Xichuan, nighttime:
“Your Highness.” Zheng Yan strolls slowly over. “We’ll have to head out tomorrow. Your Highness should wash up and get some sleep soon.”
Cai Yan sits facing a pile of memorials from behind his desk. He sends Zheng Yan a glance, and replies politely, “Zheng Yan, you may go get some rest.”
“Still waiting for that guy?” Zheng Yan is always hitting him where he hurts, and he has no filter at all. Sometimes Cai Yan really does want to make Wu Du poison Zheng Yan to death.
“Who am I waiting for?” Smiling, Cai Yan answers a question with a question, “Well there’s no one in particular I’m waiting for, but who are you waiting for, Zheng Yan?”
“Oh — well naturally you’re waiting for a corpse, then?”
Cai Yan can’t even force a smile anymore; his expression is utterly forbidding. And so with a smile Zheng Yan says to him, “I’m going to go see your uncle and have a drink with him. Would Your Highness like to come? I presume the corpse won’t be coming any time soon.”
Cai Yan can only say stiffly, “Zheng Yan, you jest.”
“The general amnesty is coming tomorrow.”2 Zheng Yan rocks the cup in his hand. “I heard a whole bunch of bastards will have to be set free. Looks like Your Highness is just full of benevolence, hmm?”
Once again, Cai Yan seems to freeze. He says with perfunctory formality, “His crimes are not so grave as to be deserving of death, and now is the time for new blood. Unless there’s something you want to say about ‘Feng’, Zheng Yan?”
Zheng Yan looks Cai Yan up and down with a smile on his face.
“You’re not like your dad.”
Cai Yan’s entire expression darkens in an instant, turning terribly grim — as though he even has a mind to kill Zheng Yan now.
Zheng Yan adds, lackadaisically, “Life is bitterly short. One must make merry while one is able, hmm?”
“Zheng Yan.” Cai Yan’s voice is shaking, as though it’s filled with an anger he can barely contain. “Go get some rest. The day of sacrifice is already over. Don’t come to goad me again. I’m exhausted.”
But instead of leaving, Zheng Yan sits down instead on the steps in front of Cai Yan’s desk with his back towards him.3 He speaks, as though mumbling to himself, “The world is basically a great big dyeing vat; get close to a certain sort of person, and that’s what you’ll become.”
Cai Yan says gruffly, “What are you trying to say, Zheng Yan? Are you telling me to keep my guard up against ‘Feng’?”
“While it’s true that ‘Feng’’s schemes are malicious, what he has are covert schemes, and not overt schemes. They never did reach the level of needing one to go out of one’s way to be on guard against. I’m merely suddenly reminded of the late emperor.
“All the manifestations of the world are multicoloured and filled with far too many colours, and any person will be dyed the colour of whatever position they’re in; save the late emperor, who was his own colour altogether.” Pausing here, Zheng Yan rises, and smiles at Cai Yan. “Whether black or white, the late emperor with the Zhenshanhe in hand remained unmoved. Work for him long enough, and you’ll somehow see your own true nature. All the other colours will fade away, and what’s left is a sheet of white paper. It’s a bit like being able to steal a glance at the ‘will of heaven’, more or less. I only hope Your Highness will also keep this in mind.”
Cai Yan finds himself momentarily distracted, much to his surprise. Zheng Yan gives Cai Yan a shallow bow, and without showing any sign of his prior drunken stagger, kicks up the ends of his robes as he exits calmly from the room, leaving Cai Yan lost in thought in the palace hall.
An autumn wind blows by, and the gardens are full of fallen leaves. By now, barely anyone is left in the palace to prepare for the commencement of their journey tomorrow.
Li Yanqiu is sitting inside looking out at the view in the gardens, his mind wandering. Empress Mu Jinzhi has already left with the Mu retinue. The giant palace around him is full of empty halls and feels rather dismal. There’s a bowl of medicine on his desk, already gone cold.
Zheng Yan walks past via the corridor, looking as though he’s never quite awake. He sits down next to Li Yanqiu.
“Let’s drink!” Zheng Yan raises his bottle full of wine at Li Yanqiu. “I drink my wine, you drink your medicine.”4
Li Yanqiu picks up his medicine bowl and bumps it lightly against Zheng Yan’s bottle.
“Did you just come over from the Eastern Palace?” He asks.
“Your Majesty’s darling boy is still in the Eastern Palace, annotating memorials.” Zheng Yan leans back against the edge of the low daybed. “By the look of him I’d like to think he’s a bit like you, and not like the late emperor.”
The Li family founded their empire by military might, and this spirit has passed on through the generations so they’re not all that strict when it comes to etiquette. Li Yanqiu is rather casual in the way he treats his court subjects, but Zheng Yan is special — rather to say the relationship between them is that of an emperor and his subject, they’re more like old friends.
“He doesn’t have my brother’s temperament.” Li Yanqiu sighs and shakes his head. “But he has a good heart. I’m sure he resembles my sister-in-law in that way.”
Zheng Yan thoughtfully turns his gaze up at the blue sky beyond.
Li Yanqiu adds, “I fell asleep for a while earlier, and somehow had a dream about him. He didn’t come on his death anniversary, but he’s come now.”
Zheng Yan doesn’t reply. Absentmindedly, he takes another sip of wine.
“I dreamt that I was on a bridge. I suppose the opposing shore wasn’t even the mortal world anymore, and there was a sheen of moonlight over everything. He said to me, ‘My son’s come home, so it’s about time to relocate the capital. It’s been another year’.”
Zheng Yan has remained silent until now. “Your Majesty, you may want to rethink declaring general amnesty. If you let Feng out, he may just stir up trouble. The Eastern Palace really does need people, and if the late emperor is still around, I wouldn’t be so worried, but the current master of the Eastern Palace is the future lord of the realm. Your Majesty …”
“The general amnesty has already been announced.” Li Yanqiu sighs. “A ruler does not go back on his word. You think you can take it back? As for Feng, Rong’er was the one who requested him specifically. I’m sure you’re well aware of the pros and cons of such an act. Feng was a commanding officer in the Shadow Guard for many years, and even though he committed a crime against my father that landed him on death row, he’s still as loyal to Great Chen as he ever was.”
Zheng Yan shakes his head and heaves a sigh.
“But you’re quite right. As of yet, there aren’t any retainers in the Eastern Palace, and that’s not right. It’s been more than half a year since Rong’er returned, but since he had Wuluohou Mu to look after him and there’s been so many trifles at court, it’s slipped my mind. Once we move we’ll have to take the time to do so.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but,” Zheng Yan drinks and says casually, “the current Eastern Palace always feels like it lacks something.”
"It lacks spirit. Rong’er has great potential, and sitting in that position, he knows what he’s supposed to do. When it comes to reading and annotating memorials on my behalf and reviewing matters of commoners’ welfare, he’s doing an exceedingly admirable job. But he hasn’t realised one thing yet — this is his family’s estate, and he hasn’t been letting himself work on it with a free rein.
“Or, in other words …” Li Yanqiu picks up his medicine bowl, his gaze fixed on his own features in the pitch black decoction as though another familiar face is watching him from the reflection. "He hasn’t started seeing himself as one of the Lis. When he’s settling matters of state and steering the imperial court, he’s still doing it to help me, and not doing it for himself.
“But showing his talent and appearing too sharp is not a good thing, after all.” Li Yanqiu knocks back his medicine in one gulp, so bitter it makes him frown. “Zheng Yan, help me get this done for him. The crown prince still needs attendants; a study partner, for instance. Just recruit them in the guise of looking for retainers.”
Footsteps echo through the corridor, sounding in quite a hurry.
“The crown prince would like to request an audience,” a guard in the outer room announces.
Li Yanqiu raises an eyebrow. Both he and Zheng Yan turn their attention towards the corridor. Cai Yan appears from around the corner with a big smile on his face.
Cai Yan gives him a bow first, and then another person appears behind him — who else but the travel-worn Lang Junxia.
“Wuluohou Mu?” Li Yanqiu says with a frown, “You left without a nary a farewell, and I haven’t even punished you for leaving your post without permission yet. Where on earth did you go?”
“Uncle.” Cai Yan walks over to him and sits down. “Take a look at what he’s brought with him first.”
Lang Junxia takes a glance at Zheng Yan. They’ve never met before, but the other’s reputation precedes him.
“Here you are,” Lang Junxia says.
Zheng Yan gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Here I am.”
Lang Junxia unties the sword from his back and lays it down on the table with both hands. The sword sheath is engraved with a relief of the Mahasthamaprapta riding on the back of a tiger as he cuts down demons; the sword handle is carved out of a giant clam shell, inlaid with a luminous, shimmery sarira.
“Fortunately, I did not fail my mission,” Lang Junxia replies before withdrawing from the room, and stands outside the door to await further orders.
Li Yanqiu puts one hand down on the hilt and pulls the sword out of its sheath, producing a low, resonant hum. The blade is plain and mottled with blood, and a name is carved into the metal: Duanchenyuan.
The morning is graced with brilliant sunshine and gentle breezes; farmers are busy taking in the autumn harvest on the mountain terraces across the way.
Standing outside their inn by the riverbank, Duan Ling yawns, stretches, and asks a server for a bucket to draw water with. After drawing some water he proceeds to boil it so he can make tea for Wu Du, and to change his bandages.
It’s the most peaceful night of sleep he’s had in a year, but Wu Du had tossed and turned the whole night through and didn’t fall asleep ‘til dawn. Not long after he falls asleep, the commotion Duan Ling makes while boiling water has him going from half-dead to shocked sitting upright in an instant. Utterly exhausted, he puts a hand over his forehead, his mind racked with irritation.
“What time is it?” Once those words are out of his mouth he realises how wrong they sound — what kind of subject asks the crown prince the hour? He should have gotten up earlier to wait on him instead, but Duan Ling’s already boiling water, so what else can he do?
“It’s dawn. Are you alright? Not feeling well?”
Wu Du’s eyes are rimmed in red, and he stares at Duan Ling for a little while. “From now on, just leave me with the housework. Even if I don’t … don’t treat you like the crown prince, I should still be the one who takes care of you. That’s what I thought since the day we left Tongguan anyway. And besides, you barely even got to live comfortably for a few days since you’ve been with me …”
Duan Ling knows Wu Du has basically figured things out. “It’s not like any of that matters. If you didn’t know that Cai Yan is an imposter, and you’re his attendant on a trip, would you tell him that too?”
“Of course not. But you’re not like him.”
He poured a pile of words at Wu Du yesterday all in one go, and Duan Ling actually feels a bit embarrassed now that he’s thought about it. Smiling, he says, “Then if … the one Wuluohou Mu brought back was me, and we met under different circumstances, as people in different positions, would you feel that way too?”
Well, Wu Du has never thought about it, but now that Duan Ling’s mentioned it, his head feels even more like it’s been stuffed with a tangled ball of flax. If Duan Ling isn’t the Wang Shan he knows now, and they have to spend time alone with each other, knowing himself and his standoffish attitude, he definitely wouldn’t give his heart and soul to Duan Ling. At most he’d feel sorry for him, and go out of his way to pay more attention to him — of course, that’s under the pretext that the crown prince regards him with sincerity.
He does consider it for a little while, and after that Wu Du can but concede, “Fine,” he says. Finally at ease, he meets Duan Ling’s eyes, and they both smile.
“The whole night I was thinking about your problem,” Wu Du says.
Duan Ling unties the bandages on Wu Du’s hand and reapplies the ointment. Without raising his head, he makes an affirmative hum.
“There is someone … I can take you to meet him. His name is Xie You, and as long as he’s certain that you are who you are, he’ll protect you even at the cost of his own life.”
“I know of him. He’s loyal to the rightful emperor, isn’t he? But the rightful emperor right now is my fourth uncle.”
Wu Du’s eyebrows draw slightly together, and he stops talking.
“As long as Uncle acknowledges me, Cai Yan won’t pose any threat at all.”
Wu Du nods. “There is one more thing. It’s still far too dangerous for you to show yourself. I’ve always had the suspicion that Chancellor Mu is going to do something about that imposter and His Majesty — the poison I was working on before? He never told me who he wanted it for. It may just be for the imposter.”
Duan Ling finishes re-bandaging Wu Du, and Wu Du tries to get down, so Duan Ling helps him put on his boots. Wu Du watches Duan Ling’s every move, and Duan Ling is waiting on him like it’s matter of course, then he puts one of Wu Du’s arms over his shoulder so he can support him as he walks outside.
The autumn sky is clear and bright, and the air is fresh and clean on the plains. Duan Ling washes his face, crouching by the river, and says to Wu Du, “Worse case scenario, Uncle doesn’t believe that I am who I am and locks me away. And we don’t have any evidence either … Then we’re totally done for.”
“That’s true.” Now that Wu Du thinks about it, that is extremely risky. Too much depends on luck.
“Best case scenario, Uncle does acknowledge my identity and kills both Wuluohou Mu and Cai Yan. But then what?”
Then what he’ll have to face is the violent power vortex within the imperial court — Mu Kuangda will very likely use every possible means to poison him to death. Of course, with Wu Du around, he doesn’t have to worry about anyone trying to poison him, but what is Mu Kuangda trying to accomplish anyway?
“And then,” Wu Du says solemnly to Duan Ling, “I’m going to tell you one thing. But you mustn’t let slip that you know about this in front of Mu Kuangda, otherwise some people are going to want the both of us dead … Aiya, but I suppose that doesn’t really matter.”
Duan Ling stares at him silently and a bit shocked.
“But if it really is exposed, they’ll come to kill you. Then all we can do is take a risk and try to fight our way out and poison the whole lot of them to death.”
“Um … Please tell me what it’s all about first.”
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. ↩︎
It’s called a general amnesty, which sounds like everyone under the heavens is given amnesty, but in reality it’s usually a couple dozen people, and it’s not complete amnesty. Maybe those sentenced to death would be exiled instead and so on; also, people who committed things like treason cannot be pardoned. ↩︎
In case you’re wondering, this is extremely rude. Actually, sitting with your back to the emperor is something you can lose your head over; I’m not sure what the punishment would be if you put your back to the crown prince. Cai Yan also never told him to sit down. Zheng Yan gets away with everything because he’s essentially Li Yanqiu’s only real friend. ↩︎
This isn’t a typo, Zheng Yan just be “I” and “you” at the emperor all the time like that. (He’s like this at Cai Yan too, most of the time.) ↩︎
Xichuan, nighttime:
“Your Highness.” Zheng Yan strolls slowly over. “We’ll have to head out tomorrow. Your Highness should wash up and get some sleep soon.”
Cai Yan sits facing a pile of memorials from behind his desk. He sends Zheng Yan a glance, and replies politely, “Zheng Yan, you may go get some rest.”
“Still waiting for that guy?” Zheng Yan is always hitting him where he hurts, and he has no filter at all. Sometimes Cai Yan really does want to make Wu Du poison Zheng Yan to death.
“Who am I waiting for?” Smiling, Cai Yan answers a question with a question, “Well there’s no one in particular I’m waiting for, but who are you waiting for, Zheng Yan?”
“Oh — well naturally you’re waiting for a corpse, then?”
Cai Yan can’t even force a smile anymore; his expression is utterly forbidding. And so with a smile Zheng Yan says to him, “I’m going to go see your uncle and have a drink with him. Would Your Highness like to come? I presume the corpse won’t be coming any time soon.”
Cai Yan can only say stiffly, “Zheng Yan, you jest.”
“The general amnesty is coming tomorrow.”2 Zheng Yan rocks the cup in his hand. “I heard a whole bunch of bastards will have to be set free. Looks like Your Highness is just full of benevolence, hmm?”
Once again, Cai Yan seems to freeze. He says with perfunctory formality, “His crimes are not so grave as to be deserving of death, and now is the time for new blood. Unless there’s something you want to say about ‘Feng’, Zheng Yan?”
Zheng Yan looks Cai Yan up and down with a smile on his face.
“You’re not like your dad.”
Cai Yan’s entire expression darkens in an instant, turning terribly grim — as though he even has a mind to kill Zheng Yan now.
Zheng Yan adds, lackadaisically, “Life is bitterly short. One must make merry while one is able, hmm?”
“Zheng Yan.” Cai Yan’s voice is shaking, as though it’s filled with an anger he can barely contain. “Go get some rest. The day of sacrifice is already over. Don’t come to goad me again. I’m exhausted.”
But instead of leaving, Zheng Yan sits down instead on the steps in front of Cai Yan’s desk with his back towards him.3 He speaks, as though mumbling to himself, “The world is basically a great big dyeing vat; get close to a certain sort of person, and that’s what you’ll become.”
Cai Yan says gruffly, “What are you trying to say, Zheng Yan? Are you telling me to keep my guard up against ‘Feng’?”
“While it’s true that ‘Feng’’s schemes are malicious, what he has are covert schemes, and not overt schemes. They never did reach the level of needing one to go out of one’s way to be on guard against. I’m merely suddenly reminded of the late emperor.
“All the manifestations of the world are multicoloured and filled with far too many colours, and any person will be dyed the colour of whatever position they’re in; save the late emperor, who was his own colour altogether.” Pausing here, Zheng Yan rises, and smiles at Cai Yan. “Whether black or white, the late emperor with the Zhenshanhe in hand remained unmoved. Work for him long enough, and you’ll somehow see your own true nature. All the other colours will fade away, and what’s left is a sheet of white paper. It’s a bit like being able to steal a glance at the ‘will of heaven’, more or less. I only hope Your Highness will also keep this in mind.”
Cai Yan finds himself momentarily distracted, much to his surprise. Zheng Yan gives Cai Yan a shallow bow, and without showing any sign of his prior drunken stagger, kicks up the ends of his robes as he exits calmly from the room, leaving Cai Yan lost in thought in the palace hall.
An autumn wind blows by, and the gardens are full of fallen leaves. By now, barely anyone is left in the palace to prepare for the commencement of their journey tomorrow.
Li Yanqiu is sitting inside looking out at the view in the gardens, his mind wandering. Empress Mu Jinzhi has already left with the Mu retinue. The giant palace around him is full of empty halls and feels rather dismal. There’s a bowl of medicine on his desk, already gone cold.
Zheng Yan walks past via the corridor, looking as though he’s never quite awake. He sits down next to Li Yanqiu.
“Let’s drink!” Zheng Yan raises his bottle full of wine at Li Yanqiu. “I drink my wine, you drink your medicine.”4
Li Yanqiu picks up his medicine bowl and bumps it lightly against Zheng Yan’s bottle.
“Did you just come over from the Eastern Palace?” He asks.
“Your Majesty’s darling boy is still in the Eastern Palace, annotating memorials.” Zheng Yan leans back against the edge of the low daybed. “By the look of him I’d like to think he’s a bit like you, and not like the late emperor.”
The Li family founded their empire by military might, and this spirit has passed on through the generations so they’re not all that strict when it comes to etiquette. Li Yanqiu is rather casual in the way he treats his court subjects, but Zheng Yan is special — rather to say the relationship between them is that of an emperor and his subject, they’re more like old friends.
“He doesn’t have my brother’s temperament.” Li Yanqiu sighs and shakes his head. “But he has a good heart. I’m sure he resembles my sister-in-law in that way.”
Zheng Yan thoughtfully turns his gaze up at the blue sky beyond.
Li Yanqiu adds, “I fell asleep for a while earlier, and somehow had a dream about him. He didn’t come on his death anniversary, but he’s come now.”
Zheng Yan doesn’t reply. Absentmindedly, he takes another sip of wine.
“I dreamt that I was on a bridge. I suppose the opposing shore wasn’t even the mortal world anymore, and there was a sheen of moonlight over everything. He said to me, ‘My son’s come home, so it’s about time to relocate the capital. It’s been another year’.”
Zheng Yan has remained silent until now. “Your Majesty, you may want to rethink declaring general amnesty. If you let Feng out, he may just stir up trouble. The Eastern Palace really does need people, and if the late emperor is still around, I wouldn’t be so worried, but the current master of the Eastern Palace is the future lord of the realm. Your Majesty …”
“The general amnesty has already been announced.” Li Yanqiu sighs. “A ruler does not go back on his word. You think you can take it back? As for Feng, Rong’er was the one who requested him specifically. I’m sure you’re well aware of the pros and cons of such an act. Feng was a commanding officer in the Shadow Guard for many years, and even though he committed a crime against my father that landed him on death row, he’s still as loyal to Great Chen as he ever was.”
Zheng Yan shakes his head and heaves a sigh.
“But you’re quite right. As of yet, there aren’t any retainers in the Eastern Palace, and that’s not right. It’s been more than half a year since Rong’er returned, but since he had Wuluohou Mu to look after him and there’s been so many trifles at court, it’s slipped my mind. Once we move we’ll have to take the time to do so.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but,” Zheng Yan drinks and says casually, “the current Eastern Palace always feels like it lacks something.”
"It lacks spirit. Rong’er has great potential, and sitting in that position, he knows what he’s supposed to do. When it comes to reading and annotating memorials on my behalf and reviewing matters of commoners’ welfare, he’s doing an exceedingly admirable job. But he hasn’t realised one thing yet — this is his family’s estate, and he hasn’t been letting himself work on it with a free rein.
“Or, in other words …” Li Yanqiu picks up his medicine bowl, his gaze fixed on his own features in the pitch black decoction as though another familiar face is watching him from the reflection. "He hasn’t started seeing himself as one of the Lis. When he’s settling matters of state and steering the imperial court, he’s still doing it to help me, and not doing it for himself.
“But showing his talent and appearing too sharp is not a good thing, after all.” Li Yanqiu knocks back his medicine in one gulp, so bitter it makes him frown. “Zheng Yan, help me get this done for him. The crown prince still needs attendants; a study partner, for instance. Just recruit them in the guise of looking for retainers.”
Footsteps echo through the corridor, sounding in quite a hurry.
“The crown prince would like to request an audience,” a guard in the outer room announces.
Li Yanqiu raises an eyebrow. Both he and Zheng Yan turn their attention towards the corridor. Cai Yan appears from around the corner with a big smile on his face.
Cai Yan gives him a bow first, and then another person appears behind him — who else but the travel-worn Lang Junxia.
“Wuluohou Mu?” Li Yanqiu says with a frown, “You left without a nary a farewell, and I haven’t even punished you for leaving your post without permission yet. Where on earth did you go?”
“Uncle.” Cai Yan walks over to him and sits down. “Take a look at what he’s brought with him first.”
Lang Junxia takes a glance at Zheng Yan. They’ve never met before, but the other’s reputation precedes him.
“Here you are,” Lang Junxia says.
Zheng Yan gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Here I am.”
Lang Junxia unties the sword from his back and lays it down on the table with both hands. The sword sheath is engraved with a relief of the Mahasthamaprapta riding on the back of a tiger as he cuts down demons; the sword handle is carved out of a giant clam shell, inlaid with a luminous, shimmery sarira.
“Fortunately, I did not fail my mission,” Lang Junxia replies before withdrawing from the room, and stands outside the door to await further orders.
Li Yanqiu puts one hand down on the hilt and pulls the sword out of its sheath, producing a low, resonant hum. The blade is plain and mottled with blood, and a name is carved into the metal: Duanchenyuan.
The morning is graced with brilliant sunshine and gentle breezes; farmers are busy taking in the autumn harvest on the mountain terraces across the way.
Standing outside their inn by the riverbank, Duan Ling yawns, stretches, and asks a server for a bucket to draw water with. After drawing some water he proceeds to boil it so he can make tea for Wu Du, and to change his bandages.
It’s the most peaceful night of sleep he’s had in a year, but Wu Du had tossed and turned the whole night through and didn’t fall asleep ‘til dawn. Not long after he falls asleep, the commotion Duan Ling makes while boiling water has him going from half-dead to shocked sitting upright in an instant. Utterly exhausted, he puts a hand over his forehead, his mind racked with irritation.
“What time is it?” Once those words are out of his mouth he realises how wrong they sound — what kind of subject asks the crown prince the hour? He should have gotten up earlier to wait on him instead, but Duan Ling’s already boiling water, so what else can he do?
“It’s dawn. Are you alright? Not feeling well?”
Wu Du’s eyes are rimmed in red, and he stares at Duan Ling for a little while. “From now on, just leave me with the housework. Even if I don’t … don’t treat you like the crown prince, I should still be the one who takes care of you. That’s what I thought since the day we left Tongguan anyway. And besides, you barely even got to live comfortably for a few days since you’ve been with me …”
Duan Ling knows Wu Du has basically figured things out. “It’s not like any of that matters. If you didn’t know that Cai Yan is an imposter, and you’re his attendant on a trip, would you tell him that too?”
“Of course not. But you’re not like him.”
He poured a pile of words at Wu Du yesterday all in one go, and Duan Ling actually feels a bit embarrassed now that he’s thought about it. Smiling, he says, “Then if … the one Wuluohou Mu brought back was me, and we met under different circumstances, as people in different positions, would you feel that way too?”
Well, Wu Du has never thought about it, but now that Duan Ling’s mentioned it, his head feels even more like it’s been stuffed with a tangled ball of flax. If Duan Ling isn’t the Wang Shan he knows now, and they have to spend time alone with each other, knowing himself and his standoffish attitude, he definitely wouldn’t give his heart and soul to Duan Ling. At most he’d feel sorry for him, and go out of his way to pay more attention to him — of course, that’s under the pretext that the crown prince regards him with sincerity.
He does consider it for a little while, and after that Wu Du can but concede, “Fine,” he says. Finally at ease, he meets Duan Ling’s eyes, and they both smile.
“The whole night I was thinking about your problem,” Wu Du says.
Duan Ling unties the bandages on Wu Du’s hand and reapplies the ointment. Without raising his head, he makes an affirmative hum.
“There is someone … I can take you to meet him. His name is Xie You, and as long as he’s certain that you are who you are, he’ll protect you even at the cost of his own life.”
“I know of him. He’s loyal to the rightful emperor, isn’t he? But the rightful emperor right now is my fourth uncle.”
Wu Du’s eyebrows draw slightly together, and he stops talking.
“As long as Uncle acknowledges me, Cai Yan won’t pose any threat at all.”
Wu Du nods. “There is one more thing. It’s still far too dangerous for you to show yourself. I’ve always had the suspicion that Chancellor Mu is going to do something about that imposter and His Majesty — the poison I was working on before? He never told me who he wanted it for. It may just be for the imposter.”
Duan Ling finishes re-bandaging Wu Du, and Wu Du tries to get down, so Duan Ling helps him put on his boots. Wu Du watches Duan Ling’s every move, and Duan Ling is waiting on him like it’s matter of course, then he puts one of Wu Du’s arms over his shoulder so he can support him as he walks outside.
The autumn sky is clear and bright, and the air is fresh and clean on the plains. Duan Ling washes his face, crouching by the river, and says to Wu Du, “Worse case scenario, Uncle doesn’t believe that I am who I am and locks me away. And we don’t have any evidence either … Then we’re totally done for.”
“That’s true.” Now that Wu Du thinks about it, that is extremely risky. Too much depends on luck.
“Best case scenario, Uncle does acknowledge my identity and kills both Wuluohou Mu and Cai Yan. But then what?”
Then what he’ll have to face is the violent power vortex within the imperial court — Mu Kuangda will very likely use every possible means to poison him to death. Of course, with Wu Du around, he doesn’t have to worry about anyone trying to poison him, but what is Mu Kuangda trying to accomplish anyway?
“And then,” Wu Du says solemnly to Duan Ling, “I’m going to tell you one thing. But you mustn’t let slip that you know about this in front of Mu Kuangda, otherwise some people are going to want the both of us dead … Aiya, but I suppose that doesn’t really matter.”
Duan Ling stares at him silently and a bit shocked.
“But if it really is exposed, they’ll come to kill you. Then all we can do is take a risk and try to fight our way out and poison the whole lot of them to death.”
“Um … Please tell me what it’s all about first.”
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It’s called a general amnesty, which sounds like everyone under the heavens is given amnesty, but in reality it’s usually a couple dozen people, and it’s not complete amnesty. Maybe those sentenced to death would be exiled instead and so on; also, people who committed things like treason cannot be pardoned. ↩︎
In case you’re wondering, this is extremely rude. Actually, sitting with your back to the emperor is something you can lose your head over; I’m not sure what the punishment would be if you put your back to the crown prince. Cai Yan also never told him to sit down. Zheng Yan gets away with everything because he’s essentially Li Yanqiu’s only real friend. ↩︎
This isn’t a typo, Zheng Yan just be “I” and “you” at the emperor all the time like that. (He’s like this at Cai Yan too, most of the time.) ↩︎
