Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 695: The Nearly-Paralyzed New Dynasty

On this winter afternoon, the sun remained hidden.

The snow had turned into a light drizzle—tiny, millet-like flakes that stung faintly when they landed on the skin.

Elsewhere in the capital, people swept the snow off the streets, but the road in front of the Demon Suppression Bureau needed no such efforts. Over the past two days, this street had been trampled so thoroughly that a path had naturally formed.

On the first night alone, over 1,300 people had been arrested and detained in the Demon Suppression Bureau. That number was just a fraction of the people who were detained. Thousands more were scattered across the prisons of the Court of Judicial Review[1] and Jingzhao Prefecture[2], bringing the total number of detainees to well over 10,000.

For reference, both the prefectural governor of Jingzhao and the court minister of the Court of Judicial Review were among those imprisoned.

This recent rebellion in the capital had entangled an astonishingly broad swath of society. Nearly a third of the capital’s officials and their affiliated families were implicated. Sorting out who had been actively involved, who had unknowingly contributed, and who had merely dabbled in double-dealing without committing fully would require an extensive investigation.

Such was the quagmire of aristocratic politics—when the major aristocratic families of the capital were involved, it meant that nearly every official had some connection. Suddenly, the court was bereft of usable personnel.

Morning court sessions were now half-empty, with the remaining officials gripped by fear and uncertainty. The capital’s administration was in near-total paralysis, in worse disarray than after Xia Longyuan’s death. That half the officials still remained in their posts was due entirely to Tang Wanzhuang’s meticulous preemptive investigations and her efforts to prevent indiscriminate purges.

The few officials who were unimplicated mostly belonged to the Cui, Tang, or other allied families, along with loyalists from the Four Idols Cult or minor families too insignificant to have participated in such a grand conspiracy. Without their support, morning court sessions might have been entirely abandoned.

The scope of the rebellion’s connections was staggering. Across the provinces, most local governments teetered on the brink of collapse. Tang Wanzhuang’s directive was clear: outside of the key border crossings and cities allowing the flow of goods and people, the rest of the regions were to be left untouched. No matter whose disciple a person might be, their affiliations were not to be scrutinized. Any further investigation would risk bringing the entire nation to a halt.

Even with such a restrained approach, the nation was steeped in fear. Everyone worried about the possibility of purges.

This was treason of the highest order—conspiring to bring foreign forces into the capital. The harshest punishments were not just warranted but expected.

Huangfu Qing and others did not feel the full weight of this crisis as viscerally as Tang Wanzhuang did. To her, this was the fledgling dynasty’s gravest political crisis—a systemic collapse where there were no usable personnel, from high-ranking officials to mid-level bureaucrats and even local magistrates.

Previously, Tang Wanzhuang had advised Xia Chichi to make strategic use of officials like Lu Jianzhang to stabilize the court before gradually cultivating a new political elite through the imperial examination system. She knew this would be a long and arduous process.

When Zhao Changhe proposed using a strategy of feigned weakness to bait out the conspirators, she offered no objection. If no one took the bait, it would suggest that officials like Lu Jianzhang could still be salvaged. If they did, it would mean they were beyond redemption, and eliminating them in one decisive move would at least resolve the crisis quickly, though at the cost of significantly increasing her workload.

Now, it was clear the bait had worked, but the fallout was far larger than anyone had anticipated.

Manpower was a glaring issue. With over 10,000 implicated in the rebellion—and that was just the initial count, not including subsequent connections—how could the Demon Suppression Bureau possibly handle it? Their staff was far too limited. Naturally, they had to borrow people from the Four Idols Cult. Without reinforcements, they could not even maintain basic public order.

At today’s morning court session, Tang Wanzhuang was given special permission to leave early. After briefly reporting on the situation, she hurried off, writing a letter to her nephew about the Empress’ sweet potato plan, and then worked straight through to the afternoon without so much as a meal.

Baoqin urged her, “Young miss, please eat something first.”

“Mm, just leave it there. I’ll eat it in a bit.”

“You said that half an hour ago! The noodles have already gone soggy. I cooked it myself!” Baoqin fumed, stomping her foot in frustration. “You just recovered from your lung problems, and now you want to give yourself stomach problems?”

Tang Wanzhuang smiled gently. “Alright, alright, I’ll eat now.”

Baoqin could not hold it in any longer. “I swear, you’re just trying to make yourself look sickly and weak to win over a man!”

Tang Wanzhuang: “...?”

The little maid found herself bundled up like a dumpling and promptly tossed out the door. Even the bowl of noodles went with her, still cradled in her hands.

Before Baoqin could hit the ground, a broad figure stepped into view. A large hand reached out, catching her mid-air.

Dangling in his grip, Baoqin folded her arms and pouted, glaring at him with puffed cheeks.

Zhao Changhe found the sight adorable. He tousled her hair playfully before setting her down. “Let me handle this. You go take a break.”

“You’re the reason she’s been working so hard,” Baoqin huffed. “She followed you into this so-called new dynasty and is even busier than before! And here you are, sneaking in last night just to—”

Zhao Changhe quickly clamped his hand over Baoqin’s mouth, his face breaking into a sweat as he glanced around nervously.

Nearby, officials from the Demon Suppression Bureau hurried past with their heads down, pretending not to have heard anything.

Zhao Changhe regretted pulling her down in the first place. He should have just let her be launched straight into the stratosphere. Maybe Vermillion Bird had the right idea when she wanted to silence Baoqin first and foremost. Once the “main damage dealer” was neutralized, everything else would fall into place.

Realizing the growing number of bystanders, Baoqin clammed up, though she continued glaring at him. Zhao Changhe, his face flushed, grabbed the bowl of noodles and marched straight into Tang Wanzhuang’s office.

Tang Wanzhuang looked up from her desk, her expression caught between amusement and exasperation. Clearly, she had overheard the commotion outside.

Zhao Changhe, trying to salvage some dignity, placed the bowl in front of her with an awkward attempt at tenderness. “Throwing Baoqin out is one thing, but why toss the noodles with her? Food is scarce these days.”

Tang Wanzhuang chuckled. “If Baoqin hears you say that, she might just storm in here and bite you.”

Zhao Changhe sighed dramatically. “I didn’t expect you to be even busier after the switch to a new dynasty.”

Tang Wanzhuang sighed, “I had fewer tasks before... It’s just that there are so few people to rely on to get things done right now. When you’re holding everything up alone, it feels exhausting and frustrating. You end up looking at so many problems without being able to do much about them. But with the empress putting in so much effort, I feel more hopeful and energetic, like there’s a real goal to strive for. Honestly, the current workload is only temporary. If we can push through, things will become much easier afterward.”

Zhao Changhe asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“If the sweet potato proposal you made to Her Majesty works, that’s already a tremendous help... And your plan for the Three Jins is also clever, saving both troops and supplies. Though, I can’t say I’m confident in that woman’s ability to execute it properly...”

“...You’re seriously doubting Vermillion Bird’s expertise in the ways of the jianghu?”

“It’s more that under my oversight, the Four Idols Cult hasn’t accomplished much publicly in recent years. They’ve had to operate underground. And as for the so-called Venerable Vermillion Bird, her successes have been few. The occasional success you recall probably feels more significant because you were directly involved and have romanticized the memories.”

Zhao Changhe could not help but laugh to himself. These two women really are something else...

Instead of continuing the conversation, he picked up some noodles with chopsticks, gently blew on them, and held them to Tang Wanzhuang’s mouth. “Say ah~”

She cast a quick glance at the doorway. A space that had been bustling with activity mere moments ago was now eerily silent as if everyone had wisely decided to vanish into thin air.

The very emptiness of the scene made it all the more embarrassing. Who knew what scenarios those retreating onlookers had concocted in their minds? A blush crept across Tang Wanzhuang’s cheeks, but she leaned forward quickly, slurping the noodles off the chopsticks with a soft slurp.

He’s seriously feeding me noodles...

Zhao Changhe did not say anything further, continuing to feed her one bite at a time. Tang Wanzhuang made no effort to feed herself, letting him serve her as she ate slowly, savoring each bite.

From outside, Baoqin peeked in cautiously, feeling inexplicably like her lovingly cooked noodles had taken on a strange, sour aroma. I didn’t add any fermented tofu, so where’s this smell coming from?

Still, at least the young miss is eating obediently. It seems like she hasn’t grown up and still needs to be fed. Maybe I should try feeding her myself next time.

It took nearly the time of a full incense stick to finish the bowl—what should have been a quick meal turned into a drawn-out affair. When it was finally done, Tang Wanzhuang leaned contentedly into Zhao Changhe’s arms, murmuring softly, “That was so nice.”

Baoqin, watching from the doorway, was ready to throw in the towel. There’s no hope for her anymore. This man spent half the day fooling around in the palace and only came to find her in the afternoon. He fed her a few bites of noodles I cooked, and now she’s saying it’s so nice. What a ridiculous woman, and she’s supposed to be the brilliant bureau chief of the Demon Suppression Bureau!

Bang!

Suddenly, Tang Wanzhuang waved her hand, and the door slammed shut as if by magic. Baoqin, who had been leaning too far in, ended up having the door slammed into her face and fell to the floor, clutching her head in tears.

Zhao Changhe chuckled. “Bullying Baoqin again?”

“What, are you feeling sorry for her because she didn’t get to eat?” Tang Wanzhuang quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Zhao Changhe replied with feigned sincerity, “...What are you saying? I only feel sorry for you.”

From outside the door, Baoqin felt her entire world darken.

Tang Wanzhuang chuckled. “You... your words are less believable than ever. Alright, tell me, what did you really come to see me for?”

Zhao Changhe asked, “Can’t I just be here to spend time with you?”

“This is exactly why I said that your words aren’t believable,” Tang Wanzhuang replied dryly. “You don’t have the time or the state of mind to seek someone out purely for romance, whether it’s me, the empress, or the empress dowager.”

Zhao Changhe fell silent.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” Tang Wanzhuang continued. “Honestly, I wouldn’t want you coming back just to ask when I plan to fulfill the promise I made before you left the capital last time.”

Zhao Changhe froze, his expression turning awkward.

He had completely forgotten about that promise. But now that she mentioned it, he remembered—Tang Wanzhuang had said that if he returned safely, she and Huangfu Qing would “duel on the bed” for his amusement. How could he have forgotten something like that?

And the worst part was, with how things stood now—and Tang Wanzhuang’s framing of it as “a good thing”—there was no way he could bring himself to ask her to follow through on it.

Tang Wanzhuang saw the regret written all over his face and could not help but laugh aloud. “Alright, alright. You’ll get your chance in the future. I don’t have the time for such nonsense now—there’s simply too much to do. If you really want to help, though, I do have something for you.”

Zhao Changhe swallowed his pride and asked, “Alright, who do you need me to cut down?”

“That’s the problem—there are too many people to cut down,” Tang Wanzhuang replied seriously. “After centuries of entrenched aristocratic politics, the pool of talent outside their influence is painfully shallow. We’ve discussed using imperial examinations to cultivate a new base of talent, but we haven’t had the chance to implement it yet. And even if we do, it will take time for those efforts to bear fruit.”

“So?” Zhao Changhe prompted.

“We can’t purge everyone. Some of them have to be brought back into the fold. The role of deciding who to spare falls to you. Congratulations, you’re the designated good guy,” Tang Wanzhuang replied with a faint smirk.

1. The Court of Judicial Review was the central government’s judicial body in ancient China that handled criminal cases. It’s also known as the Dalisi, the Court of Judicature and Revision, and the Office of Justice. ☜

2. Jingzhao Prefecture was a historical region centered on the ancient Chinese capital of Chang’an. ☜