“Hey, Sixi, guess what I saw when I went to the kitchen to fetch breakfast this morning?” one said.
Before Xiahou Lian could respond, another chimed in, “What did you see? The new palace ladies? I heard they’re as beautiful as celestial maidens, and the emperor can’t decide which one to choose!”
“Pah! You’re missing a piece downstairs and still thinking about women?” Rolling his eyes, the young eunuch continued, “Someone drowned in Yuqing Pool last night. It was gruesome—the body was all bloated, like dough. You could poke it and leave a dent.”
“So what?” someone else scoffed. “How many people have drowned in that pool since the founding of our Great Qi dynasty? Palace concubines, eunuchs, maids—cats and dogs, for that matter. What’s so strange about that?”
The young eunuch went on. “Yes, but this guy was really unlucky. The guards said he snuck into the kitchen late at night and stole gold and silver cups. He probably planned to resell them to one of the glasswork sellers at Liulichang. But he slipped and fell, and the railing was already cracked, so he tumbled right into the water. After the emperor built the west garden’s new leopard enclosure, he stopped visiting the rear gardens, so the eunuchs and maids there slacked off. No one even noticed that cracked railing. Good thing it was just a thieving eunuch who died; if it’d been some bigwig, a lot of people would’ve been in trouble!”
“You’ve been talking and talking, but you still haven’t said who died,” Xiahou Lian interjected.
The young eunuch scratched his head. “Oh, right. It was Liu-gonggong from the kitchen.”
Startled, Xiahou Lian fell silent, his mind racing. Shen Jue had gone out last night—could this be related?
He couldn’t shake the feeling that Shen Jue was involved. After all, Sixi had died for harassing Shen Jue. And Shen Jue was vindictive; he came from a noble family. He had studied the Four Books and Five Classics, as well as principles of hierarchy and morality. Even as a servant, his arrogance was unchanged—he couldn’t tolerate the humiliation he’d faced. It was miraculous that he hadn’t skinned that eunuch alive.
But why was he being so reckless? Even Xiahou Lian would’ve thought twice before brandishing his saber beneath the emperor’s nose.
Xiahou Lian set down his broom and went looking for Shen Jue. Shen Jue was always busy with something; it was hard to track him down.
After some searching, he finally found Shen Jue on a walkway. Shen Jue had just returned from the Embroidery Bureau, carrying the consorts’ summer outfits. In the palace, status gave rise to sycophancy, and everyone knew who to prioritize. The eunuchs had already rushed to deliver the summer wardrobes to places like Zhongcui Palace and Yonghe Palace. But for a neglected corner like the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard, Shen Jue had to continually chase after the items himself to finally secure them.
Shen Jue saw Xiahou Lian but didn’t get the chance to greet him before Xiahou Lian approached him and asked in a low voice, “Did you hear about Liu Deyi’s death?”
Shen Jue glanced at him. “Yes, I heard. What about it?”
Xiahou Lian studied his calm expression, unsure whether Shen Jue was involved. Hesitantly, he asked, “Did he really fall into the pond by accident?”
“Of course not,” Shen Jue replied bluntly. “I did it. What—are you here to scold me? I didn’t know you were so soft.”
“It really was you!” Xiahou Lian grabbed his wrist. “Are you out of your mind? Why didn’t you discuss something so dangerous with me?”
“I could handle it myself. You focus on recovering—and mind your own business!” Shen Jue shook off Xiahou Lian’s hand and walked away.
Xiahou Lian followed close behind, gritting his teeth. “What kind of attitude is that? You don’t treat me like a brother—you don’t want my help. So why did you ask me to stay? As a decoration? As a pretty vase—something nice to look at?”
Shen Jue paused at Xiahou Lian’s words. Were they brothers, or master and servant? In retrospect, he’d never really thought of Xiahou Lian as either brother or servant. So what exactly was Xiahou Lian to him?
Shen Jue couldn’t figure it out and felt increasingly agitated. Afraid that Xiahou Lian would press further, he snapped, “Who says we’re brothers? Do we share the same parents?”
Taken aback, Xiahou Lian stood still for a moment. Hunh. That’s right. Shen Jue had never actually called him a brother—Xiahou Lian had just assumed that. But after mulling it over now, even he found it laughable.
Glancing up quickly, Xiahou Lian saw Shen Jue already walking away. He chased after him. “Fine. We don’t have to be brothers. But you can’t go around killing people!”
“Why not? You can, so why can’t I?”
Shen Jue’s thoughts whirled as Xiahou Lian replied in a strained voice, “Because you’re different! Your hands are meant for holding brushes, not shedding blood!”
His simple words cut through Shen Jue like a knife. His old wounds instantly reopened, oozing fresh blood.
“Meant for holding brushes.” The phrase echoed in Shen Jue’s mind. His grip on the summer clothes tightened, crumpling the fabric. How long had it been since he last held a brush? As a eunuch, he wasn’t even allotted ink or paper. Since entering the palace, he’d handled brooms, chamber pots, and laundry—but never a brush.
Ridiculous, Shen Jue thought. Xiahou Lian was such a fool. Did he really think Shen Jue could go back to how things were?
“Xie Jinglan is dead, Xiahou Lian. The person standing before you now is Shen Jue,” he said slowly, his pale face as cold as frost. “Shen Jue is a eunuch—a servant, a dog raised by his masters. What use would he have for a brush?”
“You—” Xiahou Lian’s heart ached, but he couldn’t find a response. After a long pause, he finally said with difficulty, “Shaoye, you’re not like me. I’m an assassin. I’ve already taken two or three lives, and a few more won’t make a difference. From now on, if you need someone killed, just tell me. I’ll do it for you. I’ll kill anyone who wrongs you. Anyone who insults you, I’ll cut them down!”
“What’s the difference?” Shen Jue smiled mockingly. “Is holding a brush really so different from holding a blade? You’re naive, Xiahou Lian. A blade can take one life, but power can destroy an entire family. When the emperor is angered, millions die, and blood flows for miles! Brushes and seals are the filthiest weapons in this world. You think assassins have the bloodiest hands? No, the person who most deserves to go to hell is the man on the throne in Fengxian Hall, worshipped by the masses!”
“I...I know, but...” Xiahou Lian stammered, his mind in turmoil. He scratched his head, unsure how to react.
“You just don’t want me to go down that path, do you?” Shen Jue asked calmly.
“Exactly!” Xiahou Lian couldn’t have cared less about the emperor. All he knew was that Xie Jinglan had once said that he would retreat to the countryside while the eunuchs remained in power, but that he’d help stabilize the nation again after they were gone. How could it be that Shen Jue was now one of the very eunuchs Xie Jinglan had condemned?
Xiahou Lian took a deep breath and said, “Shaoye, you don’t understand. Once blood stains your hands, there’s no turning back. Killing becomes addictive. You kill once, and then again and again. You begin to see people as little more than blades of grass—they die, and that’s it. Is that truly what you want, Shaoye?”
He waited for Shen Jue to answer, but the other boy’s expression remained indifferent and icy. Turning to look at Xiahou Lian, he said slowly, “Huh? Why shouldn’t I?”
Xiahou Lian’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Xiahou Lian, let me ask you—why do you kill?” Shen Jue’s voice was calm.
Xiahou Lian hesitated. “To survive.”
“So do I, then,” Shen Jue said with a faint smile. “I’ve started down this path already. Even if it leads to ruin, I won’t turn back. I’ll avenge Aunt Lan, kill Wei De, take control of the Eastern Depot, and become the leader of the Directorate of Ceremonial. If you don’t want to see me do so, leave.”
With those words, Shen Jue straightened the folds of the summer garments in his arms and walked away without a backward glance. Beneath the endless expanse of sky, his solitary figure looked both resolute and lonely.
Xiahou Lian watched him retreat. For a long time, he was at a loss.
Shen Jue and Xiahou Lian didn’t speak for several days after that. Shen Jue threw himself into his duties, indifferent to Xiahou Lian’s thoughts. Xiahou Lian didn’t loiter either; he was often away, though no one knew what he was up to. At night, they returned to the same room, extinguished the lights, and went to sleep without a word.
One day, Shen Jue was serving Consort Gao her meal. The kitchen had welcomed a new steward, and their meals had returned to normal. Consort Gao was so delighted that she’d practically rolled on the floor. She had recently become obsessed with makeup, painting her face as red as a monkey’s backside and caking on so much powder that it flaked off when she spoke. Her lunacy had reached new heights, and even the other mad concubines avoided her, as if terrified that her insanity would outshine theirs. Only Shen Jue could still speak with her calmly.
After setting out the dishes, Shen Jue turned and saw Xiahou Lian standing just beyond the threshold of the room, watching him.
“What do you want?” Shen Jue asked coldly.
Xiahou Lian pulled a three-foot-long wooden saber from behind his back and extended it.
Shen Jue looked at the wooden saber, puzzled. Did Xiahou Lian plan to kill him with it? Did he think Shen Jue would become a threat in the future and wish to nip it in the bud?
“I’m afraid you’ll get yourself killed, so I’m going to teach you some useful saber moves. Then, if you ever slip up and get thrown in prison, you might be able to escape using your peerless swordplay.” Xiahou Lian sighed mockingly. “After you bust out, you can come find me. If you have some proper skills under your belt, maybe I can find you a job.” With that, Xiahou Lian gripped the saber in both hands, swung it in a smooth arc, and pointed the tip at Shen Jue.
Shen Jue chuckled coldly.
“What—you don’t think I’m skilled enough?” Xiahou Lian raised an eyebrow.
Shen Jue stepped over the threshold, walked up to Xiahou Lian, and plucked the wooden saber from his hands. “Meet me by the palace wall at nine tonight.”