Chapter 58#
The Diverging Path of Yang Zhu#
Feng Bing closed his eyes for a moment, steadied his mind, and sat down on the couch. Wu Zhiheng then pushed the four cases of books over to him.
“My lord asked me to deliver these to you,” he said.
Feng Bing opened the book case. The books were apocryphal prognostication texts long since banned — the wording was both dull and alarmist. Feng Bing turned the pages slowly, one after another, trying to decipher Pei Dan’s meaning from them, but his brain was nearly rusted shut. Once it began to operate, it even let out a creaking, old-fashioned pain.
Wu Zhiheng said, “My lord also read two lines aloud.”
Feng Bing looked up.
Wu Zhiheng recalled, “It was something like… ‘Not knowing summer, not knowing winter; never seeing father, never seeing brother…’”
“That’s from the Yijing: Shi Lei Mou.” Feng Bing followed the table of contents and found this volume was in the third case. He opened it and turned to that page.
“‘Not knowing summer, not knowing winter; never seeing father, never seeing brother; gazing upon him, dim and indistinct; looking at him, blind and sightless… Those of his kings who can be remonstrated with shall be preserved; those who cannot be moved shall perish.’”
“Yes!” Wu Zhiheng immediately said, “That’s the line.”
Feng Bing gritted his teeth.
— Who is the “king”?
In this city of Chang’an, the only “king” left was the King of Zhao.
Pei Dan had once said to him: “If that day truly comes and you encounter danger, you may go seek out the King of Zhao — he knows what to do. If there is no danger, then it is best that you do not interfere, and simply stay out of it.”
Feng Bing’s expression shifted as he turned page after page, but the words on the page could no longer enter his eyes.
Find the King of Zhao.
Yes — the King of Zhao had been in the capital for years and must have established a firm footing. Since Pei Dan was at odds with His Majesty, perhaps he had grown closer to the King of Zhao.
Those of his kings who can be remonstrated with shall be preserved; those who cannot be moved shall perish.
Feng Bing finished all three volumes. Setting them aside, he noticed that beneath the book case was a soft false bottom. He slid his fingers in and slowly drew out a narrow strip of yellow silk.
Chunshi suddenly gasped, then immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. Looking again at Uncle Wu, he seemed not particularly surprised.
Apart from the dragon pattern subtly embroidered along its edges, this small silk letter looked entirely unremarkable. Just as Feng Bing was about to unfold it, Uncle Wu pressed down his hand and said in a deep voice: “This is what my lord left for you to save your life — whatever you do, do not—”
Feng Bing fell silent. The yellow silk unfolded inch by inch from one end. First he recognized his father’s seal impression and the red-inked circle, then a line of brief and razor-sharp characters — and on every single character was stamped a solemn imperial seal:
“Should the Emperor’s conduct prove unacceptable, you are hereby authorized to command the Six Guards of the North Bureau, and act at your discretion.”
Something fuzzy nudged his foot.
Feng Bing looked down and saw the small gray wild rabbit, its nose twitching as it burrowed into the hem of his trousers. He placed the edict back in its original spot, crouched down, and picked up the little rabbit. The rabbit, however, bared its teeth at him.
Feng Bing gazed at it from close range, a lingering trace of gentleness flickering in his eyes, like fresh snow blown from a flowering tree.
“Chunshi.” He stood up, placed the little rabbit into Chunshi’s arms, and ruffled its ears. “Give everyone in the household a day off. Tell them the Lantern Festival is approaching — go home and be with your families.”
Chunshi took her leave. Feng Bing then turned to Uncle Wu. “The Imperial edict has ordered the seizure of Pei Dan’s old residence and associates. You will most likely end up on the wanted list — better stay hidden here for now.”
Wu Zhiheng nodded in assent, but still uneasy, pressed on: “What do you plan to do, young master?”
Feng Bing said, “I’m going to find the King of Zhao.”
“—But surely, it hasn’t come to that — yet.”
Even as he said such words, Wu Zhiheng felt his throat go dry. But he had to say them, as though Pei Dan had seized his throat — he had to speak this one line on Pei Dan’s behalf: “My lord would rather go to prison and endure torture himself than have you wade into these muddy waters. The King of Zhao, and the generals of the Six Guards of the North Bureau — he has already been in contact with all of them. What matters most to you right now is to stay out of it—”
“What I hate most is staying out of it!” Feng Bing suddenly raised his voice. “He wants to play the hero — if he dies, then he dies! I have my own things I must do; he needn’t trouble himself remembering me until death!”
Wu Zhiheng’s eyelids twitched. “Young master, please don’t keep saying that word — die—”
“Such a mighty thing,” Feng Bing sneered, his fingers crumpling the nearly tattered pages of the apocryphal text, “he left it for me to save my life?! I truly thank him for his benevolent generosity in his addled state.”
Wu Zhiheng had never heard Young Master Li speak so caustically — he almost couldn’t hold his ground. Feng Bing’s features were gentle and warm, but the faint mist that veiled his surface had been pierced, exposing the jagged, treacherous sharpness beneath. Blossoms and snow alike scattered away, leaving nothing but the cold, unrelenting glare of sunlight, without a single ounce of room to spare. Wu Zhiheng suddenly wondered: did my lord know that Young Master Li possessed such an edge?
Feng Bing had Chunshi stay with Uncle Wu. He himself put on a coarse cloth garment and walked empty-handed toward the Mansion of the Ten Kings.
Less than an hour had passed since Pei Dan had received the edict and set off for the Ministry of Justice, but the wind and snow of the endless sky had already buried the old wheel ruts. The pedestrians who had been eagerly watching the spectacle moments ago had dispersed, each rushing about their own business. In the streets and wards, traces of New Year’s festivity still lingered — scraps of red paper dotted the white snow-mud, and the biting wind struck like a blade, driving Feng Bing to clutch his collar tight.
He first went to the Mansion of the Ten Kings in Xingning Ward to look for Feng Yan, but Feng Yan was not home — according to the servants, he had stayed the night in Pingkang Ward. So he turned back south and headed for Pingkang Ward.
It was still early. The brothels and taverns of Pingkang Ward had not even opened yet. He walked into this silent palace of pleasures — gilded balustrades, lanterns inlaid with silver foil, layers upon layers of gauze curtains, now extinguished and drawn shut, all resembling landscapes of some past dynasty. The place the King of Zhao, Li Fengyan, frequented most was called Fangchen Pavilion. The front gate was tightly locked. Feng Bing circled around to the backyard, where, it was said, the King of Zhao had leased the premises to house a rumored kept woman.
Perhaps Feng Yan had received word from a household servant, for he was already waiting at the courtyard gate. Seeing Feng Yan’s face, Feng Bing said nothing more and was ushered inside.
A lightly made-up woman peered out from the inner room, then withdrew. Feng Bing heard her call out in a hushed voice: “Come here — don’t you run off!” Shortly after, the curtain of the inner room was drawn shut.
Feng Yan watched Feng Bing sit down and take a cup of tea before speaking slowly: “You’ve come about Chancellor Pei?”
Feng Bing nodded.
Feng Yan fixed him with a stare. “You trust me that much?”
The fragrance of tea curled upward. The two brothers’ gazes met in midair. Feng Bing’s expression was perfectly composed, his lashes lowered as he said lightly: “It’s Pei Dan who trusts you. He said that if trouble comes, I could come find you.”
Li Fengyan smiled faintly. “Even though five years ago I abandoned you and fled alone to Mount Li?”
“Of the four of us, you are the only one who still has a living mother.” Feng Bing said evenly. “The Zhou family of Runan is no minor clan, after all. You are cautious and guarded, never stepping forward in any matter — that is why you have survived intact to this day.”
“Besides my consort mother—” Li Fengyan paused. “I actually…” His expression grew murky, difficult for Feng Bing to read. He still covered by standing up and pacing twice before continuing: “During the Mount Li hunt, Chancellor Pei had already made his arrangements — did you know he had men in the Divine Strategy Army? When His Majesty replaced the Divine Strategy Army Colonel, we already sensed alarm. Perhaps His Majesty also caught wind of something, so he moved to strip him of his post upon returning from Mount Li. But it hasn’t even been many days, and His Majesty can’t sit still again.”
Li Fengyan’s wording made Feng Bing slightly uncomfortable, and he shifted at the table. “We.” he thought. Since when had Pei Dan and Third Brother become “we”? And him — was he merely an existence who held Pei Dan’s gift to “save his life” and was best left to “stay out of it”?
Yet Li Fengyan seemed to see right through his thoughts. After a moment of silence, he spoke slowly: “My relationship with Chancellor Pei is actually—”
“Ah, ah!” A hurried, hushed voice rang out. A little boy emerged from beneath the curtain of the inner room, and the lightly made-up woman hurried anxiously after him. “His Highness is in a meeting — don’t go bother His Highness!”
But the child wouldn’t listen. Using both hands and feet, he scrambled to climb onto Li Fengyan’s lap. Li Fengyan himself was startled and nearly cried out “Oh, ancestors (heavens)!” He picked the child up, but the child kept kicking with both legs and reached out to grab at Li Fengyan’s hair. The woman made as if to scold the child, but he only laughed more mischievously, burrowing into Fengyan’s embrace—
Li Fengyan dodged the child’s kicks and blows in a rather undignified manner, his earlier composure completely gone. His gaze swept past Feng Bing, and with a sudden flash of wit: “A’Chuan, look — this is Fourth Uncle! Say ‘Fourth Uncle’!”
Feng Bing was thoroughly frozen.
After a flurry of clumsy activity, everyone sat down again.
The child called A’Chuan did indeed call out “Fourth Uncle.” Afterward, the woman finally found a small wooden horse toy for him, drawing away his entire attention. She knelt beside Fengyan, sleeves folded back as she poured tea. Feng Bing noticed her delicate features and dignified bearing, and the way she interacted with Third Brother appeared completely natural — he had already formed a tentative judgment in his heart.
“Pei Dan… he already knew, didn’t he?” Feng Bing said in a low voice.
Li Fengyan did not deny it.
Feng Bing took another sip of tea. Across from him was a happy family of three — no ornate makeup or fine silks, no gold or jade embellishments — just casually drinking tea, eating pastries, watching a child play with a wooden horse. But this ordinary scene, it seemed, had not appeared in Feng Bing’s life for a very long time.
This child was at least three years old already.
His Third Brother appeared cautious, gentle, smooth, and sincere — but truly, he was by no means a simple figure.
That Pei Dan had turned to the King of Zhao was most likely because he knew the King of Zhao had liabilities but also hope.
“To be honest, Pei Dan and I aren’t the kind of friends who would risk our lives for each other. We simply take what we need from each other and each have our own calculations.” Li Fengyan paused, then said in a deep voice: “The fact that he sent you to find me means he truly trusts me — and I will not go back on my word.”
Rest day tomorrow~