“So that’s what you meant,” Xiang Muxue said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Honestly, Uncle, you should phrase things more carefully. Otherwise, people might get the wrong idea.”
Tang Huwei nodded solemnly, the very picture of remorse.
Mo Jian was certain it was an act. The man had phrased things exactly as intended, and the misunderstanding had been carefully engineered. Tang Huwei possessed all the impulse control and emotional maturity of a five-year-old when he chose to.
They sat around the table in the center of Muxue’s room, each wearing a vastly different expression. Tang Huwei continued his masterful performance of contrition. The princess was red in the face and avoided everyone's eyes while scolding her "uncle." Bai Ning's eyebrows had climbed so high they looked ready to disappear into her hairline. Shen Jinglan kept casting suspicious glances at Mo Jian – subtle, she likely believed, though nothing was subtle to his senses – before redirecting them into glares aimed squarely at the Tiger General.
As for Mo Jian, he was seriously considering whether fleeing would be socially acceptable. What sort of conspiracy involved discussions like this instead of politics, assassinations, and world-shaking schemes? The one he was part of, apparently.
"Not that I'm against it," Muxue added hastily, turning toward him in what appeared to be an attempt at reassurance. A heartbeat later, she realized what she had just said and turned an even deeper shade of red. To her credit, she neither looked away nor began stammering, which would only have made things worse.
“It’s just that it sounded very different when I first heard it. But if it’s simply about assigning a permanent guard to me and making sure I can pass information to you as quickly as possible...” Her voice trailed off.
Somehow, she had made it worse.
Sensing opportunity, General Tang immediately seized it. Mo Jian’s sincere desire for the man to choke on his own tongue went entirely ignored by the cruel and indifferent Heavens.
“Of course that’s what it’s about. What else could I possibly mean?” Huwei asked, blinking innocently. Not a single person at the table was fooled. Undeterred, he continued. “As it is politically unfeasible to assign guards to you officially, Little Moon, we require a workaround. There are only so many times we can use the excuse of an escort before it begins to sound hollow. More importantly, Chengxuan would leap at any opportunity to discredit you.”
He folded his arms and nodded sagely. “This arrangement is both simpler and more effective. Especially now that Mo Jian has agreed to become my student. Naturally, I will pass on my teachings, and a few treasures, to him. We must ensure that your chambers remain secure and private.”
No, that phrasing somehow sounded even worse. Tang Huwei possessed a rare and terrible gift for walking the razor thin line between innocence and insolence.
More importantly, when exactly had Mo Jian agreed to become his student? Was the general referring to their earlier conversation? He was tempted to object and set the record straight. Yet every survival instinct he possessed urged him to remain perfectly still and say absolutely nothing.
If he stayed quiet, perhaps this entire farce would pass him by. If he spoke, he suspected he would somehow become the central figure in whatever comedy of errors was currently unfolding. Experience suggested that silence was the wiser choice.
"Wait," Bai Ning interjected. She had been frowning ever since she sat down. "Why can't you just assign guards to her directly? Isn't that exactly what Miao Bu and I have been doing for the past several days?"
She did not sound particularly pleased about the assignment either. Mo Jian already knew as much; she had complained about it to him more than once.
Muxue answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“It’s a load of nonsense, honestly. Unfortunately, it’s nonsense that has become deeply entrenched in court culture.” She rolled her eyes. “Since every member of the imperial family is supposedly under Grandfather’s protection, maintaining personal guards is considered gauche. Worse, it can be interpreted as an insult to him, as though we do not trust in the Immortal Emperor’s ability to keep us safe.”
Her expression turned dry. “Of course, Grandfather has never actually said anything of the sort. But over the years, people convinced themselves that this was proper etiquette, and now it has become tradition.” She spread her hands. “No member of the imperial family is permitted to have official guards. Outside the palace, protection falls to the army. Inside, we are supposedly above such concerns.”
“Even Uncle doesn’t have any official guards. The Censors perform some of those functions, but no one would ever call them guards. Chengxuan doesn't have any either, at least on paper, though I am fairly certain several members of his inner circle, and more than a few of his concubines, are bodyguards in everything but name.”
She shrugged.
“And,” Tang Huwei added pointedly, “guards remain necessary regardless of what name we give them.” The general leaned forward slightly. “There are many ways to harm an unprotected person besides stabbing them. They can be watched, manipulated, cornered into unfavorable positions, isolated from allies, or simply perceived as lacking authority. That perception alone can be dangerous.”
His expression became more serious. “Having guards is essential. We simply cannot call them guards.”
He tapped the table with one finger. “The excuse I have been using these past few days, that Shi Wanjun or his remaining loyalists might still be lurking nearby, is beginning to wear thin. It will not hold forever. Nor do we want Chengxuan discovering a convenient pretext with which to attack Muxue politically.”
Then, with all the casualness of a man discussing the weather, he delivered the killing blow. “That is why I propose that Mo Jian act as your consort.”
The room fell silent.
“It provides a perfectly legitimate reason for him to remain in your chambers at all times. More importantly, it eliminates any intermediary between your instructions and his actions. Both are significant advantages.”
Xiang Muxue flushed once more. This time, however, she maintained her composure admirably.
“And as I said,” she replied evenly, “I am not opposed to the arrangement.” A slight pause followed. “Though, of course, the final decision is yours, Mo Jian.”
Mo Jian desperately wished it were not. Unfortunately, there was only one answer he could reasonably give in this situation. “...If you think it will help, then sure.”
General Tang immediately clapped his hands together, looking unbearably pleased with himself. The gesture practically screamed, See? I told you so.
Muxue smiled as well, though hers was smaller and far more tentative. For a moment, she met Mo Jian's gaze and offered him a private smile. Across the table, Shen Jinglan looked as though she had just witnessed a personal tragedy. Bai Ning, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits.
"What about me?" she demanded. "How am I supposed to stay close to Mo Jian and the princess if everyone needs some excuse to be around her? I need to remain nearby too, in case you've forgotten." She neglected to explain why she needed to remain nearby. This was probably for the best, considering there was no actual reason.
Tang Huwei dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand. "You were once Mo Jian's student. That should be more than sufficient justification for spending your time with him and the princess."
He paused thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "Hm. Perhaps I can include Miao Bu as well. If you agree to pretend he's your lo-"
"Absolutely not." Bai Ning's interruption was so immediate and so flat that it cut through the room like a sword stroke.
Tang Huwei merely nodded, as though receiving rejections to his absurd proposals was simply part of his everyday process. "Fair enough."
His gaze shifted to Shen Jinglan.
She visibly stiffened. “Um.” The attendant nearly jumped from her seat. “I… that is to say-” The look she sent Muxue was one of pure desperation. “Of course, I am flattered, but...”
The princess stared at her uncle, slowly placing both palms flat on the table. “Uncle.” The single word carried enough warning to halt most armies. “Quit troubling my attendant.”
Tang Huwei raised both hands in surrender.
Satisfied, Muxue turned her attention to the rest of the room. “Let's forget all of that.” No one argued. “Before we became sidetracked,” she continued, pointedly ignoring the pouting general at the table, “I intended to share some news with all of you.” The amusement faded from her expression, replaced by focus. “I've spent the past few days considering our options, and decided which ministry we should target.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately.
Even Tang Huwei straightened in his chair.
“The Ministry of Revenue, then,” he said, jumping ahead. “A sensible choice. I have deeper connections within the Ministry of War, but they're thoroughly in Chengxuan's pocket. We also can't go around killing ministers whenever they become inconvenient. The Emperor would bury us under investigations, and the Censors would have a field day.”
He nodded to himself. “We can begin laying the groundwork with Revenue. I'll arrange a meeting with-”
“The Ministry of External Affairs.” Muxue cut him off before he could finish.
Silence followed.
Mo Jian searched his memory. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't recall any significant Ministry of External Affairs. He had spent enough time studying the court's structure to recognize most of the important ministries, yet this one barely registered.
Tang Huwei's response immediately explained why. “Little Moon,” the general began patiently, in the tone one might use with a child proposing to recruit an army of squirrels, “one risky plan succeeding does not mean every risky plan will. The Ministry of External Affairs is a joke.”
He spread his hands. “The only reason it exists is because the court wanted thirty three ministries to match the thirty three levels of the Imperial Palace. After creating the thirty two ministries that actually mattered, someone realized they were one short and invented External Affairs.”
A few snorts escaped around the table.
“They have nothing to offer because they barely exist. Most of their authority exists on paper and nowhere else.”
Muxue's smile widened. "Exactly," she said, triumph coloring her voice. "If we were looking for a powerful ally, you would be completely correct. The Ministry of External Affairs is useless." She leaned forward. "But that isn't the question. The question is whether we can use them to satisfy the requirement of obtaining official support from a ministry."
Tang Huwei's expression slowly shifted. Muxue continued before he could interrupt.
"By now, Chengxuan has almost certainly secured the loyalty of every ministry that matters. Even if we remove some of his subordinates, that doesn't change where the institutions themselves stand. No major ministry will support us without a prolonged political struggle."
She shook her head. "And that is a struggle we would lose."
No one argued with that.
“The Ministry of External Affairs is different. They have no influence to lose.” A faint note of amusement entered her voice. “They don't even possess the right to petition the Emperor directly anymore. Their greatest responsibility comes once every century when the Daqin contingent arrives and our own delegation crosses to the other continent. Even then, their role is mostly ceremonial. To them, the promise of relevance is more valuable than power. Offer them influence, offer them a purpose, and they'll listen.”
The smile returned. “They are the only ministry we can realistically recruit without first winning a political war against Chengxuan.”
Silence settled over the table once more. The cultivators exchanged glances. No one seemed quite sure how to respond. For perhaps the first time since the discussion had begun, Tang Huwei looked genuinely caught off guard. Mo Jian found himself unexpectedly impressed. It was a simple idea, which was precisely why none of them had considered it. After all, everyone else had been searching for strength. Muxue had searched for opportunity.
As the silence dragged on, Mo Jian finally decided to speak. The earlier disaster had passed. This conversation, at least, was important.
“But then,” he said, “how will they help us? If their influence is as limited as you say, then their support will be equally limited. Simply having them endorse you on paper won't be enough.” He frowned thoughtfully. “A ministry needs accomplishments. It has to provide evidence and results to justify nominating a member of the imperial family as Crown Heir. So what exactly are you planning to do that would allow us to overcome that problem?”
The princess smiled. It was the smile of someone who had been waiting for that exact question. Mo Jian was fairly certain she had been; it was something he had noticed ever since their victory in court. As Muxue grew more comfortable around them, she was showing more of her true personality. In one sense, that was a blessing. Co-conspirators ought to trust one another. In another, it meant she increasingly indulged her love of theatrics and expected everyone else to patiently follow along.
Like now.
“The golden age of the Ministry of External Affairs came three thousand years ago,” Muxue began, folding her hands together. “Back when the Yuan tribes were united beneath Jenghiz and formed a single empire.” She glanced around the table. “After all, the ministry's purpose is to manage relations with foreign powers. The problem is that we don't really have any.”
A few eyebrows rose.
“To the west lie the Sunken Cities, but that region belongs to the Immortal Rahu. By Grandfather's decree, it is forbidden ground for every citizen of the Empire.” She raised one finger. “To the north beyond the steppes lie the White Wastes and the Sable Sea, both domains of Madam Feng. Our relations with the peoples who worship her can best be described as... frosty.” A second finger joined the first. “To the east and south stretch the endless oceans. Over the centuries we have lost enough treasure fleets attempting to cross them to conclude that there is nothing reachable in those directions.”
Tang Huwei grimaced. Apparently the army still remained sensitive about that particular topic.
“So in practice,” Muxue continued, “the Empire has only two true external fronts.” She held up a third finger. “The first is the northern frontier with the various Yuan hordes.” Then a fourth. “The second is here, at the intercontinental teleportation formation.”
Understanding slowly began to dawn on Mo Jian.
“The formation is heavily regulated,” Muxue said. “Every significant exchange is overseen by the court itself. My uncle practically presides over the process personally. As a result, the Ministry of External Affairs has little true authority there.” She shrugged. “As for the Yuan, the old steppe empire shattered long ago. What remains are scattered hordes, rival clans, and regional powers. There is no great foreign empire to negotiate with anymore.”
Her smile widened slightly. “So, over the centuries, the Ministry of External Affairs has found itself with less and less to do.”
“Until now,” Bai Ning murmured. “When you intend to give them something to do.”
Muxue's smile turned positively radiant.
“Something to do indeed.”
As the room fell silent once more, Mo Jian could almost feel the pieces beginning to fit together. He still lacked some crucial detail, but he could sense the shape of the plan emerging from everything Muxue had said so far. Before anyone could press her for that missing piece, however, the princess clapped her hands together and sat up straighter.
“Alright, enough explanations. Time is short, and we have work to do, so here are your orders.”
The shift from conspiratorial discussion to command was immediate. Tang Huwei, who had spent most of the meeting alternating between stirring trouble and looking pleased with himself, straightened in his chair and gave her his full attention.
“Uncle, I want you to arrange meetings with as many ministries as possible. The Nine Core Ministries, the eleven secondary ministries, and any lesser offices that might be relevant. It doesn't matter whether they laugh in our faces or refuse to hear us out. The goal is not to convince them. The goal is to create a smokescreen.”
To his credit, Tang Huwei did not argue. Receiving what could only be described as orders from the woman he considered his niece, he merely nodded and began considering the practicalities.
Muxue then turned her attention to Mo Jian.
“We're going to change tactics somewhat in support of that plan. I want false evidence planted in the residences of Chengxuan's closest supporters. Stolen treasures, forged records, jade slips suggesting treason, secret correspondence; anything of that nature.”
Mo Jian raised an eyebrow.
“It doesn't need to be believable,” she continued. “It doesn't even need to be actionable. It simply needs to appear inside locations that should be impossible to infiltrate. If they discover such things in their homes, the details won't matter nearly as much as the fact that someone managed to put them there.”
That, at least, made immediate sense.
“Can you do it?”
Mo Jian barely had to think about the answer. Compared to some of the assassinations and thefts he had already carried out, planting evidence was almost embarrassingly straightforward.
“I can.”
“Good.” Muxue nodded approvingly. “And having you stay in my chambers will make the process easier. I'll show you the location of one of the palace's lesser treasure vaults. Anything you steal can be supplemented from there before being redistributed among our targets.” She was so engrossed in the plan that not the slightest trace of embarrassment crossed her face.
“What exactly does that accomplish?” Bai Ning asked.
Muxue immediately pointed at her. “Excellent question.”
Bai Ning looked vaguely annoyed at being praised.
“It puts pressure on Chengxuan. Our attempts to approach various ministries won't remain secret for long, but approaching all of them simultaneously will conceal which one actually matters. At the same time, I intend to take advantage of all those invitations to court functions that Chengxuan's allies spent years sending me.”
“You still have those?” Shen Jinglan asked.
“Of course. I kept every single one.”
The attendant looked entirely unsurprised by that answer.
“Even if I am no longer invited to the Lower Court, those invitations should still allow me to attend. Once there, I will begin publicly accusing several of Chengxuan's closest supporters of corruption and embezzlement.”
“But you don't actually have evidence,” Bai Ning pointed out. “Beyond the fake one we will be planting, anyway.”
“That's because the evidence isn't the point.” Muxue sounded almost offended that such a thing needed to be explained. “Chengxuan will hear that I am targeting his people through accusations of corruption. Then evidence will begin mysteriously appearing inside those same officials' residences. Whether the evidence is convincing or not hardly matters. He'll conclude that I am genuinely pursuing that line of attack and focus his attention accordingly.”
Understanding gradually spread around the table.
“He'll move to suppress the investigation,” Tang Huwei said.
“Exactly. Which is why the investigation is supposed to fail.”
That answer earned several frowns. Instead of explaining, the princess waited. And waited. She was clearly expecting someone to ask the obvious question. No one did. Muxue's smile slowly faded. She glanced around the table. Nothing. She shot Shen Jinglan a look of profound betrayal. The attendant looked away and rolled her eyes.
With a put upon sigh, Muxue continued. “The real goal is to take a step backwards.”
That got their attention.
“The truth is that even if I possessed genuine evidence of corruption, I would never present it to the court. Any serious investigation into a ministry would involve my uncle, and he would side with Chengxuan. Not because he supports him,” Muxue clarified quickly. “Because he wouldn't have a choice.” She folded her hands together. “If corruption on that scale existed beneath his authority, acknowledging it would make him appear incompetent. The institution would protect itself.”
Tang Huwei grimaced.
“So this becomes a scheme designed to fail,” she continued. “As long as it occupies Chengxuan's attention, it has served its purpose. Then, at exactly the right moment, we will leak information regarding my attempts to recruit the Ministry of External Affairs and the ‘impossible promises’ I have been making to them.”
“Impossible promises?” Bai Ning questioned slowly.
Muxue nodded.
“Yes, impossible promises. Combined with unrest among the Yuan tribes and my very public failure to expose corruption, it will create the perfect opportunity for Chengxuan to strike.”
At last, Mo Jian understood where all of this was leading. “He'll see weakness and a way to tie an anchor around our necks.”
“He'll see an opportunity,” Muxue corrected softly. The smile she had worn throughout the discussion faded, and some of the brightness seemed to leave her with it. “After all, that's how he killed Father.”
The words settled over the room like a heavy blanket.
Until that moment, the conversation had revolved around ministries, distractions, and political maneuvering. It had been easy to view the entire scheme as an elaborate game between rival factions. Those few words reminded everyone that it was not.
“He lured Father into a situation that appeared manageable,” Muxue continued after a moment. “Then he arranged matters so that retreat became impossible and help arrived too late. If he believes he can do the same thing to me, send the daughter where the father died, he may find the temptation difficult to resist.”
Her gaze lowered briefly to the tabletop. “Provided, of course, that he can convince himself it is the rational thing to do.”
The room remained quiet after that. Not because anyone had run out of questions, but because there was very little to say. The enthusiasm that had animated Muxue throughout her explanation had not vanished entirely, yet it had dimmed enough for them to glimpse the grief beneath it, and that grief lent a sharper edge to everything she had proposed.
This was not merely a political strategy. It was a trap built from an old wound.
Tang Huwei was the first to respond. “It will be dangerous.”
The princess let out a short laugh. “Thank you, Uncle. I wasn't aware.”
“I am serious.”
The amusement faded slightly from her expression. “I know.”
The general studied her for a moment before shaking his head. “You're becoming more like your father every year.”
That seemed to catch her off guard. “Then let's hope I inherit his virtues rather than his mistakes.”
“That remains to be seen.”
The exchange carried the weight of an old argument, one that had likely been repeated many times over the years in one form or another. Neither seemed particularly interested in continuing it now. Instead, the general pushed himself to his feet. "The plan is workable," he allowed. "I'll start setting up those meetings." He turned to Mo Jian. "Be ready early tomorrow. Our first lesson won't wait." Without another word, he departed.
The meeting dissolved after that. Assignments had been given, responsibilities distributed, and there was little point in picking apart a plan that Muxue had clearly spent days constructing. Shen Jinglan slipped out through a side door to arrange for lunch. Bai Ning and Mo Jian exchanged a few quiet words through their qi, sorting out the logistics of tomorrow and what to do about Bai Ning's planned trip to the city now that arrangements had changed.
Muxue watched them for a moment with an expression Mo Jian couldn't quite name. Something between wistfulness and mild envy.
Then she spoke. "Do you think it's a bad idea too?"
For the first time since the meeting began, she looked tired; genuinely tired, as though she had been holding herself upright through sheer will and the performance had finally cost her something. Mo Jian glanced at her. Bai Ning's surprise showed plainly on her face.
"I think parts of it are bad ideas," he said.
"Only parts?"
Bai Ning snorted. "The part where you deliberately encourage a man who murdered your father to target you comes to mind."
Muxue lowered her head. "Ah. That part."
None of them spoke for a moment.
"When I was younger," Muxue said eventually, "I used to think Chengxuan hated my father."
Mo Jian and Bai Ning exchanged a quick look. Bai Ning, reading his expression, let out a small breath and addressed the princess herself. "And now?"
"Now I think he hated standing behind him."
That was not quite the same thing.
"He spent years being compared to Father," she continued. "Years being told who was more talented, more capable, more deserving. I think eventually he stopped caring about the throne itself. What mattered was proving that everyone else was wrong."
Mo Jian considered that. "And now he'll do the same with you."
"Probably." She sounded almost matter-of-fact about it.
The quiet that followed was a different kind than the one that had fallen over the room earlier. That one had been heavy with strategy and implication. This one was simply tired. After a moment, Muxue pushed herself upright. Some of the tiredness left her face as she did, not gone, but tucked away again, back behind whatever kept it from showing. She clapped her hands together once.
"Anyway. Enough brooding for one day." She gestured toward the far hallway. "If the two of you are going to be staying here from now on, I should show you where everything is."
She turned and began walking, then stopped, and turned back. “We can all share my bed since its large enough. Jinglan and I sleep in the same bed often enough, so-” The princess blinked. Slowly, the sentence she had just said appeared to catch up with her. A flush climbed her neck. She looked at Mo Jian, then at Bai Ning, and then, apparently deciding the ceiling was the safest option, she looked at the ceiling.
"We have," she said, with great dignity, "more than enough individual rooms. Each of you can take one." A brief pause. "Follow me."
Bai Ning rolled her eyes and followed. Mo Jian, sighing, fell into step behind her.