DEEP IN THE FOREST, the wind rose.
The forest was like an ocean, its waves of leaves surging in the wind. The rustling of leaves and endless chirping of cicadas filled the air. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the foliage, scattering golden dust that danced in the air.
Situ Jin sat astride his horse, a longbow slung across his back, and watched the group ahead. He and several other archers were scattered throughout the woods, ready to shoot any prey the nobles targeted.
At the head of the pack, the eldest prince rode a chestnut-colored Ferghana horse—a recent tribute from abroad. The prince had bravely tamed the horse in front of Fengtian Hall, earning the emperor’s favor and the horse as a reward. Beside him was Wei De, head of the Directorate of Ceremonial, wearing a Tatar hat and a narrow-sleeved robe patterned with clouds. A red-lacquered sharkskin scabbard hung at his waist, and his horse carried a quiver of arrows. A group of agents followed behind him, each wearing a black gauze hat and round-collared robe.
Wei De didn’t seem to be a skilled rider. A young eunuch in green led his horse at a slow pace. Situ Jin watched that young eunuch. He kept his head down, his every movement exuding obedience. His slender frame and thin shoulders looked familiar.
Behind him, an archer whispered, “Look at Wei De’s entourage and attire. If you didn’t already know, would you even realize he was a eunuch? He looks every bit a noble, even standing beside the prince.”
“Exactly. You could say he’s half a master. It’s a strange world we live in, where castrated men outshine those who are whole. Maybe we should all cut ours off,” another archer joked.
Wei De had risen from humble beginnings. Originally a self-castrated nobody, he’d been on his way to serve out exile in the army when he encountered the late emperor’s procession. Before the imperial carriage could pass, Wei De had rushed out of the line of prisoners and prostrated himself, refusing to rise even when the guards whipped him. Moved by pity, the late emperor took Wei De into the palace and assigned him to serve the third prince, who would later become the Xuanhe Emperor. The prince had lost his mother at birth and was disdained by everyone. His brothers routinely beat him, and his clumsiness earned him frequent canings from his tutors. Each time, he returned to his chambers with palms that were red and swollen.
Only Wei De cared for the prince, and with unwavering devotion. Although Wei De couldn’t fight back when the other princes beat the boy, he shielded the prince with his own body, enduring their kicks and comforting him. When the prince’s palms hurt too badly for him to sleep, Wei De blew on them over and over to soothe the pain. When no one would play with the prince, Wei De let him ride on his back or played fetch like a dog.
The Gao family had always struggled to produce heirs. Their ancestors had filled their harems, prayed to all manner of Buddhas and deities, and even tried alchemy, but to no avail. Fortunately, despite the family’s limited descendants, the Great Qi dynasty had survived over a dozen generations. By the time of the Xuanhe Emperor, there were three sons and one daughter—more heirs than usual. However, the first two princes killed each other in a struggle for the throne, leaving the Xuanhe Emperor’s crown to fall like a bolt from the blue onto the third prince’s head.
This sudden rise overwhelmed the new emperor, and his true nature—once stifled by his brothers—burst forth. He began indulging his every whim—building leopard enclosures, touring the south, choosing beautiful women—everything but governing. Thus, the power to approve memorials fell into Wei De’s hands.
The Eastern Depot flourished, the prisons overflowed, and the eunuch faction’s authority grew dramatically, leaving the officials outside it in constant fear. The emperor focused on his pleasure while Wei De wielded absolute power. Even the highest-ranking officials had to bow respectfully to the eunuch.
No one could speak of these things, only sigh inwardly. Eastern Depot spies were everywhere; they could even have retrieved the game tiles officials played with at home. If Wei De heard anyone gossip about him, there would be hell to pay.
Situ Jin remained silent, his eyes fixed on Wei De’s black horse. He frowned slightly.
Was it just his imagination, or was the horse limping?
Up ahead, the eldest prince laughed heartily and cracked his whip, urging his horse into a gallop. Waving off the young eunuch, who stepped aside, Wei De raised his own whip to follow.
Suddenly, disaster struck.
After just a few strides, the black horse let out a long whinny, and its front legs buckled. The horse collapsed to the side, catching Wei De off guard. He struggled to maintain his balance but then fell from the saddle.
Everyone was horrified, but the other eunuchs were too far away to help. They could only watch as Wei De—fragile as dry grass—tumbled to the ground. Only the young eunuch in green reacted. He shot forth like an arrow, reaching Wei De just in time to cushion his fall. Wei De was in his seventies and would’ve been seriously injured—if not killed—by the impact of a fall from a tall horse. But the young eunuch’s thin frame, bony as it was, provided enough of a cushion. The two eunuchs fell to the ground together, and Wei De cried out in pain as his Tatar hat rolled away, spinning in circles.
As the young eunuch fell, Situ Jin glimpsed his face—the cold eyes and tightly pressed lips. It was Shen Jue, whom he’d met once before.
As Shen Jue held Wei De, shielding him, the young eunuch’s arm slammed into a sharp rock. Blood immediately soaked half his sleeve, but he didn’t make a sound at the searing pain. Slowly, he sat up and helped Wei De to his feet as well.
Wei De was still shaken, his hair disheveled. He gasped, winded, as he examined the fallen horse. “Someone tried to kill me! Someone tried to kill me!” He clutched his chest, then—finally catching his breath—pointed at Shen Jue. “You—what’s your name? Who was in charge of feeding this horse? Someone call that useless Yan Ang over here now!”
Shen Jue knelt and pressed his head to the ground. “This servant is Shen Jue from the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard. The horse was under the care of the stablemaster, Cao-gonggong from the imperial stables. A few days ago, Yan-gonggong said that Stablemaster Cao was ill and asked me to take over. I…I never expected today’s mishap. Please forgive me, Wei-gonggong!”
With these words, Shen Jue had neatly absolved himself of blame. His head remained bowed, hiding the dark shadows in his eyes.
“Why would Yan Ang involve you in the imperial stables’ affairs?” Wei De’s eyes bulged with rage. “I’m not even dead yet, and that Yan Ang is already plotting against me!”
Hearing the commotion, the eldest prince turned his horse around. “What’s going on?”
Suddenly, an arrow shot from one side and struck the Ferghana horse’s hindquarters. Blood gushed out, and the horse jolted in pain, then bolted straight toward Shen Jue and Wei De. The horrified prince yanked the reins, but the horse charged straight ahead, out of control. “Move!” he shouted. “Get out of the way!”
The horse’s hooves thundered against the ground, kicking up swirling dust clouds. Shen Jue and Wei De, too close to escape, felt the ground shake beneath them. Shen Jue’s pupils contracted as Wei De went pale, watching the iron-gray hooves approach rapidly. In that instant, Wei De’s mind raced. His clawlike hand gripped Shen Jue’s arm, and as their eyes met, Wei De pulled Shen Jue in front of him.
He meant to use Shen Jue as a human shield!
Wei De’s eyes, murky as deep pools, reflected Shen Jue’s pale face. Shen Jue had no time to struggle—the hooves were already nearly upon them!