Chapter 269: Old Tales (I)

Qiu Sinian still had a belly full of questions he wanted to ask.

But alas, dawn was breaking, and the time for the morning court audience could not be delayed.

...And besides, Jiang He had used up all his writing paper.

So, before departing, Qiu Sinian shot Jiang He a fierce glare.

Jiang He, feeling that having thrown two bricks at him today made him deserving of a glare, accepted it with equanimity, and even waved at him, saying: "Don't go dropping the young general, now."

Qiu Sinian: "...Ah." You're the one who'd drop him.

Jiang He took that as agreement: "What's your name? I'll come find you someday to make it up to you."

Qiu Sinian: "Ah." No.

Jiang He: "Sorry, forgot you can't talk. My surname is Jiang, given name He, courtesy name Jiu Gao—you know that. When you're free, come find me—I'll treat you to something tasty."

Qiu Sinian: "...Ah." No.

After giving Jiang He the cold shoulder, Qiu Sinian gave Xiang Zhijie a silent bow, then held out his hand to Le Wuya.

Le Wuya drew out his fan and gave Xiang Zhijie a light tap on the shoulder: "Let's go."

Xiang Zhijie didn't react much, but Qiu Sinian's eyebrows twitched at the tap.

...What was that about?

Qiu Sinian hurriedly bowed low, apologizing on Le Wuya's behalf.

However, a gentle voice came from above—Xiang Zhijie's:

"Teacher, take care of yourself. Don't forget, you're the general on the chessboard. A general should cut loose a little more."

With that, Xiang Zhijie crouched down and carefully tucked his pant cuffs in tight.

Le Wuya laughed playfully and reached out to flick his ear: "Then I'll go cut loose, and you do your job well at the Ministry of Works. The Minister of Works... that one's a real character—working with him, you'll never be bored."

Qiu Sinian: ?

He turned his head slightly and noticed Xiang Zhijie's earlobes flushed a thin red.

He lowered his head again and, like someone who'd seen a thing or two, thought: That explains it.

But the more he thought, the more something felt off.

In the dead of night, under the bamboo and moonlight, with Jiang He standing watch, just the two of them alone...

He glanced sideways—the man's pant cuffs were still loose.

Qiu Sinian, whose worldly experience instantly conjured up a thousand scenarios: "..."

When he stood up, he even startled Le Wuya: "What's wrong with you? Why's your face so red?"

Le Wuya immediately turned to berate Jiang He: "Do you have any self-control? Don't beat my big ol' Little A'Si to death!"

Jiang He was sure: "I do. He won't die."

Qiu Sinian, about to spontaneously combust, quickly took his leave with Le Wuya, carefully holding Le Wuya's waist the whole way, scared of jostling him into some accident that might cause trouble at the imperial audience.

Le Wuya had no idea of Qiu Sinian's thoughtful care, just figuring it was years of pent-up loyalty with nowhere to go, so he let him play the protector. After returning home, he even had him put on medicine before letting him go.

Qiu Sinian gazed at him, his heart completely calm.

Le Wuya asked him: "You been doing okay these years?"

Qiu Sinian nodded.

A moment later, he dropped his head and slowly shook it.

Le Wuya went quiet for a bit, then didn't ask more.

He ordered: "Teach me how to talk to you."

Qiu Sinian's eyes suddenly lit up, but soon he shook his head: "..." I wouldn't dare trouble you, my lord.

Le Wuya patted his face: "Cut that out. More skills never hurt—you scared of crushing me dead?"

At the word "death," Qiu Sinian's face went pale. He shoved one hand out and shook his head hard, refusing with his whole body.

Le Wuya burst out laughing and grabbed his wrist: "Good, that gesture means 'no'—got it."

His eyes sparkled like a sky full of stars: "See? Your lord's easy to teach, right?"

Qiu Sinian, dazed and dazzled, still had burning warmth steaming in his chest when he climbed back over the Wen Ren estate's wall.

His face was usually blank, but nothing like Jiang He's naturally cold look.

Because for as long as he could remember, he'd had very few happy moments, so even at a time like this, he didn't know how to show it.

Qiu Sinian sat down in the shadows, face blank, pressing both hands to his stomach, his chest surging with waves of bitter warmth.

...Hungry. Wanted food.

But not the kind of hunger that makes you wanna wolf things down—more like the kind that makes you wanna sit still somewhere and slowly savor a home-cooked meal.

...

While Qiu Sinian was out scrounging for food, Le Wuya had already cleaned himself up and headed to court.

The current Fifth Prince could be said to have turned bad luck into good, riding high.

But having conducted affairs before the imperial presence for many years, he wasn't about to let it go to his head.

The last job he'd done at the Ministry of Justice hadn't been all that clean.

If it hadn't been for Little Six's rash impatience, showing off in front of the Emperor, the fat prize of the Ministry of Revenue wouldn't have landed right in his lap.

With such an opportunity, he should be even more diligent and restrained, and not lose this honor.

At court, the Fifth Prince presented a memorial, asking to personally go to the Diannan region to oversee gathering and refining "Ghost Head Shake" into pills, for the people's benefit.

The Emperor was thrilled—not only did he approve it, he also sent several seasoned imperial doctors along with him, repeatedly telling the Fifth Prince to take care of himself and not overdo it.

For a while, father and son were all harmony, and the courtiers sang their praises.

But some in the know also felt sore for the Sixth Prince, Xiang Zhijie:

This idea was clearly the Sixth Prince's, so why did someone else swoop in and take the credit?

Yet the Sixth Prince kept his eyes lowered, perfectly serene, showing no sign of displeasure, so no one else felt they could chime in.

After court adjourned, Zhi Jie stopped Minister of Works Mao Rui.

Mao Rui wasn't old, just past forty, the youngest of the six ministers, yet he'd worn two huge dark circles under his eyes. His chin was clean-shaven, having conspicuously declined to join the court's beard-growing fad.

Zhi Jie smiled. "Minister Mao, would you mind showing me around? I'm still unfamiliar with the Ministry of Works, so I'd appreciate your guidance."

Mao Rui said, "Sure, Sixth Prince, this way."

His voice trailed off with a slight upward lilt, and his whole bearing had a floaty, otherworldly air—even more so than Taoist Master Lu. He had that whole "cultivator who's left the mortal world" vibe.

As soon as they stepped into the Ministry of Works compound, someone hurried over, bowing hastily: "Greetings, Sixth Prince. Minister Mao, here are the plans for fixing the underfloor heating in the Imperial Hall's warm chamber."

Mao Rui took off his official hat, tucked it under his arm, revealing a head that was practically steaming, and took the plans. "Fourth revision?"

The clerk replied, "Fifth, sir. You scrapped the fourth the day before yesterday."

Mao Rui said, "Okay, got it."

When they reached the central courtyard, a clerk came charging up: "Sir, urgent dispatch from Tongzhou—the pilings at Yong'an Lock have been eaten hollow by termites!"

Mao Rui's brow gave a faint, almost careless furrow. "How many pilings?"

"Five!"

"That's a bit of a problem. Have the Water Conservancy Bureau people shown up?"

"They're all here, and they've hauled in the riverworks foreman for the Yong'an stretch too."

"Summer storms come thick and fast, and right under the emperor's nose, we can't afford a single screw-up. First, open the reserve depot, move the brushwood fascines over, and shore up the lock. Drape red silk over it and hold all grain barges for now. Meanwhile, we trace the source—figure out which timber batch it was, inspect every single piece. See one roach, and there's a whole nest behind the stove. Once it's all checked out, report the numbers to me. I'll find out who handled it and who signed off on it, and I'll impeach the hell out of them."

The clerk gave a quick bow. "You got it."

Mao Rui turned, his face neutral, and gestured to Zhi Jie. "Sixth Prince, it's a busy day, and the office is a bit of a madhouse. Hope you'll bear with us."

Zhi Jie gave a small smile.

No wonder his teacher had said last night that Minister Mao was a real character.

Mao Rui, seeing that Zhi Jie was as mild-mannered as ever and didn't seem like the type to say one thing and mean another, warmed to him a little and went a step further: "Would the Sixth Prince care to see the lock site? I'll have a boat readied."

Zhi Jie hesitated, then waved a hand with a smile. "No need. I get seasick."

Mao Rui said, "Oh." Then: "Well then, right this way."

...

Meanwhile, the Seventh Prince, with nothing better to do, had finally gotten wind of the thing he'd been dying to know about.

Though he wasn't favored in the outer court, he was well-liked in the inner palace.

Take his second brother, Zhi Zheng, sitting across from him, absolutely smitten with the ornate arrow case he'd gifted him. At Zhi Shi's question, he looked puzzled. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious, that's all."

Except when it came to Le Wuya, Zhi Shi always knew exactly how to play people.

He knew his second brother was a straight shooter—no point in beating around the bush since he wouldn't catch it anyway—so he wrapped one part lie in nine parts truth: "I heard Imperial Consort Zhuang can't stand him, but surely she doesn't hate him that much."

Eldest brother Zhi Ming and second brother Zhi Zheng were both born back when the current emperor was still the Crown Prince.

Back then, Xiang Zheng was utterly consumed by the thrill of power and had no time for his harem. For a long time, he had only Zhi Ming as his eldest son, and the palace held just two consorts—Rong and Zhuang, one principal and one secondary.

Of course, that didn't stop him from taking more "bedroom girls."

Zhi Zheng was born to one of those bedroom girls, arriving right before Xiang Zheng took the throne, a full seven years younger than Zhi Ming.

Only after taking the throne did Xiang Zheng start building out his harem and fathering more kids.

By the time Zhi Jie and Zhi Shi came along, Zhi Zheng was old enough to remember things clearly.

He was the perfect one to ask.

Zhi Zheng scratched his head and sighed. "You two... ugh, I knew it. Same mother, same blood—how could you really grow apart? You should still look out for each other."

Zhi Shi's mouth twitched. "..."

For the sake of intel, for the sake of ribbing the Little Stutterer, he held it in.

He flashed his sweet dimples. "Second brother, I don't care about him at all."

Zhi Zheng gave him a "sure, sure, whatever you say" look, then folded his arms, leaned back, and sank into thought. "I didn't see it myself... I heard it from my mother."

Zhi Zheng's birth mother, Lady Deng, had died years ago.

Because of her lowly status, she'd stayed a mere "noble lady"—a rank neither high nor low—and lived out her life without much glory.

She was a quiet soul, and she'd never expected to produce such a rowdy, loudmouthed warrior of a son. As if ashamed of herself, she withdrew even deeper into the palace's shadows, spending her days embroidering, reading, and tuning out the world.

Her favorite pastime was waiting for Consort Xi to come over for a game of cards.

"Consort Xi was in a funk for a while. My mother kept feeding her winning hands, but she still wouldn't crack a smile, so she finally steeled herself and took her out for a walk in the gardens."

At that, Zhi Shi's eyes softened quite a bit.

He knew that compared to Xi Ying, who was basically the palace's resident street loafer, Lady Deng was painfully introverted.

For her to willingly leave the palace with her—that took some serious resolve.

Meanwhile, Zhi Zheng had already drifted off into memory lane.

"That day, my riding instructor had praised me, and I wanted to show off for my mother. Just then, I saw the two of them come running back, all in a panic. ...I could see Consort Xi's eyes were totally vacant."

"My mother told me to go play in the yard, so I went. That day, Consort Xi cried for a long time—until Eunuch Xue showed up at the door and told them to keep their mouths shut about what they'd seen."

Back then, Zhi Zheng's brain was even more one-track than it is now—zero sense of tact.

The moment the red-eyed Xi Ying left, he was all over his mother like a sticky candy, pestering her to spill what had happened.

Lady Deng, in a rare stern voice, said, "Don't ask!"

Zhi Zheng figured that since Xue Jie had come with an imperial order, his father must already know, so he said flat out, "Then I'll go ask Father!"

Lady Deng nearly had a heart attack on the spot. She yanked Zhi Zheng into her arms and whispered, "Don't go. ...Whatever you do, don't go. It's your sixth brother—he fell into the water today."

Zhi Zheng was stunned. "What? Is he okay?"

Deng Shi, whether comforting him or herself, said in a rush, "It's nothing, nothing at all."

Xiang Zhizheng didn't believe it.

His sixth brother was barely a year old, just a toddler learning to walk and run.

A puppy that size would be in danger in water, let alone him.

Xiang Zhizheng made to stand up: "I want to go see my sixth brother!"

Deng Shi forcibly pulled him back into her arms.

He squirmed in her embrace, uncomfortable, and looked up.

Deng Shi's face was pale, her features slightly twisted, which looked terrifying to young Xiang Zhizheng.

He was frightened and didn't dare move.

"Your father did it," Deng Shi said in a low voice. "Your father threw him into the water."

Xiang Zhizheng choked on his words.

Despite his blunt nature, he was old enough to know better.

He obediently nestled in his mother's cold embrace, trying to warm her with his small chest: "What about Lady Zhuang? Isn't sixth brother Lady Zhuang's child? Doesn't Lady Zhuang care?"

Deng Shi's face fell: "Lantai, she was right there watching..."

Xiang Zhizheng fell silent.

His already slow mind stopped working.

After a long moment, he found his voice again: "Why is Lady Zhuang so cruel?"

Deng Shi put her hand over his mouth, ending the mother-son conversation with a soft "Shh."