The private meeting room in Prince Gong's mansion had become the command center for a silent coup. The air was electric with a sense of momentous, historical purpose. Prince Gong, Viceroy Li Hongzhang, and the now-essential Weng Tonghe were gathered. Before them, Empress Dowager Ci'an sat, no longer a hesitant, weeping figure, but a woman whose gentle nature had been forged into steel by the betrayals she had witnessed. She had made her choice. She was ready to act.
The final piece of their plan had just arrived. A coded message, relayed from a military outpost in the distant southwest, brought the news they had all been waiting for. Shen Ke, his hands steady as he deciphered the text, read the report aloud.
"The General has succeeded," he announced, his voice filled with a quiet awe. "The caravan has been intercepted. The children are secure. He is proceeding with them to the sanctuary monastery in Yunnan. The handlers have been… neutralized. The operation was a complete success."
A collective sigh of relief and triumph filled the room. The last of Cixi's clandestine pillars had been kicked out from under her. Her spy network was compromised, her finances were exposed, and now, the very source of her secret power, the School of the Silent Orchid, had been crippled, its future stolen away. They now had everything they needed. The time for maneuvering in the shadows was over. It was time for the final, public confrontation.
Ying Zheng, sitting quietly beside Ci'an—a presence no one in the room questioned anymore—gave a slight nod. The time was right.
"Scholar Shen," he commanded, his small voice cutting through the celebratory mood with cold, clear authority. "You have prepared the document?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Shen Ke replied. He stepped forward and unrolled a long, magnificent scroll of imperial yellow silk. It was not a report or a piece of evidence. It was an Imperial Edict, drafted by Shen Ke himself with the legal and political guidance of Prince Gong, and written out in the most formal and elegant calligraphy imaginable.
This document was the culmination of everything. It was the sword they would use to sever Cixi's power from the state, permanently and irrevocably. It was a masterpiece of political destruction. It was not framed as a personal attack, but as a sorrowful, necessary act of state to preserve the dynasty. It was addressed not just to the Grand Council, but to the Imperial Clan Court and all the Viceroys and Governors of the empire, ensuring it could not be suppressed.
Prince Gong took the scroll and began to read it aloud, his voice resonating with the gravity of the moment.
"By the authority of the Regency, and with the divine sanction of the Son of Heaven, for the preservation of the Great Qing Dynasty and the security of the throne, this edict is proclaimed," he began.
He then laid out the case against Cixi, point by damning, irrefutable point. Each accusation was supported by a mountain of evidence that Shen Ke and Weng Tonghe had meticulously prepared.
"The Empress Dowager Cixi is charged with Gross Financial Mismanagement and the Embezzlement of State Funds," Prince Gong read. "For she did knowingly and willfully divert funds allocated for the defense of the nation's coast to the construction of a private, extravagant pleasure palace, thereby placing her personal vanity above the safety of the empire." The evidence of the Marble Boat ledgers would be appended.
"She is charged with Endangering the State," he continued, his voice growing harder. "For she did deliberately suppress urgent military intelligence from the western frontier, and did knowingly appoint incompetent and unqualified officials to positions of high military command, weakening our borders and inviting foreign aggression." The suppressed Xinjiang memorial would be appended.
"She is charged with Fostering Illicit Factions and Treasonous Conspiracy," he declared, his voice ringing with accusation. "For she did, in secret, establish, fund, and operate a private school for the training of spies, assassins, and infiltrators, known as the School of the Silent Orchid. This act, the creation of a private army loyal only to her person, is a direct and unforgivable betrayal of the trust placed in her by the late Emperor." The testimony of Lotus and Ying, and the evidence of the green-bound ledger, would be appended.
"And finally," Prince Gong read, his voice softening with a feigned sorrow, "she is charged with Undermining the Sacred Person of the Emperor. For she did attempt to use foreign doctors to falsely declare the Son of Heaven mentally unfit, and did conspire to assassinate his most loyal personal guard, thereby endangering the very body of the dragon."
The list of crimes was overwhelming. It was a complete and utter condemnation, leaving no room for defense or debate.
The edict then moved to its final, devastating conclusion. It did not call for Cixi's execution. Ying Zheng knew that to make her a martyr would be a mistake. It would be too destabilizing and could provoke a backlash from the most conservative elements of the Imperial Clan. Instead, the sentence was one of pure political annihilation, a slow death in a gilded cage.
"For these grave offenses against the throne and the dynasty," Prince Gong read the final, fateful words, "it is hereby decreed that the Empress Dowager Cixi is to be stripped of all her titles, duties, and authority as Regent of the Great Qing. She will be permitted to retain her imperial rank and honors, but she will retire immediately and permanently from all political life. She will reside for the remainder of her days in the new Summer Palace she so cherishes, where she will live in quiet reflection and religious devotion. She is never again to interfere in matters of state, upon penalty of being declared a traitor to the ancestors."
It was over. The edict would leave her with her life and her luxury, but it would completely and irrevocably remove her from power. She would be exiled to the very pleasure palace she had built with her stolen funds.
When Prince Gong finished reading, a profound silence filled the room. The sheer audacity of the move, the finality of it, was staggering.
Ying Zheng looked at Ci'an. It was her moment. She was the one who had to give this document its ultimate legitimacy. With a hand that was now perfectly steady, the gentle Empress Dowager took up a brush, dipped it in vermillion ink, and affixed her formal seal to the bottom of the edict. Her part of the regency had just formally sentenced the other.
Prince Gong carefully rolled the scroll and placed it in its silk-lined case. He would present it to the Grand Council at the morning session. There would be no debate. There would be no vote. It was a final, absolute decree, backed by the authority of a united regency and an mountain of undeniable evidence. Any who dared to oppose it would be signing their own political death warrant.
Ying Zheng watched them, his ancient eyes holding the cold, distant light of victory. After years of patient planning, of moving pieces in the shadows, of whispering in the ears of his pawns, the final battle for the throne was about to be won. He had successfully cornered the great dragoness of the Qing court. And tomorrow, he would have her caged. The path to his true Second Reign was, at last, clear.