Duan Ling can tell that Wu Du is holding something back, but there’s still more that he wants to know; tentatively, he tries asking in a roundabout way. “How did General Zhao die?”
Wu Du leans back against the bench, and he appears entirely disinterested as he looks outside at the sunset. “He failed to overthrow the government and was defeated by the late emperor. In the end, Chang Liujun was the one who killed him.”
“Then … what about the late emperor?” Duan Ling has said a lot, but it’s only so that he can ask this question.
”Everyone says he’s dead because he was defeated in battle.“ Wu Du shakes his head. “But I don’t think someone like him can ever be defeated. He was first ambushed by a group of assassins …”
Duan Ling’s heart is struck by a sudden spasm of pain.
“… Then he was injured by the assassin Helan Jie, and poisoned with the deadly poison Golden Thread …”
And Duan Ling feels as though his heart’s been squeezed again.
“I told him that he mustn’t go into battle, but there was no time for delay. I travelled deep into the Altyn-Tagh to look for the ingredients to the antidote in the Northern Temple where Master Kongming used to be the abbot, but by the time I turned back it was already too late for him — he was attacked by Helan Jie’s underlings …”
“Who’s Helan Jie?” Duan Ling quickly asks a followup question. “What kind of poison was it? And what’s Golden Thread?”
“Golden Thread is a type of snake poison. Like myself, Helan Jie is a poisoner, but his ways are cruel and vicious. In some ways he’s similar to Wuluohou Mu — they’ve both betrayed their sect.”
Duan Ling knows that a martial artist’s sect is extremely important to those who follow the honour code, and to kill one’s master or to bring shame to one’s sect is a huge taboo. And just who is this Helan Jie? Wu Du can tell what Duan Ling is wondering about, and says, “Ultimately, Helan Jie managed to get away.”
“Why did he want to kill my …” Duan Ling’s so shaken that he nearly blurts out “why did he want to kill my dad”, but fortunately he manages to forcefully change it to “my emperor”.
Wu Du shoots Duan Ling a glance; he finds Duan Ling’s obvious questioning attitude somewhat puzzling. But most everyone likes to discuss such crucial events and use them as gossip currency to spend at the dinner table, so it’s not all that strange.
With a shake of his head, Wu Du stops talking. To have the story end halfway, Duan Ling has never felt more impatient, but he doesn’t dare appear too eager. After a while, he taps Wu Du again and asks, “Why have you stopped?”
Annoyed, Wu Du says, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Come on, tell me.”
Wu Du is suddenly pissed off, and emphasising every word he says, “I don’t want to talk about it!”
Duan Ling stares at him, shocked. He hadn’t expected Wu Du to get angry like that. At that moment, the atmosphere inside the cab becomes quite tense, and all Duan Ling can do is stop asking. He scoots over to the other side of the bench, and when he recalls his father, his eyes start to get red again.
Wu Du isn’t sure how to react; his mind was a bit of a jumble just now and he yelled at Duan Ling, but he never imagined that he’d react this badly.
“Oh never mind. I said I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but you just kept asking.”
Duan Ling glances at Wu Du, his eyes red, holding back tears.
When it comes to Duan Ling, Wu Du has basically conceded. He just raised his voice a little bit, no? Was it really that bad? He makes it look like he’s been treated so badly. On the one hand Wu Du thinks the kid is just too much trouble, and on the other he feels a bit guilty. When he sees that expression on Duan Ling’s face he just finds himself ill at ease, as though a cat’s just scratched a paw across his heart.
“Alright alright, I’ll tell you.” Resigned, Wu Du closes his eyes and lets out one slow, long breath. There’s a hint of bitterness to his tone. “Everyone kept asking me that question — asking me how the late emperor died. I had to explain it over and over again. When they were looking at me, the expression on their faces was just …”
Duan Ling understands now; Wu Du has repeated this story too many times, and when he returned he must have been interrogated by Li Yanqiu, the fake crown prince, Mu Kuangda … by everyone. Each of them had their own agenda as they spared no effort to verify the facts with Wu Du over and over again, in order to … Wait a second. What?
From what Wu Du has just told him, Duan Ling suddenly gleans a vitally important problem.
“Who are all the people who asked you this?” With great effort, Duan Ling struggles to get free of his emotions.
Wu Du’s eyes snap open, and he looks over Duan Ling carefully, a little perplexed. Then he counts the names off casually, “The chancellor, the Marquess of Huaiyin, Princess Duanping, His Majesty, the crown prince, and Xie You.”
“Who’s Xie You?”
“Commander-in-Chief of the Black Armours. The personal army of the Han emperor. His loyalty lies with whomever is the emperor.”
“And who’s the Marquess of Huaiyin?”
“The Prince-consort. Princess Duanping’s husband.”
The subject has already digressed, and yet, Duan Ling quickly reorganises his train of thought and asks, “Who could have sent the assassin?”
“No idea. After Helan Jie betrayed his sect, he took the Duanchenyuan with him, and very carefully, he kept a band of assassins and left the country to reside beyond the Great Wall. He just killed for anyone who gave him money. But he was really worried that Kongming would come after him, so he had very little contact with the Han. I thought it was Chancellor Mu who found him, but the only channel Chancellor Mu has to get in touch with the lawless underground is Chang Liujun, and presumably he’s really scared of dying, so he won’t let Chang Liujun go too far — let alone let him go all the way beyond the Great Wall to chase down someone who may not even do business with him.”
“As for Zhao Kui …” Wu Du thinks about this some more, and continues, “He couldn’t get in touch with Helan Jie either, so as of now we don’t know who’s responsible for the late emperor’s death.”
“What if Chancellor Mu was the one who did it?”
"Well then of course we’ll have to go after him. But all this time Chancellor Mu has been looking for the Zhenshanhe’s whereabouts, and he’s already given me an explanation. I think it’s probably not him. He may have had the inclination to kill the late emperor, but that wasn’t the time he would have chosen to do it.”
“Well then, out of all the people who repeatedly verified the late emperor’s cause of death with you, one of them has to be the killer.”
Wu Du stares at him, speechless.
Duan Ling’s words have struck Wu Du awake like a hammer to the head.
Wu Du mumbles to himself, “You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Why would anyone want to interrogate Wu Du repeatedly about the entire course of events leading up to Li Jianhong’s death? Did they only question him to confirm that no part of the plan was disclosed, or whether Wu Du knew who sent Helan Jie to assassinate the late emperor? This is an old red line in the ledger, and must be completely wiped away. Otherwise, if it’s ever litigated again it would implicate many more people, especially after the crown prince returned to the imperial court …
“Who could it be?” Wu Du mutters.
The Marquess of Huaiyin, Princess Duanping, Mu Kuangda, Li Yanqiu, the crown prince, Xie You …
“It’s probably not Xie You,” Wu Du says. “If he wanted to kill the late emperor, he could have killed him a long time ago. We can exclude him.”
“But what if he was bought off? He can be counted as part of someone else’s faction. For instance, he could be … in the same camp as the fourth prince.”
Even Duan Ling himself finds that a horrifying thought. Even though he hasn’t entered the imperial court, in a twist of fate Lang Junxia has tried to kill him, and at the same time, that one act has changed a lot of things. If he’s the one sitting in the crown prince’s position right now, he’ll certainly have to face far more than this — every moment could prove hazardous to his life.
“The Fourth Prince?” Wu Du says, “I can’t tell what he’s thinking. The Marquess of Huaiyin is also a possibility. After all …”
Wu Du shakes his head; he really can’t figure it out. On the contrary, Mu Kuangda has somehow become the least likely culprit.
“Was Zhenshanhe the late emperor’s sword?” Duan Ling asks.
Isn’t he too clever by half? Surprised that Duan Ling has managed to analyse and deduce so much substantive information out of the limited clues he’s been given, Wu Du can’t help but give him a glance.
“What is it?” Duan Ling is still deep in thought.
“You’re very clever. But I really should remind you that there are some things you mustn’t say so lightly in front of Chancellor Mu.”
“Al—alright.” Duan Ling has realised that he’s said too much to Wu Du; good thing it hasn’t roused his suspicions.
“All we have to do is find out who has the Zhenshanhe and we’ll know who conspired to kill the late emperor.” Wu Du says, “There’s one more possibility — none of the above, and Helan Jie was sent by Kublai Khan.”
Another possibility has been added to the mix, and Duan Ling is starting to get a headache. All he can do is set the problem aside for now.
Dusk has set the horizon ablaze; they arrive at a post house by the evening and decide to stay there for the night. Duan Ling spends the entire night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. The sound of Wu Du’s flute-playing reaches him from the courtyard outside, each note seemingly tinged with melancholy.
Wu Du is an earnest person, Duan Ling thinks; both his indolence and his antisocial arrogance only serve as a kind of evidence for his earnestness. Perhaps he’s never even thought about colluding with anyone in their vile schemes, and all this time he has remained a sharp blade hidden in its sheath. After everything he heard from Wu Du today, the inkling of an idea starts to form in Duan Ling’s mind — Wu Du is someone he can trust.
Xichuan is swelteringly hot tonight; it is the stillness of sultry heat that comes before a violent storm.
Cai Yan passes through the winding corridor quickly, wearing an uncomfortable expression, covered from head to toe in sticky sweat. He enters the emperor’s sleeping quarters and bows to Li Yanqiu. Li Yanqiu is taking his medicine, and there’s a folded memorial resting on the table before him.
“Once we relocate the capital, everything will need the full weight of your attention,” Li Yanqiu says.
“Certainly.” Cai Yan looks rather unsettled.
Half his medicine finished, Li Yanqiu takes note of Cai Yan’s expression and asks, “Where’s Wuluohou Mu?”
“He left the city.”
“Did you not sleep well, my son?”
Cai Yan forces a smile, and Li Yanqiu beckons him closer. Li Yanqiu calls Cai Yan my son and treats him as his own; he also tends to be very affectionate towards him, making him sit at the table placed just in front of him to drink the stewed swiftlet’s nest,2 even watching him as he drinks it.
Cai Yan’s frown is so deep that the furrow between his brows resembles a dead knot.
Li Yanqiu continues, “I told you on the very day you returned that Wuluohou Mu doesn’t think much of anyone. When it’s all said and done I feel uneasy having him look after you. What did he leave for this time?”
Cai Yan thinks about this a moment before saying, “He’s gone home to make sacrifices to his ancestors.”
Li Yanqiu heaves a sigh, and after a pause to think, he says, “Let’s send for Zheng Yan then. Your aunt brought that up the other day as well.”
Cai Yan shakes his head, and turns his attention to the folded memorial on the table. He seems about to say something, but then he holds his tongue. Li Yanqiu notices this and sends everyone around them away.
“Jiangzhou is too close to Huaiyin.” Cai Yan speaks again only once they’re gone, “It makes me feel somewhat uneasy to let Zheng Yan into the palace.”
Li Yanqiu does not reply. He simply gives this a nod.
After a long silence, Li Yanqiu says, “You’ll have to have dealings with Yao Fu eventually. Fortunately you’re still young, I’m here, Yao Fu still has to contend with the Mus, and Xie You is keeping an eye on things as well. Moving the capital at the end of the year ought to be a safe thing to do. It’s unlikely for much to go wrong over the next several years.”
“If your dad is still around,” Li Yanqiu smiles gently, “he’ll probably say, we ought to have moved already, why should we be scared of him? Yao Fu should be the one who’s scared of me. On this point you’re not like him at all.”
Cai Yan’s expression darkens slightly. “You’re right, uncle. We must move eventually.”
Li Yanqiu waves a hand dismissively. “Careful deliberation is a good thing, but you don’t have to be afraid either. Learn what you can learn for now. And bit by bit, you’ll know what to do in the future.”
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
Bird’s nest soup. A bit of trivia: as far as we know, not a thing before the Ming dynasty, so a bit anachronistic for this timeline. ↩︎
Duan Ling can tell that Wu Du is holding something back, but there’s still more that he wants to know; tentatively, he tries asking in a roundabout way. “How did General Zhao die?”
Wu Du leans back against the bench, and he appears entirely disinterested as he looks outside at the sunset. “He failed to overthrow the government and was defeated by the late emperor. In the end, Chang Liujun was the one who killed him.”
“Then … what about the late emperor?” Duan Ling has said a lot, but it’s only so that he can ask this question.
”Everyone says he’s dead because he was defeated in battle.“ Wu Du shakes his head. “But I don’t think someone like him can ever be defeated. He was first ambushed by a group of assassins …”
Duan Ling’s heart is struck by a sudden spasm of pain.
“… Then he was injured by the assassin Helan Jie, and poisoned with the deadly poison Golden Thread …”
And Duan Ling feels as though his heart’s been squeezed again.
“I told him that he mustn’t go into battle, but there was no time for delay. I travelled deep into the Altyn-Tagh to look for the ingredients to the antidote in the Northern Temple where Master Kongming used to be the abbot, but by the time I turned back it was already too late for him — he was attacked by Helan Jie’s underlings …”
“Who’s Helan Jie?” Duan Ling quickly asks a followup question. “What kind of poison was it? And what’s Golden Thread?”
“Golden Thread is a type of snake poison. Like myself, Helan Jie is a poisoner, but his ways are cruel and vicious. In some ways he’s similar to Wuluohou Mu — they’ve both betrayed their sect.”
Duan Ling knows that a martial artist’s sect is extremely important to those who follow the honour code, and to kill one’s master or to bring shame to one’s sect is a huge taboo. And just who is this Helan Jie? Wu Du can tell what Duan Ling is wondering about, and says, “Ultimately, Helan Jie managed to get away.”
“Why did he want to kill my …” Duan Ling’s so shaken that he nearly blurts out “why did he want to kill my dad”, but fortunately he manages to forcefully change it to “my emperor”.
Wu Du shoots Duan Ling a glance; he finds Duan Ling’s obvious questioning attitude somewhat puzzling. But most everyone likes to discuss such crucial events and use them as gossip currency to spend at the dinner table, so it’s not all that strange.
With a shake of his head, Wu Du stops talking. To have the story end halfway, Duan Ling has never felt more impatient, but he doesn’t dare appear too eager. After a while, he taps Wu Du again and asks, “Why have you stopped?”
Annoyed, Wu Du says, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Come on, tell me.”
Wu Du is suddenly pissed off, and emphasising every word he says, “I don’t want to talk about it!”
Duan Ling stares at him, shocked. He hadn’t expected Wu Du to get angry like that. At that moment, the atmosphere inside the cab becomes quite tense, and all Duan Ling can do is stop asking. He scoots over to the other side of the bench, and when he recalls his father, his eyes start to get red again.
Wu Du isn’t sure how to react; his mind was a bit of a jumble just now and he yelled at Duan Ling, but he never imagined that he’d react this badly.
“Oh never mind. I said I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but you just kept asking.”
Duan Ling glances at Wu Du, his eyes red, holding back tears.
When it comes to Duan Ling, Wu Du has basically conceded. He just raised his voice a little bit, no? Was it really that bad? He makes it look like he’s been treated so badly. On the one hand Wu Du thinks the kid is just too much trouble, and on the other he feels a bit guilty. When he sees that expression on Duan Ling’s face he just finds himself ill at ease, as though a cat’s just scratched a paw across his heart.
“Alright alright, I’ll tell you.” Resigned, Wu Du closes his eyes and lets out one slow, long breath. There’s a hint of bitterness to his tone. “Everyone kept asking me that question — asking me how the late emperor died. I had to explain it over and over again. When they were looking at me, the expression on their faces was just …”
Duan Ling understands now; Wu Du has repeated this story too many times, and when he returned he must have been interrogated by Li Yanqiu, the fake crown prince, Mu Kuangda … by everyone. Each of them had their own agenda as they spared no effort to verify the facts with Wu Du over and over again, in order to … Wait a second. What?
From what Wu Du has just told him, Duan Ling suddenly gleans a vitally important problem.
“Who are all the people who asked you this?” With great effort, Duan Ling struggles to get free of his emotions.
Wu Du’s eyes snap open, and he looks over Duan Ling carefully, a little perplexed. Then he counts the names off casually, “The chancellor, the Marquess of Huaiyin, Princess Duanping, His Majesty, the crown prince, and Xie You.”
“Who’s Xie You?”
“Commander-in-Chief of the Black Armours. The personal army of the Han emperor. His loyalty lies with whomever is the emperor.”
“And who’s the Marquess of Huaiyin?”
“The Prince-consort. Princess Duanping’s husband.”
The subject has already digressed, and yet, Duan Ling quickly reorganises his train of thought and asks, “Who could have sent the assassin?”
“No idea. After Helan Jie betrayed his sect, he took the Duanchenyuan with him, and very carefully, he kept a band of assassins and left the country to reside beyond the Great Wall. He just killed for anyone who gave him money. But he was really worried that Kongming would come after him, so he had very little contact with the Han. I thought it was Chancellor Mu who found him, but the only channel Chancellor Mu has to get in touch with the lawless underground is Chang Liujun, and presumably he’s really scared of dying, so he won’t let Chang Liujun go too far — let alone let him go all the way beyond the Great Wall to chase down someone who may not even do business with him.”
“As for Zhao Kui …” Wu Du thinks about this some more, and continues, “He couldn’t get in touch with Helan Jie either, so as of now we don’t know who’s responsible for the late emperor’s death.”
“What if Chancellor Mu was the one who did it?”
"Well then of course we’ll have to go after him. But all this time Chancellor Mu has been looking for the Zhenshanhe’s whereabouts, and he’s already given me an explanation. I think it’s probably not him. He may have had the inclination to kill the late emperor, but that wasn’t the time he would have chosen to do it.”
“Well then, out of all the people who repeatedly verified the late emperor’s cause of death with you, one of them has to be the killer.”
Wu Du stares at him, speechless.
Duan Ling’s words have struck Wu Du awake like a hammer to the head.
Wu Du mumbles to himself, “You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Why would anyone want to interrogate Wu Du repeatedly about the entire course of events leading up to Li Jianhong’s death? Did they only question him to confirm that no part of the plan was disclosed, or whether Wu Du knew who sent Helan Jie to assassinate the late emperor? This is an old red line in the ledger, and must be completely wiped away. Otherwise, if it’s ever litigated again it would implicate many more people, especially after the crown prince returned to the imperial court …
“Who could it be?” Wu Du mutters.
The Marquess of Huaiyin, Princess Duanping, Mu Kuangda, Li Yanqiu, the crown prince, Xie You …
“It’s probably not Xie You,” Wu Du says. “If he wanted to kill the late emperor, he could have killed him a long time ago. We can exclude him.”
“But what if he was bought off? He can be counted as part of someone else’s faction. For instance, he could be … in the same camp as the fourth prince.”
Even Duan Ling himself finds that a horrifying thought. Even though he hasn’t entered the imperial court, in a twist of fate Lang Junxia has tried to kill him, and at the same time, that one act has changed a lot of things. If he’s the one sitting in the crown prince’s position right now, he’ll certainly have to face far more than this — every moment could prove hazardous to his life.
“The Fourth Prince?” Wu Du says, “I can’t tell what he’s thinking. The Marquess of Huaiyin is also a possibility. After all …”
Wu Du shakes his head; he really can’t figure it out. On the contrary, Mu Kuangda has somehow become the least likely culprit.
“Was Zhenshanhe the late emperor’s sword?” Duan Ling asks.
Isn’t he too clever by half? Surprised that Duan Ling has managed to analyse and deduce so much substantive information out of the limited clues he’s been given, Wu Du can’t help but give him a glance.
“What is it?” Duan Ling is still deep in thought.
“You’re very clever. But I really should remind you that there are some things you mustn’t say so lightly in front of Chancellor Mu.”
“Al—alright.” Duan Ling has realised that he’s said too much to Wu Du; good thing it hasn’t roused his suspicions.
“All we have to do is find out who has the Zhenshanhe and we’ll know who conspired to kill the late emperor.” Wu Du says, “There’s one more possibility — none of the above, and Helan Jie was sent by Kublai Khan.”
Another possibility has been added to the mix, and Duan Ling is starting to get a headache. All he can do is set the problem aside for now.
Dusk has set the horizon ablaze; they arrive at a post house by the evening and decide to stay there for the night. Duan Ling spends the entire night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. The sound of Wu Du’s flute-playing reaches him from the courtyard outside, each note seemingly tinged with melancholy.
Wu Du is an earnest person, Duan Ling thinks; both his indolence and his antisocial arrogance only serve as a kind of evidence for his earnestness. Perhaps he’s never even thought about colluding with anyone in their vile schemes, and all this time he has remained a sharp blade hidden in its sheath. After everything he heard from Wu Du today, the inkling of an idea starts to form in Duan Ling’s mind — Wu Du is someone he can trust.
Xichuan is swelteringly hot tonight; it is the stillness of sultry heat that comes before a violent storm.
Cai Yan passes through the winding corridor quickly, wearing an uncomfortable expression, covered from head to toe in sticky sweat. He enters the emperor’s sleeping quarters and bows to Li Yanqiu. Li Yanqiu is taking his medicine, and there’s a folded memorial resting on the table before him.
“Once we relocate the capital, everything will need the full weight of your attention,” Li Yanqiu says.
“Certainly.” Cai Yan looks rather unsettled.
Half his medicine finished, Li Yanqiu takes note of Cai Yan’s expression and asks, “Where’s Wuluohou Mu?”
“He left the city.”
“Did you not sleep well, my son?”
Cai Yan forces a smile, and Li Yanqiu beckons him closer. Li Yanqiu calls Cai Yan my son and treats him as his own; he also tends to be very affectionate towards him, making him sit at the table placed just in front of him to drink the stewed swiftlet’s nest,2 even watching him as he drinks it.
Cai Yan’s frown is so deep that the furrow between his brows resembles a dead knot.
Li Yanqiu continues, “I told you on the very day you returned that Wuluohou Mu doesn’t think much of anyone. When it’s all said and done I feel uneasy having him look after you. What did he leave for this time?”
Cai Yan thinks about this a moment before saying, “He’s gone home to make sacrifices to his ancestors.”
Li Yanqiu heaves a sigh, and after a pause to think, he says, “Let’s send for Zheng Yan then. Your aunt brought that up the other day as well.”
Cai Yan shakes his head, and turns his attention to the folded memorial on the table. He seems about to say something, but then he holds his tongue. Li Yanqiu notices this and sends everyone around them away.
“Jiangzhou is too close to Huaiyin.” Cai Yan speaks again only once they’re gone, “It makes me feel somewhat uneasy to let Zheng Yan into the palace.”
Li Yanqiu does not reply. He simply gives this a nod.
After a long silence, Li Yanqiu says, “You’ll have to have dealings with Yao Fu eventually. Fortunately you’re still young, I’m here, Yao Fu still has to contend with the Mus, and Xie You is keeping an eye on things as well. Moving the capital at the end of the year ought to be a safe thing to do. It’s unlikely for much to go wrong over the next several years.”
“If your dad is still around,” Li Yanqiu smiles gently, “he’ll probably say, we ought to have moved already, why should we be scared of him? Yao Fu should be the one who’s scared of me. On this point you’re not like him at all.”
Cai Yan’s expression darkens slightly. “You’re right, uncle. We must move eventually.”
Li Yanqiu waves a hand dismissively. “Careful deliberation is a good thing, but you don’t have to be afraid either. Learn what you can learn for now. And bit by bit, you’ll know what to do in the future.”
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
Bird’s nest soup. A bit of trivia: as far as we know, not a thing before the Ming dynasty, so a bit anachronistic for this timeline. ↩︎
