Chapter 128: The Deep Palace

In the dead of night, the Jin imperial palace resembled a resplendent pearl set into the darkness, glowing with radiant light. Moonlight fell upon the gilded rooftops of the palace, sending up layer upon layer of silver ripples, as though adding a touch of mystery to the quiet night.

As night deepened, the lamps within the palace gradually brightened, illuminating the towering halls and the exquisite pavilions, terraces and towers. In the interplay of light and shadow, the outlines of the palace flickered in and out of view, like a flowing scroll painting that told of the Jin kingdom's brilliance and glory.

A gentle breeze drifted past, carrying the faint fragrance of flowers from a distant garden, mingling with the air inside the palace to form a singular, lingering charm. The palace at night, though stripped of the daytime's bustle and clamour, gained a measure of stillness and depth, impossible not to be enchanted by.

On this quiet night, the Jin imperial palace seemed to become a dreamlike realm, one that people could not bear to leave. It was not merely a symbol of power, but a treasure of Jin culture, a witness to countless shifts and continuities of history.

Yet, living at the very centre of this political whirlpool, every step had to be taken as though treading on thin ice, every word spoken with the utmost care. The eunuchs and palace maids, once they let slip a careless word, would meet the tragic end of being beaten to death with rods — their lives so fragile within the games of power. The consorts and concubines trod even more carefully; should they say the wrong thing, not only would they be cast into the Cold Palace to languish alone, their families too would be implicated and brought to ruin.

This was a place that swallowed people whole without spitting out the bones, where schemes and plots intertwined, and life or death, honour or disgrace, hung on a single thought. Yet within these treacherous and shifting courts, there was only one true master — the Emperor of Jin, Wanyan Jing.

As the sixth emperor of the Jin dynasty, Wanyan Jing was not only the ruler of a nation, but also a man of outstanding literary and calligraphic talent. During his reign, Jin culture and the arts reached an unprecedented peak, a glorious era later praised by posterity as the "Mingchang Reign of Good Order."

Wanyan Jing was innately clever and brimmed with passion for learning; he admired the grace of the refined scholar and cherished the beauty of literature. Thus his court became a gathering place for the famous and the talented, politics were clean and clear, and the wind of civil governance blew strong. He inherited the brilliance of the Dading heyday, deepened reform of the official system, and established many novel institutions to suit the changes of the times and the needs of the state. At the same time, in the building of laws and institutions he likewise achieved remarkable results; these measures played a vital role in consolidating his authority, stabilising social order, promoting economic development, and safeguarding the interests of the ruling class. Under his careful governance, the Jin economy flourished, the population grew steadily, the state coffers were full, and the whole country presented a harmonious scene of "well-being throughout the land."

Yet, as the years of Wanyan Jing's reign gradually lengthened, he began to lose himself in a life of wine-drinking and poetry-composing, and the affairs of state were progressively neglected. At the same time, Jin was struck by a series of grave natural disasters, including flooding of the Yellow River, which dealt a heavy blow to the economy and left it unable to recover. Moreover, Wanyan Jing doted exceedingly on Li Shi'er (later ennobled as Yuanfei), placed excessive trust in the Li maternal clan, and even appointed Xu Chiguo, a man of lowly origin, to manage court affairs. These two powerful ministers colluded with one another, causing the political climate of the later years of Jin Zhangzong's reign to gradually decay.

Faced with such a state of affairs, Wanyan Jing seemed not to have noticed at all.

One could see how deeply he loved that woman, Li Shi'er — had it not been for the stubborn opposition of the court's senior ministers, he would have made Li Shi'er his Empress.

Loving the house and its crow alike, he doted extravagantly on the son Li Shi'er bore him, Wanyan Honglie.

Yet it was precisely this son he loved most who had done something so disgraceful.

Not only that, just as the great Jin empire was still lost in thought, the various tribes on the Mongol steppe united with the speed of a wildfire spreading across the plains, forming a formidable power. Ambitious and sharpening their blades, they soon turned their spears toward Jin's vassal state, Western Xia. Western Xia, a country that had once flourished, was powerless before the fierce onslaught of the Mongol cavalry. In only two months, Western Xia's capital had fallen beneath the Mongol hooves, and the fate of the nation hung by a thread.

At the same time, the Zhao Song dynasty in the south had not stood idly by. Under the active agitation of the hawkish Han Tuozhou, it had been itching to make a move.

This moment truly was a season of multiplying troubles.

At this moment, the years had already carved deep traces upon his face; the dashing, high-spirited youth of bygone days had long since drifted further and further away. Yet, despite the passing of his prime, he still dragged his ever-ageing body and, with unwavering resolve, set about preparing an army of four hundred thousand, ready to march out and chastise the Mongols.

He knew full well that the Song kingdom in the south had been watching covertly, itching to act, and could launch an attack at any moment. Therefore, he had not only to muster a great army for the campaign, but also to dispatch elite forces to keep a tight watch on Song's movements.

After completing a full day of onerous state business, he returned with heavy footsteps to the depths of the palace. Fatigue came washing over him like a tide; he felt utterly drained in body and mind, and could muster not the slightest interest in the pleasures of men and women. At this moment, his one and only desire was to lie down on a soft bed and let his exhausted body relax and rest completely.

Lying on the soft bed, he gradually drifted into a sweet dream. Yet, in the latter half of the night, a deafening roar of battle cries exploded in the palace like sudden thunder, jolting him awake from his slumber in an instant. The sound was as violent as a raging wind and sudden downpour, as though it would overturn the entire palace. He sat bolt upright, a nameless fear and unease welling up within him, and instinctively gripped the blanket tightly in his hands.

"Someone — what's going on out there? Where are those battle cries coming from?" Wanyan Jing bellowed towards the door in furious agitation.

A palace servant outside the door rushed in, pale with terror, and cried: "It's terrible, Your Majesty — the Sixth Prince has led a great force of men into the palace, the guards inside can't hold them back, they'll be breaking through to here any moment!"

Just as the palace servant was about to speak again, an arrow pierced clean through his throat without warning; in an instant, an air of murderous stillness filled the room. Then a set of clear, forceful footsteps gradually reached his ears — like iron hooves on flagstone, ringing and resolute, impossible to ignore. After that, a noble figure clad in splendid armour strode in — it was none other than his son, Wanyan Honglie.

Wanyan Jing erupted in fury. He asked himself: from childhood he had poured boundless affection and expectation into Wanyan Honglie — yet now, how had this once-favoured son repaid his deep love?

He had actually gone and done something so disgraceful as to bring shame upon the family, cutting Wanyan Jing to the quick. And what was even harder for him to accept was that Wanyan Honglie showed not the slightest sign of remorse, and now even dared to rebel — a betrayal of him both as sovereign and as father.