten away by these parasites until it is riddled with holes. Whether salt, iron, land taxes—every last copper finds its way into their personal coffers."
"My decision to move the capital south is to cut these aristocratic houses off from their home ground advantage here in the capital, severing their path to continue devouring the nation's strength. Only by doing so can we extend the Great Qian's dynasty for another hundred years."
The old emperor's voice was filled with a mix of weariness and indignation. A sovereign, yet forced by the civil official faction beneath him into abandoning the capital and cutting his losses: "But this matter—this uprooting of old-guard foundations, this digging at ancestral graves—every single official in the court knows it. Yet who dares to speak up?"
He cast a cold glance at the Grand Secretary below the steps: "Look at the court now, Grand Secretary. Every single one of them plays deaf and dumb, a conspiracy of silence. I want to use this issue to blow the lid off this cesspool during the morning audience, but I cannot even find a single reasonable pretext!"
Discussing the move south touched upon the land holdings, estates, ancestral temples, and very lives of every civil official across the realm.
Every fertile patch of land around the capital belonged to those noble families with generations of honor.
If the imperial house moved south, they would take only the central government apparatus—abandoning the family wealth of these aristocratic houses in the north to become worthless land.
Such a practice of cutting off others' profits was tantamount to severing the lifeline of the entire scholar-official class.
Xu Jie stared at the scattered black and white Go pieces on the floor, remaining silent for a long time.
Crafty and calculating, he naturally understood the old emperor's predicament.
The move south was both a dead end and a lifeline.
If the imperial house forcibly issued the decree, it would provoke a desperate counterattack from the entire civil official group and the great families.
Those outwardly obedient high officials needed only to pay lip service—and they could halt canal shipments on the Grand Canal, set the granaries ablaze, and render government decrees impotent outside the capital.
If pushed too far, those aristocratic houses would not hesitate to stage a mutiny and install an obedient prince on the dragon throne. The history books would merely record a few lines of hollow justification like "Purging the ruler's side, quelling the national crisis."
"Your Majesty," Xu Jie finally spoke, "the act of moving south benefits future generations for a thousand years, but brings only pain to the present. Without some great calamity as a catalyst, pushing this policy by force is nothing less than setting oneself aflame."
"Within the court and without, interests are layered like a tangled web. Pull one thread, and the whole body moves."
"The pretext must be both plausible and powerful enough to seal the mouths of every civil and military official, forcing them to swallow this bitter pill."
Within the warm chamber, only the faint crackling of charcoal in the red clay stove remained.
The sovereign and his subject exchanged a glance, each reading the deep, unfathomable scheming in the other's eyes.
The pretext that could pry open the door for moving south—the blade that could slice through the defenses of the aristocratic houses—they were both waiting for it.
Waiting for a turning point. Waiting for a storm violent enough, catastrophic enough, that no one could argue against it.
But could Xu Jie truly wait? Could Xu Jie truly bear to be the sacrifice the Great Qian demanded of the aristocratic houses?
