Chapter 318: The Meeting (1)

Chapter 318: The Meeting (1)

Lord Du had no idea what was going on in this man's heart.

In his view, Ming Xiangzhao, having been advised by him, had obediently returned to work—a man who knew his limits, truly a young man worth teaching.

He had no idea that this person had a history of hanging himself from a roof beam over someone else's grievance at the slightest disagreement.

In short, he was a stubborn cuss.

Once he set his mind on a path, there was only "charge ahead and never look back."

Fortunately, he was no longer the Wen Renyue of old, who had nothing but his life to his name.

In this tangled web of connections that was the capital, he still had some people he could call on.

As dusk deepened, he carried a fresh pork bone back to his newly bought little courtyard.

Beneath the shade of the wutong tree, Er Ya was sprawled out, enjoying the cool evening air. Seeing him return, she did a nice, long stretch, then strutted over with a dignified, measured gait.

Wen Renyue smiled, broke the meaty bone into chunks for her, and while she was busy devouring it, he slipped a sealed letter into the little saddlebag strapped to her back, murmuring, "Sixth Prince's residence, got it?"

Er Ya chewed on the bone and nodded with a dead-serious look.

"Deliver it to Jiang He."

Er Ya nodded again.

Wen Renyue, feeling a rare bit of mischief, asked, "Do you actually understand? Who am I? Am I Pei Mingqi?"

Er Ya looked up at him with watery eyes, with a look that said, "Who you are is your own problem—why ask me?"

Wen Renyue said, "I'm Du Tonghe, I'm Gu Qizhen, I'm Ming Xiangzhao..."

At the words "Ming Xiangzhao," Er Ya answered without missing a beat: "...Woof!"

"Good pup."

Wen Renyue stroked her head, but the look in his eyes was uncharacteristically dazed.

The night wind rustled through the gaps in the wutong leaves, and the rustling seemed to carry countless calls:

Ming the Top Scholar, Ming Shouyue, Ming Xiangzhao.

But who exactly was he?

Luckily, this question didn't bug him for long.

Wen Renyue gave a faint smile. "Yes, of course I am Ming Xiangzhao."

It could only be Shou Yue, and no one else.

Having eaten her fill, Er Ya saw that it was getting dark—just the time for a neighborhood stroll—so she bumped his palm with her head as a goodbye, then bolted and squeezed through an inconspicuous dog hole in the courtyard wall.

Wen Renyue stood up and carefully picked the dog hair off his clothes.

Whenever he did this, he really admired Brother Gu.

Even someone as strong-minded as himself, living under an identity that was not truly his, occasionally wavered, hit by the bleak thought, "Who am I, really?"

But Brother Gu, bearing his own name, bounced around without a hint of guilt.

Looks like he still had a lot to learn.

...

While Wen Renyue was quietly pulling off something big, Le Wuya's work in Dansui was wrapping up.

After several days, even Xiang Zhijie could get out of bed. Le Wuya had finally given over two hundred miners a proper burial, and had also bought Granny Sun a sturdy donkey with strong legs and good stamina—one that could carry a person for dozens of miles of mountain trails without tiring.

Le Wuya, grinning from ear to ear, led the donkey over to Granny Sun's place all by himself to show off.

The first time, he was just a passerby; the second time, he looked like a fugitive; this time, Granny Sun had a hunch he was some kind of official.

Granny Sun hated all officials equally.

But faced with such a radiant, smiling face, her heart just couldn't help but soften: "What are you here for again?"

Le Wuya patted the donkey: "As promised—the best donkey for a hundred miles around!"

On the donkey's back was a soft saddle stuffed with thick cotton, so even someone as skinny as a shadow like Granny Sun wouldn't feel the bones poking through.

Granny Sun eyed the donkey with disdain: "What do I need this for? I'm an old bag of bones; I don't go out anyway."

"Then get out more. A hundred steps after every meal, and you'll live to ninety-nine." Le Wuya patted the donkey's glossy rump. "And if you don't like walking—look how plump it is. Slaughter it and eat it; that'll feed you for days."

The donkey: "..."

Seeing that the donkey was quite clever and had a look of aggrieved confusion on its face, Granny Sun's heart went out to it, and she immediately scolded Le Wuya: "Such a good animal, and all you can think of is eating it!"

Le Wuya said, "I'm thinking about that wild-greens noodle soup of yours!"

He bent down with a smile and gave a little bow with his hands clasped to the tiny Granny Sun: "Could you make me another bowl? I happen to be hungry!"

Granny Sun was charmed silly, muttering, "What's there to crave about country food?" while happily lighting the fire to cook.

Le Wuya didn't sit idle—he fetched water, chopped firewood, set the table and stools in order, and while Granny Sun wasn't looking, secretly pulled two sacks of fine flour from the donkey's saddlebags, tucked them furtively beside Granny Sun's bed in her bedroom, and then swaggered back to sit at the table.

Granny Sun happened to glance back and saw him sitting at the small table with his legs stretched out, waiting obediently for his meal.

It reminded her so much of the days when her family was whole and happy.

She turned away and wiped a tear with her shoulder.

The tears that needed shedding had all been shed over the years; there were no more left.

A steaming bowl of noodle soup was set before him. Le Wuya thanked her and dug in ravenously.

He'd spent the past few days dealing with corpses, and had bathed repeatedly just to scrub the smell off. He'd eaten barely more than a cat's portion over those days.

Now he was truly hungry.

Seeing how heartily he ate, Granny Sun asked him, "Xiaolianzi Mountain is finished, no more mining there, is that right?"

Le Wuya nodded.

Granny Sun fell silent.

That was the mountain that had claimed her entire family.

Back when Xiaolianzi Mountain had not yet been stripped of its ore, the mines were desperately short of labor, so they seized common folk to dig new tunnels.

Those unaccustomed to such work could easily lose their lives with a single misstep.

Those mine tunnels were paved with human lives, among them her husband and three sons.

By all rights, now that Xiaolianzi Mountain's veins had run dry and it had collapsed into ruins, she ought to feel a sense of satisfaction.

But all she felt was a profound emptiness.

She gazed toward the direction of Xiaolianzi Mountain—after decades of living with it day and night, she could pinpoint its location even from inside her home.

Only after Le Wuya had finished his bowl of gruel did she ask hesitantly, "And how are the Dansui folks supposed to make a living?"

The mineral wealth of Xiaolianzi Mountain was the backbone of Dansui's tax revenue.

She herself tended a small patch of thin farmland, growing and eating her own food, so she had no real need to care about others' livelihoods.

She hated everything, refusing to offer the world even a hint of a smile, yet when faced with this, her first thought was still of how others would "get by."

Le Wuya set down his chopsticks. "They'll get by however they can."

A living person won't be choked to death by piss.

If one road is blocked, another will naturally be found.

He said calmly, "Besides, the ore was already gone."

This was not something ordinary folk could know.

At that, Granny Sun could be certain he was an official—at least higher-ranking than the county magistrate.

Once she realized this, she took the bowl with rare equanimity. "Want some more?"

Le Wuya patted his belly eagerly. "You bet!"

After filling himself with wild-greens gruel, Le Wuya prepared to leave.

Granny Sun walked him to the village entrance.

She knew that at his age and hers, once they parted, it was unlikely they'd ever meet again.

But she didn't say it.

Nor did Le Wuya bring it up.

She scolded him with feigned irritation: "Eat more! Last time you looked like a weasel, and now you're a scarecrow!"

Le Wuya said cheerfully, "I've got someone looking out for me! You just take care of yourself!"

With that, he lunged forward, gave her a smooch on the cheek, then swung onto Xiang Zhijie's horse and waved at her. "Granny, live to ninety-nine—that's a promise!"

Granny Sun stood there dazed, watching him ride off, wiped her cheek, and thought back to long ago.

When her eldest son had run wild and come home fearing a spanking—literally a "bamboo-shoot stir-fry"—he'd do exactly that: burrow into her arms, kiss her, and look up at her with pleading eyes.

No matter how fierce her anger, it would melt away.

Le Wuya had not ridden far when he heard a hoarse, faint folk song drifting from behind:

"The stones on the riverbank are baked till they crack, the well pulley creaks from dawn to dusk. The thousand-layer soles I stitched for you—why won't they tread our own floor?"

"Aiyoyo—the kiln boy's bones are cheap as dirt, born to dig through mountains nine times over, till the crescent moon snags the eastern ridge, and the coal cart hauls back a body in one piece!"

Le Wuya reined in his horse and mulled it over for a long while, then schooled his face and resumed his journey.

Before returning to Dansui county town, Le Wuya made a detour to the big meadow and dug up the disguise he'd used to pose as a Jing tribe merchant.

When he'd encountered Zhong Piaoping here and directed him to turn himself in at Dansui, he'd already resolved to investigate Xiaolianzi Mountain.

To travel light, he'd stashed the clothes here.

That outfit had cost him a pretty penny, and Le Wuya wasn't about to just throw it away.

Sure enough, the meadow was empty and nobody had swiped it.

As he dusted off the bundle, a glint appeared in Le Wuya's eyes.

Come to think of it, he had more than one set of clothes stashed away.

...

While Le Wuya sneaked back into the Dansui yamen, up to no good, a Jing tribe caravan rolled into Dansui.

The road blocked by sand and rock had been cleared, and travel was slowly getting back to normal.

The city gate clerk inspected their documents by the book.

It was a wine-trading caravan with all paperwork in order, so they were waved through.

But the leader was truly tall and imposing—a hulking figure built to take on tigers and wolves, with a scowl like the world owed him eight million taels, intimidating everyone who laid eyes on him.

When the clerk returned the documents to his attendant, overawed by his presence, he abandoned his usual arrogance and handed them back with both hands, all respectful.

...He was afraid that if he showed any disrespect, the man might backhand him and send his molars flying.

Helian Che's risky trip to the capital last time hadn't been for nothing.

He had spies planted there long ago.

So the moment Le Wuya left the capital, he knew exactly where he was going.

Unfortunately, the roads here were impassable, which held him up for a few days before he could finally get into Dansui.

He had a small, delicate flower basket tucked against his chest—a gift for Le Wuya.

Ever since he'd seen him weaving flower crowns with such gusto, Helian Che knew the boy liked such frivolous, showy things.

...Really, all bad habits picked up from the Dayu people.

So he had personally crafted nine No-butterfly Flowers from gold dust and nuggets from Kangding, packed in a small golden basket, as a late gift for his promotion.

...He'd better like it, or I'll break his legs.

Author's Note:

I've got a condition where I can't stop laughing when I think about what Big Brother's going to see.