Excerpt from The Shadow of the Empire by Qiu Xiaolong, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Was that a coincidence?

Lost in thought against the flickering candlelight by the western window of the hostel room, Dee tried not to dwell too much on politics, staring absentmindedly at the blurred reflection of his worn-out self in the bronze mirror.

Again, it started drizzling outside. The small pool in the back of the hostel appeared to be swelling with the memories of those bygone days. A couple of half-forgotten lines were coming back to his mind in the somberness of the room.

A candle trembling against the night rain, / you travel across rivers and lakes, year after year ...

He would not be able to fall asleep any time soon. It was perhaps just another sign of the onset of old age, he supposed.

Still, it appeared to be a quiet and peaceful night, far away from the sordid politics at the imperial court. Who could tell whether he might come to feel nostalgic, months or years later, about this tranquil moment sitting alone by the hostel window?

He turned back to the reports until a faint drowsiness began creeping over him, suggesting he might finally be ready for bed. Suddenly, out of the darkness, a flash shot swishing through the paper pane of the window, sweeping over in a curve, and striking deep into the old rough wood pillar – just inches from the pile of books on the table he was sitting at – before he could have said or done anything. Surprised, he knocked the teapot from the table as he turned around in a hurry, causing a smashing sound.


Stealthy, hurried footsteps immediately seemed to become audible outside, and then heavy, hurried steps from another direction brought in his long-time attendant/assistant Yang Rong from another hostel room.

'What happened, Master?' Yang said, standing in the doorway, still breathless, barely dressed – he slept naked, a habit formed from his childhood in a poor village of Shandong Province.

As it turned out, the flash had come from a small but sharp knife thrown in from outside and struck into the wooden pillar just above the books on the table – along with a bamboo paper note pinned underneath its pointed tip. It had come within inches of hitting him.

Yang moved to yank out the knife forcefully and spread out the note on the table for Judge Dee.

The note represented a single line written in bold brush strokes.

A high-flying dragon will have something to regret!

'What the devil does that mean, Master?'

'It's the name of a particular hexagram in the Book of Changes. When used as a sign in the practice of fortune telling, it means that people in high positions with soaring ambitions could suffer a turn of luck and have something to regret.'

'Something to regret. Hold on – is it meant as a warning for you?'

Without waiting for an answer, Yang picked up the knife again and examined it closely under the candlelight. It was extremely sharp. He placed a hair across the knife edge, which instantly cut the hair in two.

'This small knife is a precious one. Look at its hilt inlaid with no less than seven gemstones. It must have cost a small fortune,' Yang muttered. 'It could not have been thrown into your room as a practical joke.'

'No, but I don't think the note is necessarily meant for me. I'm far from having a high position at the present moment. As the saying goes, I'm more like a homeless dog running around looking for shelter.'

'You don't have to say that, Master. The new post may not appear to be as high as before, but the empress trusts you more than anybody else under the sun. Her Majesty may simply want you to enjoy a much-needed break and travel around for a short while, before some more important work is assigned to you.'

'Come on, Yang. For a man of my age, I want nothing more than a book with a cup of hot tea at home for a peaceful night. But you don't have to worry about the note. Go back to your room, Yang. It's past midnight.'

Excerpted from The Shadow of the Empire by Qiu Xiaolong. Copyright © 2022 by Qiu Xiaolong. Excerpted by permission of Severn House. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.