Chapter 116

Who would open a gift in front of the giver?

What was this fellow up to?

Fu Tingjun shot him a covert glare, refusing to take the bait. Smiling, she said, "Thank you," and accepted the box, then added with feigned reproach, "The rain is coming down so hard, and you didn't even think to bring an umbrella. Autumn has already begun—the rain carries a chill. What if you catch a cold?" She got off the kang and sent Anxin to his room to fetch a change of clothes, then personally brewed a cup of hot tea and handed it to Zhao Ling before taking her seat again.

Everything appeared perfectly composed, but the blush that had yet to fade from her cheeks made her look like a delicate, dewy flower—betraying her true feelings while radiating boundless charm.

Zhao Ling, now in dry clothes and sipping hot tea, inwardly lamented what a shame it was that his girl wouldn't open his gift!

Opportunities always slipped away in an instant. It seemed he would have to wait for the next one.

He let out a soft sigh but refused to give up. "Then it's settled—next Mid-Autumn Festival, we'll go see the lanterns together!"

She had all the time in the world; the question was whether he did.

Fu Tingjun replied with a "Fine," smiling as she gazed at Zhao Ling. A pang of guilt struck him, and he quickly steered the conversation back to the earlier topic. "Who would have thought those bandits would target Datong Hao this time!" His brows arched slightly as he laughed. "This is truly 'you search high and low for something, only to find it without any effort at all'!"

At this, Fu Tingjun understood everything.

She mused, "For Datong Hao to have grown to its current scale, it must have powerful backing. So Ninth Master simply rescued Manager Ye, keeping him as living evidence. And after suffering such a loss, even if Datong Hao didn't begrudge the lost goods and wanted to let the matter pass without a trace, they couldn't—not only would they have no way to answer to the families of the dead stewards, but they'd also have no way to face the stewards currently working for them. Otherwise, who would risk their lives for Datong Hao in the future? Besides, paper can never wrap fire—Datong Hao's watchful rivals would surely learn of the robbery beyond the pass. If they made a big show of it, it would cast doubt on Datong Hao's capability and credibility."

"Mm," Zhao Ling nodded. "So I need to deliver Manager Ye safely to Xi'an Prefecture. Once he reaches Xi'an, the Ye family will naturally take over the matter. Even if the Marquis of Xiping wants to swallow this, the people at Datong Hao won't necessarily let it go."

What a brilliant scheme!

Admiration shone unmistakably in Fu Tingjun's eyes.

Zhao Ling was somewhat surprised, and a feeling of elation washed over him, like drinking aged, mellow wine.

Fu Tingjun was lost in her own thoughts and didn't notice Zhao Ling's expression. She mused, "If that's the case, why should Ninth Master risk himself? Why not introduce Manager Ye to the Marquis of Yingchuan..."

"Absolutely not!" Zhao Ling rejected the suggestion without a second thought. "If the Marquis of Yingchuan learns of this, he'll use it as leverage to bargain with the Marquis of Xiping in order to suppress him. Not only would Manager Ye be silenced, but we too would become targets of danger for knowing this. That would be a loss outweighing any gain."

Fu Tingjun thought for a moment and realized she had offered a terrible idea.

Datong Hao would certainly not let this go once they learned of it, and the Marquis of Yingchuan wasn't ready to break with the Marquis of Xiping. For him, the best course would be to hand Manager Ye over to the Marquis of Xiping for disposal. In doing so, the Marquis of Yingchuan would both do the Marquis of Xiping a favor and deliver a warning that shook the mountains. The Marquis of Xiping, already no match for the Marquis of Yingchuan, would be even more trembling with fear, daring not to oppose him. At that point, the entire Shaanxi Regional Military Commission would truly become the Marquis of Yingchuan's domain. Once that situation took shape, if Zhao Ling's killing of Feng Dahu were ever discovered, the Marquis of Yingchuan, for the sake of stability, would surely turn a blind eye to the Marquis of Xiping's retaliation against Zhao Ling. After all, Zhao Ling had only met Sixteenth Master once—no matter how capable Zhao Ling was, how could he compare to the stability of the northwest? Even if Sixteenth Master learned of it, he likely wouldn't say anything.

Such was perhaps the tragedy of the insignificant.

A pang of sorrow stirred in her heart.

A hint of dejection crept onto her face.

Zhao Ling misunderstood that Fu Tingjun was ashamed for having said the wrong thing in front of him, and how could he bear to let her be unhappy? He quickly said, "That's why I specially invited He Xiulin—who comes from a military family, grew up in the northwest, and is known as 'Little Mengchang'—to be a guest at my home, and also staged that play with Manager Ye. It was all so that when I sent someone to escort Manager Ye back to Xi'an Prefecture, there would be witnesses to vouch for Manager Ye's identity." He lowered his voice as he spoke, murmuring, "I also did some maneuvering behind the scenes to make Manager Ye believe that the Marquis of Yingchuan has long known about the Marquis of Xiping's deeds, but for the sake of the greater good, has repeatedly tolerated the Marquis of Xiping and could not possibly help him..."

Fu Tingjun's heart gave a sudden lurch at these words, and she urgently interrupted Zhao Ling: "Then does the Marquis of Yingchuan actually know that those horse bandits are connected to the Marquis of Xiping?"

"He knows," Zhao Ling said. "It's just that before the Marquis of Yingchuan came to Zhangye, he had been serving at the Five Armies Supervisory Office. After he arrived, although he heard rumors of this matter, he has been hard-pressed to find any leverage against the Marquis of Xiping. Unlike us, who have connections in the underworld and can easily discover those horse bandits. Otherwise, the Marquis of Yingchuan would have already subdued the Marquis of Xiping using this as leverage!"

Fu Tingjun immediately felt as if she were sitting on pins and needles. She quickly told Zhao Ling about Concubine Xiao's probing of her: "Do you think the Marquis of Yingchuan could have discovered something?"

Zhao Ling's expression also turned somewhat grave.

He lowered his head in thought, while Fu Tingjun held her breath and concentrated.

For a moment, the room became so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.

Light footsteps gradually drew nearer, breaking the stillness of the room.

"Milord!" It was Anxin who spoke. "Someone has come from the Commander-in-Chief's office, saying that Lord Meng requests your presence."

The Marquis of Yingchuan?

Right after Zhao Ling had just returned from the Commander-in-Chief's office?

The two couldn't help but exchange glances.

Zhao Ling called Anxin in to question her: "Who was it that came to deliver the message?"

"It was Lin Chi, Lord Lin, along with two colleagues."

If she remembered correctly, it was this very Lin Chi who had been ordered to kill Zhao Ling before. They were the Marquis of Yingchuan's personal guards, highly skilled in martial arts.

Fu Tingjun grabbed Zhao Ling's arm tightly, her lips trembling, but no words came out.

"It's fine!" Zhao Ling smiled and patted Fu Tingjun's hand. "Trust me!"

It was just a single sentence, but somehow Fu Tingjun's heart suddenly calmed down. With a composed expression, she said, "I'll have Zheng San escort Manager Ye away."

Zhao Ling nodded and whispered his instructions to her: "Sanfu has taken lodging at the City God Temple outside the city. Have A Sen deliver a message to Sanfu, and let Sanfu escort Manager Ye back to Xi'an Prefecture. Yang Yucheng will be waiting for them at Zhuanglang Garrison."

Fu Tingjun hummed in acknowledgment and instructed Anxin: "Go tell the lord who came from the Commander-in-Chief's office that Ninth Master will go as soon as he changes his clothes."

Anxin acknowledged and left.

Fu Tingjun went to the eastern wing where Zheng San was staying.

Manager Ye, having narrowly escaped with his life, had finally relaxed his taut nerves and slept for a full day and night. He had just woken up and was being served chicken soup by Zheng San, which Zheng Sanniang had simmered. When he learned that circumstances had changed, a sharp, piercing cold light suddenly burst from his eyes: "Miss Fu, please convey this to Lord Zhao—if this were only a matter concerning me alone, I would not say another word and would go with him to see the Marquis of Yingchuan without hesitation. But I carry on my back the injustice of dozens of lives from the Ye family. Forgive my lack of honor, but I can only flee before the battle." Then he said, "Great kindness needs no words of thanks. As long as I, Ye Shangcheng, live another day, I will never forget how this life of mine was saved!" With that, he stood up and clasped his hands toward Zheng San: "I'll trouble you, Manager Zheng!"

His back was ramrod straight, his brow exuding authority and valor, his bearing imposing—there was not a trace of the dejection from moments ago. It was as if he had once again become the powerful Third Manager of Datong Trading House, causing Zheng San to feel a pang of timidity. He quickly responded with a respectful "You flatter me" and helped Manager Ye pack his things.

Zhao Ling, attended by Anxin, hurriedly crossed the courtyard.

Fu Tingjun and the others watched his figure disappear into the heavy curtain of rain. Manager Ye and Zheng San put on their bamboo hats and straw rain capes, silently clasped their hands toward Fu Tingjun, and left her home.

Rolling thunder sounded from the horizon.

The rain fell harder and harder; within the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, a layer of water had accumulated in the courtyard.

Zheng Sanniang supported Fu Tingjun's arm: "Miss, let's go back inside! The hem of your skirt is already soaked."

Fu Tingjun seemed not to hear her, standing quietly under the dripping eaves of the main gate, the dampness kicked up by the rain making her clothes feel wet and clammy. Zheng Sanniang was about to urge Fu Tingjun again, but Fu Tingjun had already turned and entered the courtyard, murmuring to herself, "When will this rain ever stop?"

Zheng Sanniang couldn't help but look up at the sky, finding Fu Tingjun's question rather abrupt. Just as she was pondering how to respond, Fu Tingjun was already wading through the water toward the eastern wing that served as her private quarters. Zheng Sanniang hurried after her: "Miss, shall I carry you on my back?"

"No need!" Fu Tingjun strode quickly into the inner chamber.

Because of the rain, although it was still afternoon, the inner chamber was already as dark as deep night.

Zheng Sanniang lit a lamp and helped Fu Tingjun change her shoes.

Fu Tingjun climbed onto the heated brick bed, moved the lamp to the small table, and opened the large red lacquered box with gold tracery that Zhao Ling had given her.

Inside was an ivory comb.

It was only the size of a palm, its fine, smooth texture glowing with a warm, soft pale-yellow luster under the lamplight. On the back of the comb were carved a pair of twin lotus flowers.

That scoundrel—he really had ulterior motives.

Fu Tingjun imagined what it would have been like if she had opened the box in front of Zhao Ling... He would surely have teased her about it, wouldn't he?

At the thought, her cheeks flushed crimson. She re-coiled her black hair before the mirror, tucked the ivory comb with the twin lotus carving into her tresses, then slipped on a brass thimble, picked up the half-stitched shoe sole, and sat quietly on the brick bed, sewing.

...

At dusk, the rain gradually lessened.

Zheng Sanniang came in: "Miss, it's getting late. Perhaps you should first..."

"We'll wait for Ninth Master to return before having dinner together." Fu Tingjun didn't lift her head, her eyes fixed on the shoe sole in her hands, her voice as gentle as usual, yet carrying an unyielding resolve.

Zheng Sanniang said no more.

From outside came A Sen's startled cry: "Ninth Master... Ninth Master is back!"

Fu Tingjun jumped off the brick bed and rushed out, seeing Zhao Ling striding toward her with a smile on his face.