Chapter 1: The Central Move

The Lantern Festival night in Heavenly Capital was bathed in the warm gold of thousands of lotus lanterns. The hustle of朱雀大街 (Zhuque Street) drifted along the moat to the painted boat, but the candlelight within its carved windows was colder than the night. Li Yu placed a white stone at the center of the go board, his jade thumb ring tapping the rosewood table with a clear ring.

"The salt department’s treasury silver will flow into the Cui clan’s private estates in three days," said Su Ruoxue, her fingers grazing the bronze compass. The needle at its center suddenly spun half an inch counterclockwise. "The undercover agent I placed in the inner city had their tongue cut out last night."

When she looked up, her gaze met the dark tide in the regent’s eyes. Out of his court robes, Li Yu wore a moon-white silk robe that made his shoulders seem narrower, yet more intimidating than the black ceremonial garb he wore in the palace. This was the same posture she’d seen twelve years ago in the冷宫 (abandoned palace), when he’d held her bloodied body, his eyes reflecting the flames consuming the Crown Prince’s palace.

"Cui Mingyuan wants the Huai Bei salt monopoly," Li Yu said, tracing the board where white stones formed the character 贪 (greed). "But he doesn’t know a third of this year’s salt permits to Jiangnan were replaced by smuggled salt from the Canglang Tribe."

The secret letter in Su Ruoxue’s sleeve burned. The barbarian star map拓印 (rubbed) from the Cui clan’s private residence three days ago now glowed in cinnabar at the letter’s corner, matching the纹路 (patterns) on the back of her compass. She smiled, placing a black stone dead center of the 贪 character. "My lord intends to use the Canglang’s blade to sever the Cui’s hand?"

The boat lurched violently as the grind of hidden mechanisms echoed from beneath the frozen moat. Li Yu’s white stone clattered to the board, stopping at a decade-old crack—one he’d split himself upon returning from the northern front, carrying half her father’s waist token.

"At the third hour tomorrow, the salt department will receive an anonymous letter," Su Ruoxue said, rising as the compass hummed, its needle pointing northwest to the Cui manor. "It will accuse Cui Minghao, the second son of the Cui clan, of colluding with barbarians, with evidence stored in the west district pawnshop."

Li Yu suddenly seized her wrist, his warmth seeping through silk. "You know I want more than a single arm from the Cui," he said, thumb brushing the old whip scar on her wrist—the mark of a prison guard’s lash meant for him. "Su Ruoxue, we both know only one of us will survive this game."

She twisted his pulse point, the compass’s edge pricking her palm. Blood滴在 (dripped onto) the board, forming the character 死 (death) with the white stones. "So you’ll let Cui assassins ‘fail’ to kill you at the young emperor’s birthday宴 (feast)?" she whispered, her breath laced with aged sandalwood. "But you forget, Dark Pavilion agents already guard the secret tunnel to the Cui armory."

A cry rang out as a lotus lantern capsized, firelight staining Li Yu’s eyes crimson. Su Ruoxue wrenched free, but the compass needle spun wildly—three鹧鸪哨 (partridge whistles) echoed from the northwest, the Cui estate.

"The salt department’s deficit is a falsified ledger you ordered," she said, slipping half a map from her sleeve—the same map her agent had stolen from the Cui vault that morning. "The real smuggled salt is at the south dock, escorted by Blood Sword Alliance men."

As the map unfurled, Li Yu laughed—a cold, familiar sound, like the night he’d bandaged her wounds in the冷宫 (abandoned palace). "You always overplay your hand," he said, tracing the Canglang totem. "But have you considered Lu Chen’s target isn’t the salt… but you?"

Below the ice, metal clanged. Su Ruoxue’s compass screeched. The needle pointed to her chest, where half a bronze tiger tally—信物 (token) from the late Crown Prince—lay hidden.

"At申时 (3–5 PM) the day after tomorrow, Canglang envoys enter through West Market," she said, folding the map into a paper boat. "Their cargo isn’t silk—it’s thirty crates of black iron." The boat drifted three feet before erupting in flame, mirroring the palace fire that had defined their childhood. "If you want to brand the Cui as traitors, have the censorate wait at the dock."

Li Yu watched her silhouette vanish into moonlight, fingers brushing the bloodstain on the board. The central white stone had been replaced by black, perfectly centered over 贪. For the first time in twelve years, she’d left a flaw in her game.

The midnight bell rang—子时三刻 (11:45 PM). He smirked, withdrawing a half-scroll from his sleeve, cinnabar characters reading: Use the salt monopoly deficit to lure the Cui into the trap; use barbarian black iron to confirm treason. The ink was still wet, her handwriting.

"Of course you knew," he murmured, tracing the final line—a tiny chessboard sketch with a black stone at its center. "I want more than the Cui. I want—"

A thud from the hold cut him off. Li Yu opened the hidden compartment, finding a salt department official’s letter with the Cui seal: Huai Bei salt garrison rotation, 15th lunar month. He tossed it into the brazier, watching the character 崔 (Cui) curl in the flames. "Ruoxue, you still soften at the wrong moment."

As the boat docked, the distant recitation of Liu Tao (The Six韬) by Gu Qingshan, head of White Deer Academy, carried on the wind: War is the art of deception. Li Yu stared at the floating lanterns, recalling the morning’s report: Su Ruoxue had met the young emperor, a tiger tally hidden in her sleeve.

The stone was set. The central black piece gleamed in the firelight. He knew this risky gambit would force her to choose between the late prince’s legacy and their shared past—and no matter her choice, deadlier moves awaited beyond the board.

(End of Chapter 1)

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