Chapter 184: The Hidden Blade (I)

Chapter 184: The Hidden Blade (I)

When Le Wuya rode up to Zong Yao's side, Zong Yao was wrapped in a pitch-black cloak, a lone, thin silhouette seated by the roadside.

Before the horse even came to a stop, Le Wuya leaped off and strode swiftly to him: "Is Wenzhi all right?"

Zong Yao's pale face was hidden amidst disheveled hair, and he remained silent, as if stunned, staring straight at Le Wuya.

Le Wuya bent down and waved a hand in front of his eyes.

Behind him hung a dim yellow lantern, swaying gently in the wind, casting a warm halo of light around Le Wuya.

Zong Yao murmured as if dreaming: "...My lord."

At this moment, the world before his eyes had already changed.

He had become a ghostly observer, a third party.

In the daylight, his teacher, clad in black brocade robes, stood before the Zong mansion gates, sleeves filled with wind, sash fluttering, a hint of illness about him—a delicate, exquisite porcelain figure.

Zong Yao watched his younger self rush out to greet him.

New to official life and in the prime of youth, he stood tall with a spring in his step, a spring breeze in his brows and eyes: "Teacher, you're here!"

Le Wuya raised an eyebrow. "Zong Wenzhi?"

He stepped back, looked at the plaque that read "Zong Mansion," paused, and gave a helpless smile: "Oh. Judging by your accent, I thought you were from the Zong Ji branch in Lingnan. So you're not that Zong, but this one."

"To answer you, Teacher—I studied under the great Confucian scholar of Lingnan, Master Ji Shiyuan." Zong Yao's voice was clear and his demeanor respectful.

"Zong Hongbin is your—"

"He is my uncle. I lost my father at a young age and lived with my brother at my uncle's home. My uncle had no sons, so he was like a father to me."

Le Wuya gazed at him quietly for a while, his expression complicated.

Now, Zong Yao could fully understand his meaning.

In his unfortunate youth, he had been too caught up in joy to sense the impending crisis.

Le Wuya pressed on: "Zong Kun, is he your biological brother?"

"Yes, my brother and I are twelve years apart in age."

Le Wuya remarked: "You two really don't look alike."

Zong Yao didn't understand his regret, his pitch-black eyes shining: "I take more after my mother."

Le Wuya lowered his gaze, said nothing more, and raised the gift in his hand: "I've come specifically to congratulate Lord Zong Hongbin on his birthday."

Zong Yao's cheeks flushed with excitement: "Teacher, your presence fills me with boundless joy! Recently, I acquired an ancient text, and there are a few passages where my brother and I disagree, unable to reach a consensus. If Teacher doesn't mind, after the birthday feast, could I trouble you to settle the matter for me?"

Le Wuya nodded coolly: "Very well."

Zong Yao, now past thirty, watched his younger self gleefully usher Le Wuya into the mansion and thought calmly: Fool.

Zong Yao's reverence for Le Wuya was complicated, to say the least.

To Zong Yao, Le Wuya was a beautiful, towering peak.

From birth, Zong Yao had an excellent elder brother who protected him as he grew up.

Though his talents weren't uniquely outstanding, his distinguished family background, intelligence, and gentleness had made his path remarkably smooth.

It was only with Le Wuya that Zong Yao met his match.

A teacher two years his junior was, to Zong Yao, the most novel and formidable person in the world.

Yet Le Wuya conversed warmly with his uncle and brother but treated him with exceptional coldness and arrogance. Only when Zong Yao repeatedly begged did he offer guidance, maintaining an aloof demeanor that nonetheless enlightened him.

Zong Yao felt a pang of unwillingness; the colder the treatment, the more eagerly he pressed forward.

He thought Le Wuya looked down on his abilities, so he worked even harder at his studies, hoping to win favor in his teacher's eyes.

After ushering Le Wuya into the banquet, his brother Zong Kun, who was standing beside him to greet guests, teased him: "Erbao, that Le Youque is just a silver-tongued fox. Why do you keep flocking to him? One day he'll swallow you whole, and you'll still be counting his money for him."

Zong Yao didn't see how his teacher was like a fox.

In his eyes, Le Wuya was unreachable mountain snow, a moon in the forest.

So he protested in a low voice: "Brother, there are so many people here—don't call me Erbao!"

Later, the brother and uncle who had called him "Erbao" were gone.

Perhaps because they had always regarded him as their "second treasure," Zong Kun and his uncle concealed all their misdeeds from him.

Zong Yao felt both sides had treated him well.

Le Wuya's distance and his brother and uncle's protection had together pushed him away from the storm's center, leaving him alone in the world.

How had he earned such grace?

...

Le Wuya frowned at him. "Wenzhi? Zong Wenzhi!"

Zong Yao seemed deeply frightened, his eyes fixed in their sockets, staring straight at Le Wuya.

Le Wuya's gaze fell.

As Wen Ren Yue had described, a constable beside Zong Yao had been killed, his neck slashed, blood splattering in a fan shape across half of Zong Yao's body, with a good deal staining his cheek.

But amid this evenly distributed blood were incongruous, mottled spatter marks.

Le Wuya looked down and saw his fists clenched tight, yet faint rope marks were visible at the webbing of his thumbs.

Seeing this, he ignored Zong Yao and strode quickly over to Wen Ren Yue, who was also standing in a daze.

Wen Ren Yue leaned against the line between light and shadow at the alley's mouth, a pool of blood not far from his feet.

The cold threatened to freeze it over.

Le Wuya bit the tip of his glove and pulled it off. "Hey, scared?"

Wen Ren Yue smiled bitterly.

One of the two attacking Japanese pirates had been killed by his own hand.

The feeling of someone dying a bloody death at one's own hands was far from pleasant.

His fingers were still a bit numb even now.

Wen Ren Yue let out a long breath and countered, "If we don't kill him, the poison will spread without end—am I right?"

"Right." Le Wuya nodded. "If you hadn't killed him today, once the guard relaxed, these two pirates would have dared to run into civilian homes to kill, strip clothes, and seize documents."

The gloom in Wen Ren Yue's chest melted somewhat, and he said softly, "Brother Gu... is very good at comforting people."

"Feeling better?" Le Wuya hurled the gloves into his arms. "If you're better, come lend a hand with the work!"

Le Wuya bellowed, "County Magistrate Bao!"

County Magistrate Bao approached with a woebegone expression.

He never expected that with just one lapse in attention, the Assistant Prefect would nearly meet his end on his turf.

Le Wuya's eyes gleamed: "Assistant Prefect Zong says the Japanese pirate accidentally fell into the river while wrestling with him?"

County Magistrate Bao murmured assent.

Zong Yao, standing nearby, seemed oblivious, but secretly dug his thumb into his palm, clenching his fist tightly.

"It's still a quarter to the Hai hour. I'll give you four hours. Before dawn, fish that body out of the river, cut off the head, and display it as a warning." Le Wuya pointed at Zong Yao. "Look how you've frightened my Assistant Prefect."

At this, Zong Yao finally stirred slightly.

He turned his eyes slightly, glancing at Le Wuya from the corner of his vision.

Zong Yao's brows and eyes were dark and deep, wrapped in a black cloak, making his scholarly face appear even whiter.

County Magistrate Bao smiled as if about to cry.

Le Wuya patted County Magistrate Bao's shoulder with a show of intimacy: "If you can't even handle this properly, the Ministry of Personnel will soon know about tonight's events. Then, County Magistrate Bao can go home and hold his children, enjoying the joys of family life."

County Magistrate Bao nodded repeatedly, wiping the cold sweat from his face, and scurried away in a fluster to carry out his orders. Only upon returning to the county office did he reassert his magisterial authority, furiously scolding the useless constables: "If you can't even fish out a dead body, tomorrow you'll all go home and hold your children!"

With the official's forceful urging, the Japanese man who had died with his eyes open was quickly retrieved from the water.

When the constables reported to County Magistrate Bao, they hemmed and hawed that perhaps the man had hit something hard after falling in, as his neck bones were crooked.

As for the deep, gruesome strangulation marks on his neck and his body pierced into a bloody mess, the constables thought better of mentioning it.

County Magistrate Bao couldn't be bothered with such details: "Isn't that perfect? Chop along the crooked part! Damn it, those Japanese bastards nearly killed me! Keep the head, throw the body out to the wild dogs on the outskirts!"

Thus, the Japanese pirate disturbance in Mixi County was quelled.

Those with merit got promotions or rewards—not with silver, but with land.

When they received the land deeds, the soldiers were dumbfounded.

For these landless military households who could only farm official land, having fields and land was a wonderful thing they dared not even imagine.

Le Wuya looked quite calm, joking with County Magistrate Bao: "No taxes on this land for three years. I know your county inside and out; you won't fail to collect taxes by year-end just because of this shortfall, will you?"

County Magistrate Bao smiled obsequiously: "How could that be?"

Since the ringleader had been executed, the soldiers who had followed Ping Gen'er around like headless flies, though their situation was pitiable, still faced military discipline, each receiving ten strokes with the rod.

Ten strokes weren't too severe—painful but not crippling.

Le Wuya had Qin Xingyue prepare medicine in advance, stood on the high platform watching the punishment, arms crossed, and said with a dashing smile: "If there's a next time, the rules won't be so simple."

The county's soldiers stood with hands at their sides, none daring to underestimate him because of his frivolous and rakish manner.

Yesterday, he had killed Ping Gen'er with a single sword stroke, the man who had long terrorized Mixi.

Today, he generously distributed land deeds to those who had earned it.

Even those who were beaten had no time to feel even a bit of resentment toward Le Wuya.

They all stared at the land deeds, so envious their eyes were about to bleed, so regretful their intestines turned green.

Le Wuya was focused entirely on reorganizing the army and boosting morale, and the fight that happened in the depths of a dark alley seemed trivial to him.

After all, the Assistant Prefect was alive, and the thief was dead.

Zong Yao watched the high-spirited, dashing Prefect standing beneath the large banner on the parade ground, his expression indifferent, but his body trembled almost imperceptibly.

Le Wuya noticed the gaze, turned his head, and flashed a radiant smile at him.

Zong Yao's body visibly trembled, his lips moving silently, mouthing "Teacher."

Wen Ren Yue placed a hand on his shoulder: "Lord Zong, would you like to go rest?"

Zong Yao staggered slightly, turned back, and said with a remarkably gentle expression: "Alright."

He added softly, "Shou Yue, could you prepare some writing materials for me? I need to write a letter detailing the situation here and send it by fast horse to Assistant Prefect Mu, so that if the Governor sends an envoy to inquire, and I and Lord Wen Ren are not in the office, Assistant Prefect Mu will have an answer ready."

It was indeed appropriate to leave this to him.

Wen Ren Yue settled him in a side room at the parade ground and arranged paper and brush for him.

Zong Yao, after all, had long dealt with letters and writing; he wrote swiftly and well, his small regular script neat and quick, filling half a page in no time.

Wen Ren Yue served as his ink attendant by his side.

Being an upright gentleman, he did not peek at the contents.

Thus, he did not know that from the second page onward, Zong Yao's writing changed.

"I humbly inquire after Your Majesty's health."

"Since arriving in Tongzhou, day and night I have never forgotten Your Majesty's heavy trust."

"On the thirtieth of October, over seventy Japanese pirates raided Mixi. Thanks to Heaven's grace and protection, Mixi was preserved..."

In front of Wen Ren Yue, Zong Yao wrote with unwavering focus, his expression still one of sorrowful melancholy.

After finishing, he set down the brush, blew on the ink to dry it, folded and sealed the letter, and asked a soldier to summon the nearby Postmaster.

He personally handed the letter to the Postmaster, instructing: "Arrange a fast horse and deliver this to the Tongzhou Prefectural Office immediately."

Withdrawing his hand, he added, "It contains urgent matters; do not let it be lost... do not let it be lost."

Hearing this, the Postmaster's eyelids flickered upward very quickly before he lowered his head: "Your subordinate understands. It will not be lost—it will be delivered!"