Joyful Reunion Vol. 2, page 22
Duan Ling chased after the shadow alone, splashing over the small stream ahead of Wu Du. He gripped his bow and looked around.
Across the stream was a dense forest. Something rustled within the trees. Under the mixed bright sunlight and forest shade of the early autumn afternoon, Duan Ling felt as if he was in an unexpectedly languid dream.
“Who’s there?” he called across the stream.
Within the overlapping light and shadow beneath the trees, a man dressed in black assassin’s garb moved slowly and deliberately. The trees blocked Duan Ling’s line of sight; he couldn’t locate his target. The masked man’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was smiling, and he silently threw a stone. It landed with a noisy clatter on the nearby cliff face.
Whirling, Duan Ling pointed his arrow toward the noise. A strong wind blew, and all the trees rustled; the masked assassin took advantage of the sound to escape through the forest.
Duan Ling was creeping toward the cliff when a hand thumped onto his shoulder from behind, and he nearly shrieked aloud.
“I’ve been calling you for ages—didn’t you hear me?! Why’d you run off?” Wu Du, having tracked him into the forest, sounded angry.
He’d shouted “Zhao Rong!” as he chased him across the small stream; his boots were soaked through. Duan Ling, unused to his new name, had entirely missed that Wu Du was calling for him.
“There was someone here,” he said. “A man. I’m sure I saw him.”
“I said, don’t wander off!” Wu Du grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against a tree. “Have you already forgotten about Helan Jie? This person hit Mister Fei with a single arrow from across the stream without revealing himself; what if they’d wanted to kill you?”
“Okay, okay,” Duan Ling said, obediently acknowledging his wrongs.
Wu Du sighed, looking around again. “You scared me.”
Seeing the anxiety written clearly across his face, Duan Ling suddenly felt touched. Wu Du didn’t know his true identity; he hadn’t once thought of using him for anything—he was genuinely worried for him.
“The sound I heard came from over there.” Duan Ling pointed into the depths of the forest.
“If there was someone, he’s long gone. Were you thinking he’d hang around and wait for you to catch him?” Wu Du scoffed.
Maybe you scared him away, Duan Ling thought.
Despite what he’d just said, Wu Du began examining the area. After a moment, he glanced back in confusion. “Come on, why are you just standing there?”
Duan Ling hurried to catch up to Wu Du. He looked around but didn’t see anything amiss. Wu Du bent and picked up a pebble, then looked up at the cliff face in front of him. “A diversion. This pebble is from the stream bank.”
Wu Du being so observant surprised Duan Ling. He would never have noticed that a single rounded pebble lying on the ground differed from the surrounding rocks. Wu Du cleared the vines from the cliff face where Duan Ling had heard the suspicious noise and uncovered a cave with a slight breeze coming from inside it.
“Should we take a look inside?” Wu Du asked.
“Is Mister Fei okay?” Duan Ling asked in return.
“Safe for now. He was only shot in the shoulder.”
“We should go back,” Duan Ling said, but he poked his head into the cave as he spoke. Was this the entrance to the treasure hoard? Would there be booby traps or just a mountain of gold and silver?
“Are you going inside or not?” Wu Du said.
“Maybe not,” Duan Ling hedged, backing away. “I’m not all that interested in money. Let’s go back.”
The pair returned to the rest of their group in the gully. Fei Hongde’s trained reflexes had saved his life. The moment he’d heard the twang of the bow from across the stream, he’d dropped to the ground. Though the arrow came from a mere dozen steps away, the split-second reaction had been enough to save his life.
Wu Du pressed a cloth on Fei Hongde’s shoulder to stop the bleeding as the group rode back toward Tong Pass. Everyone’s thoughts were racing. Upon their arrival, Bian Lingbai was at first shocked, then flew into an unbelievable rage.
“What on earth were you all doing?!” Bian Lingbai hollered, personally lashing the soldiers dozens of times with a discipline whip before he finally calmed down.
Duan Ling didn’t mention the cave entrance to Bian Lingbai, and Wu Du didn’t either.
Fei Hongde, in contrast to the rest of the room, was calm. “General, why are you so angry? Life and death are the will of heaven.”
Bian Lingbai took a moment to look over Fei Hongde’s injuries before pacing around the room. “I must apologize that you sustained such serious injuries because of me. We’ve yet to discover the assassin’s identity—the audacity of him to do this in my domain!”
Though the arrow wound in Fei Hongde’s shoulder wasn’t serious, he’d broken his leg when he tumbled down the hill. Wu Du had set the bone on the way back, but Fei Hongde would be confined to bed for two or three months. Attempting to comfort Bian Lingbai, he said, “General, don’t worry yourself. The approximate location has been confirmed; I’ll have Young Master Zhao return there with some of your men.”
“Should I…send a thousand men to guard the mountain?” Bian Lingbai asked.
“There’s no need,” Duan Ling said. He and Wu Du had re-covered the cave mouth with vines, but he felt it was unlikely to be the treasure’s actual location; otherwise, if the assassin knew about it, he would’ve already taken everything out. No one would turn down so much money. “Uncle, I’ll go look again in a couple days. After we find the treasure, we’ll bring it back to avoid any more trouble.”
“Very well then,” Bian Lingbai said, partly to himself. “That will do.”
Bian Lingbai didn’t ask again about Fei Hongde’s injury, as if he’d forgotten about it. Though he appeared kind, Duan Ling saw that, in truth, he was self-serving. So long as nothing got in the way of his personal interests, he didn’t much care.
When the commander left, only Fei Hongde, Wu Du, and Duan Ling remained in the room. Fei Hongde cast a sly look at Duan Ling.
After a moment’s thought, Duan Ling said, “I’ll prescribe some medicine to heal your muscles and strengthen your bones, if you’re willing to take it.”
“Not bad,” Fei Hongde said. “With that under consideration, I still can’t tell your family’s background.”
Duan Ling didn’t bother with a retort. He handed Wu Du a piece of paper to write out the prescription—it’d be best to avoid any possible suspicion if the sheet was discovered.
“What?” Wu Du asked with a confused glance at Duan Ling.
“I’ll tell you the ingredients, and you write them down,” he said.
“Oh, so you’re ordering me around now?” Wu Du looked Duan Ling pointedly up and down.
“Come on, just write it,” Duan Ling said, pushing a brush over and grinding some ink for him.
“Are you stupid?” Wu Du asked. “Were you planning to have Mister Fei pick his own herbs after this? Make him the medicine and bring it over.”
Duan Ling realized he was right, so they bade Fei Hongde farewell. Fei Hongde smiled as the two young men left the room bickering. Wu Du wrote a prescription, but they started arguing again about which ingredients should or shouldn’t be used.
“You know medicine now?” Wu Du finally snapped. “And how many years have you studied, compared to me?!”
“It’s too strong!” Duan Ling insisted. “Mister Fei is elderly!”
Duan Ling abruptly realized that just as prose resembled its writer, medicine resembled its prescriber. The physician’s temper was often revealed in their prescriptions. Once the thought occurred to him, Duan Ling burst into laughter mid-argument.
A muscle jumped in Wu Du’s jaw. “The conflicting properties of these ingredients are exactly what will serve to strengthen his muscles and bones as he heals. What do you know, anyway? There’s no better physician than your Master Wu.”
“Okay, okay,” Duan Ling relented.
He’d intended to prescribe milder ingredients to help Fei Hongde recuperate over the first few days, but Wu Du wouldn’t budge, so he gave in. Wu Du left to gather the ingredients, and Duan Ling followed after him. The pair were inseparable; even if they’d been arguing, they still couldn’t be parted from one another. Duan Ling was amused despite himself.
The next day, Duan Ling decocted the medicine and brought it to Fei Hongde to drink. When Bian Lingbai came for his usual visit, he found Duan Ling in Wu Du’s company once again.
“Why are you two always together?” he asked.
The assassin you took in wants to skin me, we just haven’t told you yet, thought Duan Ling.
Beside him, Wu Du sneered, “Bian Lingbai, the more often you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, the faster you’ll die. Understand?”
Bian Lingbai snorted. Whenever he wanted to speak with Zhao Rong, he found Wu Du attached to him like sticky candy, impossible to get rid of. It was like he was seeing Zhao Kui’s sinister shadow all over again, an intimidating presence that made him constantly uncomfortable. Fei Hongde and Bian Lingbai exchanged a few words, reviewing the expenses of buying iron weapons from Western Liang as well as the current border defense situation: how many thousands of troops from Xizhou, how many thousands from Yang Pass, and so on. Bian Lingbai was reluctant to say too much in front of Wu Du, but he still spoke, frowning throughout. Duan Ling took silent note of everything, well aware that Fei Hongde was using this method to leak secrets to him.
Halfway through their conversation, a soldier came in with a report.
Bian Lingbai listened and relayed the news to the group. “The bridal party from Western Liang has arrived. I’ll go and receive them; feel free to stay here and chat with Mister Fei. I’ll summon you later when it’s time for a toast at the banquet tonight.”
“All right,” Duan Ling said.
When Bian Lingbai was gone, Fei Hongde gave Duan Ling a meaningful look. “Do you remember it all?” he asked.
Duan Ling had decided there was no point in hiding anything from Fei Hongde anymore. He nodded.
The bridal escort from Western Liang had arrived earlier than expected. The group of seven—five standing, two seated—were glistening with sweat in the humid weather. They inquired after Miss Yao right away, hoping to meet her.
“According to Han customs, you may not see the bride before you escort her away,” Bian Lingbai explained.
The leader of the group was Shang Leguan, the son of Western Liang’s cavalier aide. He said, “I don’t have to see her myself, but can one of my men see her? This is my trusted companion; we’ve been close since we were children.”
He gestured toward one of the seated men. He was dressed in a simple military uniform, as if he was an ordinary guard, but he had a naturally reserved air about him. Bian Lingbai studied this young man. He was aware the Tanguts had different customs from the Han; he could at least allow them a glimpse of Yao Jing from a distance. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.
Shang Leguan spoke a few words to his companion, who nodded and hummed his understanding. The remaining guards, too, glanced at the young man from time to time, as if he was the one in charge.
Bian Lingbai found this strange, but he didn’t pry. “You’ve traveled far, and it’s getting late,” he said. “Shang-gongzi, why don’t you stay tonight in my residence, and we’ll continue making the arrangements tomorrow?”
Shang Leguan looked again at the young man, who gave a small nod. From that alone, Bian Lingbai could guess that the young man’s status was higher than Shang Leguan’s.
“I… I want t-to ask s-something.”
Hearing the young man’s unexpected stutter, Bian Lingbai masked his surprise as best as he could as he replied, “Gongzi, please speak.”
“His name is He Mo,” Shang Leguan said. “His words carry the same weight as mine. It’s like this: Caravans traveling between the north and south at Tong Pass are a great source of information. I’m sure you have your own…subordinates for gathering such intelligence. From the Central Plains to Xichuan, your network is vaster than ours.”
Bian Lingbai nodded, noticing that this He Mo seemed slightly agitated. His lips moved, and everyone fell silent; nobody dared speak over him. Bian Lingbai revised his estimation again: It was clear the young man was of quite high status in Western Liang.
“I want you to help me c-collect information and f-find someone.” He Mo held up a finger for emphasis. He circled it toward everyone in the hall and said, “Have them wait outside.”
Confused, Bian Lingbai dismissed his people. Only Shang Leguan stayed behind, closing the door to the hall firmly. Bian Lingbai could see this was no simple matter.
“Please, speak freely,” he said at once.
“You m-must keep this a s-secret,” the young man said.
“Of course.”
“H-he is a H-Han named Duan Ling. Do you know him?” The young man met Bian Lingbai’s gaze unwaveringly as he spoke.
“Duan Ling?” Bian Lingbai gave it some thought and responded, “No. Why are you looking for him, He-gongzi?”
“I-if you find him…” He Mo said. “Three hundred yi of gold. As thanks. One hundred yi from m-me.”
Bian Lingbai was struck speechless at the sum.
“O-one hundred yi f-from a second person.” He Mo glanced at Shang Leguan, who nodded again. “And o-one hundred yi from a th-third. Th-three hundred total.”
One hundred yi of gold? One yi of gold was twenty-four taels. One hundred yi of gold—that was two thousand four hundred gold taels, and three hundred yi would make seven thousand two hundred taels… He was offering four hundred fifty catties of pure gold.
Since the fall of Shangzi, Southern Chen had been required to pay eight thousand taels of gold in tribute to the Liao Empire each year. He Mo had just offered Bian Lingbai a sum nearly equal to an entire year’s tribute. Bian Lingbai felt rather lightheaded.
“Three hundred yi of gold for his head,” he confirmed.
“What head?!” He Mo roared, slamming his hand on the table and spilling the tea.
Shang Leguan immediately turned to calm him down, and Bian Lingbai hurriedly corrected himself, “Yes! You want him alive, I misunderstood!”
Only then did the young man’s anger subside. He had wielded the power of a young lion in his outburst just then—and suddenly, Bian Lingbai had an idea of who he really was.
Chapter 67
“DO YOU HAVE A PORTRAIT?” Bian Lingbai asked.
“I’ll d-draw you o-one,” He Mo replied.
Three hundred yi of gold! Bian Lingbai would dig three feet deep into the earth bare-handed to find this man—he would turn over the entire land of Great Chen if he had to.
And so the matter was settled. After promising he would deliver a portrait of the man in question, He Mo retired to his rooms.
Duan Ling and Wu Du had been out purchasing medicinal herbs; upon their return, they paused to observe a group of Tangut men unloading sundry things from their caravan.
“Getting a wife sure isn’t easy these days,” Wu Du remarked. “Having to give away boxes and boxes of stuff… A poor bastard like me will never be able to afford one.”
“The Tanguts have plenty of money. Just selling horses would have them set for life,” Duan Ling said. He looked at Wu Du sidelong, feeling a little sour at the prospect of him marrying—as if what belonged to him would be taken away—but he offered a reluctant promise anyway: “When you’re ready to take a wife, I’ll save up the money for you.”
“Tch,” Wu Du snorted in obvious amusement.
After a few more such remarks, the pair went back inside to prepare Fei Hongde’s medicine. As Duan Ling sat outside the door crushing herbs with a mortar and pestle, he could hear Wu Du and Fei Hongde talking inside.
“You two have taken such good care of me, despite my being a stranger. I find myself deeply indebted to you.”
“We’re all but rootless duckweed drifting about in the world,” Wu Du replied. “My master used to say that whenever we’re out in the world, we need no reason to take care of one another.” There was a long pause before Wu Du continued. “Sir, do you have an idea of who the assassin might be?”
Fei Hongde didn’t answer. In the ensuing silence, Duan Ling couldn’t resist stealing a glance inside—only to discover that Fei Hongde was studying him in return.
Bian Lingbai had been hunting for the assassin since the ambush, but Fei Hongde had said almost nothing about the incident since they’d returned. Duan Ling had wondered about this as well—but now that Wu Du had asked the question, he realized it was impossible for someone as observant and learned as Fei Hongde to have no speculations on the matter. Could a personal grudge have been the reason for the attack?
“Was it the Tanguts?” Duan Ling asked.
Upon their return, Duan Ling had examined Fei Hongde’s injuries alongside Wu Du. The wound in his shoulder was the work of a thin, black cast-iron arrow with grooves designed to induce further bleeding, a type mounted bandits from the Western Regions and Tangut territories often used. The culprit might have been a Western Liang assassin; it was entirely plausible for Western Liang to attempt an assassination of Bian Lingbai’s trusted aide as a warning, or provocation. But had it truly been a meticulous political plot, Western Liang surely wouldn’t have employed a one-hit assassin stupid enough to use his own obviously recognizable arrows. Which meant anyone could be the culprit—even Helan Jie.
“My guess is an assassin from Western Liang,” Fei Hongde finally said.
“Could it be someone from the bridal escort?” Duan Ling asked.
Fei Hongde shook his head. “Do you remember the bandits you encountered on the way here?”
Dots began to connect in Duan Ling’s head.
“General Bian is merely carrying out his role as a middleman in this affair,” Fei Hongde elaborated slowly. “Young Mistress Yao’s marriage is part of a long-standing deal between Western Liang and the Yao clan of Huaiyin.”
