Chapter 89: Arriving in the Capital (III)

Chapter 89: Arriving in the Capital (III)

Unexpectedly, after that questioning, Le Wuya, without a second thought, darted straight into his carriage.

Seventh Prince: "..."

Le Hang: ?

The Sixth Prince smiled and smoothed things over: "Magistrate Wenren accompanied me and Seventh Brother on imperial orders to the capital. He wasn't supposed to show his face in public, but he spoke up because he couldn't stand to see an injustice. However, our journey to the capital involves confidential matters, and it wouldn't be advisable to socialize with officials here. I hope Erudite Yue can forgive us."

Le Hang did indeed have academic duties to attend to and couldn't afford to waste any more time.

...A compound surname Wenren, and a magistrate at that.

That was all he needed to know.

He quickly looked away, thanked him again and again, and turned to board his carriage.

Ru Feng was just about to let the curtain drop and get moving when the Seventh Prince snatched it back open, with a knowing smirk: "May I ask, Sixth Brother, since when did he get so squeamish?"

Sixth Prince: "He's always been a man of few words and steady actions. He must have his reasons for doing this."

Seventh Prince placed a hand over his heart.

His heart hammered in his chest—hot, restless, breaking out in a light sweat: "And since when do you know him so well?"

Sixth Prince smiled faintly and stepped aside slightly: "Seventh Brother, if you wish to know, hop in, and I'll tell you all about it."

A look of disgust crossed the Seventh Prince's face.

He'd rather have a toad squatting on his foot than spend a minute with him.

He turned and stalked off toward his own carriage, huffing.

His steps grew increasingly unsteady, his long legs threatening to tangle with each other—he kept tripping over his own feet.

In just a few steps, he was a mess—his mind reeling, his world turned upside down.

Blood rushed to his cheeks—whether from the sun or something else, he couldn't tell.

Having spent years by his father's side, Xiang Zhi had long since mastered the art of keeping a straight face.

But lord knows how badly he wanted to leap onto Le Wuya's carriage, grab him by the collar, and demand: Who exactly are you?

You were born and raised in Jiangnan, and have only ever been to the capital once.

You've always stood up for what's right, fought for the people, braved the cold, and stared down death.

Why, why, of all things, are you afraid to face the Yue family?

But Xiang Zhi couldn't ask.

Wrong time, wrong place.

This was the capital, not Nanting.

Between him and that carriage stood Prefect Lyu, who still hadn't figured out what was going on, poking his head out from behind the curtain.

The Seventh Prince's body ran cold. He gripped the wooden frame of his carriage until his knuckles went white, and only then let go.

He turned his face to the coachman, offering a trembling smile, barely holding together the last shred of his mask so it wouldn't crack: "Let's go."

...

The rest of the trip went off without a hitch, giving Le Wuya ample time to calm his pounding heart.

He knew he'd acted rashly.

But it felt good, and he was in the right!

He asked himself: if Le Hang had been humiliated like that and he had cowered in his carriage, unmoved and unseen, that would've really eaten at him.

As for Little Seventh getting suspicious—let him wonder.

Le Wuya knew that with his face growing ever closer to his past life's appearance, entering the capital would surely stir up trouble and kick up a storm.

Plenty of people would be suspicious of him, plenty would be digging into his past.

He couldn't just confess to everything, could he?

But Le Wuya soon realized he'd been worrying for nothing.

Near the palace, he and Prefect Lyu changed into their official robes in the carriage, made sure they looked presentable, and dismounted to wait respectfully before the Spring-Autumn Gate as protocol dictated.

The Sixth and Seventh Princes entered the palace first to present their memorials, report their safe arrival, and give details on the Shao Hongzhen rebellion case.

While Le Wuya and the others awaited summons, many officials who had once known Le Wuya passed by, one after another submitting their name cards to the palace before standing with their hands clasped, waiting for the eunuchs to announce them.

Due to his low rank and the strict rule against looking directly at the palace gates, Le Wuya and Prefect Lyu both stood there respectfully, heads down, eyes on the ground.

The officials seeking audience with the emperor found him a curious sight.

Accustomed to seeing officials of the third and fourth rank, they rarely encountered a seventh-rank provincial official, so they couldn't help sneaking peeks at him.

But since they were all waiting at the sacred palace gates, they couldn't just walk up and start grilling him, could they?

That would be a real breach of decorum.

So, for once, Le Wuya's plan fell flat.

...Not one person came up to him and got startled by him.

How dull. The capital folks were a dull lot.

Le Wuya, utterly bored, even began to miss that poor clerk in Nanting County who jumped every time you poked him.

...

They roasted in the sun for a good hour, and the two princes still hadn't shown up.

Just as Prefect Lyu was about to keel over from heatstroke, the eunuch with their summons finally showed up.

The emperor's message was: state affairs were too busy today, no one had time to receive them; they were to go wait at the courier station on the capital's outskirts until summoned.

If Le Wuya were truly a newcomer to officialdom, hauled a thousand li from home, left baking in the sun, and then tossed into some courier station, he might well have been anxious.

But Le Wuya was a seasoned old fox who'd been through the wringer.

He knew this was the standard hazing—the "kill-their-spirit" treatment—for provincial officials who'd screwed up.

The old emperor's got a narrow mind, and he's still nursing a grudge.

—Prefect Lyu, old and addled, didn't look into things properly and shoved this "good official" Shao Hongzhen right in front of him—that's the first crime.

—As for "Magistrate Wenren," hell-bent on barging into Xingtai and rashly shattering the golden image of Shao Hongzhen as "model of all counties," that's also a crime.

Whether the emperor is genuinely busy or faking it, it's only fair that they, as guilty parties, get left to cool their heels and get a good scare.

Besides, the emperor is probably genuinely busy today.

Out of the corner of his eye, Le Wuya noticed that most of the folks going in and out of the palace with their name cards were from the Ministry of Rites.

But it's not a festival, not a time for the seasonal rites, and not the emperor's birthday—so what the hell are they so busy with?

Prefect Lyu couldn't be bothered to think about that.

He'd been a nervous wreck the whole way, then baked in the sun for ages. He'd wanted to get it over with fast—whether you stick your neck out or tuck it in, it's the same chop—but he never figured the blade could be pulled halfway and then put away.

Caught between two kinds of torture, he was about to pass out, and could only lean on his servants, clutching his chest, craning his neck, and shuffling weakly toward the carriage like an old sheep heading back to the fold.

Seeing the old geezer was useless, Le Wuya stepped up, gave the eunuch a polite nod, pressed a sealed packet of silver into his hand, and said warmly, "Thanks for making the trip, eunuch."

The eunuch had to come out in the blazing sun to deliver the edict, and the short walk had put him in a foul mood.

Of the two local officials, one old and one young, the old one looked like he had some years on him, but turned out to be clueless—he heard the edict and hightailed it out of there.

But this young one knew how to play the game—a man with a future.

For the sake of the silver, a bit of real warmth crept into his fake smile: "You're too generous, sir... Aiyo!"

When his eyes landed on Le Wuya's face, his expression went from pleased to shocked in a flash, and he let out a yelp before he could stop himself.

Le Wuya's fox tail, which he'd been keeping tucked, couldn't help but give a little wag.

Good. That hit the spot.

Returning the favor, he gave the eunuch an even more puzzled look: "What's the matter..."

The eunuch, still rattled, thought for a second he was seeing a ghost.

But seeing this ghost had a face full of gentleness, and a manner totally unlike that arrogant, swaggering Le family renegade, the eunuch figured he'd mixed him up with someone else. He swallowed hard and put on a fresh smile: "Sorry, sir, that was rude of me. ...It's just that you've got such a noble look about you, plain as day."

Le Wuya blinked, and a faint blush rose to his cheeks at just the right moment: "Thanks for the compliment, eunuch."

The eunuch thought, still rattled, damn it—he's even scarier when he's being polite.

His heart started racing just like Prefect Lyu's, and the more he thought, the more scared he got, until he just ran off like his feet didn't touch the ground.

...

After watching the eunuch go into the palace, Le Wuya, feeling mighty pleased with himself, went to find Prefect Lyu.

Lyu Deyao knew damn well it was that damned Wen Ren who'd exposed the Xingtai business and brought this whole mess down on him.

All worked up, he found every chance to shoot Le Wuya dirty looks, but Le Wuya just pretended not to see, which only wore Prefect Lyu out.

Realizing his glares were wasted on a blind man, Prefect Lyu gave up on Le Wuya and went to find an old classmate, hoping to get him to pull some strings and set up a meeting with Minister Xun of the Office of Transmission, to feel out the situation and at least calm his own anxious heart.

Once Prefect Lyu was gone, Le Wuya was all alone.

He loved the freedom. He found a spot to change out of his official robes, sent the carriage and luggage ahead to the post station to get rooms ready, and then, wearing a veiled hat, went for a stroll through the capital's streets.

The sights and the feel of the capital were just like they'd always been.

Le Wuya decided to get down to business first.

Clutching his box of carved pits, he went to a few shops to ask about prices.

A lot of pit-carving dealers had their own regular suppliers and couldn't care less about this no-name Nan'ting carving.

Since he had nothing better to do, Le Wuya just went from shop to shop asking around.

When he got to an antique shop called "Miao Qing," the owner looked over the carving Le Wuya handed him for a long time, then looked up and asked, "You selling just these, or you got more in stock?"

Le Wuya's eyes lit up: this might work!

Back in his army days, Le Wuya had led the whole Tianlang Camp, going from open to undercover work, posing as merchants, and raking in a nice profit.

The owner of "Miao Qing" had only meant to ask the price, but after Le Wuya talked a blue streak, he lost his head and his heart, and in a daze signed a contract to sell the Nan'ting carvings on consignment, splitting the take thirty-seventy if they sold well.

Having gotten that done, Le Wuya walked out empty-handed, feeling great. He couldn't help stopping by Qinghe Zhai to buy a dozen osmanthus cakes, hoping the pastry chef there had been swapped out.

Maybe today was his lucky day—the moment the pastry hit his lips, his eyes narrowed in satisfaction:

He's back!

He could die happy now!

Chewing on the pastry, he let his guard down completely and roamed the streets at his leisure.

It was only while he was strolling that he noticed something off.

There were a lot of Jing tribe folks on the streets, Jing merchants, each speaking broken Dayu as they hawked all kinds of Jing tribal goods.

As it happened, Le Wuya was also getting tired of walking.

Going by memory, he found the busiest teahouse in the capital, ordered a pot of plain tea, and pricked up his ears to listen to the chatter around him.

Teahouses, taverns, and brothels were all places where news flowed freely.

He'd been listening for less than fifteen minutes before he figured out why the Ministry of Rites was so busy.

As it happened, this matter had a little something to do with Le Wuya.

Half a year ago, the reason he'd been able to get a foothold in Nan'ting County was that he'd single-handedly cleared Scholar Ming's name in that rebellion case.

The one who'd cooked up those charges was Senior Secretary Chen Yuanwei, backed by the Xiaofu Coal Mine.

The chief culprit, Chen Yuanwei, was ultimately sentenced to death by a thousand cuts.

First, because he'd slandered the licentiates, and he had to be severely punished to soothe the hearts of scholars everywhere.

Second, because the Xiaofu Coal Mine was out on the border, and Chen Yuanwei's business was shady, with suspicions of colluding with foreigners and secretly smuggling coal across the border.

The reason coal exports were so tightly controlled was exactly because, right at Dayu's doorstep, the fierce tiger of the Jing tribe was sleeping.

The Jing tribe had long been known for being fierce, first because they were nomads, and second because their land was rich in copper and iron, so they could keep forging top-notch weapons.

If it weren't for the huge amounts of coal needed to smelt weapons, they'd probably have already rolled through Yizhou and come charging straight at the capital.

Recently, the Jing tribe unearthed another massive copper mine.

Hearing that the tiger was about to sprout wings, the emperor in the capital grew so anxious he could hardly sleep.

Yet the Jing tribe also knew that hoarding the copper mine without converting it into silver and goods would ultimately be useless.

Simply mining the copper was itself a massive expense.

Both sides were fretting over their own problems, so they jumped at the chance to make a deal: Dayu would send envoys to the Jing tribe, offering books, tea, silk, and other goods in exchange for the mined copper, along with a personal letter from Emperor Xiang Zheng of Dayu, sincerely inviting the Jing chieftain, He Lianche, to the capital to sign a trade agreement between the two nations and celebrate the hard-won five years of peace between Dayu and the Jing tribe.

This was, in fact, a transparent stratagem devised by many of Dayu's strategists.

If the Jing chieftain agreed to come to the capital, the emperor could find countless excuses—using a combination of carrots and sticks—to detain him there and prevent his return home.

If he refused to come or merely sent envoys as a token gesture, that would be seen as defying the goodwill of Dayu's sovereign—a grave disrespect—giving Dayu a pretext to launch a military campaign and reignite the flames of war.

After much negotiation between the two sides, the final outcome was that He Lianche agreed to come to the capital.

That He Lianche had such audacity caught Dayu's officials completely off guard.

The Ministry of War had already made thorough preparations, but it was the Ministry of Rites that sprang into action first.

As the emperor and his ministers exchanged bewildered glances, He Lianche was already swaggering toward the capital.

As Le Wuya sipped his tea, the people at the nearby tables were discussing fervently:

"Did you hear? That Jing chieftain, as he travels, keeps proclaiming that this trip is for a hundred years of peace between Yu and Jing. Isn't that a bunch of bull? A few years ago they were at each other's throats, and now they want eternal peace?"

"If you ask me, that's a clever move! Isn't he backing us into a corner? If something happens to him here, wouldn't our great nation, a land of propriety, be looked down upon by those foreign tribes?"

"What does it matter if they look down on us? Dayu is strong—we're not afraid of them. Just fight!"

"No, please, don't start a war—even if it's just for show, we need peace. If war really breaks out, who ends up suffering? Us, right? Not to mention, taxes would be the first thing to go up!"

These words really struck a chord with Le Wuya.

His Nanting was on the border. The kernel carving business was just picking up, the tea flowers hadn't been fully harvested yet, and the greens in the county office's backyard had just sprouted a new batch...

Yet the name "He Lianche" still made him tremble slightly, and he lost focus for a moment.

In a single day, he'd heard the names of both his brothers.

He lowered his head and slowly stroked his chest, dark emotions churning in his violet, glass-bead-like eyes.

The pain of the past had faded, but those memories lingered, refusing to leave, like bees nesting in his chest, stinging him from time to time and unsettling his thoughts.

Since the weather was still nice, Le Wuya carried the half-bag of osmanthus cakes and headed toward the courier station.

The courier station on the outskirts of the capital was quite grand—something the remote border towns couldn't even dream of.

Le Wuya held up his hands to measure, thinking that if the Nanting station were placed next to this one, it would look like an outhouse.

His room was on the second floor—a perfectly ordinary little square room, nothing fancy, but it had everything he needed and was neatly arranged.

Le Wuya wasn't picky. After setting down the osmanthus cakes, he thought about ordering some food from the kitchen.

Thanks to Wen Ren's constant nagging about eating three regular meals a day, over the past six months he'd actually learned to tell when he was hungry and when he was full.

That afternoon, he'd only drunk his fill of water, taken in an earful of intel, and nibbled on a few osmanthus cakes. Now his stomach was growling.

It had been noisy outside just moments ago, but strangely, not long after Le Wuya entered his room, everything suddenly went quiet.

Le Wuya opened the door, intending to call for the station master.

—Completely unaware, he stepped right into a tall embrace.

After a day in the blazing sun, He Lianche's body gave off a warm, earthy scent.

He'd apparently cleaned himself up, since a faint scent of soap could be detected.

He Lianche, eyes fixed straight ahead, strode boldly into Le Wuya's room like a moving wall, shoving Le Wuya back inside.

He Lianche looked around the room, taking in all the furnishings, but refused to look at him.

Finally, he said flatly, "Wrong room."

With that, he set down two boxes—one gold, one silver—and turned to stride out of the room without a backward glance.

Before leaving, he even shut the door behind him.

Le Wuya stood there, frozen.

After a long pause, he cautiously opened the two boxes:

The gold box was filled to the brim with saffron.

The silver box held a stack of dried yak jerky.

Le Wuya licked his lips, pulled out a strip of jerky, and dug in.

Given that He Lianche had shown up for no apparent reason and left in a hurry, Le Wuya, while munching on this free food that had fallen into his lap, let his mind wander:

Was he the one dreaming, or was that guy just crazy?