Chapter 4

The eunuch hurried over to Gao Qiu with his men, took one look, and winced: “High Companion Gao, who did this to you? Prince Duan sent me to find you for a ball game—he’s made an appointment with the captain of the Yuan Society, and he needs you to show your skill today.”

Gao Qiu had fainted from pain earlier; now he stirred awake, heard the voice, forced his eyes open, and, half-blinded, saw the eunuch—tears burst forth: “Grand Supervisor, Grand Supervisor, please avenge me…”

The eunuch, seeing his pitiful state, frowned: “What happened? I’ll see justice done—even if I can’t, Prince Duan is still here!”

“Grand Supervisor, my legs were broken—they said I’ll never play ball again, never serve the Prince!”

“What?” The eunuch froze, stared at his legs, and his face darkened: “Who had the guts to do this?”

Gao Qiu lay on the ground, unable to rise, his vision blurred—he raised a trembling hand, pointing wildly: “A huge man, like a black bear—the master’s a pale-faced scholar, with four or five others…”

The eunuch frowned, about to search, when Su Da called out: “No need. I did it. What are you going to do, hairless one?”

“You?” The eunuch flew into rage, about to lash out—then noticed the Kaifeng Prefecture soldiers standing nearby. He snapped: “What are you doing? Why aren’t you arresting the criminal? Let him strut around like this, unchallenged?”

The fat soldier bowed apologetically: “It’s not that we ignore the law—we simply can’t touch these men. They’re the chiefs of the Imperial City Office. How could we dare arrest them?”

“Imperial City Office?” The eunuch eyed Su Da suspiciously, then glanced at Yu Er—didn’t recognize either. Though he’d risen from the palace, the Inner and Outer Palaces were separate; the Imperial City Office operated outside, with too many men to know them all.

“They’re truly chiefs of the Imperial City Office—I’ve seen their credentials,” the fat soldier said, eyes darting. He sighed inwardly: Thank heaven the Prince Duan’s man showed up. Neither side was safe to provoke—now they’d have to settle it themselves. The blame was off his shoulders.

“Imperial City Office? Even they can’t touch him!” the eunuch snapped coldly. “This is Prince Duan’s personal attendant—Prince Duan is searching for him to do important work. How dare your Imperial City Office break his legs?”

Su Da sneered: “I hit him. So what? Gao Qiu was playing ball in the marketplace, bullying the innocent, and even spoke disrespectfully. We didn’t kill him—that’s already showing Prince Duan some face.”

“Good! Good! You have enormous audacity!” The eunuch stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Su Da: “How dare your Imperial City Office interfere with Prince Duan’s people? And you dare speak of the Prince? You must be tired of living!”

Su Da scratched his head. Yu Er grinned: “Even Prince Duan wouldn’t tolerate a personal attendant acting like this. Isn’t this bringing shame to the Prince? If he saw it, he’d probably order the beating stick to be used until death.”

“Filth!” The eunuch trembled with rage: “I say you’re faking your Imperial City Office status! Seize these criminals—dead or alive!”

The moment he spoke, his accompanying guards lunged forward.

“Who dares!” Su Da roared, thrusting his token forward: “Hairless one, look at this! You dare lay hands on Imperial City Office personnel? How many lives do you have?”

The eunuch stared at the token, face like dark water. Then his long eyebrows shot up: “Even the Imperial City Office can’t touch Prince Duan’s personal attendant! Even if Gao Qiu committed crimes, it’s not your place to intervene. You’ve acted recklessly—you beat Prince Duan’s man, which is disrespect to the Prince, insolence to the Prince, hatred toward the Imperial House. Are you plotting rebellion?”

The moment “rebellion” was spoken, the crowd fell silent.

Since the founding of the Great Song, these two words were most feared—because the founding Emperor seized power at Chenqiao, donned the yellow robe, and overthrew the Later Zhou dynasty. Thus, in court and countryside, save for confirmed military uprisings, the words were never uttered lightly.

Seeing no one speak, the eunuch drew a sharp breath, his face twisting with malice—he was about to order another strike, when a calm voice came from across the crowd.

“Who are you saying wants to rebel?”

The voice was not loud, even gentle at first—but upon closer listening, it was like icy wind, like blades clashing, cold to the bone.

“Who?” The eunuch felt oppressed—this voice made him feel looked down upon, utterly dismissed. He raised his tone: “I’m saying you! I say you want to rebel!”

“Insolent!” Su Da and Yu Er shouted together.

“Say it again,” the voice came again. Zhao Ti stepped forward from behind, hands clasped behind his back, face expressionless.

“Lord, this eunuch seems quite skilled in martial arts…” Zhou Dong murmured beside him.

Zhao Ti nodded, gazing at the red-faced eunuch, a cold sneer curling his lips.

The eunuch turned to look—and froze. A young man in white robes, as pure as snow, breathtakingly beautiful, stared at him without blinking.

The eunuch’s expression shifted rapidly—then turned deathly pale. He shuddered violently, then dropped to his knees with a thud: “Yan… Yan Wang…”

Zhao Ti’s long, handsome eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful: “Repeat what you just said. To me.”

“Your servant…” The eunuch banged his head against the ground, thudding loudly: “Your servant Li Yan did not know Yan Wang was here—I spoke foolishly, recklessly—I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness…”

Zhao Ti stared at Li Yan. This man had been Prince Duan Zhao Ji’s palace companion, brought out when Zhao Ji established his own household—and later became one of the “Six Evils.”

The Six Evils of Northern Song were Cai Jing, Tong Guan, Wang Fu, Liang Shicheng, Zhu Mian, and Li Yan. Gao Qiu should have been the sixth—but when the Jin army crossed the river and Emperor Huizong fled south, Gao Qiu quarreled with Tong Guan, fell ill, and in a rage returned to Dongjing. Emperor Qinzong mistook this as loyalty to himself—and so he escaped the infamy.

“Your Majesty, your servant is guilty. Please, for the sake of years I served Prince Duan, forgive your servant…” If this were any other royal, Li Yan wouldn’t have groveled so low—certainly not with such pleading words and head-banging. But this man was different.

In the Great Song, princely titles were not hereditary. This man was the only prince of the highest rank among the immediate royal line—the foremost among all princes. Though he did not attend court, his status was supreme.

Moreover, he was famed for his martial prowess. Even in the palace, he loved wielding spears and clubs, training in martial arts. He enjoyed wandering the streets in plain clothes, righting wrongs. Unlike Prince Duan’s refined, poetic elegance, his nature was arrogant, reckless, cold, and merciless.

Zhao Ti watched Li Yan bang his head against the ground—yet his forehead showed no redness, no swelling. He sneered: “Li Yan, I hear you’re skilled in martial arts?”

Li Yan bowed deeply: “Your Majesty, your servant once learned a few crude skills—but mere street tricks, unworthy of Your Majesty’s notice.”

“Crude skills?” Zhao Ti snorted. “You’ve banged your head dozens of times—yet not a speck of dust on your forehead. Are you mocking me?”

“Ah, this…” Li Yan froze, sweat bursting from his skin.