Chapter 39 - The Hand Behind the Curtain

Wu An's Estate – Before Dawn

The silence after the prayer procession did not bring peace.

It brought calculation.

Three edicts lay on my desk — old, overlooked, but signed by Wu Kang's seal. Shrine exemptions buried in ledgers, untouched until the shrines were mine to oversee.

It was not I who found them.

But Liao Yun, the quiet scribe I had brought from the grain bureau. A man whose ink-stained sleeves and sleepless nights made him easy to ignore.

He said nothing as I read.

Only watched — like a man watching the first stone shift before a landslide.

"These are enough," I said.

"Enough for whispers," he replied. "And a question."

I looked at him.

He did not press.

But the way he stood told me: he had more to offer. If I chose to ask.

Ministry of Rites – Later That Morning

The discrepancies were laid out as a formal report.

No accusations. Only questions.

Where had the grain gone?

Why were certain temple officials paid double stipends?

Why were Wu Kang's seals on forgotten exemptions?

Minister Shen Yuan's face turned pale beneath his ink-dyed beard.

"These are outdated," he snapped.

"Yet their consequences remain current," I said. "It seems the gods do not forget as quickly as we do."

He snarled, but held his tongue.

Not because he believed me.

But because he feared the court's ears.

Eastern Palace

Wu Kang's hand trembled as he read the report.

Taian stood behind him, arms folded.

"They're saying you drained the shrines."

"They're saying what he gave them permission to say."

He hurled the scroll against the wall.

"Three years ago. That's when those edicts were signed. I didn't even read half of them."

"That's not a defense."

Wu Kang glared.

"It wasn't me."

"But it bears your name."

Silence fell between them.

Then Wu Kang said, low: "He's striking without ever lifting a sword."

Private Audience – Lord Protector's Study

We met behind closed doors.

My father, grim-faced.

Wu Jin, silent in the corner.

Minister Shen Yuan stood tense, his robes creased as though he had slept in them.

"You've stirred unrest," the Lord Protector said to me. "Truth or not, you've disrupted the balance."

"I revealed misuse," I said. "Nothing more."

"Nothing less," Shen Yuan muttered.

The Lord Protector raised a hand.

"You will restrict your own authority for the next month," he said. "No new shrine edicts. Limited financial reach. That is your punishment."

I bowed. "Yes, Father."

But I knew he did this not out of loyalty to Wu Kang — but to prevent further collapse.

The Empire, after all, could not afford a public war between sons.

Later, we walked in the south garden, Wu Jin and I.

He said little.

But then, softly: "You struck harder than I thought you would."

"I followed the record trail."

"You exposed your brother."

"I exposed corruption."

He smiled — faint and unreadable.

"Liao Yun," he said, "that name has been whispered before. He was passed over for several posts."

"Why?"

"He sees too much. Speaks too little."

"Sounds useful."

"Or dangerous."

We walked in silence a while longer.

Then he added, "You'll need more than sharp paper to survive what comes next."

I nodded.

And said nothing of the dreams.

Midnight – Wu An's Chamber

The brazier was cold.

But I still smelled smoke.

In my sleep, I heard the whisper again: not words, but the drag of memory across flesh.

"She chose."

The note had said it. The hair had proved it.

And now, even in her absence, the woman in red haunted the living.

Shen Yue visited just before dawn.

"You're becoming feared," she said.

"I was already feared."

"No," she said, "before, they feared what you might do. Now they fear what's behind you."

I looked at her.

"You mean the gods?"

"No. I mean whatever's waiting for you to become one."

Court Chamber – Funeral Announcement

The next morning, the Lord Protector summoned all his sons.

For the first time in years, Wu Kang and I stood together in the same hall, beneath the ancestral mural.

He addressed us evenly.

"There will be a private funeral," he said. "For Lady Consort Xian."

Wu Kang's hands tightened.

I bowed.

"She died by fire," the Lord Protector continued. "But we will speak of her in wind and incense. The people will not know the rest."

"A rite," he added, "for her soul. For appearances."

No one argued.

Because it was not an offer.

It was a warning.

Outside the Funeral Hall

As the court began its preparations, I walked alone through the white banners of mourning.

Then I felt it.

A pull.

Not divine.

Human.

Liao Yun waited by the courtyard gate.

He bowed.

"I received a letter," he said. "One of Wu Kang's former advisors. Discarded. Silenced. He seeks to serve again. Under someone wiser."

"And he chose you to deliver that?"

Liao Yun didn't smile.

He just handed me the parchment.

No seal.

No signature.

But the words were clear.

"I have seen the court's games. I know where the strings are pulled. And I would rather pull them from your hand than his."

I tucked it into my sleeve.

And said only:

"Then let him come."

The incense wind rose behind us — sharp with the scent of a funeral that hadn't started.

And perhaps, a war that never ended.