Shocking! Prince Su's heir, Xu Buling, casually cracks a major salt-smuggling case!

Men fall silent, women weep! What on earth has happened to Chang'an? A Ministry of Justice case, and it takes a dignified vassal prince's heir to step in personally!

Shrieks in the dead of night from the pleasure houses! Turns out it was Heir Xu cracking down on organized crime!

The next morning, an overwhelming flood of praise came pouring out of the brothels and taverns of Daye Ward.

The murder on the back street the night before spread at astonishing speed, and under the patient, careful steering of certain interested parties, the talk was guided onto two points—that a rotten apple had turned up in the Imperial Guard, and that Prince Su's heir had spoken up for justice—which conveniently thinned out the heat around the salt-smuggling affair. Three goals in one move.

Xu Buling had only just gotten up and heard his guards' report, and his eyes went blank.

Yesterday he had been a nobody, and he had been turning over how to swagger and throw his weight around at the Imperial College that day when the instructors questioned him.

Then he'd woken up to "Chang'an has a Xu the Clear Sky—iron-faced and impartial, who tells the loyal from the treacherous"?

A vassal prince's heir whose father's achievements overshadow the throne, and I go running to the emperor's own doorstep to enforce the law impartially—does that mean the Son of Heaven is blind, and anything under his nose has to be handled by Prince Su?

And even if I did handle it, I'd have to do it openly, in the light of day. What is hiding in the shadows and secretly ordering the Wolf Guards around supposed to mean? That I figure stepping out in person would make the emperor wary, so I deliberately work from behind the curtain—caring nothing for empty fame, only for giving the people of Chang'an back a bright, clean sky?

Only eighteen, and already this deep, this calculating—truly…

…truly in a hurry to die!

Nameless fury rose in Xu Buling's chest. He strode out of the rear residence and ran straight into Old Xiao, who had just come rushing back. "Old Xiao, did you take dirty money or fall for a honey trap? What the hell kind of news is this you've put out?"

Old Xiao's little servant's cap sat askew on his head; he leaned on his cane, eyes full of helplessness. "Young Prince, you really can't blame me for this one. Last night I sent men out to spread the word, but before the storytellers' scripts were even lined up, the rumors were already flying through the pleasure houses and taverns. Moving that fast—it has to be the authorities fanning the flames from behind. There's no suppressing it at all."

Xu Buling rubbed his forehead and thought for a moment. "Forget it. Ignore it. As long as I never admit it, they can't make this fine reputation of mine stick. So who's behind this flattery?"

Old Xiao considered it and said with feeling, "My guess is Gongsun Ming and his son—letting bygones be bygones and repaying injury with kindness. Such generosity, it really moves a man to tears."

Xu Buling blinked, then ground his teeth. "Oh, I'm moved, all right!"

Public opinion had already set. He could hardly run out and explain, "I wasn't punishing the wicked and righting wrongs—I was throwing my weight around." Not even a fool would do that. For now he could only let it sit and go cold, and head out to the Imperial College.

Old Xiao followed behind him and spoke up. "By the way, Madame Lu has already heard the news. She wants you to come by."

If Madame Lu was summoning Xu Buling, it would certainly be to ask why, in playing the dissolute heir, he had gone and played himself into Xu the Clear Sky, sharp-eyed on every last detail of justice.

The crux of it was that the salt tip really had been deliberately planted by Old Xiao to buy off Zhu Manzhi. Madame Lu had forbidden Xu Buling to act on his own, and if he went now, he wouldn't be coming back without a good two days of lecturing.

Xu Buling thought it over and could only raise a hand. "Explain it to Aunt Lu. Tell her I really was drunk last night—that's the only reason I killed anyone. The monthly exam is coming and my coursework is heavy; I'll go visit her in a few days."

Old Xiao accepted the order and left.

Dong—

The deep, resonant bell tolled outward. Dawn light rose in the east, and towering Chang'an unfurled slowly in the cold wind like a painted scroll, its high towers standing in ranks, dreamlike and unreal.

The fine horse halted before the dismount stele outside the Imperial College. Xu Buling swung down from the saddle and walked on foot toward the college's main gate.

Through corridors and past roofbeams he went: inside the Imperial College the halls stood thick as a forest, and the sound of recitation rose like the tide.

Sons of the imperial house, of vassal princes, of the great clans, of generals and ministers—all studied at the Imperial College, their backing powers twisted together root and branch. Xu Buling wanted no part of all that, and for the past year he had mostly gone his own way, drawing a clear line between himself and that crowd.

The students of the college had naturally heard what had happened in Daye Ward. When they saw Xu Buling come along, many of the students on the long bluestone street showed admiration and raised their hands in polite greeting:

"Heir Xu truly lives up to being a tiger's cub from a general's house—someone ought to take those Imperial Guards down a peg…"

"Upright and unbending, impartial in enforcing the law—a model for all of us…"

"Indeed, indeed…"

Xu Buling wanted to offer a word or two of explanation, but it seemed beneath his station, so he simply pretended not to see them and went straight into the study hall named the Wenqu Court.

The students of the Imperial College were all styled disciples of the Son of Heaven, with no rank between them—but in truth there was no chance of Xu Buling studying alongside the sons of poor families. This study hall, the Wenqu Court, was set aside for imperial princes and the sons of the great clans; few people were in it, yet it took up an absurd stretch of ground.

It was early morning—by the schedule, the hour for morning recitation.

In the great study hall at the center of the Wenqu Court, open on all four sides and hung with bamboo blinds, twenty small desks were laid out, and a dozen-odd finely dressed sons of princes and nobles were scattered among them. Most were nodding off; only a few official's daughters were actually bent over their books, reading aloud.

The one teaching at the center of the hall was no instructor, but Song Yufu, daughter of the Grand Libationer.

The Grand Libationer, Song Baiqing, was a stiff, old-fashioned scholar of advanced years. He had little liking for Xu Buling and that pack of "princelings," and rarely came to lecture; mostly he sent his daughter to go through the motions—nobody listened anyway.

Xu Buling entered the hall, and at a glance spotted a young nobleman sitting bolt upright, a book of the sages in his arms while his eyes stole sidelong glances at Song Yufu's figure, the look in them beyond words sordid.

Song Yufu was seventeen this year, gentle and graceful in bearing, her long hair reaching her waist—a beauty, by any measure.

Everyone seated there was a child of privilege; on any ordinary day they would never stare so crudely. But there was nothing else of interest in that dull study hall, and the only thing worth looking at was the young lady teacher reading the classics aloud. Hmm… call it bad students sneaking looks at the lady teacher.

Xu Buling, still chafing over the morning's business, narrowed his eyes slightly at the sight.

As the saying goes, "Mend the fold after the sheep are lost—still not too late."

If he didn't find a chance to stir up some trouble now, once Madame Lu came storming over he would have nothing to show for himself.

Xu Buling thought for a moment, then walked to the front of the study hall and drove his fist down without warning on the fellow who was still stealing his looks…

"Aah—"

In the early winter of the tenth year of Zhaohong, a scream rang out among the study halls of the Imperial College.

Inside the Wenqu Court's study hall, Song Yufu clutched the discipline ruler, bouncing on her toes in panic, trying to stop Xu Buling's rampage:

"Stop hitting him! Stop it!"

At the center of the hall, the empress dowager's nephew, the legitimate son of the Xiao clan of Huainan—Xiao Ting—lay on the ground clutching his head and wailing, still somewhat dazed:

"Aah—Xu Buling, what are you hitting me for? Did I do anything to you? Aah—…"

The wails kept coming.

Xu Buling crouched over him, pulled Xiao Ting's arms apart, and rained punches on his face, looking thoroughly vicious.

Furious, Song Yufu trembled from head to toe, the discipline ruler in her hand but not daring to use it. She wanted to run over and drag off the rampaging Xu Buling, but one of the official's daughters blocked her way and gently consoled her:

"Don't go over there. Heir Xu may be drunk—mind he doesn't give you a beating too."

Song Yufu hesitated, a flicker of panic in her eyes, then ran out of the hall—off to fetch someone, by the look of it.

Xiao Ting, having taken a round of fists, was left with a bruised and swollen face and an indescribable grief and fury in his eyes:

"I am the legitimate son of the Xiao clan—aah—the empress dowager's own nephew—aah—…

One line out of him, one punch in return: both rhymes landed, and the rhythm was excellent.

After that round of fists, hurried thudding footsteps soon came from outside the hall. Song Yufu, holding up her skirts, her face anxious, was saying in a small voice:

"Your Highness, Heir Xu has been drinking and he's beating someone up—please go stop him before he cripples Young Master Xiao…"

Behind Song Yufu was a scholar in a civil official's robe, not yet forty by the look of him, amiable and refined, walking unhurried behind her.

At the sight, two of the many sons of princes and nobles in the hall straightened their collars and put on their most courteous manners:

"We pay our respects, Prince Yan."

Xu Buling's expression eased somewhat, and he too raised his hands in a scholar's salute.

Prince Yan, Song Yu, was the Son of Heaven's younger brother. He had taught at the Imperial College all along without meddling in state affairs, and bore a long-standing name for worth, praised as "a true gentleman of our age." Now he walked slowly into the hall, and at the sight of Xiao Ting sitting on the ground with his face swollen black and blue, a trace of helplessness showed in his eyes.

Xiao Ting was the empress dowager's nephew, and the empress dowager counted as Prince Yan Song Yu's stepmother; by strict reckoning of the family tree, Xiao Ting even called the reigning emperor "Big Cuz."

"Buling, Xiao Ting—why are you two brawling in the study hall?"

Hearing Prince Yan's reproof, Xiao Ting scrambled up and ran to him, pointing at his own face. "Your Highness, it wasn't a brawl—he hit me. I held back because he's my junior."

Prince Yan frowned slightly and turned his gaze to Xu Buling beside him:

"Buling, why did you hit Xiao Ting?"

Xu Buling had meant to say, "A gentleman does nothing improper even in an empty room"—but recalling Aunt Lu's teachings, he changed his tune:

"I'm drunk. Who's he?"

His expression was arrogant and unyielding, his tone thoroughly domineering—the very picture of a spoilt heir. Only his features were refined, so the viciousness did not come across; instead he looked rather coolly handsome, which drew a good many stolen glances from the daughters of princes and nobles.

Xiao Ting, seething, rubbed his pig's-head of a face:

"I'm Xiao Ting—the empress dowager's nephew, Madame Lu's brother-in-law, your uncle."

Xu Buling knitted his brows slightly and looked him up and down. "Oh. Is that so." He picked up a wine pot and took a long pull.

Xiao Ting's eyes went wide with disbelief. He raised a hand and pointed at Xu Buling, speechless for a long moment.

Prince Yan shook his head slightly and, looking at Xu Buling, put on the air of an elder:

"Buling, do you know what the words bu and ling in your name mean?"

Xu Buling answered quietly: "When a man is upright himself, things are done without his giving orders; when he is not upright, orders go unheeded."

Prince Yan nodded. "Since you know, I won't ask why you struck that blow just now. So long as your conscience is clear, that's enough… As for last night—standing up for justice and punishing the wicked, that was well done. You did credit to the words 'when a man is upright himself, things are done without his giving orders.' Keep it up."

Xu Buling frowned. "I was drunk last night. Who knows how the story got twisted out there."

Prince Yan's eyes brimmed with admiration. "At such a young age, and already so modest and uncontentious—that is the air of a true gentleman. Excellent."

Xu Buling's face darkened. He spread his hands, found he had nothing to say, and settled for looking impatient.

Prince Yan had always kept reward and punishment distinct, so he did not go on heaping praise on him, and instead said:

"Your character deserves praise, but merit does not cancel fault. Striking someone inside the Imperial College breaks our rules. Go spend seven days in the Bell and Drum Tower, and copy out the Record of Learning ten times."

Xu Buling breathed a sigh of relief. Seven days hiding out in the Imperial College suited him fine; if Madame Lu ever got hold of him, she would wear him down to the bone. He left the study hall at once.

Xiao Ting, having taken a savage beating for no reason at all, was livid—his face ashen, the corner of his mouth twitching. When he saw the princes' and nobles' sons inside the hall all snickering, he gave a cold snort. "You just wait…" Then he flung his sleeves and stalked out of the Imperial College…

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