Chapter 115

Fu Tingjun stared wide-eyed at the middle-aged man before her, feeling certain she had seen him somewhere before, yet unable to recall where. A flicker of confusion passed through her eyes.

Old Chai gave a bitter smile and said in a low voice, "Miss Fu, do you remember that shop in Yongjing County that sold Huihui headscarves?"

"Ah!" Fu Tingjun suddenly remembered, and she couldn't help but exclaim, "You... how did you come to look like this?"

In that shop in Yongjing County selling Huihui headscarves, she and Zhao Ling had encountered Manager Ye Shouxin, the third manager of Datong Firm.

Back then, Manager Ye had been dressed in fine silks and furs, with an extraordinary bearing. But the Manager Ye before her now was so thin his entire form had changed—a pale, sickly face, shabby clothing, and an utterly destitute appearance. Not a trace of his former self remained, and it was no wonder Fu Tingjun hadn't recognized him.

Manager Ye quickly made a shushing gesture and said with a bitter smile, "I beg Miss Fu not to make a fuss. Please just call me Old Chai. For your great kindness, allow me to repay you handsomely once I've escaped this danger..."

Though she didn't know what had happened, since Zhao Ling had entrusted this man to her, it meant he wanted to help him. She readily called him "Old Chai" as he'd requested, and said with warmth that was gentle yet not overly familiar, "You speak too harshly, sir. Everyone has their difficult moments. I can see you look weary—you must have had a tiring journey." With that, she called for Zheng San to come in. "This is a friend Ninth Master made in Yongchang Guard. His name is Old Chai. See to it that Old Chai gets some rest."

Zheng San had first seen Manager Ye at the inn in Yongchang Guard.

As an escort guard who traveled the world, Zheng San naturally knew to be observant. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the third manager of Datong Firm—a man who could mobilize millions in silver at a moment's notice—would suddenly appear in his home in such a state. With Fu Tingjun's reminder, he immediately recognized Manager Ye. Though shocked to his core, only a faint flicker of surprise showed in his eyes. He knew there must be more to this matter than met the eye, so he calmly acknowledged the order and respectfully invited Old Chai to rest.

Manager Ye was, after all, a man who had traveled far and wide. Seeing that even a minor steward in Zhao Ling's household possessed such composure, he nodded inwardly. The taut string of his nerves relaxed somewhat as he followed Zheng San to the adjoining room to rest.

Though a tiger fallen to the plains may be bullied by dogs, a tiger is still a tiger.

Zheng San dared not be negligent. He brought out a newly made lilac-colored lined robe for Manager Ye to change into, personally drew hot water for his bath, and attended to him until he was properly settled. When Manager Ye was clean and refreshed, Zheng Sanniang arrived bearing chicken soup on Fu Tingjun's orders.

Manager Ye was rather moved and expressed his gratitude to the couple.

"Please don't stand on ceremony with us—this was entirely Miss's instruction." Zheng Sanniang said to Manager Ye with a smile. "Our Miss also said that Ninth Master and that Officer He are drinking in the main hall, and it doesn't look like they'll be done anytime soon. If you're tired, Old Chai, you're welcome to rest in our room. My child and I will move to the side chamber next to Miss's. If anything comes up, I'm sure Ninth Master will give word—so please just rest easy!"

Zheng Sanniang was telling Manager Ye that since he was playing the part of Ninth Master's servant, and there was a guest in the house, he must be careful not to let anything slip.

"Then I'll rest for a while." Manager Ye understood at once and said, "If Ninth Master has any instructions, please do call for me, Zheng Sanniang."

"Don't you worry—I'll be sure to let you know if anything comes up." Zheng Sanniang smiled and carried the empty bowl of chicken soup back to the kitchen.

Fu Tingjun was in the middle of preparing camel hoof stew. When she heard Zheng Sanniang's report, she nodded and told her to take the freshly baked flatbreads to the main hall.

Zheng Sanniang acknowledged the order and left. As she served the dishes, she overheard that Officer He Xiulin speaking with envy about Fu Tingjun: "...I never expected she could cook so well."

"She's very capable." Zhao Ling said with a smile, praising Tingjun as he refilled He Xiulin's empty wine cup. "I'm going to see the Marquis tomorrow as well. How about we go together?"

He Xiulin had encountered Zhao Ling on the post road to Zhangye after a banquet had dispersed. Zhao Ling had introduced himself, and the two had grown familiar from there. Throughout their journey together, He Xiulin found Zhao Ling articulate and knowledgeable—a young man who, with the support of the Marquis of Yingchuan, had taken up the post of Qianhu at Nianbo Station. He seemed worth befriending. Hearing Zhao Ling's suggestion, he immediately agreed with a smile: "Excellent! We'll go together then."

Zhao Ling then complained about how meager his salary was: "...If not for my family subsidizing me so heavily, life would truly be hard to bear!"

He Xiulin laughed heartily. "If we all had to rely on our salaries to get by, we'd all be eating the northwest wind."

The two chatted pleasantly and drank until nearly nine in the evening before parting ways.

He Xiulin stayed the night in Zhao Ling's quarters.

Early the next morning, Zhao Ling gave his instructions and set off with He Xiulin for the General's residence.

By noon, rain began to fall again, and it grew heavier and heavier. Finally, dark clouds gathered thick, thunder and lightning crackled across the sky, and the rain came pouring down in sheets.

"One spring rain brings warmth, one autumn rain brings chill." Fu Tingjun, sitting on the kang doing needlework with Zheng Sanniang, looked at the rain pouring off the eaves like a waterfall and said with some concern, "I wonder what Ninth Master is doing? With rain this heavy, if he gets soaked, it's no laughing matter."

"I think that Anxin by Ninth Master's side is quite sharp," Zheng Sanniang comforted Fu Tingjun. "He'll surely act according to the circumstances."

Just as she spoke, Zhao Ling and Anxin came running in through the rain.

Both were soaked through.

Fu Tingjun and the others busied themselves—some boiling ginger soup, some heating water, some searching for dry clothes... After a great commotion, they finally got Zhao Ling and Anxin cleaned up.

Zhao Ling drank his ginger soup and asked Manager Ye, "How is he? Doing alright?"

It was Zheng San who answered: "...He slept from yesterday until noon today before waking. He has seven or eight knife wounds on his body. Though none are in vital spots, they're all a bloody mess. I think we need to find some way to get wound-healing medicine!"

Fu Tingjun thought of the wound-healing medicine Madam Wang had left her and quickly said, "I have wound-healing medicine here, but it leaves very ugly scars after use."

"At a time like this, life is what matters," Zhao Ling said with a smile. "Who cares whether it leaves scars?"

Hearing this, Fu Tingjun hurriedly found the wound-healing medicine from her trunk and handed it to Zheng San. Zheng San took the medicine and went to treat Manager Ye's wounds. Zhao Ling then patted the edge of the kang beside him and said with a smile, "I know you have many questions for me. Let's sit down and talk."

Fu Tingjun saw that he was already putting on an "I confess" air before she even asked anything, and she felt both amused and exasperated. She sat down by the kang and said with feigned annoyance, "Then what does Ninth Master think I would ask?"

Zhao Ling pretended to ponder and said, "You should be wanting to ask where I went on the fifteenth of the eighth month, right?"

This bastard—he knew she was worried, yet yesterday he hadn't said a single word!

Fu Tingjun didn't want to give Zhao Ling the satisfaction. She said, "I want to know how Manager Ye ended up in such a state."

"He brought back a large amount of gold and spices this time. On the way, he was ambushed by bandits. He fled to Taiping Fort, where I happened to rescue him."

Fu Tingjun was momentarily taken aback. "If that's the case, Ninth Master should have taken him to see the Marquis of Yingchuan. Why did you hide him in our home? Could the bandits who robbed him be connected to the Marquis of Yingchuan?"

A glint of approval flashed through Zhao Ling's eyes. He lowered his voice and said, "The bandits have no connection to the Marquis of Yingchuan—they're connected to the Marquis of Xiping."

Fu Tingjun found this even harder to understand.

"There have been rumors circulating in these parts for years that the Marquis of Xiping has been keeping a band of mounted bandits, specifically to rob the merchant caravans passing through Jiayuguan." Zhao Ling's expression turned serious, and his face took on a cold, sharp edge. "With my current strength, I'm not yet able to contend with the Marquis of Xiping, who has guarded Liangzhou for a hundred years. So I had Sanfu investigate the bandits, hoping to obtain evidence that the Marquis of Xiping supports them. That way, I can create a little friction between the Marquis of Yingchuan and the Marquis of Xiping... You see, the relationship between the Marquis of Yingchuan and the Marquis of Xiping is very delicate."

Somehow, Fu Tingjun thought of Xiao Shi. She couldn't help but prick up her ears.

"The court has given the Marquis of Yingchuan the seal of General Pacifying the Qiang, commanding the Regional Military Commission, yet it also lets the Marquis of Xiping, who has guarded Liangzhou for generations, continue to hold Liangzhou. Clearly, they want to use the Marquis of Xiping to check the Marquis of Yingchuan. The Marquis of Yingchuan understands this too, which is why he yields to the Marquis of Xiping in so many matters—the Marquis of Xiping is mediocre and incompetent, no match for the Marquis of Yingchuan at all. If the Marquis of Yingchuan were to break this balance, the court would surely send someone else to check him. Rather than face another dragon-and-tiger struggle later, it's better to maintain the current situation."

Fu Tingjun listened and gave a slight nod.

"And now, I'm going to break this deadlock." As Zhao Ling spoke, a powerful confidence shone in his eyes, making him appear cold and imposing. "As long as I obtain evidence that the Marquis of Xiping supported the bandits in robbing the merchant caravans, and then fabricate some clues to make the Marquis of Xiping believe that the Marquis of Yingchuan was behind it—if the Marquis of Xiping then wants to seek compromise with the Marquis of Yingchuan, but the Marquis of Yingchuan has no way to return the evidence to him, they will be at each other's throats, irreconcilable forever. At that point, only two scenarios will unfold. First, the Marquis of Yingchuan will inevitably be so troubled that he simply disposes of the Marquis of Xiping altogether; second, he will give the Marquis of Xiping a severe lesson, forcing him to stay obediently in Liangzhou and never dare to make a move again." With that, he smiled at Fu Tingjun. "Whether it's the former or the latter, the Marquis of Xiping will surely have no energy left to concern himself with us." Then he added, "On Mid-Autumn Festival day, Sanfu came to find me—it was about this matter. He discovered that those bandits had come out in full force and gathered at Jinta Temple, not far from Jiayuguan." He looked at Fu Tingjun with a hint of guilt in his eyes. "You know, the only men I can rely on are Yang Yucheng, Jin Yuanbao, and a few others. Yang Yucheng was kept at Zhuanglang Guard by Lu Cheng, and Jin Yuanbao was kept at Jiayuguan by the Marquis of Yingchuan, and now he's used the excuse of going to the capital. So I had no choice but to go to Jinta Temple myself."

He was racking his brains for the sake of their future...

Fu Tingjun quickly said, "I know you must have encountered something urgent. Mid-Autumn Festival comes every year—we can go see the lanterns next year just the same."

Hearing this, Zhao Ling seemed to suddenly remember something and laughed. "Wait a moment!" He dashed through the rain to his inner chamber on the west side of the main hall, and in a moment came running back through the rain.

"I... bought you something... I bought it on Mid-Autumn Festival..." He pulled a small red lacquered box with gold tracery from his bosom, his face slightly flushed. "Take a look—do you like it?"