Chapter 2: Death by Flogging

IN THE GLOOM of the Imperial Prison, Shen Zechuan desperately twisted his wrists, but his hands were cold, his lungs were beginning toache, and the rope was so tight it was futile. The sack of earth pressed downon his chest. He felt as if he’d been thrown into a deep pond—his ears rangand his breath came in frantic bursts, like he was drowning.

Shen Zechuan shifted his gaze to the candle light beyond the bars.

In the hall, several members of the Embroidered Uniform Guard were drinking and shouting as they played a finger-guessing game, too preoccupied to spare Shen Zechuan a glance. The sack of earth nailed himto the crude straw mat, and suffocating nausea engulfed him like flood water. His vision swam. Shen Zechuan raised his head and gritted his teeth to move his legs. They had been flogged numb; he felt nothing when he raised them. He placed his foot against the left corner of the wooden bed where vermin had eaten away its sturdiness; on his first day, he’d damaged it just by sitting down. He struggled to gather a breath.

Shen Zechuan braced himself and kicked at that rotten corner with all his strength. His legs were so weak the bed didn’t even groan; the planks hadn’t moved an inch. Cold sweat streamed down his back, soaking his shirt.

Shen Zechuan braced himself and kicked at that rotten corner with allhis strength. His legs were so weak the bed didn’t even groan; the planks hadn’t moved an inch. Cold sweat streamed down his back, soaking hisshirt.

He yearned to live. Shen Zechuan whimpered frantically; he bit his tongue until it bled and kicked the planks again. Ji Mu’s mangled, barely recognizable body was the horse whip at his back, spurring him on. His brother’s voice echoed in his ears.

He must live.

Shen Zechuan struck the plank furiously until he finally heard a dull thud. Half the slats collapsed, and he slid off to one side, the heavy sack tumbling down beside him. He hit the ground and gasped as if breaking through the water’s surface.

The ground of his cell was icy. Shen Zechuan’s injured legs were useless, so he propped himself up with his elbows. Sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose. Despite the cold of the prison, his body burned as if his insides were coming to a boil. At last, he put his head down to dry heave.

Shen Wei deserved to die.

There were one hundred and twenty thousand troops in Zhongbo, divided among the six prefectures to form a defensive perimeter. After the defeat at Chashi River, the Biansha Horsemen had invaded Dunzhou. It was as the interrogator said: at that point, there had still been a chance to turn things around. Not only did Shen Wei have a well-trained and powerf ulcarmy, he had ample provisions and the authority to deploy the garrison troops in the three cities of Duanzhou. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, he had abandoned the prefecture and cowered back into the Dunzhou Prince’s Manor.

This retreat was prelude to the fall of Zhongbo. The Biansha Horsemen slaughtered Duanzhou’s three cities, after which the garrison, their morale shattered, fled south in a panic. Everyone had thought Shen Wei would make his stand against the Twelve Tribes of Biansha in Dunzhou—yet he had taken to the road again at first news of their arrival.

Time and time again the Zhongbo army had retreated in defeat while the Biansha Horsemen cut through the six prefectures’ territories like a steel blade. They traveled light, feeding on the spoils of war as they advanced, until they were within eight hundred li of Qudu, the capital of the Zhou empire.

Had Shen Wei implemented a scorched-earth policy during his retreat and burned the granaries in the cities he left behind, there would have been nothing left for the enemy, and no way for the Biansha Horsemen to advance so far. The invaders carried no supplies and relied solely on the cities they conquered to replenish their provisions. If the grain had beenash, the Biansha Horsemen would have starved.

A starving soldier could not fight. The Libei Armored Cavalry could have seized the chance, crossed the Glacial River, and intercepted the Biansha Tribes’ retreat while the garrison troops from Qidong’s five commanderies sealed off their escape route from Tianfei Watchtower. The Biansha scimitars would’ve been trapped like turtles in a tub; they wouldn’thave survived the winter.

But Shen Wei had done none of that.

Not only did he abandon any resistance, he abandoned the city granaries, still intact. The enemy fed on Zhou grain as they razed Zhoulands. Thanks to Shen Wei, the Biansha horses were well-fed enough to herd Zhongbo’s common folk and captured soldiers all the way to Chashi River, where the Horsemen butchered them all in a single night.

Shen Zechuan had escaped by the skin of his teeth. Now that Qudu wanted to settle accounts, it was obvious that Shen Wei’s deployment orders had been unusually sloppy. All signs pointed to his collusion with Biansha. Yet to escape justice, Shen Wei had not only immolated himself but destroyed any relevant documents along with him. Even the Embroidered Uniform Guard, notoriously effective and efficient in their investigations, were at their wits’ end. If the emperor wanted the truth, his only recourse was to get answers, at any cost, from the only remaining individual who might know: Shen Zechuan.

However, the son of a dancer in Duanzhou—Shen Wei’s eighth son of common birth—had no place in the clan, whether in rank or age; the man had too many sons. Shen Zechuan had been sent away to Duanzhou long ago to fend for himself, and Shen Wei had likely forgotten this son’s existence.

And yet, someone wanted to kill him.

It was no secret that many wanted him dead. He had been brought to Qudu as a scapegoat for his father. As the last member of the Shen Clan in Zhongbo, he was obligated to pay his father’s debts. Once his interrogationin the Imperial Prison was over, the emperor would no doubt offer Shen Zechuan’s death as appeasement to the souls of the thirty thousand soldiers who lost their lives at Chashi River.

Even so, it shouldn’t happen through an assassination in the dead of night.

Shen Zechuan spat blood and wiped his lips with his thumb. If ShenWei had indeed conspired with the enemy, then Shen Zechuan’s death was only a matter of time. Why bother to assassinate an insignificant commonson? Someone in the capital was worried about the interrogation—and if that was the case, then there must be more to the defeat of Shen Wei’s troops than met the eye.

But Shen Zechuan knew nothing.

He had a shifu in Duanzhou. His brother, Ji Mu, had been his shifu’s only son. To Shen Zechuan, Shen Wei was merely the Prince of Jianxing. Shen Zechuan had nothing to do with him, and absolutely no idea whether Shen Wei had committed treason.

Nevertheless, he had to deny it. Sprawled on the frigid ground of hisc ell, he felt even more alert than during the day. He knew he was a felon held by the Embroidered Uniform Guard under imperial edict. All arrest warrants, summons, and official documents came directly from the top, consigning him straight from the hands of Xiao Jiming, the Heir of Libei, to the Imperial Prison. They had bypassed even the Joint Tribunal of the Three Judicial Offices: the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Chief Surveillance Bureau. It was clear that the emperor was determined to get to the bottom of this. Who had the guts to risk silencing him before the emperor could complete his interrogation?

The bitter wind howled at the window. In the darkness, Shen Zechuan stared at the wall; he dared not close his eyes again.

Dawn had scarcely broken when Shen Zechuan was escorted back tothe hall. A snow storm raged outside. Ji Lei, the interrogator, had been nothing but grim these past few days. Yet now, he was all smiles as he waited deferentially beside a wooden arm chair and served tea with both hands.

A fair-faced, beardless old eunuch sat in the chair, resting his eyes. He wore the official hat of a eunuch in velvet for the wintry weather, with an ornately embroidered mandarin square on his robe—a gourd at its center to mark the season. His overcoat was draped over his shoulders, and he held an exquisite plum blossom hand warmer of gold and jade. Sensing movement, he opened his eyes and looked at Shen Zechuan.

"Godfather,” Ji Lei bent to say, “Here is the filthy descendant of the Prince of Jianxing.”

Pan Rugui eyed Shen Zechuan. “What happened here?” Pan Rugui was not asking how Shen Zechuan had ended up dirty and stinking, but why Ji Lei hadn’t yet pried the hows and wherefores from him.

Ji Lei’s forehead ran with sweat, but he didn’t dare wipe it. Stillhunched, he responded, “The boy is ignorant. He’s been delirious since they brought him back from Zhongbo. Who knows who put him up to it, but he refuses to confess.”

"A felon, by His Majesty’s own decree.” Pan Rugui did not accept the tea. “A child no older than sixteen sent to the famed Imperial Prison to bepersonally interrogated by your esteemed self, and you can’t get aconfession out of him.”

Still holding the teacup, Ji Lei smiled sheepishly. “His importance is precisely why I didn’t dare use harsher methods without authorization. He was already ill when he arrived. If he dies in our hands, the case against Shen Wei will go cold.”

Pan Rugui scrutinized Shen Zechuan for a moment. “We are all our master’s dogs. There’s no point keeping a dog whose fangs have dulled. I know you have your own challenges, but this is part of your duty. His Majesty wishes to see him now; this is his way of showing consideration for the Embroidered Uniform Guard. What do you have to complain about?”

Ji Lei hurriedly prostrated himself. “It is as Godfather says. This son has been duly castigated.”

Pan Rugui snorted. “Clean him up. He can’t appear before His Majesty covered in filth.”

An attendant led Shen Zechuan away to wash and bandage his injured legs, then gave him a set of clean cotton clothes. He allowed himselfto be shuffled about; he was in such pain he could barely walk, and it took quite an effort even to step up into the carriage.

As Shen Zechuan departed, Pan Rugui finally accepted the cup fromJi Lei. Staring after the carriage, he asked, “Is he truly the last of the ShenClan?”

“Yes. The sole survivor of the Chashi Sink hole. The Heir of Libei captured him personally. He was detained in the Libei Armored Cavalry’s prisoner wagon the whole way and had no contact with anyone else.”

Pan Rugui sipped his cold tea. After a long time, he gave Ji Lei a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The Heir of Libei certainly is discreet.”

Shen Zechuan stepped down from the carriage and let the guards hustle him down a long path. The heavy snow blew into his face, and the eunuch leading the way hurried along without any unnecessary chatter.

When Pan Rugui arrived before Mingli Hall, his arrival had already been announced. The junior eunuch waiting under the eaves stepped forward and took Pan Rugui’s overcoat, helped him shrug on his outer robe, and took over the hand warmer. Pan Rugui kowtowed by the door and said,“Your Majesty, this lowly servant has brought the boy.”

There was a pause. A low, unhurried voice rang out. “Bring him in.”

Shen Zechuan’s breath hitched, but they were already dragging himinside. Though there was incense burning, it wasn’t stifling. He heardintermittent coughs and caught a glimpse of feet lined up on both sides ofthe hall.

The Xiande Emperor was dressed in a deep blue day robe that couldn’t hide his frailty; illness had constantly plagued him in the three years since he had ascended the throne. His pallid complexion made hisoblong face look all the more gentle and delicate.

“Ji Lei has been trying him for several days now.” The Xiande Emperor glanced at Ji Lei, who was kneeling at the back of the hall. “Have you discovered the truth?”

Ji Lei kowtowed. “To answer Your Majesty, this boy’s words are in coherent and his story is full of holes. Nothing he’s said can be believed; all of his words are contradictory.”

“Present his testimony,” the emperor commanded.

Ji Lei produced a written statement from within his robe and handed it respectfully to Pan Rugui, who in turn hurried forward to present it to the emperor with all due reverence.

The Xiande Emperor read it through. When he reached the part about the Chashi Sinkhole, he covered his mouth and began to cough. He refusedto let Pan Rugui help him; instead, he wiped the blood from his lips himself with a handkerchief. “Thirty thousand soldiers lost their lives in thatsinkhole,” he said solemnly. “Had Shen Wei lived, he would have suffered the wrath of all!”

Shen Zechuan closed his eyes as his heart began to pound; he alreadyknew what was coming.

“Raise your head!”

His breathing quickened. His palms braced against the floor were numb. Shen Zechuan raised his head slowly, his eyes carefully landing onthe Xiande Emperor’s boots.

The emperor looked down at him. “As Shen Wei’s son and the solesurvivor of the Chashi Sinkhole, what do you have to say?”

Shen Zechuan’s eyes grew red at the rims. He shivered with wordless sobs.

The emperor’s expression never changed. “Speak!”

As Shen Zechuan raised his head, tears rolled down his cheeks. He glanced up for a fleeting moment, then kowtowed hard again, his shoulders shaking as the sobs rose in his throat. “Your Majesty, Your Majesty! Myfather was devoted to the nation and his countrymen in Zhongbo. He was too ashamed to face them after his losses on the battlefield. That’s why heset himself on fire—to atone!”

“What nonsense!” the emperor barked. “If he was devoted to the nation, why did he retreat time and time again?”

Shen Zechuan’s voice was hoarse from weeping. “My father sent allhis sons into the field. My eldest brother, Shen Zhouji, was tortured to deathby the Biansha rider who dragged him behind his horse along the Chashipublic road! If it were not for undivided loyalty, why risk his own heir?”

“You dare bring up Chashi! Shen Zhouji fled from the front lines. Hiscrime is unpardonable!”

Shen Zechuan looked up at the emperor, tears leaving tracks down his cheeks. “The battle at Chashi was a bloodbath,” he rasped. “My eldest brother might be incompetent, but he defended Chashi for three days. In those three days, vital intelligence was able to reach Qidong and Libei. If it weren’t for those three days…” He was so choked with emotion he couldn’t go on.

The emperor reread the statement in his hand. The hall was quiet save for the sound of Shen Zechuan’s sobs. In the interminable silence, ShenZechuan dug his fingernails into flesh.

Abruptly, the emperor let out a long sigh. “Did Shen Wei colludewith the enemy?”

“Never.” Shen Zechuan’s voice was resolute.

The emperor set down the statement and declared in a voice that hadgone frigid: “This cunning boy attempts to deceive his sovereign. He must not be allowed to live. Pan Rugui—have him flogged to death at Duancheng Gate!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Pan Rugui immediately bowed and retreated.

Shen Zechuan went cold, as if doused with a basin of icy water. Struggle as he might, it was useless; the guards clamped his mouth shut asthey dragged him out of Mingli Hall.

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