Chapter 15

Chapter 15

One day, Xue Shechuan was tinkering with a jar of seahorse-infused wine in the courtyard when he heard hurried heavy footsteps outside.

"Brother! Brother! Look at this!" Xue Shuyu's voice arrived before he did, waving a rough sheet of paper as he stepped through the gate. On it was a single line of text: Tonight at the He family gambling house, come have a couple drinks with me.

Xue Shechuan took it and glanced at it. "No name?"

"No." Xue Shuyu's eyes gleamed with excitement. "But I'm sure it's that guy from the boxing ring that day."

"Oh?" Xue Shechuan raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think so?"

"Who else would have the time for this?" Xue Shuyu tucked the note back into his pocket. "The He family gambling house—perfect chance for me to go meet him."

This time Xue Shechuan didn't stop him. He simply raised a finger to his younger brother's lips and said, "Come back early."

"Alright~"

The He family's "Jufu Tower" looked like an ordinary tavern from the outside, but lifting the heavy cotton curtain revealed a different world inside.

Dozens of large lanterns hung in the main hall, casting warm yellow light that made the twenty-odd gambling tables gleam. The crisp clatter of dice in bowls, the slap of bone tiles on tables, the shouts of winners and curses of losers mingled together, blending with the thick smell of alcohol and face powder in the warm air, forming the most extravagant backdrop of the capital.

By the time Nan Wuxie arrived, Xue Shuyu had already claimed a seat by the window, with two jars of strong liquor in front of him. Seeing him enter, Xue Shuyu's eyes lit up as he waved: "Over here!"

Nan Wuxie walked over, unfastened his cloak, revealing the dark brocade robe underneath. "Nan Wuxie."

Xue Shuyu smiled. "It really was you."

"Figured it out?" Nan Wuxie sat down, poured himself a cup of wine, moving slowly, with a hint of laziness.

"I'm not stupid," Xue Shuyu said, taking a gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I just never imagined you, the legendary Marquis Nan, who's like a demon, would have so much free time as to come spar with me on purpose."

Nan Wuxie raised his cup and clinked it with Xue Shuyu's. "Does Second Master Xue come here often?"

Xue Shuyu didn't answer. Instead, he pushed the dice over: "Want to play a couple rounds?"

Nan Wuxie raised an eyebrow, picked up the dice, and weighed them. "I'm not good at gambling. The Nan family isn't as wealthy as your Xue family—I can't afford to lose."

"If you lose, I won't take your money."

Nan Wuxie let out a low laugh. "Well then... let's play a couple?"

On the first roll, Nan Wuxie rolled a five, and Xue Shuyu rolled a six. He smiled and pushed a silver ingot over. "My luck really is bad."

Then he lost several more rounds in a row. He pushed all his silver over and shook his head with a smile. "Told you I'm no good at gambling."

"Drink up, drink up." Xue Shuyu set aside the dice cup. "No more playing. Just drink with me."

Nan Wuxie didn't refuse. He raised his cup and downed it in one gulp. The strong liquor wasn't fine wine—it was harsh, burning like fire as it went down. He coughed a couple times, and his cheeks genuinely flushed, as if he couldn't handle his liquor.

"Brother Nan's capacity doesn't quite match his reputation," Xue Shuyu teased.

(Brother Nan?? No one in the Great Jing had ever called Nan Wuxie that.)

"I heard that Brother Nan used to drink a thousand cups without getting drunk at the border. How is it that today you can't hold your liquor so well, hm?"

Nan Wuxie poured another cup but didn't drink immediately. Instead, he idly swirled the wine, spilling a small circle of wine.

"Drinking on the battlefield is to warm the body; drinking here is to get drunk. It's different."

His words made a few nearby drinkers laugh, but Xue Shuyu didn't laugh. He just looked at Nan Wuxie's eyes, reddened from drink. "What else did Brother Nan do at the border besides fighting?"

"Soak up the sun," Nan Wuxie said frankly. "The sun at the border is fierce—it warms you to the bone. But with all the affairs at the Nine Passes, I had to worry about this and that, so I rarely had time for sunbathing. I was too busy worrying about silver and grain supplies."

He tipped his head back and downed another cup. "I hear half the profits from this He family gambling house go to the Ji family?"

"That's right," Xue Shuyu said, unconcerned. "So what? Business in the capital is like this. No single family can handle it all."

"I also heard that the Xue family's trade routes in the north are faster than the court's." Nan Wuxie's gaze was direct. "Maybe grain supplies in the north could come faster?"

Xue Shuyu paused for a moment, then looked up to meet Nan Wuxie's eyes. There was not a trace of drunkenness in them.

The reason Nan Wuxie was being so blunt was that he genuinely felt Xue Shuyu was crazy, but not devious, and certainly not stupid. Plus, given Xue Shuyu's personality, Nan Wuxie didn't actually dislike him.

"Marquis Nan wants to cooperate?" Xue Shuyu smiled. "Cooperate on what?"

Nan Wuxie put down his cup and spoke directly. "I don't like He Xing, and I don't like Ji Zhou. If Second Master Xue also wants the Xue family to rise higher in the capital, we might be able to become friends."

"Friends?" Xue Shuyu let out a low chuckle. "Being friends with Marquis Nan—I'm afraid it won't be easy."

"It's not that hard," Nan Wuxie also laughed. "Depends on the person."

Xue Shuyu's probing was obvious, and Nan Wuxie answered every word candidly. But to be honest, Nan Wuxie wasn't entirely straightforward either. The reason he investigated the Xue family and the He family was never just for the sake of cooperation. He wanted to know where the money in the capital was concentrated.

Of course, the fact that the soldiers at the border needed money and grain was also true.

"If the Marquis's soldiers need money, they could just ask the court," Xue Shuyu said, his tone somewhat cooler. "Why go to all this trouble?"

"Other people's money is never as satisfying as using your own," Nan Wuxie said, suddenly leaning in. "Besides, what I want might not be something others are willing to give."

This was too sensitive, especially given Nan Wuxie's identity.

Xue Shuyu looked into the man's eyes and suddenly remembered what his elder brother had said: Nan Wuxie is a double-edged sword. Used well, he could cut a path through the He family's obstacles.

The two of them didn't dwell on that topic. After several rounds of drinking, Nan Wuxie became more talkative, rambling on about this and that. Xue Shuyu was happy to go along, occasionally throwing in a comment, but the interest in his eyes grew keener.

They drank cup after cup, the conversation jumping from the desert winds of the north to the festive lanterns of the capital, from the temperament of warhorses to the techniques of falconry. They carefully avoided all the important matters. Sometimes Nan Wuxie would slap the table and laugh at something Xue Shuyu said, looking like a truly drunk ruffian.

Not until the third watch, when most of the gamblers downstairs had left, did Nan Wuxie stagger to his feet. He had to brace himself on the table to keep from falling. "No... no more drinking. If I drink any more, I won't be able to walk."

His cheeks were deeply flushed, his eyes somewhat unfocused, and he even tied the sash of his cloak wrong.

Xue Shuyu watched him and found it amusing. "Really drunk?"

"No... no," Nan Wuxie waved a hand, but his feet stumbled. "I can hold my liquor just fine..."

Before he could finish, a sudden surge in his stomach made him clap a hand over his mouth. He turned and rushed outside. The corner of his cloak swept across the table edge, knocking over an empty wine jar, which crashed loudly.

Xue Shuyu watched his staggering back, pausing for a moment with his wine cup in hand. A servant from the Xue estate leaned in and asked, "Young master, shall we send someone to accompany him?"

"No need." Xue Shuyu shook his head. "He's not drunk."

Not drunk, but pretending to be drunk. That meant the other party had other plans and didn't want to be disturbed. Xue Shuyu was a considerate person—since the man didn't want to be disturbed, he wouldn't intrude.

The night wind cut like a knife through the alley, carrying snowflakes that stung the face. Nan Wuxie leaned against the cold brick wall as the wine and sour bile surged up from his stomach. He bent over and vomited violently.

The harshness of the strong liquor made his eyes stream with tears. His throat was burning and sore. He coughed for a while before recovering. Then he wiped his mouth carelessly with his sleeve.

The alley was quiet. He looked at the mess on the ground and suddenly let out a low laugh. After playing the drunk act all night, he had actually managed to make himself sick.

He straightened up, just about to head toward the offices at the Listening Terrace, when he suddenly stopped. The churning in his stomach hadn’t settled, and a faint heaviness crept into the back of his head.

“Damn it… this cheap booze is really something… stronger than it should be…”

***

The next night, moonlight like frost splashed across the blue tiles of the Listening Terrace, casting a cold gleam.

Nan Wuxie, clad in black, a black cloth over his face with only his eyes visible, pressed himself like a shadow in the darkness behind the rear wall of the Listening Terrace.

The Listening Terrace was Wen Buchi’s turf, its defenses even tighter than Li Sheng’s bedchamber.

Yet Nan Wuxie moved through it as if it were his own backyard. His fingers felt along the wall’s cracks, found a loose brick, pressed it gently—a soft click, and a hidden door just wide enough for one person appeared in the wall.

He ducked inside. Pitch blackness enveloped him, thick with the smell of dust and rust. The stone floor beneath his feet was uneven; every third step he had to avoid a trapdoor. Occasionally, fine needles rained from above, and he had to listen to the whisper of the wind to dodge them in time.

This was no ordinary duty room—the mechanisms here rivaled even those of an imperial mausoleum…

Nan Wuxie moved steadily, tapping the stone walls with his knuckles, judging the positions of traps by the echoes.

After a few more steps, as he rounded a bend, a volley of crossbow bolts suddenly shot toward him!

He flicked his toe, his body gliding backward like a kite, and simultaneously whipped out three pebbles, striking the bolts’ triggers with precision.

With a series of clicks, the bolts fell silent.

Ahead, a narrow corridor stretched out, with half the floor bricks loose. He studied the patterns of the loose stones for a moment, then recalled the *Mountains and Rivers* painting in Wen Buchi’s study.

After a moment’s thought, he stepped forward, following the empty gaps in the painting’s water patterns from memory, each step flawless. The stones trembled faintly beneath him, but never triggered a trap.

Fifteen minutes later, he finally reached the wooden door of the archives. But oddly, the door had no lock at all—the ring where a lock should have been was empty!

He paused, sensing something off.

The corridor mechanisms were so intricate and precise, yet the final archive room was left unlocked? Something was definitely wrong.

But since he’d already come this far, after a moment's thought, he pushed open the door.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ink and camphor. Shelves upon shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with scrolls and files, each labeled with the names of various families.

Groping in the dark, Nan Wuxie made his way to the area marked “Trade Routes.” His fingers ran along the spines, quickly finding the volume titled *Capital Commercial Network Map*.

Tucked between the pages was a parchment scroll listing the assets of the He and Xue families, along with the locations of several hidden money houses, densely plotted like a web woven with silver threads.

He tucked the parchment into his chest, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth, then turned and headed out of the archives.

Returning along the same path, he slid along the stone walls, his movements as swift as a shadow. At the end of the corridor, the hidden door swung open, stirring up dust. He slipped into the rear courtyard just as moonlight broke through the clouds, lighting up his eyes and the half-withered plum tree against the wall.

The night grew quieter, only the wind sobbing through the plum branches. He stepped lightly, heading toward the back gate.

When he was less than five paces from the door, a soft sound came from the shadows—like someone stepping on a dry twig.

Nan Wuxie stopped dead, every muscle tense. Without turning his head, he cast a sidelong glance to the right. In the darkness behind a rockery, a figure had appeared at some unknown moment.

The figure slowly stepped forward, crunching fallen leaves underfoot. Moonlight crept up his face, first outlining a straight nose, then tight lips, and finally a pair of tempting peach blossom eyes.

Wen Buchi emerged fully from the shadows and stood still. Nan Wuxie didn’t move or speak; his face mask covered most of his face, leaving only his eyes, which gleamed in the moonlight.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Wen Buchi suddenly smiled, the smile spreading from his lips to his eyes. “Marquis Nan visits my humble Listening Terrace late at night, as if it were his own home.”

His voice was not loud, but it cut clearly through the night wind. His tone held no panic, no anger—rather, it was as if he had been waiting here all along, with an air of “I’ve been expecting you for a while.”

“Lord Wen seems quite at leisure, strolling outside his own duty room at this hour… enjoying the moon, are you?” Nan Wuxie’s voice came muffled through his mask.

“Compared to Marquis Nan breaking into the Listening Terrace to steal, my little leisure is nothing,” Wen Buchi said. His blue robe shone softly in the moonlight, a strange contrast to the icy pride in his eyes. “You navigated the archive mechanisms with such ease, Marquis—clearly you’ve done your homework.”

As he spoke, that blue figure didn’t move an inch, merely hurling these seemingly accusatory, coldly sarcastic remarks at Nan Wuxie with a detached tone and a haughty gaze.

Nan Wuxie looked at Wen Buchi’s half-lit face, and suddenly it was as if a few tiny ants were crawling over his heart, tickling him. He didn’t respond, just shifted slightly, ready.

And indeed, Wen Buchi’s hand moved! He flicked his finger, and a copper coin shot through the air with a sharp whine, straight for Nan Wuxie’s face!

Nan Wuxie tilted his head to dodge, and the coin thudded into the plum tree trunk behind him, sinking deep into the wood.