Chapter 15#
The Fragrance#
But Yuchi Liang had no one to hand over.
Bald Pate returned home, and Kong Xiaoquan—now he should be called Yuchi Lingze. Yuchi Lingze helped him change his robes. His mind distant and dazed, he suddenly asked: “That day when the Eastern Palace guards were being cleared out, you were right beside that Sha Sanqing. He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Yuchi Lingze’s face was mottled with purple-black bruises. He nodded in silence.
Yuchi Liang changed into casual clothes, swung his arm back, and delivered a sharp slap across Yuchi Lingze’s face. Bald Pate was a powerfully built man, and the force of the blow nearly knocked Yuchi Lingze off his feet.
“I just taught you the rules yesterday,” Yuchi Liang said, straightening his sleeves as though it were nothing out of the ordinary. “As my son, you are not to be so cowering and submissive. How many more beatings will it take before you learn?”
Yuchi Lingze’s expression was near abject. Over these past three months, he didn’t know how many slaps Yuchi Liang had dealt him. So at this moment, he fought back his tears and answered with a thick nasal tone: “I’m sorry, A’ye.”
“You’re sorry,” Yuchi Liang looked at him. “Stand up straight.”
Yuchi Lingze closed his eyes, then opened them again. He stood squarely before Yuchi Liang, and another resounding slap cracked across his face. This time he was prepared, so his body didn’t sway. He had to keep his eyes on Yuchi Liang, and he was not allowed to let the tears fall—otherwise it wouldn’t stop at just these two.
“Don’t just say sorry to me. Say something useful,” Yuchi Liang said, rapping the back of Yuchi Lingze’s skull with his knuckles. “Xiaoquan, Xiaoquan—when will you ever get smarter? A’ye dragged you back from that pile of rotting flesh, changed your name and identity, got your registration changed over—because I hoped you’d remold yourself from the marrow of your bones.”
“Your son takes the lesson to heart,” Yuchi Lingze said. “Your son will never forget A’ye’s kindness for as long as he lives.”
“What good is just not forgetting?” Yuchi Liang pressed his hand against the back of Yuchi Lingze’s neck, the picture of a father conversing with his son. “In this old capital, you can’t survive on gratitude alone. When I ask you a question, you must immediately guess what other meaning I’m hiding behind it—otherwise, what’s the point of going out and becoming a Senluo Ghost? Wouldn’t you still be trailing behind others for the rest of your life, forever bowing and scraping, forever groveling with your tail between your legs?”
In his eyes smoldered a simmering resentment—the kind of truth he dared not show anyone during the daytime.
“You told me, when you were a li-nu, those people didn’t even treat you as human. Xiaoquan, this is how the world works. The moment you become someone’s servant or slave, you’re the lowliest, dirtiest mud beneath heaven—anyone can trample on you. You think climbing one level is enough? Above the miscellaneous households and base registers are the military households and tenant farmers; above the military households and tenant farmers are the salt families and peasant farmers; above the salt families and peasant farmers are the great merchants and wealthy tycoons.” Yuchi Liang’s grip tightened; he seized Yuchi Lingze tightly. “And when you finally reach the status of a humble commoner and look up—there are still countless, unnumbered great aristocratic clans above you!
“You have to climb, Xiaoquan—you climb too slowly. Those li-nu and guards are what happens to people like you. With one word from those above, a life can become death. What good is praying to the gods? What good is earning gratitude? When you cried like that that day, only A’ye had the soft heart to care.”
Yuchi Liang lifted Yuchi Lingze’s face. His hawk-like eyes were cold as ice. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry at a time like this. Tears should be your weapon. Xiaoquan, Lingze—don’t blame A’ye for being too harsh on you. This world devours people. If I don’t teach you this way, how will you ever manage in the future?”
Yuchi Lingze nodded. He nodded again and again, letting Yuchi Liang wipe his tears clean.
“Good. Now go change your clothes and tidy yourself up,” Yuchi Liang released him. “A’ye is taking you out to meet someone.”
Yuchi Lingze changed into casual clothes. He didn’t apply medicine to the handprints on his face—they’d fade in a few days on their own. He boarded the ox-cart with Yuchi Liang, his heart full of apprehension. But he had been learning the rules very well these past few months; before Yuchi Liang he knelt upright and proper, not daring to look around or ask questions.
The cart entered the streets. Beyond the curtains, the clamor of voices was deafening; through the layers of gauze shadows, the banners of wine houses and workshops stood in dense rows on every side.
“This is Yumian Avenue in the old capital.” Perhaps out of guilt, or for other reasons, Yuchi Liang leaned over and lifted the curtain for Yuchi Lingze. “Look—from this street onward, including every lit-up district, it’s all Yumian’s domain. Nine out of ten outsiders who come to the old capital do so to witness Yumian’s splendor.”
Yuchi Lingze was dazed by the dazzling nighttime scenery. After a moment, he asked shrewdly: “A’ye, why is this place called Yumian?”
“Because their head once said: ‘When mortals enter this realm, it is as though they tread among immortal dust. When gods enter this realm, it is as though rain falls, enchanted in slumber.’” Yuchi Liang smiled as he spoke. “He meant that even a celestial deity who comes here would be intoxicated, just like rain coming down—lost in bliss.”
Yuchi Lingze’s expression turned slightly vacant. Yuchi Liang was very satisfied. Just then, the ox-cart arrived at its stop. He led Yuchi Lingze down and, before entering the wine house, asked the page boy waiting at the door: “Has my distinguished guest arrived?”
The page boy bowed beneath the colored-glass lantern: “The honored guest arrived some time ago.”
Yuchi Liang nodded. Guided by the page boy, they passed through the central courtyard. The private room had already been prepared. Yuchi Liang removed his shoes at the gallery and called out with a laugh first: “Lord Marquis—does this place suit your taste?”
The honored guest he had invited to tonight’s banquet was none other than Mi Jin.
Longshan knelt in casual robes at the door, standing guard. Mi Jin sat in his usual deep robes at the side of the inner chamber. Hearing the voice, he turned his head slightly: “It’s passable enough. But the General has been stationed in the old capital so long—truly a man of remarkable depth. To think you can still afford a spread like this.”
“Ah, I’m barely keeping up appearances!” Yuchi Liang arrived at the door, leading Yuchi Lingze to bow properly and prostrate themselves on the ground. “Your humble servant pays respects to Your Highness and to the Lord Marquis.”
It turned out that seated above Mi Jin was Prince Fucheng, Lu Guanjie.
Lu Guanjie held a bowl of hot curds in one hand. Seeing Yuchi Liang perform such a grand courtesy, he hastily said: “Get up, get up! At court I can understand you being so strict with rules, but at a private banquet must you be so stiff? Yuchi Liang—if you keep this up, I’m leaving.”
Yuchi Liang did not move. Keeping his head bowed, he said: “Your humble servant has taken the liberty of hosting a banquet tonight, firstly to welcome Your Highness and dust off your travels, and secondly to apologize and make amends to the Lord Marquis!”
“That’s far too serious a thing to say.” Mi Jin lifted the lid off his bowl of hot curds, saying with a light chuckle: “I’m nothing but a dispossessed noble with no stipend—what right have I to hold the General accountable?”
“The Lord Marquis is a scion of the Bright King and enjoys the Supreme One’s deepest favor. How could anyone call him ‘dispossessed’?” Yuchi Liang’s words rang with sincerity. “Moreover, your humble servant has heard it said: ‘Birds of the same wing flock together; beasts of the same stride travel in pairs[1].’ Though the Lord Marquis resides far away in Ayuo City, he and Your Highness share a kindred spirit. This must be the work of the worthy drawing near one another, of gentlemen finding affinity.”
He was always so silver-tongued. He said not one word about this uncle-and-nephew pair having conspired to set him up. He used only ‘kindred spirit’ as his argument, conveying nothing but his desire for reconciliation.
Mi Jin had long anticipated that Yuchi Liang would come crawling to beg for mercy. There was no other reason—the horses were far too expensive, and no matter how Bald Pate smashed pots and sold off his iron, he could never make up the missing sum. But from the time they had left the palace to this very moment, only a few hours had passed, and Yuchi Liang could already swallow such humiliation and endure such disgrace. This was going to make Mi Jin look at him in a new light.
“He wants to apologize,” Lu Guanjie turned to Mi Jin. “Naga—show him some mercy. There are many things he truly couldn’t have helped.”
He was advising Mi Jin not to push Yuchi Liang too hard. Since they had failed to kill Yuchi Liang today, they would have to deal with him in the future.
“I can be magnanimous toward General Yuchi—the Supreme One has decreed it, and you must comply.” Mi Jin drank his curds, not a trace of malice visible in his brow or eyes. “But as for this matter of apology—sincerity has always been what’s judged. I wonder if the General has brought the ‘sincerity’ I asked for?”
Yuchi Liang was silent for a moment, then turned his head. “Xiaoquan, come here.”
“I told you long ago,” Mi Jin didn’t even glance at them. “I want Sha Que.”
“Xiaoquan, don’t be afraid.” Yuchi Liang lay prostrate, coaxing him gently. “Tell the Lord Marquis—inside the palace gate that day, what happened to Brother Sha?”
Yuchi Lingze endured Mi Jin’s gaze, sweat pouring down him like rain. He kowtowed in panic, and after a long silence managed to speak: “That day… the palace gates were sealed. I watched as Brother Sha… he… he was surrounded. Those long blades stabbed into his abdomen… By the time he fell to his knees on the ground, he was spent. And then… and then someone pierced him through the heart from behind…”
“Your humble servant has failed the Lord Marquis’s trust.” Yuchi Liang did not raise his head. He remained flat on the ground and immediately picked up where Yuchi Lingze had left off. “The Lord Marquis entrusted those two escorting guards to your humble servant. Your humble servant should have fought to the death to protect their lives. However, the Supreme One’s edict came too fast. Your humble servant exhausted every effort just to get Xiaoquan out of the siege. As for that Sha—”
The bowl of hot curds shattered on the floor. Before Yuchi Liang could finish, his collar was yanked up abruptly—yanked up. Mi Jin stared at him, eyes pressing close, voice cold as a blade: “Did you not understand my words?”
Yuchi Liang gently closed his fingers around Mi Jin’s wrist. He regarded this cornered beast. This was Miluo’s son—but so what? Today, he simply had no one to hand over. He watched the changes in Mi Jin’s expression. There was a pain in there, surging outward from Mi Jin’s chest and rising once more from those eyes so hauntingly reminiscent of Miluo’s.
Why did Sha Que have to die?
Because of you. Yuchi Liang held Mi Jin’s gaze, and beneath his expression of terror, his eyes answered Mi Jin this way. Because you’re useless.
Who can you blame? You thought that Eastern Palace waist tag would save his life? Mi Jin, you truly are a piece of trash. You killed your own father for glory—even if you carry the most illustrious surname under heaven, what of it? You couldn’t even protect a single Tianxingfu soldier. Look at you—just look at you!
Yuchi Liang was nearly laughing aloud. He knew how to strike at the heart. Tonight was both an apology and revenge. If they dared set a trap with his head as the stepping stone, then he dared to tear out Mi Jin’s heart. Nothing could be more satisfying than this moment!
“The Lord Marquis’s words, your humble servant—”
Yuchi Liang’s upper body toppled sideways. This was Mi Jin’s doing. He crashed to the floor, his vision swimming. In the brief moment he shook his head, he could barely believe it—this was the old capital, after all! But the page boys and servants outside all cried out in alarm. Mi Jin hauled him up, and another punch landed.
A vase toppled over at the side. Yuchi Lingze was frantic—he wanted to shield Yuchi Liang, but couldn’t budge Mi Jin by even a fraction. Mi Jin hammered with his fists. Yuchi Liang’s nose broke; blood filled his mouth and nose. He struggled and shouted: “Lord—Lord!”
“Naga!” Lu Guanjie rushed over to restrain him while simultaneously calling to Longshan: “Restrain your master at once!”
Mi Jin wanted to kill Yuchi Liang—he was going to kill Yuchi Liang right now! That rage had burned across nearly his entire body; his hands were slick with blood.
Yuchi Liang spat out teeth, and a sudden wave of terror seized him—for he could see those patterns crawling up from Mi Jin’s neck. He shook his head violently, thinking of Dachi Mountain, thinking of Milinan—but Mi Jin seized him again. He was smashed to the ground, his face distorted. Yuchi Liang began scrambling forward on all fours: “It’s acting up—it’s acting up!”
Longshan had wanted to let Mi Jin vent his fury, but when he saw the snake-scale patterns too, he panicked. He crawled forward on his knees and seized Mi Jin’s arm. “Lord Marquis! Lord Marquis! Don’t be angry…”
Mi Jin was gasping, his body half-crooked like a bow, those eyes nearly devoid of reason. His face stung—perhaps Yuchi Liang’s blood had splashed onto him. In that uncontrollable fury, he wanted to tear Yuchi Liang to shreds. The table rolled. Shards of the broken curd bowl were pressed beneath his knees. Then he felt a sudden, intense wave of hatred.
He hated himself. His rage proved only that Yuchi Liang hadn’t been wrong—he was useless.
Longshan pulled the long chain from Mi Jin’s sleeve and looped it around his half-body. The celestial beads spun like eyeballs, and the rows of colored-glass fire-beads flared up as if suddenly ignited. Longshan yanked the chain hard and kicked Yuchi Liang viciously. “Get out of here—do you want to die?!”
Yuchi Lingze dragged Yuchi Liang out. Lu Guanjie stepped back two paces as well, surveyed the surroundings, and immediately issued orders: “Clear the room. Let no one remain. Seal the door—no one enters! Someone, go fetch—”
He stopped abruptly. Tonight’s banquet already violated proper regulations. It wasn’t even a new moon. If Mi Jin flared up like this, what if it alarmed Milinan? In an instant, Lu Guanjie had already considered several possible outcomes.
Mi Jin had been allowed out tonight—that could only be with Milinan’s tacit approval. The Supreme One wanted Mi Jin and Yuchi Liang to shake hands and make peace. As the mediator, Lu Guanjie absolutely could not let them fall into conflict again. If things truly went wrong later, it would be he—as the uncle—who had failed to mediate properly!
“Fetch no one. Watch the main gate. Let no one disturb the Lord Marquis’s rest.” Lu Guanjie swept his gaze across the assembly. “The Lord Marquis and General Yuchi were drinking and roughhousing tonight. You served them well, and I will reward you handsomely—but tomorrow morning, I do not want to hear a single word of gossip out there that shouldn’t be heard!”
The page boys all prostrated themselves and assented.
“Longshan—help me drag your master inside.” Lu Guanjie finished, then looked at Yuchi Liang. “The Lord Marquis was drunk tonight. And you—drunk as well! Hurry up and withdraw. Think carefully about how you’ll explain yourself to the Supreme One tomorrow morning!”
Yuchi Liang spat out another tooth. He was barely recognizable as human. Supported by Yuchi Lingze, he limped away.
Lu Guanjie and Longshan combined their strength to bring Mi Jin inside. Mi Jin had specks of blood on his face, and wherever it touched, faint traces of scale-patterns appeared. He clutched that long chain, golden flower-petals falling one by one onto the mat.
“Naga,” Lu Guanjie gripped Mi Jin’s shoulders firmly. “Hold fast to your mother’s chain. Listen to your uncle—impatience ruins great plans. Calm your rage quickly!”
They could not stay long, and dared not stay long. When the Mi clan’s condition flared, their temperament became unpredictable. If reason were entirely absent, indiscriminate killing was entirely possible. So most of the time, they had to clear everyone out and let the afflicted recover on their own.
There was no light in the room. Mi Jin knelt half-over, both hands clenched tightly around that long chain. How could one long chain ever be enough? In the past, when his condition flared, his mother would surround him with countless colored-glass fire-beads. As a child, he would kneel on the ground just like this, listening to his mother sing to him.
In those days, countless golden flowers had surrounded Mi Jin. The celestial beads chimed softly between his fingers, and the wind from Xiangling Plains would carry the scent of dry grass. Miluo would be across the pool, beckoning him into the water with a hand drum or a wooden lotus harp.
Mi Jin thought of Sha Que. The one who had soothed him before was that pool of water. Now he wanted Sha Que—so long as he touched Sha Que, he could feel a wave of relief flowing through him like water. That was why he had held Sha Que that night.
He didn’t know where Sha Que had come from, nor did he truly know who Sha Que was. But that night in the palace chamber, he had regained his senses only because he had pinned Sha Que down. When Sha Que patted his cheeks, he smelled a faint trace of fragrance hidden beneath the blood and grime—and it was that fragrance that had caught hold of his consciousness, drawing him back from the chaos into the world of the living.
Sha Sanqing had once pressed close to Mi Jin’s ear and called him Mi Wuye. Because of those words—Mi Wuye—Mi Jin had not wanted Sha Que to die.
The long chain chimed softly. The golden flowers were suddenly lifted up.
“Mi Wuye,” that voice murmured again at Mi Jin’s ear, so very, very softly, “are you thinking of me?”
Mi Jin’s head snapped up. The long chain tugged. Sha Que’s eyes—mist-veiled and rain-laden—were right before him, close as breath. Sanqing pressed a celestial bead against Mi Jin’s scale-patterns. Pale fingertips behind the bead once again carried that lingering, ethereal fragrance back to him.