“Wait for me, Wu Du!” Duan Ling chases after Wu Du through the corridor, keeping close behind him.
“Wu—” Before Duan Ling can finish his sentence, Wu Du turns and draws his sword without any warning.
Duan Ling’s heart instantly stops beating.
He’s never seen that deliberate, calm expression on Wu Du’s face before. Wu Du’s eyes are as still as a placid lake, the tip of his sword is heading right for his throat.
Duan Ling’s words die on his tongue, fear surfacing in his eyes as a sharp pain hits his stomach — it’s an entirely subconscious response, as though his body had already built up this reflex mechanism a long, long time ago.
He wants to kill me.
No, he won’t kill me!
He …
Three successive thoughts flash across his mind in mere moments, then Wu Du’s sword flicks towards the side of Duan Ling’s neck and brushes past him by the hair. A bright metal on metal sound rings out behind his ear and Duan Ling stops breathing.
A sharp, black iron hook that has been aiming for his collar is flicked aside by Wu Du’s sword.
Wu Du wraps his left arm around Duan Ling and strikes his sword outwards again, but he doesn’t even bother to see where it’s pointing at this time. The force with which Wu Du has pulled Duan Ling towards him has Duan Ling tipping over, falling backwards.
But with a cold and detached look in his eyes, Wu Du has turned to face Duan Ling long enough to check over him, making sure that he hasn’t been injured.
With a rumble that sounds like thunder going off in his head, Duan Ling feels his heart may have stopped.
Wu Du wraps one hand around Duan Ling to make sure he’s steady on his feet, then the sword move he’s thrust towards Helan Jie’s throat earlier finally lands — Helan Jie backs away quickly, twisting the iron hook, bending Wu Du’s Lieguangjian into an arc and the two of them pull back at the same time with the inertia of their weight.
Clang — the resonant ring of weaponry striking each other sets Duan Ling’s eardrums stinging.
Helan Jie doesn’t say anything else as he scrambles forward. In two hits of his sword, Wu Du seals off the iron hook’s advance. Only now does Duan Ling realise that Helan Jie had nearly grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off. All he sees is Wu Du standing in front of him, exchanging blows with Helan Jie; with the length of the Lieguangjian giving it an overwhelming edge over the iron hook, Helan Jie is forced to back down again and again.
“Scram!” Wu Du says coldly.
With malice in his eyes, Helan Jie retreats without a word.
The fight is over in seconds, but Duan Ling is already covered in cold sweat, bloodlessly pale and hyperventilating, leaning back against a pillar in the corridor. He raises his head to look at Wu Du, his stomach hurting so much his insides feel like they’re being twisted.
Still angry, Wu Du returns his sword to the sheath hanging by his waist, the slide of metal lasting for ages, then he turns away to keep walking towards the end of the corridor. With his eyes closed, Duan Ling’s stomach hurts more with every moment, so much so that he can’t get a word out.
“Move it already!” Wu Du snaps from the other end of the corridor. “ Are you waiting for me to carry you back?”
Duan Ling doesn’t even have the strength left to speak anymore, and he has no idea why he’s suddenly reacted in this way either; that very instant earlier of seeing Wu Du pull his sword on him seems to have awakened a sense of dread buried deep inside his memories.
“Lang Junxia, my stomach hurts …” He murmurs.
From where he stands Wu Du gives him a baffled glance, and realising that Duan Ling looks like he may have been poisoned, quickly comes back to put a thumb on his pulse, pushing up his eyelids to check his eyes.
“But you’re not poisoned,” Wu Du says. He gives Duan Ling a couple of pats on the cheek. “Hey, what’s the matter with you?”
Duan Ling stares sorrowfully at Wu Du.
Wu Du says, “Hey! Stop playing!”
“Wu Du, my stomach hurts …” Duan Ling says weakly.
It suddenly occurs to Wu Du that Duan Ling is probably acting like this because he’s had a fright from the way he drew his sword without warning earlier. Some people go into spasms under shock, and in this way extreme nervousness can also lead to stomach pains. Wu Du quickly picks Duan Ling up and puts him on his own back so they can get back to the room, then he picks out a bunch of medicinal herbs to decoct a bowl of strong medicine, making Duan Ling drink it all down. Once Duan Ling is back inside, his stomach starts to feel better, and as the medicine spreads to his limbs, he finally recovers.
“Feeling better?” Wu Du asks.
Duan Ling nods then, watching Wu Du, his eyes stinging with tears.
“I thought you were going to kill me.”
“Alright alright.” Wu Du doesn’t know what to say to him at all. “Helan Jie was right behind you. What else was I supposed to do?”
Duan Ling is lying on the bed on his side, and once Wu Du makes sure he’s fine, he busies himself with cleaning up. Duan Ling watches Wu Du, feeling quite complicated about everything.
“I’m sorry,” Duan Ling says.
Wu Du doesn’t speak; he quietly picks up the medicine bowl for cleaning, and suddenly gives Duan Ling a glance.
“Are you …” Wu Du is frowning slightly, but after asking the question halfway, he stops himself.
Am I what? Duan Ling’s heart begins to beat faster as he can feel that Wu Du seems to be aware of something.
Neither of them speak for a while. Wu Du stops what he’s doing and starts looking Duan Ling up and down, but Duan Ling has just had some medicine and he can barely keep his eyes open. Before Wu Du has a chance to ask, he’s already asleep. Seeing that he’s fallen asleep, Wu Du doesn’t say anything else, and soon after making sure everything’s tidied up, he climbs onto the bed and lies down next to Duan Ling.
The warm sunlight of the afternoon spills into the room. Once he’s slept for a while, Duan Ling abruptly shouts for his dad, surprising Wu Du.
“Hey.” Wu Du gives him a small shove. Duan Ling is still asleep though, and at the motion he turns over and wraps his arms tightly around Wu Du’s waist, burying his head in Wu Du’s shoulder, and holds on with surprising strength. Wu Du is used to this by now; he lies there unmoving with a rather helpless look on his face, but when he looks down at Duan Ling he gets to thinking that this young man doesn’t have it easy either. None of this has anything to do with him in the first place, and he’s only come all the way to Tongguan so he can keep Wu Du company. After their rough afternoon, all of his anger has faded away.
Wu Du reaches out to pat Duan Ling then, the way one would put a child to sleep. As though he can feel it in his dreams, his hold on Wu Du grows even tighter.
“Where did that young man in your estate who knew Yao Jing come from? He Mo wanted me to ask you,” Shang Leguan questions Bian Lingbai as he sips his milk tea.
Bian Lingbai is frankly half hassled to death by these Tangut already — they’re hands down the most troublesome guests Tongguan has ever had. One moment they want to see a bride-to-be who’s still a maiden confined to her quarters, the next they’re off to harass the young man who’s come to rely on him for shelter. He’s heard often enough that people from Xiliang are uncivilised and warlike, without any sense of shame, and now that he’s actually met some, everything he’s heard turns out to be true. They’re marrying a daughter of the Yaos but thinking about taking the boy away with them as well — honestly he can’t even imagine where these customs of theirs are coming from.
“That’s my nephew.” Bian Lingbai pauses to think for a moment. “But I wasn’t the one who assigned him that bodyguard of his. That guy has a bad temper, so please do forgive us if he’s offended you.”
Shang Leguan hums something in assent.
Bian Lingbai continues, “This kid has had a rough childhood, and he’s never enjoyed anything like luxury, and uh … if Mister He would like to show him his regard and become close to him, for him that would be a blessing, yet …”
“Money?” Helian Bo cuts to the chase with a single word.
Bian Lingbai was just pondering how he’s supposed to put a price on the kid as well; the Marquess of Huaiyin has no need of money, so when Yao Jing’s bride price arrives he just has to send some off as a token gesture to Jiangzuo. Now if they happen to take a fancy to the pretty young man Zhao Rong, that’s perfectly fine! They just have to add a bit more to the bride price, and this way he can also curry favour with the Shangs who are in power at the moment. Presumably this He Mo is someone quite important as well …
As this conversation carries on, Helian Bo and Shang Leguan exchange a look. Shang Leguan gives Helian Bo a slight nod — do as you see fit.
“His … name is?” Helian Bo is holding Duan Ling’s half a sleeve, subconsciously turning it over and over in his hands. Strips of cloth have been stuffed into his nostrils in an attempt to stop the nosebleed Wu Du gave him.
“Bian Rong,” Bian Lingbai says, “he hasn’t been given a courtesy name yet.”
Helian Bo frowns. That doesn’t seem to match what Duan Ling said to him. But since he’s already gone from a Duan to another surname, it’s not a big deal if it’s been changed one more time.
“Money.” Helian Bo re-emphasises this word to Shang Leguan.
Shang Leguan signals to Helian Bo not to say anymore, as he already understands. All at once, Bian Lingbai is over the moon — are these two Tangut about to head back to get the money ready? First it’s three hundred yi of gold, then it’s talk of “money, money”. All Bian Lingbai can hear for a while between his ears is the metallic, ringing sound of silvers being tossed to and fro.
“Um … Mister Shang.” Bian Lingbai says, “The portrait?”
Helian Bo waves a hand, and Shang Leguan repeats the gesture. Bian Lingbai understands this to mean that perhaps the Tangut hasn’t finished the portrait yet, so he doesn’t press for more details. He could never have known that Helian Bo had only said “money” because he thinks Duan Ling lacks money, and the hand waving means there won’t be any more use for that three hundred yi of gold either.
When evening comes, someone outside whispers, “Mister Bian?”
Wu Du carefully lifts Duan Ling’s paw away and comes down from the bed to get the door. He finds a Tangut man standing outside with the estate’s steward, who’s led him here.
“Mister Shang extends his invitation to you and Mister Bian for a visit.”
“No time.” Wu Du says, disinterested, having already lost the motivation for the lesson he wanted to teach these barbarians. “Mister Bian is ill.”
The man outside questions the steward in Tangut, and once the steward answers, the man hurries away. With a deep furrow between his brows Wu Du leaves the steward instructions to bring dinner to their room before sending him off.
But by the time he gets back inside, Duan Ling has already awakened. The afternoon’s incident has sapped him of all his energy, and he sits there like a wilted plant, sneaking glances at Wu Du to see if he’s still angry. Wu Du though, looks the same as always. He’s grabbed a long stick in the courtyard to practice his staff fighting with.
“Hey, Wu Du.”
“What?”
Duan Ling wants to make conversation, but he’s not sure how to begin. He racks his brain before saying out of the blue, “I miss home.”
Wu Du pauses for a beat.
It’s true Duan Ling does somewhat want to go back to Xichuan; living here is simply uncomfortable, as though nothing feels right. Even if there’s a Lang Junxia in Xichuan who wants to kill him, Wu Du’s courtyard house in the chancellor’s estate compound just feels more familiar.
“Then let’s finish up here as soon as possible so we can leave,” Wu Du replies.
Duan Ling scrutinises the look on Wu Du’s face but can’t tell what he’s thinking. “When?”
Wu Du finishes practising, bringing the staff to his side. “I’ll go tonight.”
“Then …” Duan Ling is about to say something, but holds his tongue.
Wu Du puts the stick away and something occurs to him — should he take advantage of the night to steal Bian Lingbai’s secrets? But then what about Duan Ling?
“Should I go with you?” Duan Ling asks.
If Wu Du leaves Duan Ling in the house, what’s he supposed to do if Helan Jie shows up later?
“What does Helan Jie have against me?” Duan Ling asks, baffled. “I never did anything to provoke him.”
“The sight of you offends him.” Wu Du says impatiently, “He wants to get revenge on me, therefore he wants to hurt you.”
“Oh …” Duan Ling nods.
In the midst of their conversation a bunch of Tangut shows up at the door again. Alarms go off in Duan Ling’s heart, oh no, what is Helian Bo trying to do now?! He’d better not come in here yelling “Duan Ling Duan Ling” because then everything is over for him. When Duan Ling woke up earlier he came up with another flaw-ridden story to give Wu Du in case he notices anything — wasn’t he and his father under Tongguan purchasing medicinal ingredients? He’ll just say Xiliang’s Tangut prince had been captured by bandits as well, and somehow in a twist of fate he saved the prince.
Worst comes to worst, he’ll just stop Helian Bo from talking by speaking Tangut to him as soon as he shows up. At any rate, Helian Bo stammers, so no matter what Duan Ling says he’s just going to nod. Even if Wu Du gets suspicious he won’t be able to get anything out of him.
And yet Helian Bo hasn’t shown up, but the Tangut are here to bring two lunch boxes full of food, then there’s two big hunks of lapis lazuli, a platter of gold bars, ten sheets of deerskin, two sticks of young deer antlers, and lastly the messenger presents him a goose feathered hat.
Wu Du is speechless.
Duan Ling is even more speechless.
Duan Ling tells the Tangut messenger, “Bring it all back! I don’t need any of it!”
The Tangut man says to Duan Ling, “His Highness prepared this for you. Please accept it — it represents his friendship with you.”
“You can speak Tangut?!” Wu Du asks incredulously.
Duan Ling stares at him blankly for a moment.
“I’ve been … to Xiliang.” Duan Ling can only lie to Wu Du with the set of lies he came up with earlier. “Since we had to buy things in the market, I learned a bit. ‘Sure’ is ‘qiji’, ‘thank you’ is ‘tuji’. Wasn’t I singing in the afternoon earlier as well?”
Wu Du is skeptical, but he’s already completely befuddled.
The Tangut messenger says to Duan Ling, “His Highness says he’ll wait for you outside his courtyard house at midnight.”
He leaves as soon as he finishes saying this. Duan Ling picks up the goose feather hat and finds a dyed-blue tail feather of a bar-headed goose sticking out of its top.
“What was that last thing he said?” Wu Du asks.
“I didn’t understand him.” Duan Ling quickly plays dumb.
Wu Du walks outside and beckons at the Tangut messenger. “Come on, come on, come back over here, don’t just say something and leave. What did you mean by that?”
The man must have been given prior instructions by Helian Bo, and immediately runs off without a trace.
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. ↩︎
“Wait for me, Wu Du!” Duan Ling chases after Wu Du through the corridor, keeping close behind him.
“Wu—” Before Duan Ling can finish his sentence, Wu Du turns and draws his sword without any warning.
Duan Ling’s heart instantly stops beating.
He’s never seen that deliberate, calm expression on Wu Du’s face before. Wu Du’s eyes are as still as a placid lake, the tip of his sword is heading right for his throat.
Duan Ling’s words die on his tongue, fear surfacing in his eyes as a sharp pain hits his stomach — it’s an entirely subconscious response, as though his body had already built up this reflex mechanism a long, long time ago.
He wants to kill me.
No, he won’t kill me!
He …
Three successive thoughts flash across his mind in mere moments, then Wu Du’s sword flicks towards the side of Duan Ling’s neck and brushes past him by the hair. A bright metal on metal sound rings out behind his ear and Duan Ling stops breathing.
A sharp, black iron hook that has been aiming for his collar is flicked aside by Wu Du’s sword.
Wu Du wraps his left arm around Duan Ling and strikes his sword outwards again, but he doesn’t even bother to see where it’s pointing at this time. The force with which Wu Du has pulled Duan Ling towards him has Duan Ling tipping over, falling backwards.
But with a cold and detached look in his eyes, Wu Du has turned to face Duan Ling long enough to check over him, making sure that he hasn’t been injured.
With a rumble that sounds like thunder going off in his head, Duan Ling feels his heart may have stopped.
Wu Du wraps one hand around Duan Ling to make sure he’s steady on his feet, then the sword move he’s thrust towards Helan Jie’s throat earlier finally lands — Helan Jie backs away quickly, twisting the iron hook, bending Wu Du’s Lieguangjian into an arc and the two of them pull back at the same time with the inertia of their weight.
Clang — the resonant ring of weaponry striking each other sets Duan Ling’s eardrums stinging.
Helan Jie doesn’t say anything else as he scrambles forward. In two hits of his sword, Wu Du seals off the iron hook’s advance. Only now does Duan Ling realise that Helan Jie had nearly grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off. All he sees is Wu Du standing in front of him, exchanging blows with Helan Jie; with the length of the Lieguangjian giving it an overwhelming edge over the iron hook, Helan Jie is forced to back down again and again.
“Scram!” Wu Du says coldly.
With malice in his eyes, Helan Jie retreats without a word.
The fight is over in seconds, but Duan Ling is already covered in cold sweat, bloodlessly pale and hyperventilating, leaning back against a pillar in the corridor. He raises his head to look at Wu Du, his stomach hurting so much his insides feel like they’re being twisted.
Still angry, Wu Du returns his sword to the sheath hanging by his waist, the slide of metal lasting for ages, then he turns away to keep walking towards the end of the corridor. With his eyes closed, Duan Ling’s stomach hurts more with every moment, so much so that he can’t get a word out.
“Move it already!” Wu Du snaps from the other end of the corridor. “ Are you waiting for me to carry you back?”
Duan Ling doesn’t even have the strength left to speak anymore, and he has no idea why he’s suddenly reacted in this way either; that very instant earlier of seeing Wu Du pull his sword on him seems to have awakened a sense of dread buried deep inside his memories.
“Lang Junxia, my stomach hurts …” He murmurs.
From where he stands Wu Du gives him a baffled glance, and realising that Duan Ling looks like he may have been poisoned, quickly comes back to put a thumb on his pulse, pushing up his eyelids to check his eyes.
“But you’re not poisoned,” Wu Du says. He gives Duan Ling a couple of pats on the cheek. “Hey, what’s the matter with you?”
Duan Ling stares sorrowfully at Wu Du.
Wu Du says, “Hey! Stop playing!”
“Wu Du, my stomach hurts …” Duan Ling says weakly.
It suddenly occurs to Wu Du that Duan Ling is probably acting like this because he’s had a fright from the way he drew his sword without warning earlier. Some people go into spasms under shock, and in this way extreme nervousness can also lead to stomach pains. Wu Du quickly picks Duan Ling up and puts him on his own back so they can get back to the room, then he picks out a bunch of medicinal herbs to decoct a bowl of strong medicine, making Duan Ling drink it all down. Once Duan Ling is back inside, his stomach starts to feel better, and as the medicine spreads to his limbs, he finally recovers.
“Feeling better?” Wu Du asks.
Duan Ling nods then, watching Wu Du, his eyes stinging with tears.
“I thought you were going to kill me.”
“Alright alright.” Wu Du doesn’t know what to say to him at all. “Helan Jie was right behind you. What else was I supposed to do?”
Duan Ling is lying on the bed on his side, and once Wu Du makes sure he’s fine, he busies himself with cleaning up. Duan Ling watches Wu Du, feeling quite complicated about everything.
“I’m sorry,” Duan Ling says.
Wu Du doesn’t speak; he quietly picks up the medicine bowl for cleaning, and suddenly gives Duan Ling a glance.
“Are you …” Wu Du is frowning slightly, but after asking the question halfway, he stops himself.
Am I what? Duan Ling’s heart begins to beat faster as he can feel that Wu Du seems to be aware of something.
Neither of them speak for a while. Wu Du stops what he’s doing and starts looking Duan Ling up and down, but Duan Ling has just had some medicine and he can barely keep his eyes open. Before Wu Du has a chance to ask, he’s already asleep. Seeing that he’s fallen asleep, Wu Du doesn’t say anything else, and soon after making sure everything’s tidied up, he climbs onto the bed and lies down next to Duan Ling.
The warm sunlight of the afternoon spills into the room. Once he’s slept for a while, Duan Ling abruptly shouts for his dad, surprising Wu Du.
“Hey.” Wu Du gives him a small shove. Duan Ling is still asleep though, and at the motion he turns over and wraps his arms tightly around Wu Du’s waist, burying his head in Wu Du’s shoulder, and holds on with surprising strength. Wu Du is used to this by now; he lies there unmoving with a rather helpless look on his face, but when he looks down at Duan Ling he gets to thinking that this young man doesn’t have it easy either. None of this has anything to do with him in the first place, and he’s only come all the way to Tongguan so he can keep Wu Du company. After their rough afternoon, all of his anger has faded away.
Wu Du reaches out to pat Duan Ling then, the way one would put a child to sleep. As though he can feel it in his dreams, his hold on Wu Du grows even tighter.
“Where did that young man in your estate who knew Yao Jing come from? He Mo wanted me to ask you,” Shang Leguan questions Bian Lingbai as he sips his milk tea.
Bian Lingbai is frankly half hassled to death by these Tangut already — they’re hands down the most troublesome guests Tongguan has ever had. One moment they want to see a bride-to-be who’s still a maiden confined to her quarters, the next they’re off to harass the young man who’s come to rely on him for shelter. He’s heard often enough that people from Xiliang are uncivilised and warlike, without any sense of shame, and now that he’s actually met some, everything he’s heard turns out to be true. They’re marrying a daughter of the Yaos but thinking about taking the boy away with them as well — honestly he can’t even imagine where these customs of theirs are coming from.
“That’s my nephew.” Bian Lingbai pauses to think for a moment. “But I wasn’t the one who assigned him that bodyguard of his. That guy has a bad temper, so please do forgive us if he’s offended you.”
Shang Leguan hums something in assent.
Bian Lingbai continues, “This kid has had a rough childhood, and he’s never enjoyed anything like luxury, and uh … if Mister He would like to show him his regard and become close to him, for him that would be a blessing, yet …”
“Money?” Helian Bo cuts to the chase with a single word.
Bian Lingbai was just pondering how he’s supposed to put a price on the kid as well; the Marquess of Huaiyin has no need of money, so when Yao Jing’s bride price arrives he just has to send some off as a token gesture to Jiangzuo. Now if they happen to take a fancy to the pretty young man Zhao Rong, that’s perfectly fine! They just have to add a bit more to the bride price, and this way he can also curry favour with the Shangs who are in power at the moment. Presumably this He Mo is someone quite important as well …
As this conversation carries on, Helian Bo and Shang Leguan exchange a look. Shang Leguan gives Helian Bo a slight nod — do as you see fit.
“His … name is?” Helian Bo is holding Duan Ling’s half a sleeve, subconsciously turning it over and over in his hands. Strips of cloth have been stuffed into his nostrils in an attempt to stop the nosebleed Wu Du gave him.
“Bian Rong,” Bian Lingbai says, “he hasn’t been given a courtesy name yet.”
Helian Bo frowns. That doesn’t seem to match what Duan Ling said to him. But since he’s already gone from a Duan to another surname, it’s not a big deal if it’s been changed one more time.
“Money.” Helian Bo re-emphasises this word to Shang Leguan.
Shang Leguan signals to Helian Bo not to say anymore, as he already understands. All at once, Bian Lingbai is over the moon — are these two Tangut about to head back to get the money ready? First it’s three hundred yi of gold, then it’s talk of “money, money”. All Bian Lingbai can hear for a while between his ears is the metallic, ringing sound of silvers being tossed to and fro.
“Um … Mister Shang.” Bian Lingbai says, “The portrait?”
Helian Bo waves a hand, and Shang Leguan repeats the gesture. Bian Lingbai understands this to mean that perhaps the Tangut hasn’t finished the portrait yet, so he doesn’t press for more details. He could never have known that Helian Bo had only said “money” because he thinks Duan Ling lacks money, and the hand waving means there won’t be any more use for that three hundred yi of gold either.
When evening comes, someone outside whispers, “Mister Bian?”
Wu Du carefully lifts Duan Ling’s paw away and comes down from the bed to get the door. He finds a Tangut man standing outside with the estate’s steward, who’s led him here.
“Mister Shang extends his invitation to you and Mister Bian for a visit.”
“No time.” Wu Du says, disinterested, having already lost the motivation for the lesson he wanted to teach these barbarians. “Mister Bian is ill.”
The man outside questions the steward in Tangut, and once the steward answers, the man hurries away. With a deep furrow between his brows Wu Du leaves the steward instructions to bring dinner to their room before sending him off.
But by the time he gets back inside, Duan Ling has already awakened. The afternoon’s incident has sapped him of all his energy, and he sits there like a wilted plant, sneaking glances at Wu Du to see if he’s still angry. Wu Du though, looks the same as always. He’s grabbed a long stick in the courtyard to practice his staff fighting with.
“Hey, Wu Du.”
“What?”
Duan Ling wants to make conversation, but he’s not sure how to begin. He racks his brain before saying out of the blue, “I miss home.”
Wu Du pauses for a beat.
It’s true Duan Ling does somewhat want to go back to Xichuan; living here is simply uncomfortable, as though nothing feels right. Even if there’s a Lang Junxia in Xichuan who wants to kill him, Wu Du’s courtyard house in the chancellor’s estate compound just feels more familiar.
“Then let’s finish up here as soon as possible so we can leave,” Wu Du replies.
Duan Ling scrutinises the look on Wu Du’s face but can’t tell what he’s thinking. “When?”
Wu Du finishes practising, bringing the staff to his side. “I’ll go tonight.”
“Then …” Duan Ling is about to say something, but holds his tongue.
Wu Du puts the stick away and something occurs to him — should he take advantage of the night to steal Bian Lingbai’s secrets? But then what about Duan Ling?
“Should I go with you?” Duan Ling asks.
If Wu Du leaves Duan Ling in the house, what’s he supposed to do if Helan Jie shows up later?
“What does Helan Jie have against me?” Duan Ling asks, baffled. “I never did anything to provoke him.”
“The sight of you offends him.” Wu Du says impatiently, “He wants to get revenge on me, therefore he wants to hurt you.”
“Oh …” Duan Ling nods.
In the midst of their conversation a bunch of Tangut shows up at the door again. Alarms go off in Duan Ling’s heart, oh no, what is Helian Bo trying to do now?! He’d better not come in here yelling “Duan Ling Duan Ling” because then everything is over for him. When Duan Ling woke up earlier he came up with another flaw-ridden story to give Wu Du in case he notices anything — wasn’t he and his father under Tongguan purchasing medicinal ingredients? He’ll just say Xiliang’s Tangut prince had been captured by bandits as well, and somehow in a twist of fate he saved the prince.
Worst comes to worst, he’ll just stop Helian Bo from talking by speaking Tangut to him as soon as he shows up. At any rate, Helian Bo stammers, so no matter what Duan Ling says he’s just going to nod. Even if Wu Du gets suspicious he won’t be able to get anything out of him.
And yet Helian Bo hasn’t shown up, but the Tangut are here to bring two lunch boxes full of food, then there’s two big hunks of lapis lazuli, a platter of gold bars, ten sheets of deerskin, two sticks of young deer antlers, and lastly the messenger presents him a goose feathered hat.
Wu Du is speechless.
Duan Ling is even more speechless.
Duan Ling tells the Tangut messenger, “Bring it all back! I don’t need any of it!”
The Tangut man says to Duan Ling, “His Highness prepared this for you. Please accept it — it represents his friendship with you.”
“You can speak Tangut?!” Wu Du asks incredulously.
Duan Ling stares at him blankly for a moment.
“I’ve been … to Xiliang.” Duan Ling can only lie to Wu Du with the set of lies he came up with earlier. “Since we had to buy things in the market, I learned a bit. ‘Sure’ is ‘qiji’, ‘thank you’ is ‘tuji’. Wasn’t I singing in the afternoon earlier as well?”
Wu Du is skeptical, but he’s already completely befuddled.
The Tangut messenger says to Duan Ling, “His Highness says he’ll wait for you outside his courtyard house at midnight.”
He leaves as soon as he finishes saying this. Duan Ling picks up the goose feather hat and finds a dyed-blue tail feather of a bar-headed goose sticking out of its top.
“What was that last thing he said?” Wu Du asks.
“I didn’t understand him.” Duan Ling quickly plays dumb.
Wu Du walks outside and beckons at the Tangut messenger. “Come on, come on, come back over here, don’t just say something and leave. What did you mean by that?”
The man must have been given prior instructions by Helian Bo, and immediately runs off without a trace.
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. ↩︎
