Chapter 25#
Marriage Agreement (Part Two)#
The Great Yu dynasty indeed saw a flourishing of male favor.
Even the late emperor, who was obsessed with Daoist arts and elixirs, appearing ascetic and detached, had in his harem several extremely handsome “refined ministers.” Historians, unashamed, recorded them faithfully.
These beauties were favored in life, and in death, they were taken by the late emperor to be buried alive with him, like so many precious jewels.
As for those who were married openly and properly, there were truly few.
Le Wuya refused: “I won’t exchange.”
Pei Mingqi: “I already know your birth date and time. If you won’t exchange, I’ll do it myself and send the betrothal gifts tomorrow.”
Le Wuya frowned: “General Pei, I truly don’t understand. Why are you so fixated on me?”
To exchange the marriage agreements, Pei Mingqi finally stopped hiding.
He told a story.
He once had an old friend who died young. After death, his body was subjected to lingchi and then discarded on a high ridge, never to be found again.
Everyone said his old friend died a terrible death, but Pei Mingqi was determined to give his old friend a soul that was not masterless, one that could enjoy offerings.
Minister Chang Yuxing of the Ministry of Rites in court was a veteran of two reigns. He had a young son in his old age, but that child did not take the official path; instead, he turned to Daoist cultivation, leaving the mortal world behind, with scarce news of him. All that was known was that this man was exceptionally gifted and had made considerable achievements.
At any rate, he was much more accomplished than the late emperor.
Pei Mingqi wanted to seek help from this Priest Chang.
Although Minister Chang was known for his good temper, Pei Mingqi was, after all, a military official and had little sway among the civil officials.
With the help of the Sixth Prince, Xiang Zhijie, he was able to achieve his goal. After much searching, he found a young Daoist priest surnamed Lu, who, through the arts of spirits and ghosts, successfully collected his old friend’s soul.
But who would have thought that a few days ago, the small red sandalwood incense burner containing his old friend’s soul would shatter.
Le Wuya had known from a young age that this phoenix hated studying, but he never imagined that years later, when telling a story, he’d still be as terrible as ever.
Not only were all the details missing, but even the price he paid was hastily glossed over, with not a word more.
But Le Wuya managed to grasp the gist of it.
The little phoenix had secretly supported him for four whole years.
Four years of waiting, and finally an opportunity came by chance.
—Wenren Yue, whose birth date and time perfectly matched Le Wuya’s, hung himself from a beam.
An unseen force brought Le Wuya to the side of the dying Wenren Yue, who borrowed his body to be reborn into the world.
Le Wuya was certain that the Daoist Lu, who had preserved his soul, truly had some skill.
Furthermore, he must have lied at a crucial point, hiding something from Pei Mingqi.
As the one who had undergone the soul exchange, Le Wuya actually had more information than Pei Mingqi.
He speculated that the Daoist who had summoned his soul was a kind-hearted person.
He had seen through Pei Mingqi’s obsession.
Putting himself in Pei Mingqi’s shoes—if Pei Mingqi knew that someone with the exact same birth date and time as Le Wuya could serve as a vessel for Le Wuya’s body, and that when that person was about to die, Le Wuya’s soul could take their place…
What would Pei Mingqi do?
Regardless, now Pei Mingqi had pursued him, grabbed hold of him, and demanded payment for this unclear debt from the past.
The so-called “marriage” was nothing but Pei Mingqi’s frantic, desperate attempt to find a solution, talking nonsense to keep Le Wuya by his side.
Whether Le Wuya took this opportunity to reveal his identity or pretended to be ignorant, he could use Pei Mingqi to achieve many goals.
He had the skill to charm others into walking through fire for him.
If he wanted to.
But this was not just anyone. This was Pei Mingqi.
In Le Wuya’s past life, the time he spent with the little phoenix was the purest, cleanest, and most carefree.
He couldn’t bear to deceive him. And unfortunately, he was both foolish and devoted, unable to hide a single thought, with joy and anger written all over his face.
He had been reborn into a new life; the past had turned to ashes. He shouldn’t get entangled any further.
Don’t talk about dreams to a fool.
Le Wuya sat cross-legged in stillness and spoke to him earnestly, laying out the pros and cons: “General Pei Fengyou, the Master does not speak of strange forces and spirits. I have read all the sage books, so I shouldn’t be saying this to you. But seeing you so grieved and confused, I still have to say it.”
Pei Mingqi disliked being called “confused.” If it were anyone else, he would have already lashed out with his whip.
He forcibly held back the surging emotions within him, pressing his thin lips into a line: “Go ahead.”
Le Wuya: “What evidence do you have that your old friend’s soul still exists? Perhaps that Daoist saw you were overly grieved and offered you comfort. That little burner might have been nothing more than a soothing remedy.”
“What I said earlier about exchanging marriage agreements was just a joke. My mistake for letting you take it seriously.”
“Your old friend and your wife have both passed away. It’s only human for you to be unable to contain your grief. But I am neither your old friend nor your wife, and I cannot take their place.”
“That’s all I have to say. Everything is in the past. The deceased are gone. Please accept my condolences.”
Seeing Pei Mingqi standing there, staring at him blankly, Le Wuya got up and walked out of the bedroom.
The thin winter sunlight fell upon him, bringing no warmth.
Le Wuya let out a shallow breath. Just as he was about to walk forward, hurried footsteps sounded behind him.
“It’s not over!”
Pei Mingqi chased after him directly, his usual vigor gone, his eyes filled with surging sorrow and pain: “I can’t get over it! Even in death, I can’t get over it!”
Le Wuya put away the faint sadness on his face, turned his head, and feigned curiosity: “What did he do to you, General Pei, that you can’t let him go?”
Pei Mingqi stared straight at him: “He was… good to me.”
“But I was not good to him. I thought everything he did was from his own heart. It wasn’t until he died that I realized he had never been happy at all.”
A faint ache rose in Le Wuya’s eyes, and he turned his face away.
Little phoenix, ah, little phoenix.
While Le Wuya had his back to him, Pei Mingqi’s hand trembled slightly as it pressed down on the hilt of his sword.
He wouldn’t marry him. The path of careful planning was no longer viable.
Then, if he killed him, could he also get the little crow out?
The vice general, upon hearing the messenger’s report that Pei Mingqi had once again carried off the county magistrate in public, felt a headache coming on. He jogged all the way to find them.
Unfortunately, the Chen family mansion was too large. He took many wrong turns and ran a long way before he heard General Pei’s shouts and found the right direction.
When he ran over, he happened to see Magistrate Wenren standing in the courtyard, seemingly intact and unharmed.
He had just breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his young general gripping the hilt of his sword, his expression icy cold.
Good heavens!
A couple of days ago, he had only made a casual remark, and now the young general was really going to cut down Magistrate Wenren!
Without a second thought, the vice general lunged forward and grabbed Le Wuya’s hand: “Magistrate Wenren, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Le Wuya knew the vice general must have heard something, but he didn’t need to expose it: “What is it?”
“We’ve more or less finished the search of the front courtyard. Soon we’ll move to the back courtyard. Would Your Honor like to come to the front and take a look?”
Le Wuya: “Let’s go.”
As he left, Pei Mingqi still stared at his back, lost in thought.
It wasn’t until the vice general, as if possessed, rushed over and grabbed his wrist that Pei Mingqi realized he was still holding the sword hilt. His arm ached from the excessive tension.
Pei Mingqi glared at the vice general: “What are you doing?”
“Me?! What are you doing!” The vice general was naturally loud-voiced, and it was a struggle for him to speak softly; it sounded as if his throat was being squeezed. “Even if his official position is minor, he was still appointed by the court. If you really draw your sword and kill a court-appointed official, do you want to have your entire clan executed?!”
“I wasn’t going to kill him.”
Vice General: …Don’t lie to me!
“I thought about it.” Pei Mingqi saw the look in his eyes and looked away, letting his clenched, aching hand hang by his side. “He’s inside his body. If he gets hurt, it will hurt him too.”
…
The Chen manor was indeed a large establishment. It took thirty army soldiers a full ten hours to finish inventorying and confiscating all the gold, silver, and valuables.
After the vice general had exchanged greetings with Le Wuya, he ordered the soldiers to load the last cart of treasures and seal them for storage.
Le Wuya handed over a small pouch: “Vice General An, thank you and the men for your hard work.”
The vice general initially wanted to refuse, but as soon as he pinched the pouch, he couldn’t help but be surprised.
The amount of money Le Wuya had given was just right—neither too much nor too little—exactly enough for a meal and drinks for thirty-one men, enough for them to feast boisterously.
The silver inside was all in small pieces, clearly a personal gesture from the magistrate, not from public funds.
This sum of money would impose no burden on them should they accept it; to refuse it would seem awkward and pretentious.
Giving gifts in such a thoughtful, fitting, and precise manner was indeed a fine skill.
The vice general broke into a smile: “Very well. Thank you for your kindness, Magistrate Wenren.”
Le Wuya: “Please leave the seals behind. I’ll trouble you to supervise the transport of this cart. The rest of the aftermath can be handled by the yamen runners.”
The yamen runners of Nanting County had watched cartload after cartload of treasures being hauled away, unable to get a hand in, only guarding the perimeter.
After standing around all day without getting a single drop of the spoils, all they could do was sigh in vain.
Seeing the soldiers leave, Le Wuya, holding a hand-warmer, turned his head and looked at the men under his command.
“You’ve had a hard day standing. We’ll have to trouble you a little more,” Le Wuya said calmly. “The soldiers were inevitably a bit rough. There might be some things inside that they didn’t clean out thoroughly. Go and have another sweep. When we get back to the yamen, I’ll treat everyone to a late-night snack.”
He Qingsong and the others’ eyes lit up. They replied, “Yes!!”
They filed into the unsealed Chen manor and indeed found quite a few odds and ends in the corners.
Le Wuya had left them some convenient items that were easy to pocket and turn into cash—things like boxes of loose silver, small bolts of silk, and agate hairpins fit for ladies.
Seeing these scraps left by the magistrate, He Qingsong and the others were almost moved.
Even if paintings, calligraphy, and furniture were valuable, they didn’t know the market, and they didn’t have the guts to openly sell stolen goods. They could only sell them secretly at a low price, which wasn’t worth much.
Large pieces of rosewood furniture were troublesome to move.
These small items, however, were easy to appraise at a glance, easy to smuggle, and easy to sell.
Even if they couldn’t sell them, they could be useful for pleasing their wives at home.
While the yamen runners were busily scavenging, Le Wuya stood by the door with his sleeves tucked into his hands, leaning against the frame, gazing up at the moon, lost in thought.
Pei Mingqi’s soldiers were, after all, Pei Mingqi’s.
If Le Wuya wanted to establish himself for the long term in Nanting County, he needed to pull the yamen runners’ loyalty away from County Magistrate Sun and make them understand who was truly in charge of Nanting County.
He knew well that you can’t make people devoted to you without filling their bellies.
Instead of letting them find ways to squeeze money and exploit others, it was better to teach them a lesson: sticking with him meant having meat to eat.
And it had to be meat he fed them.
If he didn’t give it, they must never take it.
Le Wuya knew how to manipulate people’s hearts. In this regard, he had rarely encountered a worthy opponent in his life.
But he simply didn’t know how to repay a sincere heart.
He sighed sorrowfully at the moon.
Ah, a person can’t be too perfect. They can’t be both good-looking and clever, and deserve to be loved with genuine affection.
If he had all the advantages, how could that be right?
In any case, the Chen manor’s vermilion walls still stood, but its interior had collapsed overnight.
The main residence, the Xiaofu Coal Mine, and more than a dozen shops were all sealed and confiscated by the government.
But this news, so earth-shattering to the people of Nanting County, didn’t even spread beyond the prefecture.
…
Yangshan Palace was the main stronghold of the Jing clan in Shuonan City.
Two spies disguised as travelers knelt on both knees, presenting white cotton paper with a portrait of Le Wuya’s face.
The surroundings were extremely quiet. The palace attendants all moved on tiptoes, holding their breath, as if afraid of disturbing the one above.
The two spies remained silent, their hearts suspended, waiting for the superior to judge them.
After an unknown amount of time, a faint, indifferent praise finally came: “Your drawing is not bad.”
One of the spies let his mind relax and hurriedly replied, “We are merely showing off our meager skills before an expert.”
This was not flattery.
Everyone knew that the Jing clan’s leader, He Lianche, had seized power from horseback, but few knew he was quite skilled in painting.
“How is he?”
The second spy kept his words as concise as possible, not daring to waste a single word: “He is the county magistrate of Nanting. His father was a branch of the Wenren clan of the Jing tribe, who moved to the Jiangzhe region forty-five years ago to engage in trade.”
He Lianche’s fingers brushed over the small mole on the painted figure’s lip, and his response was extremely indifferent: “I see.”
The two men kowtowed to take their leave, then walked out with their backs tensed.
Only after stepping out of the palace did they let out a huge breath, like people finally surfacing after holding their breath underwater.
He Lianche stood up and strode towards his own chambers.
A servant moved to drape a cloak over him, but He Lianche raised a hand. The servant understood his meaning, bowed in trepidation, and dared not approach any further.
He Lianche’s palace was deathly still, with few gold or jade objects, exuding a cold, somber majesty. It didn’t resemble the residence of a clan king, but rather still felt like a general’s mansion.
Holding the painting in his hand, he entered the hall alone. With one hand, he pressed on an eagle-shaped button made of Hetian jade, exerting some force downward.
A hidden door opened silently.
He Lianche lit a whale-oil lamp and stepped into the pitch-black secret chamber.
The cold flame flickered.
Where the light reached were all portraits of Le Wuya.
Deep in thought, admiring flowers, on a boat, riding a horse.
The tall, imposing He Lianche hid his face in the shadows, walked to a stone table, and opened a box.
Inside the box was a collection of white cotton paper—all discarded practice pieces of his.
Without exception, every piece featured a person with a small mole on the lip.
But the person in the box was younger than the ones on the walls.
The edges of some cotton papers were already yellowed, as if they had been stored in the box for a long time.
He made an ice-cold judgment on this new piece of white cotton paper: “A fake.”
With that, he casually stuffed the paper into the box and closed the lid.
After taking a few steps with the lamp, he stopped.
He paused for a moment, then turned back and reopened the box.
Although the two spies’ painting skills were rough, they were unexpectedly adept at capturing the person’s essence.
The look on Le Wuya’s face as he turned back in that instant had been precisely captured by them.
Somehow, such a rough and crude practice piece made He Lianche unable to set it aside.
…
After accepting the profuse thanks from the yamen runners and storing away some items that were inconvenient to dispose of, Le Wuya returned to the yamen.
Before he could step through the door, the tea servant eagerly poked his head out: “Your Honor, there are letters for you!”
A duck knows the river’s warmth first; similarly, the tea servants, who handle welcoming and seeing off guests, are always the first to know the shifting human sentiments within the yamen.
He smiled like a blooming flower: “Two letters! And a parcel with one of them!”
Le Wuya thought it was a letter from home. He exchanged a few pleasantries with the tea servant and took them.
When he looked at them by the lamp, his smile froze.
Could this be Xiao Zhishi’s handwriting?
He hurriedly switched to the next one, and his hanging heart died immediately.
Good. It was Xiang Zhijie’s.
Le Wuya asked: “Who delivered them? When did they arrive?”
“One came in the morning. The parcel and the letter came in the afternoon. Both were delivered by express courier…”
Le Wuya was speechless.
Why did you have to trouble so many people?
You two live across from each other. Couldn’t you have pooled your resources and sent them together?