Chapter 70: Banditry (1)

Xiang Zhi's official business for this trip was thus wrapped up in a hurry.

As if the Fifth Prince trying to get in touch with a Second-Rank border official with military power was no big deal.

But Le Wuya, who'd spent years in the official world, knew right away that the winds of power were shifting.

Things get done in secret; loose lips sink ships.

At this point, whether the Fifth Prince meant well or had ulterior motives, it was bound to become something shady that couldn't see the light of day.

And yet His Majesty had chosen Xiaoliu to handle this matter...

Having served the Emperor for years, Le Wuya could see right through the old man: the old bastard was playing games again.

If Xiaoliu honored brotherly bonds and covered for the Fifth Prince, the Emperor would have all the excuse he needed to punish him.

If Xiaoliu showed no favoritism and punished him by the book, the Emperor could still smile and ask, "Xiaoliu, the sages say, 'Be filial to your parents, brotherly to your kin, and bring that to your governance.' You've studied for so many years—are you really going to send your own brother to his death?"

To be fair, the current Emperor wasn't some "cold-hearted ruler."

On the contrary, he was an unusually emotional man.

He genuinely loved each of his kids, raising them with great care in his own way, pinning all his hopes on them from the moment they were born.

Then, for the rest of his life, he tirelessly docked points from his kids.

Once the points ran out, whether the kid lived or died was no longer his problem.

It was always the kids who owed him for giving them life, then let him down by failing his expectations.

The Emperor once told him, "You Que, the Le family raised you well—I envy them. When will you have Le Qing come to the palace? I want to hear his parenting wisdom."

Given what he'd done to the Le family and to Le Wuya himself, that wasn't exactly a decent thing to say.

But Le Wuya could tell that when the Emperor said it, the envy was real.

From this, you could conclude that a man who never had kids might actually be lucky.

Le Wuya, lost in thought, breathed long and deep, as if fast asleep.

Who got the throne—by birthright or by age—was none of his business.

The Emperor didn't care about legitimate versus illegitimate birth, or which consort he favored.

The only one he truly loved was his eldest son.

The former Crown Prince, Xiang Zhiming, was the eldest. After he died, the Emperor skipped over the simple-minded Second Prince, the Third Prince who died young, and the poetry-obsessed Fourth Prince, finally settling on the Fifth Prince, Xiang Zhiyun.

If the Fifth Prince went down, the next in line would be Xiaoliu, or... Xiaoqi.

—And that's where it hit home for him.

Le Wuya's thoughts moved at a crawl.

The wine left his brain able to handle only one thing at a time, so whatever was going on outside was beyond him for now.

Xiang Zhijie asked him, "That's it for tonight. You heading out?"

"The Sixth Prince should go first," Pei Mingqi said, getting to his feet. "His life here is rough enough—he doesn't even have a servant to bring him hot water in the middle of the night."

Xiang Zhijie studied him for a moment. "Fair point. We invited Magistrate Wenren out for drinks and got him drunk—leaving him alone like this would be pretty rude."

Pei Mingqi: "Nanting may be small, but it's got a few decent inns. Let the Sixth Prince get a room there; I'll stay here alone."

Xiang Zhijie: "It's late. Let's both stay."

Pei Mingqi: "The yamen has plenty of rooms, but getting another one ready would be a whole production."

Xiang Zhijie: "No need for General Pei to go to the trouble. I'll just rest here."

The Sixth Prince's intentions were now crystal clear.

Pei Mingqi, thinking of his nine clans, ultimately suppressed the urge to kick him out and asked patiently, "And what if someone else shows up tomorrow?"

"No problem," the Sixth Prince said calmly. "My portrait's hanging right here—they see it every day, so they should know my face by now."

Pei Mingqi: "..." What portrait is he talking about?

Though he was a straightforward guy, he vaguely sensed that asking that question would put him at a disadvantage.

So he clenched his jaw and kept his mouth shut.

The spy outside had a hot temper. Listening to them go back and forth, he got more and more restless, almost wanting to jump down and shout, "How about I just get out of here?"

But he held himself back.

As he played his part as a gentleman perched on the beam, he seriously pondered one question:

He was sent by the Emperor. If he saw... certain romantic shenanigans, should he report them or not?

With that thought, the spy suddenly got a strong urge to see what this Seventh-Rank county magistrate, who'd stirred up such a storm without saying a word, actually looked like.

After some hesitation, his curiosity got the better of him, and he snuck a peek through a crack in the window.

There, inside the bed curtains stirred by the summer breeze, the Seventh-Rank Official lay on his back, looking peaceful, hair loose and undone. In the flickering lamplight, half his face was in shadow, half in the light.

The spy stared for a long moment, then gave a slight nod and pulled his head back, all questions and curiosity gone.

...A femme fatale, plain and simple.

...

The two men inside, seeing that neither was going to leave, went their separate ways and got busy.

Xiang Zhijie was a man of few words, so Pei Mingqi was left to chatter away while tidying up.

"Nice clothes, these—good material." He hung up Le Wuya's outer robe. "Always been one for good food—when did he pick up a taste for good clothes?"

"Next time I go hunting, I'll get him some nice furs."

After putting away the clothes, he sat on the edge of the bed, propping up Le Wuya's limp, boneless body to feed him water: "Can't hold your liquor but you drink anyway—feeling miserable now? Serves you right."

Xiang Zhijie, meanwhile, cut straight to the chase: "There's only one bed and one couch. Luckily, both are big enough for two. How do we sleep?"

At that, the cup in Pei Mingqi's hand trembled, nearly making Le Wuya choke on his water.

He guiltily patted Le Wuya's back, did some quick mental math, and proposed, "The Sixth Prince is of noble rank—take the bed. I'll take Magistrate Wenren and make do on the couch for the night."

“He is unwell; no need to move him tonight,” Xiang Zhijie said softly. “You look after him, and I’ll take the couch. How about that?”

Pei Mingqi frowned slightly. “This is hardly proper...”

Xiang Zhijie rose to his feet. “Young General Pei, if you recognize my status, then my rules are the rules.”

With that, Pei Mingqi had nothing more to say. “Yes, sir.”

Afraid Le Wuya might toss and turn in his sleep and roll off the bed, Pei Mingqi carefully moved him to the far side of the bed to rest, and swapped the firm pillow under his head for a softer one.

Pei Mingqi brushed his hair back, trying to make Le Wuya more comfortable, but noticed, to his surprise, that his long hair rippled in wavy, seaweed-like curls, just like someone he used to know.

Almost without thinking, Pei Mingqi reached out a finger, carefully wound a lock of Le Wuya’s hair around it, and cradled it in his palm.

Looking at his face, he silently called him: Little Crow.

Le Wuya, eyes closed, murmured something in his sleep, as if responding to him.

Pei Mingqi’s heart ached and melted at once. He leaned in and whispered, “Little Phoenix came to play with you. I brought your favorite osmanthus cakes.”

“Don’t be mad at him anymore, okay?”

Le Wuya gave no response.

Pei Mingqi gave a self-deprecating smile, closed his eyes, and let go of the strand of hair he’d been holding, worried one of them might roll over and yank it painfully.

...In the end, it was just his own foolish longing.

Soon, his breathing steadied.

Once all was quiet, Le Wuya slowly opened his eyes and studied the man before him.

Little Phoenix wasn’t young anymore.

He used to be a year younger than Le Wuya, but now, the border’s desert winds and the cries of wild geese had forged him into a great phoenix.

Still refined, still proud, just a little rough around the edges—but thankfully, he was always gentle with him, like a big, gorgeous phoenix faced with a tiny crow like him, not knowing how to take a bite, and so always looking flustered and extra precious.

Le Wuya thought, how nice, to still get to see him like this.

Then his eyes moved and caught Xiang Zhijie, who had somehow appeared at the bedside.

He must have trained somewhere—his footsteps were as quiet as a leopard’s, and he hadn’t even woken Pei Mingqi.

Clearly, Xiang Zhijie knew Le Wuya was awake too.

He smiled warmly at Le Wuya.

Over Pei Mingqi’s body, Le Wuya looked up at his sixth brother and mouthed: I knew you weren’t here for me.

Xiang Zhijie mouthed: Sorry.

Maybe to prove how sorry he was, he gestured for Le Wuya to reach out his hand.

Le Wuya was confused, but trusting him, he slipped his hand over Pei Mingqi’s shoulder.

The next second, he watched Xiang Zhijie press the dragon pendant—the symbol of imperial power—into his palm, then cover it with his other hand and give a firm squeeze.

Le Wuya: …?

Le Wuya pointed at himself: For me?

Xiang Zhijie nodded: Mm-hm.

Le Wuya quickly shook his head, pointing at him: Giving away an imperial gift like that—are you trying to get your head chopped off?

Xiang Zhijie: Don’t worry about it.

Le Wuya then pointed at himself: If someone finds out I’m hiding this, won’t I lose my head?

Seeing he didn’t want it, Xiang Zhijie didn’t push it. He held up one finger and mimed sleeping: Then just keep it for tonight.

That, he could do.

Le Wuya happily took it, winding the dangling tassel around his finger and gripping the pendant.

Le Wuya knew this jade well—it had been handed down from the founding emperor to the late emperor, and then to the current one.

Top-grade jade, warm to the touch, and its symbolic weight was even greater.

It stood for generations of honor and absolute power.

Le Wuya held it in his palm, and, soothed by the feel of power, closed his eyes peacefully.

...

The next morning, Wen Ren Yue—who’d argued with Le Wuya the day before—still showed up at the office on time.

As soon as he walked in, he ran straight into Sun Ru, the deputy magistrate.

Sun Ru needed to see Le Wuya and had been waiting a while, but Le Wuya still hadn’t gotten up. He was pacing the courtyard, debating whether to go wake him, when he saw Wen Ren Yue stroll through the willow-lined path as if the place were empty.

It was early summer, the willows were lush, and walking through them gave him a refined, poetic air.

Seeing this former prisoner now treated like a VIP, Deputy Magistrate Sun still couldn’t get used to it. He said dryly, “Scholar Ming, you’re early.”

Wen Ren Yue: “Morning.”

Deputy Magistrate Sun joked, “Look how at home Shou Yue is—like you’re walking into your own backyard.”

Wen Ren Yue: “...”

He was briefly stunned.

If not for that accident, this really would have been his own backyard.

...And thank god for that accident.

He didn’t want to trade barbs with Deputy Magistrate Sun, so he turned toward the back hall.

Deputy Magistrate Sun stepped in his way. “Where are you going?”

Wen Ren Yue said patiently, “The study.”

Deputy Magistrate Sun: “The magistrate isn’t up yet. Perfect—you go wake him.”

Wen Ren Yue dropped his gaze, studied Deputy Magistrate Sun for a moment, then said softly, “You have business with him but don’t dare call him yourself. If you want me to do something for you, just say so—no need to beat around the bush.”

With that, he headed straight to Le Wuya’s room.

Deputy Magistrate Sun stood frozen in place for a moment, and by the time he snapped back to reality, the long-striding Wenren Yue was already more than a dozen feet away.

He let out a puzzled syllable: "Hey..."

After hemming and hawing for a while, he still couldn't manage to produce the rest of his sentence, so he could only stomp his foot and mutter in frustration: "Hmph!"

To show that he wasn't afraid of the magistrate, and also to report the important matter at the first opportunity, Deputy Magistrate Sun gathered up his robe and trotted after Wenren Yue, all the way to the bedroom in the rear courtyard.

But unexpectedly, before they could even knock, the door swung open from within.

Deputy Magistrate Sun's heart leaped with joy, thinking it was Le Wuya, and he quickly put on a fawning smile: "Magistrate..."

The rest of his sentence died in his throat.

Sixth Prince Xiang Zhijie, in simple clothes with a thin belt and a black headband across his forehead, was about to head out to practice his tai chi sword—though without a sword, a tree branch he'd grabbed on the fly would do just fine.

He gripped the doorframe, took in Deputy Magistrate Sun standing below with his mouth hanging open and Wenren Yue with a furrowed brow, then put a finger to his lips: "He's still asleep."

Deputy Magistrate Sun was utterly stunned, and before he could find his voice, he saw Pei Mingqi, hair uncombed and in just his underclothes, walk out from inside the room.

Having practiced martial arts for years, even his mere walking carried a powerful, imposing stride.

He glanced at the two at the foot of the steps and asked: "Nothing urgent, I hope? He drank last night and was feeling rough for half the night. If there's nothing pressing today, we'll take the day off."

Deputy Magistrate Sun swallowed hard, stepped to the side, and shielded Wenren Yue behind him.

However, Wenren Yue was tall, and Deputy Magistrate Sun, a good head shorter, jumping out to block him was rather like an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

This odd move, however, only drew Pei Mingqi's attention.

Pei Mingqi narrowed his eyes: "Scholar, you're here quite early."

Wenren Yue grabbed the strap of his book satchel with one hand.

Due to the excessive force, his fingers ached unbearably, but he didn't feel it: "I left late, so of course I got here early."

Pei Mingqi's eyebrow twitched: "You—"

Xiang Zhijie interrupted him: "I remember, you are Scholar Ming, given name Xiangzhao, courtesy name Shou Yue, correct?"

Wenren Yue bowed: "A humble subject pays respects to the Imperial Commissioner."

"Don't stand on ceremony," Xiang Zhijie said politely. "I hear it is Magistrate Wenren who has been tutoring you?"

"Yes."

"Then you must have benefited greatly. To be his student is a once-in-three-lifetimes honor."

Wenren Yue: "Indeed. The magistrate not only taught me martial arts, horseback riding, and archery, but also composition and the ways of the world. To know him is more than a blessing of three lifetimes."

He meant every word.

Xiang Zhijie smiled faintly, turning his thumb ring with one hand, slowly, turn after turn.

...The art of writing, the ways of the world.

Even his tutors had never taught him such things.

What broke the awkward silence was Le Wuya's lazy voice from inside: "Who said we're not holding office today... hmm..."

Rubbing his temples, pale-faced, he fumbled his way out and casually grabbed the nearest person, Pei Mingqi, complaining listlessly: "Headache..."

Seeing this, Deputy Magistrate Sun was scared out of his wits.

If not for the distinguished guests before him, he would have slapped his thigh and scolded the magistrate severely without regard for appearances:

Magistrate, you've lost your mind!

Which of these big shots can you afford to offend?

Keeping a young scholar like Ming Xiangzhao secretly behind their backs is one thing, but how dare you brazenly bring him before the others?!

He forced himself to stay composed, intending to cover up the chaos with official business:

"Magistrate, bandits have run amok in Xingta County. The day before yesterday, two rich families were robbed, and in one of them, seven or eight people were killed. The wanted poster has already been issued, and the Prefect has instructed us to carefully question all who come and go, and cooperate in catching the thieves!"