The Dragon's Beard Noodle House was a small, unassuming establishment tucked away in a quiet alley in Beijing's South City. It was known for its excellent hand-pulled noodles and for the discretion of its owner, making it a favored spot for scholars and minor officials who wished to speak without being overheard by the prying ears of the court. It was here, in a small, private room shielded by a beaded curtain, that Shen Ke had arranged his meeting.
He sat waiting, dressed once more in the humble robes of a visiting secretary. Across from him, providing silent, almost invisible security, sat the assassin Ying. She was disguised as a serving girl, her lethal grace hidden beneath a simple blue tunic, her hands busy pouring tea, her eyes missing nothing. This was the new face of their operation: subtle, professional, and ever-watchful.
Their target was an old man named Lei Tingchang. He was a member of a distinguished family of architects who had served the Qing emperors for seven generations. Master Lei himself had been a man of immense talent and vision, the lead designer on the ambitious project to rebuild the Old Summer Palace, the legendary Yuanmingyuan, after its destruction by the British and French in 1860. The project had been his life's passion, a chance to restore a symbol of national pride. But years ago, the project had been officially and unceremoniously abandoned, the court citing a dire lack of funds. The decision had left Master Lei a bitter and forgotten man, his genius relegated to designing minor garden pavilions for wealthy merchants.
Ying Zheng's intelligence network, now growing more sophisticated under Shen Ke's guidance, had identified him as a man with a deep and righteous grievance against the current regime. He was the perfect potential asset.
Master Lei arrived, a stooped figure with a long, white beard and eyes that still held the fire of a frustrated artist. He looked at the young, unimposing "secretary" before him with suspicion.
"I was told this was a matter of some importance," the old architect said, his voice a dry rasp. "I do not have time for the trivial affairs of provincial clerks."
Shen Ke bowed his head respectfully. He did not engage in threats or bribery. His approach, as instructed by his emperor, was to appeal to the man's wounded pride.
"Master Lei," Shen Ke began, his voice soft and deferential. "This humble one has studied your original designs for the restoration of the Yuanmingyuan. They are not merely blueprints; they are a work of genius. A vision of paradise on earth. It is a profound tragedy for the entire empire that they were never realized."
The old architect's stern expression softened slightly. It had been years since anyone had spoken of his great, failed project with such reverence. "Genius is worthless without silver, young man. The court bleeds money for indemnities to the barbarians and for the Empress Dowager's theatricals, but it has no funds to restore its own soul."
Shen Ke leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Master Lei… what if I were to tell you that the silver exists? That it has existed all along?"
The old man's eyes narrowed. "What foolishness is this?"
"It is no foolishness," Shen Ke insisted. "The funds were not lacking. They were simply… redirected. They are being used to build a different project as we speak. A new palace, rising on the shores of Kunming Lake. One even more lavish, more extravagant than your own vision." He paused, letting the words sink in. "But its plans are a mockery of your art. They are being drawn up by eunuchs with no sense of proportion and supervised by sycophants who only seek to flatter their mistress."
He then produced a single, damning piece of paper, a page he had painstakingly copied from Cixi's secret accounts, which had been acquired through Weng Tonghe's archival research. He pushed it across the table. It was a detailed expenditure record for "preliminary landscaping and foundation work at the Kunming Lake naval yards." The sum was astronomical.
The old architect's hands trembled as he read the figures. His face, already lined with age, seemed to collapse into a mask of pure, unadulterated outrage. He knew the official budget for the so-called "naval yard renovations" was a modest sum. This was something else entirely. This was a secret, shadow project of immense scale.
"A new palace…" he whispered, his voice shaking with fury. "They told me the nation was too poor to rebuild its own history, and all along she has been building a private pleasure garden on its grave?" His professional pride and his deep-seated patriotism, both wounded for years, now bled together into a potent, combustible rage. "It is an insult. An insult to my family, to my art, and to the dignity of the empire!"
Shen Ke saw that the hook was firmly set. "The men building this… monstrosity… are they loyal to you, Master Lei? Do you still have contacts among the craftsmen at the imperial workshops? The suppliers of timber and stone?"
The old architect looked up, a fierce, vengeful light in his eyes. "They are craftsmen, not politicians. Their loyalty is to their art, and to the memory of my father and my grandfather who were their masters before me. They despise the eunuchs who now give them their crude, tasteless orders. They will listen to me."
"Good," Shen Ke said. "My master does not ask for your loyalty. He asks only for your help in exposing this treason. We need the full set of plans for this new palace. And more importantly, we need the expense ledgers. The records of every block of marble, every nail, every tael of silver that has been spent."
Master Lei did not hesitate. His bitterness had found a purpose. His regret had found a path to vengeance. "Consider it done," he growled. "They have insulted the spirit of architecture itself. I will bring you the proof of their sacrilege."
He was not being turned by fear of blackmail or the promise of silver. He had been recruited by appealing to his deepest principles: his professional honor and his love for his country. He had just become a willing, and incredibly valuable, agent in Ying Zheng's war against Cixi. He was the key that would unlock the door to her greatest, most self-indulgent secret.