The Buddha-Bathing Festival had only just arrived in the fourth month, yet Nanping was already sweltering beneath a blanket of humid heat. A person had only to take a few steps in the street before becoming drenched in sweat.
Wu Kan lounged beneath the corridor on an ice-veined jade chair, lazily waving a bamboo-framed palm fan as he watched the main street through half-lowered eyes.
He made no effort to avoid suspicion. In weather like this, if he did not leave the main doors wide open for ventilation, he feared he would suffocate indoors.
Every so often, a few barefoot children scampered past. Their undershirts were soaked through and clung to their bodies. Colorful thread-woven egg pouches hung from their chests; tender amaranth stems dangled from their mouths, and they clutched freshly shelled fava beans in their hands. Pushing and shoving one another, they crowded around the gates of the residence and poked their heads inside, staring curiously at Wu Kan beneath the corridor.
Wu Kan raised a hand in greeting. Mu Yi carried over a silver jug of chilled scented water in one hand and a bag of roasted soybeans in the other.
First, he stuffed a handful of beans into the children’s hands. Then, taking the gleaming silver jug, he slowly poured the fragrant drink into their upturned, wide-open mouths.
In Nanping, this was called “distributing alms and praying for blessings.”
The sweet, fragrant drink slid down their throats. The children’s eyes curved into smiles as they called out in their clear, childish voices, “Thank you, Young Master!”
Mu Yi tugged at the corners of his mouth, forcing out a somewhat stiff smile.
After returning to Nanping, Wu Kan had kept his promise and cut off the red pills that had sustained the three brothers. At first, they had suffered as though their bodies were being consumed by fire, enduring agony beyond words. It took a full month for the pain to ease somewhat. By the third month, their cravings had disappeared, and after a year, their sparse hair had begun to grow back dark. The ghostly pallor of their faces had also gained a healthy flush. At last, they looked like ordinary people.
They were no longer puppets who knew only how to play go. Slowly, they had even developed joy and sorrow, could sense warmth and cold, and were able to distinguish right from wrong.
Wu Kan had once asked whether they wanted to open a go school and teach the game to earn a living. But all three brothers had shaken their heads, saying that in this lifetime, they never wished to see a go board again.
Wu Kan had thought it a pity, but he did not press them. The Nanping court no longer intended to compete with Grand Qian through the art of go, so there was little use in learning it further.
Now, the three brothers remained at the Wu residence, taking care of odd jobs while exercising every day to loosen and strengthen their limbs, hoping only to recover completely.
Wu Kan now held the post of assistant commissioner in the Regional Military Commission, all thanks to the secret of Jun Dingyuan’s victory that he had brought back from Grand Qian.
Although the spies Nanping had sent had performed poorly and suffered heavy losses, the information Wu Kan had delivered was genuine, so none of the blame could be laid at his door.
Even so, he still occasionally woke from dreams drenched in cold sweat.
He knew perfectly well that the so-called treasure in the tent was nothing more than a bargain he had struck with Wen Zhuo, Chancellor of the Grand Qian Hanlin Academy. Wu Kan had used it to escape with his life, while Wen Zhuo had used it to purge his political enemies.
Though he and Wen Zhuo were separated by a vast distance, the matter remained a hidden danger. A single careless misstep could bring ruin upon his entire household.
Sometimes, Wu Kan even prayed inwardly that Wen Zhuo would die young and take this secret with him to the grave.
He was lost in these thoughts when the steward suddenly entered from outside, leading someone in behind him. He closed the wide-open gates and leaned toward Wu Kan with an air of secrecy.
“My lord, a peddler from the dark passage has come to deliver a letter on someone’s behalf. It bears hanging-cash ink.”
Wu Kan’s eyes flew open. He abruptly sat upright in the jade chair.
The so-called dark passage was a stretch of gray territory along the border between Grand Qian and Nanping.
Though the two nations had been at war for years, and their national enmity and familial hatred could have filled a thousand bamboo slips, private contact between their people had never truly ceased.
Many border inhabitants had relatives on both sides. They were merely two countries divided by a wooden fence.
Unable to support their families through honest farming, these people had taken to less respectable trades. Relying on their ambiguous identities, they disguised themselves as peddlers and hawkers, carrying secret letters and transporting goods for both sides.
The rank-and-file soldiers received a share of the profits and tacitly turned a blind eye, occasionally even offering assistance.
Over time, the interests involved grew larger and larger. Even high-ranking officials could not be bothered to interfere. Only when the two armies truly took up arms would this business temporarily cease.
As for a letter with hanging-cash ink, that was a euphemism. It meant the seal had been made with a mixture of gold leaf, peach gum, and castor oil—materials ordinary people could not afford. The sender was certainly someone of influence in one of the two countries.
Wu Kan was puzzled. He had never had much personal contact with anyone from Grand Qian. Who could possibly have sent him such a letter?
He accepted it and used his fingertip to break the seal. When he pulled out the bamboo paper, he accidentally held it upside down. His eyes first fell upon the elegant little character at the signature—
Zhuo.
Wu Kan felt as though his soul had flown from his body and a malicious ghost had clamped a hand around his throat. His hand trembled, and he flung the letter away with all his strength, his face turning deathly pale.
Sure enough, Wen Zhuo had come to blackmail him!
He had known it all along. That Grand Qian minister, who looked part demon and part immortal, was certainly no good man!
“My lord?” The steward was startled by his reaction.
Mu Yi had just returned with the silver jug. He looked at Wu Kan in confusion.
“Wen Zhuo! Wen Zhuo! It’s that Wen Zhuo!”
At the words “Wen Zhuo,” Mu Yi’s expression shifted slightly. He murmured, repeating the name, “Mr. Wen.”
He knew that the brothers’ peaceful, ordinary lives today were entirely due to the compassion Mr. Wen had shown them when he had seen them off.
Hearing him use the respectful title, Wu Kan gradually calmed down.
With great reluctance, he crooked a finger at the steward and said in a low voice, “Pick it up.”
The steward hurriedly bent down, retrieved the letter, and handed it back. Wu Kan leaned away from it, pinching the bamboo paper between his fingers as though he feared it had been smeared with poison. Narrowing his eyes, he peered at the lines of writing.
The first line read:
“I have recently heard that the frontier has long been pacified, yet Your Honor remains merely an assistant commissioner. Your achievements are great, but your position does not reflect them—a most lamentable state. I have found a path by which you may gain access to His Majesty’s innermost thoughts, and I am willing to pave a road to the heavens for my brother.”
Wu Kan’s eyelids twitched violently. He nearly flung the letter away again.
He had known that the matter of the Spring Terrace Go Tournament was not over. He was absolutely going to be entangled in it!
What good could come of maintaining repeated contact with a powerful minister of an enemy nation?
Yet after swinging his arm three times, he ultimately could not bring himself to let go. The words “a road to the heavens” clung to him like a hook. For some reason, he believed that this man could truly make it happen.
The steward and Mu Yi stared at Wu Kan as he stood there swinging his arm back and forth.
With a dark expression, Wu Kan brought the letter back before his eyes and snorted. “Let’s see what other nonsense he has up his sleeve!”
Unable to control himself, Wu Kan’s gaze swept downward. He read the letter word for word three times. The more he read, the hotter his heart burned. His initial panic slowly gave way to wild elation, until his very blood seemed to boil.
“Now the Tatars have submitted a memorial to Grand Qian, bowed their heads as vassals, set aside their grievances, and sued for peace. They have once again requested a marriage alliance with Princess Zhaoyue, seeking to establish an eternal bond of friendship. If Grand Qian and the Tatars form an alliance, the northern desert will no longer threaten their rear, and the nation’s entire military strength may be moved south. With General Jun stationed on the southern frontier, the flames of war will soon rise again. Nanping will bear the brunt and inevitably suffer the calamity of renewed warfare.
“Nanping has only just suffered defeat. Its morale is shattered, its people displaced, and the common folk are utterly unwilling to open another chapter of war. I have heard that your new emperor has only recently ascended the throne and that the court remains unsettled. The meritorious generals who command troops harbor their own ambitions. Once war begins, the military men may use their accomplishments to coerce the sovereign, and the situation will be difficult to control. If Nanping suffers another defeat, the foundations of the state will be shaken. It will then be driven to desperate measures, secretly dispatching troops to launch surprise attacks. Counterattacks and reprisals will continue for years without end, and no one will know when they might finally cease.
“Only if Grand Qian and Nanping each guard its own borders and maintain a balance of power will the situation best serve Nanping’s new emperor. This provocation was initiated by the Tatars. To resolve the crisis, we must first move against them. The Tatar tribes are divided in their loyalties. Though Aluchi is brave and fierce, the tribes around him appear respectful on the surface while harboring deep resentment within. Nanping is rich in fertile soil and abundant grain—precisely the means by which we may sow discord among the tribes and cause them to fall into chaos of their own accord.”
“Aluchi has a favored concubine who is fond of pearls and jade and has always been vain. She has long been at odds with his principal wife. Nanping can tempt her with generous profits and have her whisper into Aluchi’s ear, driving a wedge between him and his closest confidants. As the old saying goes, ‘Make allies at a distance and attack those nearby.’ The Tatars have refused to establish friendly relations with Nanping and instead thrown in their lot with Grand Qian, making their contempt for Nanping perfectly clear. Nanping can send an envoy to their court to lay out the advantages and disadvantages, display its military might, and cow them into submission.”
“Employ these three strategies—intimidation, inducement, and sowing discord—in tandem, and the alliance between Grand Qian and the Tatars is bound to collapse. If the envoy carries out this mission, he will surely rise swiftly through the ranks, be entrusted with important responsibilities, and have a limitless future ahead of him.”
“My heart has always been indifferent to personal gain. All I seek is peace for the common people and stability for the realm.”
“Wen Zhuo’s words.”
Wu Kan had completely forgotten his prejudice and wariness toward Wen Zhuo. He snatched the official robe draped over the back of the chair, hastily threw it on, and raced toward the imperial palace.
Outside the palace gates, his voice was brimming with barely contained excitement. “Your Majesty, your servant Wu Kan has an urgent matter to report—”
—
Sunlight dappled the Hall of Literary Brilliance. Passing through the glazed tiles, it fell across the memorials spread open on the desk, warming the pages.
Wen Zhuo was accompanying Shen Zheng as he reviewed memorials. A palace eunuch entered carrying a bowl of chilled sweet dessert to refresh and soothe him.
Among the court officials, Wen Zhuo alone was exceptionally particular about sweets. Ever since he had begun visiting the Eastern Palace regularly, the quality of its meals had improved by leaps and bounds. The imperial chefs’ pots and spatulas flew as they worked, and one new delicacy after another emerged from their kitchens.
Of course, all those creations were inspired by the Crown Prince himself.
Wen Zhuo gently stirred the round morsels in the sweet soup with a spoon. The pearl-like balls spun in circles as he asked curiously, “Your Highness, what is this called?”
“Osmanthus persimmon grass jelly,” Shen Zheng replied with a smile.
He had improvised with the ingredients at hand, using agar jelly in place of grass jelly, then adding crushed osmanthus blossoms, honey-preserved persimmon, milk, little glutinous rice balls, and red beans. The result was light and sweet, cool but not icy.
“What a strange name.” Wen Zhuo sighed softly. He then lowered his head, cradled the porcelain bowl in both hands, and took small sips. Before long, he had finished the entire bowl of grass jelly.
“You didn’t even leave me a taste?” Shen Zheng raised an eyebrow.
Wen Zhuo froze, immediately overcome with embarrassment. “I thought… Your Highness had already eaten.”
He hurriedly tilted the bowl to show him. Only a thin layer of sweet soup remained at the bottom. To give Shen Zheng that would be far too shameful.
But Shen Zheng reached out and caught him by the nape, lightly squeezing with his fingertips as he drew him closer bit by bit. In a coaxing voice, he murmured, “We can taste it this way. This way will do.”
The soft sound of lips and teeth entwining rang through the Hall of Literary Brilliance.
After a long while, the two finally parted. Wen Zhuo pressed his slightly swollen lips together, helplessness in his eyes. “Next time Your Highness wants to do something, just say so. There’s no need to find an excuse.”
“There are so many things I want to do. Without an excuse, I’d feel guilty.” Shen Zheng propped one hand against the desk, his brows and eyes full of satisfaction. Only then did he put his thoughts aside and continue reading the reports on the table.
There was encouraging news today. Liu Kangren had found potatoes in the Western Ocean and traded silk and tea for them. He had filled an entire ship, which had now arrived in Mianzhou. All the potato sprouts had been planted in the earth, where they were waiting to take root and grow.
If the new shoots sprouted successfully, he would bring the crop back to the capital and report to the Emperor that his mission to the Western Ocean had been a great success.
One long-standing worry had finally been put to rest. Shen Zheng suddenly said, “Father did not leave his chambers today, nor did he issue an edict agreeing to Princess Zhaoyue’s marriage alliance. How strange.”
Wen Zhuo gave a soft scoff. “His Majesty still retains some affection as a father—though not much. He merely wants to buy the Princess a few more days to prepare.”
“What day is it today?” Shen Zheng asked abruptly.
“The twenty-ninth day of the fourth month.”
Shen Zheng thought for a moment. “It has already been twenty days since your letter reached Wu Kan.”
Wen Zhuo slowly rolled up his sleeves, picked up a book, and said with complete composure, “We’ll see just how quickly Nanping can act.”
The two were absorbed in their respective tasks when hurried footsteps suddenly sounded outside the hall.
Jun Mulan strode in, the the Tatar Jewel at her side, her brows knitted tightly and her expression grave.
“Zheng’er. Director Wen.”
“Mother?” Shen Zheng was faintly taken aback.
Wen Zhuo set down the book and looked up.
Jun Mulan dispensed with all pleasantries. She seized Mingzhu by the wrist and abruptly rolled her sleeve up to the elbow. In a low voice, she said, “Take a look at this.”
As a daughter of the Jun family, she had grown up hearing of the blood feuds between their soldiers and the northern tribes. Her resentment toward the Tatars was therefore difficult to dispel.
Mingzhu was coquettish and bold by nature. She was also so uninhibited that whenever she fixed the palace eunuchs with a direct stare, they would flush and lower their heads, too embarrassed to look up. Jun Mulan had long since reached the limits of her patience.
That very morning, she had intended to send the girl to the Southern Park. Whether she ended up training horses or feeding them, Jun Mulan only wanted her out of sight.
Who would have thought that, just before they departed, her personal maidservant would suddenly sniff the air and mutter, “She really does smell fragrant from head to toe.”
There were all kinds of strange things under heaven, and Jun Mulan had assumed it was simply an unusual gift. She had not thought much of it.
But Mingzhu understood a few words of Han Chinese. When she saw the maidservant’s curiosity, she enthusiastically tugged at her own sleeve and kept pointing at her arms. “Mm, mm!”
Shen Zheng and Wen Zhuo clearly saw a faint patch of raised skin beneath Mingzhu’s wheat-colored arm.
Wen Zhuo’s brows drew together at once.
“It’s not just there.” Jun Mulan released her hand. “I had people examine her. There are quite a few places like this on her body. Someone cut open her skin and buried pieces of this fragrant substance in her flesh, creating the false impression that she naturally exudes fragrance.”
Shen Zheng shot to his feet, fury flashing through his eyes.
He immediately thought of the Bone-Piercing Fragrance from Mianzhou.
Jun Mulan sighed. “If the Tatars had not intended to present a beauty, she would never have come here. Aluchi loves the scent of flowers, and all the women in his tent have had fragrance chips implanted in them. I had thought the Tatars were a rugged people, and that their women could ride across the great desert alongside the men, urging their horses onward. I never imagined they could commit such cruelty as well. It seems this marriage alliance for Princess Zhaoyue truly must not happen.”
Jun Mulan rattled off all this in a stream, but Mingzhu could not understand a word. She merely looked around the hall curiously, her attention wandering.
Wen Zhuo’s heart felt heavy. He, too, thought of Little Zhi’s tragic death. That small piece of ambergris had ultimately proved to be a hopeless comfort, crumbling bit by bit in his palm until it turned to dust.
He calmly said to Jun Mulan, “She is still young and does not yet understand right from wrong. Your Highness should summon a physician at once to remove the fragrance chips from her body. With proper care and guidance from now on, she may yet live a little longer.”
Jun Mulan nodded. “That was precisely my intention.”
Though Mingzhu could not understand what they were saying, she instinctively sensed the goodwill in their eyes.
She stopped looking around and gave them a bright, carefree smile.
