Li Lianying's private residence within the Forbidden City was a testament to the immense, subtle power he wielded. It was a lavish, multi-courtyard compound, filled with rare art, ancient furniture, and a small army of personal servants and eunuchs who scurried about with an air of perpetual, terrified deference. Tonight, however, the master of this small kingdom was in a foul mood.
He sat at his heavy rosewood desk, a single lantern casting long shadows across his face, making his features seem more hawkish and severe than usual. The recent series of failures weighed heavily upon him. The Silkworm Nursery, his secret headquarters, was a smoking ruin. The investigation into the disgraced tutor Weng Tonghe had yielded nothing but frustration. And Prince Gong's faction, emboldened by their successes, seemed to mock him at every turn. The stress had given him a splitting headache, a tight band of pain that even his personal physicians could not soothe.
It was into this tense atmosphere that a junior eunuch announced a visitor. "Excellency, the boy Lotus requests a brief audience. He says he has brought something to aid your health."
Li Lianying's first instinct was to refuse. He was in no mood for the fawning of a junior agent, especially the one whose primary mission—to get close to the Emperor—had been so thoroughly thwarted by the brutish bodyguard, Meng Ao. But curiosity, and a sliver of vanity, won out. He was, after all, the boy's ultimate master. It was proper that the child show him respect and concern.
"Send him in," he rasped, rubbing his temples.
Lotus entered the study, moving with the quiet grace he had been trained to project. He carried a single, beautiful lacquer tray. On it sat a small, delicate porcelain teacup, from which a fragrant steam arose. He knelt on the floor some distance from the desk, his head bowed low, the very picture of humble, anxious subservience.
From a hidden vantage point on a curved rooftop across the courtyard, Meng Tian watched the lighted window of the study. He was a motionless shadow, his senses on high alert. This was the most delicate part of the plan. If anything went wrong, if Li Lianying suspected anything, Lotus's life would be forfeit in an instant.
"Excellency," Lotus began, his voice a soft, respectful murmur. "This humble servant was deeply saddened to hear that you were suffering from sleeplessness and the pain of a thousand hammering headaches." He dared a quick glance up, his face a perfect mask of earnest concern. "The Emperor's companion… I… I felt it was my solemn duty to show my respect and offer what little aid I can."
Li Lianying stared at him, his dark eyes narrowed and suspicious. "And what aid can a boy like you offer?"
"I have some small skill in the calming arts, Excellency. Herbs and teas," Lotus explained, repeating the cover story Ying Zheng had provided him. "Before I was brought to the palace, I served in a household where the mistress was often afflicted by similar pains. I learned to prepare a special blend for her." He pushed the tray slightly forward. "This is a calming tea, made with herbs that Her Majesty the Empress Dowager Ci'an sometimes uses for her own rest. I beg you to accept this humble offering, Excellency. Perhaps it can bring you a moment of peace."
The lie was brilliantly constructed. By invoking the name of the gentle, non-political Ci'an, he gave the remedy a veneer of harmless legitimacy. And by framing it as an act of fawning sycophancy, a junior agent trying to curry favor with his superior, he was behaving in a way that was completely predictable and understandable to a man like Li Lianying. Greed, ambition, and the desire to please one's master were motives the head eunuch understood perfectly.
Li Lianying considered the boy. He saw the trembling hands, the bowed head, the nervous, eager-to-please energy. He saw a young, terrified agent trying to get back into his good graces after a failed mission. It made perfect sense. And his head was, in fact, pounding with a merciless rhythm.
"Bring it here," he commanded.
Lotus rose and carried the tray to the desk, his heart hammering against his ribs. He placed it down gently. Li Lianying picked up the cup. He was a man who had survived for decades in a world of poison and intrigue. He sniffed the tea. The aroma was pleasant, a fragrant mixture of jujube, licorice root, and other familiar, calming herbs. There was no hint of the bitter almond scent of arsenic or the acrid smell of any known poison.
Satisfied, and desperate for any relief, he drank the tea down in two long swallows. The taste was sweet and earthy. "It is… acceptable," he said, setting the cup down. "You may go."
Lotus bowed deeply, backing out of the room, his mission accomplished. He did not dare to look back.
He scurried back to his own small quarters, his mind racing. He had done it. He had delivered the sleeping draught to the most dangerous man in the Forbidden City. Now, he could only wait and pray that the Emperor's ancient knowledge was as potent as he claimed.
Back in his study, Li Lianying sat at his desk, the warmth of the tea spreading through his body. He did feel a certain calmness begin to settle over him. The sharp edges of his headache were beginning to soften. He picked up a report, intending to read, but the characters on the page seemed to swim before his eyes.
A wave of profound heaviness washed over him. His eyelids, suddenly as heavy as lead, began to droop. He tried to fight it, to shake off the strange, sudden fatigue, but it was like trying to hold back the tide. His head slumped forward, his cheek coming to rest on a stack of official documents. His breathing slowed, deepening into a steady, unshakable rhythm.
The Emperor's ancient soporific had worked perfectly. The head spider was asleep. The lair was now vulnerable.
On the rooftop across the courtyard, Meng Tian watched as the light in the study remained on, but the shadow of the man at the desk did not move. He waited for a full ten minutes, counting out the seconds with a soldier's patience. The time was right.
He gave a low, two-toned whistle, mimicking the call of a night owl—the pre-arranged signal. In a nearby chamber, Lotus heard the sound and let out a breath he felt he had been holding for an hour. He had succeeded. He had passed the test.
Meng Tian rose from his crouched position. He pulled a black cloth over the lower half of his face, leaving only his cold, determined eyes visible. It was time for his part of the plan to begin. He was the Emperor's blade, and tonight, he would make the first cut.