Ying Zheng sat in the quiet solitude of his study, the day's grueling lessons finally over. The air was still, and the only light came from a single, tall candle that cast long, dancing shadows on the walls. Before him on the table lay two pieces of rice paper, messages delivered through his now well-established, invisible network. They were trophies from a day of successful, silent warfare.
The first was a report from his agent in the treasury, Liang Wen. It was a brief, triumphant account of the chaos Cixi's "witch hunt" was causing within the palace administration. It detailed how Li Lianying's best investigators were being wasted on the futile surveillance of the Imperial Archives, how their frantic search for a non-existent conspiracy was breeding distrust and resentment among the palace staff. The Empress Dowager's obsession with the ghost of Weng Tonghe was making her own faction bleed resources and morale.
The second report, delivered from Weng Tonghe himself via the invisible ink of the poisoned inkstone, was even more satisfying. It was a detailed summary of the naval office meeting, recounting the masterful technical arguments of Li Fengbao and the committee's decisive vote to award the shipbuilding contract to the German shipyard. The Beiyang Fleet would be built not with the ships Cixi's faction wanted, but with the ships Ying Zheng knew he needed.
He allowed himself a rare, fleeting moment of cold satisfaction. His strategy of misdirection had worked perfectly. While Cixi was chasing shadows of her own making, his allies were seizing real, tangible power. He had manipulated the board, and his pieces were advancing.
But victory always presented new problems. He reread Weng Tonghe's report. The contract with the German shipyard, while favorable, required a massive upfront payment in silver bullion to secure the materials and begin construction. Prince Gong's new Coastal Defense Fund could cover a portion of it, but the rest, a significant sum, would have to be drawn from the national treasury. That meant a formal request to the Board of Revenue, a department still firmly under the control of Cixi's loyalists. They would not refuse the request outright—they could not, after the council's vote—but they would obstruct. They would delay. They would claim clerical errors, demand endless audits, and tie up the funds in a mountain of red tape for months, if not years. He could not allow that. The clock was ticking towards 1894.
He needed the silver, and he needed it now. It was time for a more direct approach. It was time to stop manipulating the state's coffers and start raiding the private treasuries of his enemies.
He turned his gaze to the boy assassin, Lotus, who stood silently by the wall, his head bowed. The boy's terror had subsided into a state of watchful, absolute obedience. He was a proven, if unwilling, tool.
"Lotus," Ying Zheng said, his voice quiet. The boy flinched slightly at being addressed directly. "You have done well in your observations. Now, a new task." He paused. "Your former masters at the School of the Silent Orchid… they taught you the art of poisons, of causing sickness and death. But did they also teach you of their antidotes? Of medicine and healing?"
Lotus looked up, his expression confused but attentive. "Yes, Your Majesty. We were taught both sides of the coin. We had to know how to cause an ailment, but also how to cure it, or how to treat our own injuries in the field without a physician."
"Excellent," Ying Zheng said. His eyes glinted in the candlelight. "Head Eunuch Li Lianying has been complaining of severe migraines lately, has he not? The stress of his recent… failures." This was another piece of palace gossip, a minor detail collected by his network, now ready to be weaponized. "You will prepare a 'remedy' for him. A special herbal tea, brewed with your own expert hands. It will be a gift from the 'Emperor's loyal companion,' a gesture to show your concern for the head eunuch's well-being."
A flicker of fear crossed Lotus's face. He thought he was being asked to poison the most feared man in the palace.
Ying Zheng saw the fear and his lip curled in a slight, contemptuous smile. "Do not be alarmed. I do not want him dead. A dead spider is replaced by a new one. I want him… asleep." He proceeded to dictate a precise recipe for an herbal concoction, a mixture of Ziziphus jujuba, Poria spirit, and other powerful but non-lethal herbs. It was a recipe from his own time, a potent soporific known only to the most skilled court physicians of the Qin. It would not kill. It would induce a deep, dreamless, coma-like sleep for several hours, after which the subject would awaken with a clear head but no memory of the intervening time. It was the perfect tool for a night of silent work.
Having given his instructions to the spy, he turned to his general. Meng Tian, who had been standing impassively by the door, straightened, knowing his time had come.
"General," Ying Zheng said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. "While the head spider sleeps, you will pay a visit to his personal residence." He gestured to a small, detailed map of Li Lianying's luxurious private compound within the Forbidden City. "The green ledger we took was the account book for his spy network. But a man of his immense corruption and greed has his own personal treasury. According to Scholar Shen's analysis of his expenditures and known assets, it must be vast. He has been stealing from the Empress Dowager herself for years."
He pointed to a specific location on the map, a small, reinforced structure behind the main house, marked as a "storage pavilion." "Shen Ke believes the treasury is located there. Your mission is simple. Find it. And empty it."
Meng Tian's eyes lit up with a fierce, predatory gleam. This was a mission he understood completely.
"We will use his own ill-gotten silver to pay the Germans for the steel of our new ships," Ying Zheng concluded, a cold, perfect irony in his voice. "The price of steel will be paid with the price of his treason."
The plan was audacious. It was a move beyond political manipulation, a direct, high-stakes criminal operation targeting the personal wealth of the second most powerful person in the Forbidden City. It was an act of profound and utter contempt.
The episode ends with the two disparate scenes of preparation. In one corner of the palace, Lotus, the graceful boy assassin, nervously grinds herbs with a mortar and pestle, his delicate hands preparing a potent sleeping draught for his former master. In another, Meng Tian, the superhuman general, cloaks himself in black, checking the silent leather wrappings on his boots and flexing his stone-shattering fists. He is preparing to commit the ultimate theft, a direct raid on the secret treasury of the man who, just weeks ago, had thought him a mere tool to be controlled.
The Second Reign was evolving once more. Ying Zheng was no longer content to merely play the game of courtly intrigue. He was now ready to finance his new empire by plundering the coffers of his enemies.