Chapter 67#

Unclear: Xiao Pei in Enzhou (8)#

Pei Xiting and Yuan Fang exchanged mutual praise as they walked over to the three men. Hui Dou, his face pale, stared at Pei Xiting and said, “So Clerk Pei already knew…”

Pei Xiting clasped his hands in salute to Zong Rui, then turned his gaze to Hui Dou. “There are no walls that don’t leak wind in this world.”

Hui Dou clutched his chest but said nothing.

Pei Xiting didn’t look at him again. He addressed Zong Rui, “This is Your Highness’s family matter. I didn’t dare decide on my own, so I spared his life for you to handle.”

Zong Rui looked at Hui Dou. “Do you have nothing to say to me?”

Hui Dou countered with a question, “Do you know why I did this?”

“I do. Three years ago, your brother was sentenced to death back home for raping and murdering a woman and her husband. You begged me to save him, and I refused. You’ve held a grudge against me ever since.” Besides that incident, Zong Rui felt he had treated Hui Dou well over the years.

Hui Dou gave a bitter smile. “You, Your Highness, are so exalted. It would have been a single word from you, yet you wouldn’t even spare a thought for our years of master-servant bond to save my brother’s life. How heartless you are!”

“Bullshit.” Pei Xiting cast a flat glance at Hui Dou. “Your brother committed a capital crime. If the heir had saved him, he’d be abetting evil. What then? Once out, he’d rape and murder a second, third pair of innocent couples. Who bears the weight of those lives?”

Hui Dou stammered, “You—”

“Y-y-y-y-you what?” Pei Xiting cut him off directly. “You shameless, heartless, ungrateful thing, and you dare bring up the master-servant bond? Your brother lorded it over folks back home. Do you dare say he didn’t trade on your position as the heir’s close attendant? Before he committed that capital crime, he was living a life of luxury—more opulent and prestigious than the local officials themselves. Wasn’t that because he rode your coattails? If you truly valued the master-servant bond, why didn’t you teach your brother properly? Why didn’t you make him behave like a human being and stop ruining the heir’s reputation day in and day out?”

Pei Xiting’s words made it clear he had already investigated Hui Dou’s background. But the matter was distant in both time and place—such an investigation would not have been easy.

Zong Rui’s gaze flickered, but he remained silent.

“Yes, you found a good position here in the capital. It’s understandable that your family might bask in some reflected glory. But we’re talking about earning a bit of wealth and status. You want to get involved in a murder case and bear no responsibility? On what grounds? You ingrate who remembers slights but not kindness—and you try to guilt-trip me?”

Pei Xiting slapped Hui Dou across the head. Hui Dou, already suffering from sharp chest pain, reeled from the blow and collapsed in a faint.

“Oh,” Yuan Fang applauded in praise, “the power of the Iron Palm is no less formidable.”

Pei Xiting withdrew his offending hand and smiled with feigned modesty.

He turned his head to look at Zong Rui, who had remained unusually silent. “Your Highness, you were right not to save him. On a personal level, what his brother did was beyond human. Saving him would have been abetting evil—once you start, there’s no stopping. On a public level, saving someone might indeed be a single word for you, but there’s always a higher mountain. If you had saved him, you wouldn’t have escaped His Highness the Crown Prince’s notice. At the lightest, you’d be accused of mixing public and private, of having clouded judgment. At the worst… well, there’d be plenty to say.”

“I know. I don’t regret my decision then,” Zong Rui said.

Pei Xiting understood. “Your Highness is just in a complicated mood, given that Hui Dou served you for so long.”

Zong Rui neither confirmed nor denied. “Thank you for this. Pei Xiting, what do you want?”

“I want a promise from you, Your Highness,” Pei Xiting said. “Please protect Qing Lingling. Even if you have nothing more to do with him, keep him safe from bullying, and let him live in wealth and comfort.”

Zong Rui was briefly startled. “That’s all you want?”

Pei Xiting said, “This is important.”

A faint, ambiguous smile played on Zong Rui’s lips. “You care about him a great deal.”

“Friends should be like this. Besides, Lingling did me a kindness. I owe him a debt.” Without Qing Lingling’s help, Pei Xiting would never have entered the Mei residence or met Zong Suiyang. Whether for self-preservation or later personal feelings, he had to remember that kindness and repay it when the time came.

Zong Rui said no more on the matter. He nodded. “Very well, I agree.”

Pei Xiting clasped his hands in thanks, then glanced at Zong An, who lay unconscious nearby. “Fifth Young Master Zong looks quite unwell. We should take him back for treatment as soon as possible.”

Zong Rui turned to look at Zong An, his gaze deep and unreadable, saying nothing.

Just then, an arrow whistled through the air, aimed at Zhang Dazhuang’s throat.

Zhang Dazhuang’s pupils contracted. In that instant, there was no time to dodge. Then, a blur before his eyes—a hand wrapped in black cloth caught the arrow mid-flight.

Yuan Fang snapped the arrow in two in one motion. The shaft scraped an inch through his palm, the arrow’s tip stopping just short of Zhang Dazhuang’s throat.

Zhang Dazhuang swallowed hard as Pei Xiting yanked him aside.

Who would want to shoot Zhang Dazhuang at this moment, to silence him? Pei Xiting didn’t hesitate for a second. “Fuck him!”

Before the words had faded, Yuan Fang hurled the arrow fragments back and vanished from where he stood.

“Your Highness, mount your horse first—”

Before Pei Xiting finished, a group of assassins wearing grass-green “ghillie suits” surged from the road ahead, drawing blades and charging at them.

“You go first.” Zong Rui grabbed Pei Xiting’s arm and swung him behind him like a sledgehammer. He then kicked a nearby assailant, drove his elbow into another’s chest, wrenched away his opponent’s blade, and joined the fray.

Zhang Dazhuang also charged forward. Pei Xiting didn’t hesitate; he turned and ran, pulling a red signal flare from his sleeve and smashing it to the ground as he fled.

The firecracker—laced with some strange substance—erupted with a bang and spewed red smoke. A goshawk streaked overhead, swooping past Pei Xiting’s crown.

Pei Xiting sprinted full tilt, then suddenly caught sight of something and skidded to a halt. Momentum carried him lurching forward two steps before he steadied himself.

Ahead of him lay two assassins lying in ambush.

When in doubt, talk it out. Pei Xiting frowned slightly. “Who are you people, daring to assassinate the heir of Ningwang?”

The two assassins exchanged a glance, said nothing, and simply struck at Pei Xiting with their swords.

Pei Xiting’s heart stirred. He raised his wrist, but before he could fire his wrist-crossbow, the blade was already at him.

“When the blade swings horizontally, fall backward, kick the opponent’s ankle, then lunge forward and drive the wrist arrow into his throat without mercy—”

Yuan Fang’s guidance rang in his mind. Pei Xiting fell backward to dodge the blade, but before he could even cry out in pain, he kicked out. But damn it—“theory is theory, practice is practice”—his first attempt failed. The kick, though fierce, went wide, sailing between the assassin’s legs.

“…” Pei Xiting was silent.

“…” The assassin was silent too.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Pei Xiting rolled frantically to dodge another downward slash, only to crash into someone’s leg.

Fuck. Pei Xiting’s scalp tingled. He looked up and saw, right in front of his face, a pair of silk-faced black boots.

This was—

Pei Xiting’s eyes snapped upward, meeting Zong Suiyang’s gaze. He froze for a second, then turned to look ahead. The two assassins had already been dispatched, their throats cut, lying dead.

Pei Xiting pressed his lips together, then turned back to glare at that fake face of Zong’s. “You just watched me get beaten!”

His tone was aggrieved, as if he wanted to jump up and bite. Zong Suiyang shook his head slightly. “You haven’t been beaten yet.”

“But I fell! You could say the ground hit me.” Pei Xiting started to get up, but Zong Suiyang reached out, caught him by the waist, and hoisted him to his feet.

Pei Xiting pushed Zong Suiyang away, but his arm was caught and he was pulled close. He huffed, turning his head away to show he didn’t want to engage.

Zong Suiyang watched Pei Xiting’s chin, which was nearly tilted up to the sky, with an air of leisurely composure. “What are you angry about? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted—deliberately risking yourself to lure me out?”

His goal exposed, Pei Xiting’s bravado immediately crumbled. His fierceness died down. “So you’re punishing me?”

Zong Suiyang said nothing.

Pei Xiting was a careful person, but at times particularly reckless—once he got going, he threw caution to the wind. Normally, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. After all, no matter how big a figure Pei Xiting offended or what disaster he caused, he could clean it up. But matters of life and death were entirely different.

Pei Xiting felt his scalp prickle under that gaze. He lowered his arm and obediently slipped behind Zong Suiyang, demurely lowering his eyes. “Your Highness misunderstands me. How could I have known you were here? Why would I do something like that?”

“Is that so?” Zong Suiyang said.

“Of course. After all, Your Highness and I are merely ordinary superiors and subordinates. How would I dare presume to guess Your Highness’s intentions, inflate my own standing in your heart, or indulge in a daydream that ‘His Highness cares about me and will protect me’?” Pei Xiting smiled meekly. “So Your Highness must be misunderstanding me.”

Zong Suiyang lowered his head slightly and glanced at Pei Xiting’s face. “Are you being sarcastic?”

Pei Xiting jerked his head up, beaming at the false-faced man. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m asking you—isn’t it obvious!”

His face changed faster than the weather. His fake smile died more abruptly than a sudden heart attack. With a cold, expressionless face, he turned and walked away.

Zong Suiyang reached out and grabbed Pei Xiting’s collar, holding him in place. “Not pretending at all anymore, are you?”

“This is how I am. If you feel I’ve offended you, if I deserve ten thousand deaths, then just move your noble little finger and crush me right here.” Pei Xiting looked around. “This place has beautiful mountains and clear waters—it’s a lucky spot. Bury—mmph!”

Zong Suiyang clamped a hand over Pei Xiting’s mouth and pulled him close, looking down at those wide eyes. “Reckless words.”

Pei Xiting made muffled noises, suspecting this pervert was trying some suffocation play.

Warm breath spread across the palm, moistening the skin. Zong Suiyang’s breath hitched, and he pressed down a little heavier, but didn’t let go.

He pinched Pei Xiting’s cheek, leaning in slightly, staring at those moist eyes. “If I weren’t here, you’d be in danger. Do you understand?”

This was clearly a scolding session. Pei Xiting blinked, his gaze submissive. He whimpered pitifully a couple of times. When that hateful hand finally eased, he quickly struggled free, stepped back three paces, and rubbed his cheek. “Aren’t you having me followed?”

Did he have him completely figured out? Zong Suiyang squinted slightly. “Maybe I’d withdraw them without your knowledge. Maybe they follow you but don’t protect you. Maybe a thousand possibilities exist that don’t match your expectations and are unfavorable. Matters of life and death—are you going to fool around like this?”

Pei Xiting was taken aback. “I never thought of that.”

Zong Suiyang: “…”

“And if you were just monitoring me, why send such a high-level expert? It’s not like I’d resist.” Pei Xiting, unfazed, didn’t give up his sophistry.

Zong Suiyang got a headache from his nonsense. He stared at Pei Xiting’s shifting eyes for a moment, then, without another word, turned and walked away.

Pei Xiting immediately caught up, sticking close. “There might still be assassins hiding in these mountains. Please protect me, Your Highness. Thank you.”

Zong Suiyang said flatly, “Aren’t you quite capable?”

“I never said that!” Pei Xiting, not bothered by the sarcasm, spoke lightly. “Those two just now were sent specifically to kill me—”

Before he finished, an arrow flew straight toward him. Pei Xiting’s eyes widened, lashes trembling—then blood blossomed before his vision.

Zong Suiyang caught the arrow with his bare hand. The arrowhead scraped across his palm, tearing flesh, but he didn’t even furrow his brow. He hurled the arrow back. A thud echoed from the forest ahead—a heavy object falling.

“Not bad,” Zong Suiyang said. “Seems they really are here to kill you.”

Warmth suddenly covered the back of his hand. The prince turned his head. Pei Xiting, with delicate care, turned over his palm, revealing the bloody mess.

The arrow had sliced off several bits of flesh. It looked painful. Pei Xiting frowned and glared up at him. “You’re not wearing your special gloves. Why did you grab it barehanded?”

Zong Suiyang looked at the scrunched brows and found them rather endearing. “Didn’t you ask me to protect you?”

“I asked you to protect me, not to court death! Couldn’t you have just yanked me out of the way?” Pei Xiting fished two packets of medicinal powder from his sleeve, examined them carefully, opened one, and commanded, “Give me your hand.”

“I have a lot of strength. If I’d yanked you, I might have knocked you silly.” Zong Suiyang spread his palm, lowering his head slightly to enjoy the sight of Pei Xiting sprinkling powder with such caution. “How many things do you carry in that sleeve, anyway?”

“Not that many. Just a handkerchief, a token, a signal tube, and two packets of medicine—one for oral use, one for external application, to stop bleeding. Just in case. Small stuff, doesn’t take up room.” As he spoke, Pei Xiting took out a cloth and carefully bandaged the wound, emphasizing, “This handkerchief is very clean!”

The suddenly rising tone betrayed the sizzling anger in Pei Xiting’s heart. Zong Suiyang’s lips curved almost imperceptibly before he turned and followed to walk beside Pei Xiting.

Pei Xiting walked faster and faster. Zong Suiyang warned, “You’re too far from me. If another arrow comes…”

Before he finished, Pei Xiting looped right back around to Zong Suiyang’s side, face sour, saying nothing.

Zong Suiyang glanced at him without a word. Best not to light that firecracker and burn down the mountain.

They walked a short distance. A corpse lay ahead, an arrow driven through its forehead—one shot, instant kill.

Pei Xiting walked over, kicked it twice, then reached out to search it.

Zong Suiyang didn’t want him touching it. He caught Pei Xiting’s arm in time and pulled him up. “Don’t touch. Someone will clean this up.”

“Oh.” Pei Xiting obeyed, since he wasn’t keen on touching dead bodies anyway.

They returned to the spot where the fight had been. The ground was littered with a dozen or so bodies crisscrossed. Zong Rui, Zhang Dazhuang, and the heir’s horse were nowhere to be seen.

Pei Xiting glanced at Zong Suiyang. Seeing that the other’s face was utterly calm, he knew nothing major had happened here. He asked, “Will you intervene in the Ningwang estate’s affairs?”

“Yes,” Zong Suiyang said.

Makes sense. After all, Zong An hadn’t just schemed against the heir; he had used the matter of suppressing bandits. Pei Xiting walked on with Zong Suiyang. “But that poisoned tea was never truly exposed. There’s no solid evidence.”

Zong Suiyang turned his head to look at Pei Xiting. “Then why didn’t you have Zhang Dazhuang accuse him directly?”

Pei Xiting paused, then smiled. “Your Highness sees everything with your keen eyes; nothing gets past you. You’re right. I suspect Zong An has someone behind him, or rather, an ally.”

For a pampered nobleman who’d always stayed in the capital to quietly learn about the bandits’ grievances in advance… that alone was worth pondering.

“The story of the bandits spread from Enzhou to the capital, painting them as utterly vicious and depraved, needing immediate extermination. Someone had to be fueling that. Then, Su Fan dies suddenly, leaving the Enzhou vice prefect position vacant. Enzhou promptly reports to the capital, and the person sent to Enzhou is most likely the heir.” Pei Xiting said.

“You suspect the Enzhou bandit affair was a trap from the start, set for Fushu?” Though phrased as a question, Zong Suiyang’s tone held no doubt.

“Exactly. And the people on the Enzhou side aren’t just helping Zong An; they want to get rid of the heir too.” Pei Xiting paused. “Because he’s the Ningwang heir. If there’s a change, he’s the more suitable candidate.”

Zong Suiyang looked at Pei Xiting. “When did you figure this out?”

“Actually, I suspected someone was deliberately pushing the Enzhou matter all along. But I wasn’t sure if they wanted to attract the court’s attention to Li Da, or to lure someone to suppress the bandits, or for some other purpose. It wasn’t until last night, when I saw the little imperial grandson, that I understood.” Pei Xiting said. “The Crown Prince Yuanhe died under a cloud. The little grandson has borne the shackles of being a ‘criminal’s son’ ever since. Now that some of Yuanhe’s former aides are working for his cause and coveting the Four Treasures, their ultimate goals can’t be too many.”

Zong Suiyang listened quietly to Pei Xiting’s analysis, a smile flickering in his eyes. “Go on.”

“First, if they believe Yuanhe died unjustly, they want to clear their former master’s name. Second, whether or not he died unjustly, they want revenge for him. Third, they not only want revenge but also want to reclaim everything that belonged to Yuanhe. But since Yuanhe is dead, the little grandson should inherit.” Pei Xiting walked with his hands on his hips, slightly angled toward Zong Suiyang. He thought for a moment. “In my opinion, these old loyalists probably split into two factions.”

“Oh?” Zong Suiyang laughed softly. “Continue.”

The laughter carried appreciation and encouragement. Pei Xiting’s ears suddenly warmed. He coughed. “First: Liao Yuan got Po Yin Lin from Yuan Fang but stayed outside the city until a month later, when he was killed by the Plum Blossom Sleeve Arrow gang. Did he die from internal strife—purged for betraying the organization? Or was it a deal that fell through, and he was double-crossed?”

A carriage waited ahead. Yu Shaoyun sat on the driver’s seat. Seeing the prince, he immediately dismounted and stood at attention.

He spotted the handkerchief-wrapped, bloodstained hand and silently clicked his tongue. Worried but also somewhat gratified.

Good. His prince was learning the art of the martyr play.

Zong Suiyang walked to the carriage. “Get in. We’ll continue inside.”

Pei Xiting feigned modesty. “I’m all dirty.”

“It’s fine. Take off your outer robe, change into something else.” With that, Zong Suiyang stepped on the stirrup and boarded. Pei Xiting followed right behind.

Once they were inside, Yu Shaoyun closed the door, took his seat on the driver’s bench, and drove off.

Pei Xiting didn’t sit immediately. He bent down, shed his outer robe, then settled onto the cushioned seat.

Zong Suiyang reached into a cabinet and found a tulip-yellow robe. His hand paused briefly.

The two summer garments he’d bought earlier in Enzhou had never been given away. Now the weather was cold. Later, passing by Baijin Tailor’s, he’d gone in again and bought two thicker ones. Why had he done it? At the time, unconsciously; afterward, hard to recognize; now, only belatedly understood.

Zong Suiyang collected himself and handed the robe to Pei Xiting. “Try it on. See if it fits.”

Pei Xiting thanked him, opened the robe, and admired the embroidery at the waist. “This tulip is beautifully done. The threads are gorgeous too—it must sparkle in the sunlight.”

Zong Suiyang knew he would like it. “If you like it, put it on. If it doesn’t fit, we’ll find someone to alter it when we’re back in town.”

“Sure.” Pei Xiting untied his belt, slipped into the robe, stood up and smoothed it, then fastened the yellow jade button at the collar and tied his belt again, adjusting it carefully.

He admired himself for a moment, then sat down, arms slightly spread. “Does it look good?”

Zong Suiyang nodded. “Yes. When have you ever looked bad in anything?”

Pei Xiting laughed. “That’s the honest truth, but thank you for the compliment, Your Highness.”

He had never known false modesty. When others praised him, even if his words were humble, his eyes showed no sign of “unworthy.” Zong Suiyang watched Pei Xiting without speaking.

The gaze burned. Pei Xiting looked away slightly and picked up where he’d left off. “Second: At the Bai residence gate in Ningzhou, two groups showed up simultaneously to snatch the scroll draft. One was the Plum Blossom Sleeve Arrow people; the other was that fat-and-skinny duo and their ‘Gate Master.’ As I see it, both groups are after the Four Treasures, but their final goals differ.”

Zong Suiyang still hadn’t withdrawn his gaze, watching Pei Xiting as if listening intently. “How so?”

Pei Xiting’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “The Plum Blossom Sleeve Arrows and the white-clad assassin are in league. They want to kill you or even Empress Qu. But the other group hasn’t made any moves against you so far.”

Zong Suiyang could see Pei Xiting’s discomfort but pretended not to, still watching him. “And what about the Enzhou affair, in your view?”

“The Hundred Beauties Brothel is hostile to you—even murderous. Their whole ‘immortal’ scheme has a big goal: making money. What they do with the money, I’m not sure yet, but I think,” Pei Xiting paused, then continued, “the surviving loyalists of Crown Prince Yuanhe… how many can there still be? The assassins they employ are either kept or hired, which takes a lot of money.”

Zong Suiyang said, “You suspect the missing children are their source for raising assassins?”

“Come to think of it, that’s a real possibility. I hadn’t considered it before. Of course, it’s a cult—if they do live sacrifices, it wouldn’t be surprising either.” Pei Xiting frowned, slightly disturbed.

He looked around, reached out to open a little compartment on the table, found a dish of candies, and set it in front of him, examining it.

“Flower flavors—twelve months, twelve floral scents,” Zong Suiyang said.

“I’ll try one.” Pei Xiting unwrapped a candy and popped the round piece into his mouth, tasting. “Mm, pomegranate.”

Pomegranate.

Pei Xiting thought of that kiss again. His gaze involuntarily drifted to Zong Suiyang’s lips—only to find the other man looking back at him.

Their eyes met, as if kindling a fire. Pei Xiting pressed his lips together and quickly looked away.

If he lost control and lunged for a passionate kiss, would that abstinent, tradition-obsessed, dignified bastard push him out the carriage window?

The air inside the carriage suddenly felt stifling. Zong Suiyang reached out and pushed open half the window, letting light pour in. When he turned his gaze, it landed on Pei Xiting’s profile. In the sunlight, it was like jade—even the fine down on his skin was clear.

Zong Suiyang’s eyes slid from Pei Xiting’s delicate, beautifully shaped nose down to the bit of sugar glaze on his rosy lips.

Pomegranate.

Zong Suiyang remembered that long-lasting kiss, wanted to lick it off, but suppressed the urge.

Pei Xiting felt as if his mouth had been bitten. He smacked his lips and scratched his cheek.

Neither spoke anymore. One endured; the other tensed. The carriage fell silent, filled only with the pomegranate fragrance simmered in honey.

The goshawk landed on the window frame, poking its head in and fluttering its wings.