Chapter 17#

Purpose#

Cha Que countered, “Is there something that gave me away?”

“This establishment is no low-end shop, is it.” Mi Jin ran the chain twice through his hands; the remaining length was still with Cha Que. He turned his head and glanced at the room’s door: “The courtyard is full of servants, and outside there are several of Lu Guanjie’s personal guards standing watch. Someone like you, barely able to sit or stand on your own, no matter how skilled, can’t slip past everyone’s eyes—you must have been here all along. And you overheard our conversation. If you weren’t familiar with this establishment’s layout, how could you hide inside without us noticing?”

“Mi Wuye, you’re really hard to deal with.” Cha Que showed none of the embarrassment of a liar on his face. He placed the remaining length of the chain into Mi Jin’s palm as though offering a reward. “If you really want to call me that, I don’t mind.”

“There aren’t many great merchants in Zhonggu, and even fewer who’ve managed to become the most prominent within the imperial capital,” Mi Jin supported the two golden flowers in his cupped hands, “I’ll be able to find him soon enough.”

“Why go to all that trouble? If you’d like to make his acquaintance, I could introduce you right now.” Though Cha Que’s eyes were in Mi Jin’s shadow, they still seemed to shimmer with light. “Oh—I almost forgot. You’re not free to move about right now, and you certainly can’t form cliques or cultivate private alliances.”

The wretch.

“So you ran off with someone else,” Mi Jin said with a self-deprecating smile. “We’ve known each other longer than anyone else, haven’t we?”

“Longer where?” Cha Que seemed genuinely puzzled, and he answered Mi Jin using Mi Jin’s own earlier words: “We’re not close yet.”

Mi Jin and Cha Que locked eyes. His expression shifted several times—the emotions on that face were truly spectacular: “You came to assassinate me, yet you also helped me escape for my life. We…”

The former crown prince, who had schemed down to the last detail, turned his head away, then immediately turned back to face Cha Que, in utter disbelief: “I even held you in my arms, and you called me Mi Wuye. Sha Sanqing, Cha Que—and we’re still ’not close’? You don’t want to follow me at all. Why—is it just because I wouldn’t let you call me Naga?”

“Why would I want to follow you?” Cha Que tilted his head. “You’ve lost your mind. I was trying to assassinate you from the start.”

“Well, you didn’t kill me,” Mi Jin racked his brain and finally squeezed out one more sentence: “If you want to call me Naga, go ahead.”

“I don’t want to anymore.” Cha Que couldn’t figure him out, and stubbornly refused to grant his wish. “I’m not your family.”

“Sha Sanqing, you really…” Mi Jin grew angry. He felt he had truly lost his mind. After that brief moment of standoff, he suddenly raised his hand slightly: “Then give me back the waist tag.”

“That waist tag has my name carved on it. What use is it if you get it back?” Cha Que, right in front of Mi Jin, hooked it onto his own belt and tucked the flower knot to one side. “It’s not like you can hand it out to someone else.”

Fine, fine.

Mi Jin, seeing Cha Que’s movements, grew even angrier: “What’s wrong with this flower knot? Isn’t it pretty?”

“See for yourself.” Cha Que lowered his head, thoroughly bewildered by the question. “Is this pretty?”

“Sha Sanqing,” Mi Jin called him. “You really did come to take my life tonight.”

Cha Que paid him no mind. So Mi Jin reached out and hooked the flower knot back.

He might still be having an episode, Cha Que thought. His mind isn’t clear.

Mi Jin said, “I’m not having an episode.”

He had been trying to bluff Cha Que, but upon meeting Cha Que’s gaze, he realized he had guessed this wretched little sparrow’s thoughts correctly. Against the faint light from outside, Mi Jin steadied himself for a moment, then another moment—until he was so cold he was practically about to faint from fury—before he finally spoke: “This isn’t Naga. The merchants’ miscellaneous taxes are heavy, and it involves all manner of officials. If you want to be the ‘master’ here, you’ll have to deal with everyone. Cha Que—they’re all people who devour you and leave nothing behind.”

Cha Que observed him with that look again. Mi Jin could feel it. He met Cha Que’s gaze, pushed aside the broken bowl shards beside the mat, and then braced himself on both sides of Cha Que with his hands.

“If you don’t want to leave, then for now I have only one purpose where you’re concerned.” Mi Jin was much taller, but he tilted his head slightly and, with his usual commanding bearing, came right up to Cha Que: “Don’t die.”

Senluo City was shaped like the Hall of Senluo, a place teeming with ghosts and gods. The moment Mi Jin had arrived here, Mi Linan had taught him a lesson that very day. He would never forget it—that helplessness and fury followed him closely, soaking day and night into his flesh and skin. If Cha Que were to peel back his skin, he would certainly hear them howling.

Don’t die.

Cha Que’s mind drifted faintly. Through Mi Jin, he vaguely remembered hearing those words before, but he quickly pulled his awareness back and said to Mi Jin: “That’s hard to say, Mi Wuye. I only have one life left.”

This remark was rich with implication—enough that most would overlook its surface meaning. But Mi Jin was no ordinary person. His gaze was deep, and after an instant of deliberation, he chose not to startle the “sparrow.”

“For now, rather than worrying about me, you’d do better to worry about how to handle Yuchi Liang.” Cha Que picked up a broken bowl shard nearby; traces of curdled milk still clung to it. He brought the shard up to the tip of his nose—because the distance was so close, it looked as though he were bringing it to the tip of Mi Jin’s nose as well: “He’s a surrendered general from Kuntu. Unless it involves treason and rebellion, Mi Linan won’t move against him lightly.”

He was smelling the warm curds.

Mi Jin’s gaze followed Cha Que’s fingertips, all the way to the tip of Cha Que’s nose.

When he caught a scent, he would lean the tip of his nose slightly closer, then raise it ever so gently. The edge of the bowl shard curved into a sharp arc, yet he showed no fear. In one moment, it seemed he had caught a sweetness—and the scent pleased him. Though he didn’t smile immediately, his eyes half-lidded, and there was something like satisfaction in them.

Porcelain is thin, skin is supple, the clay body must be washed and refined, but jade-like bones need no such thing—so Cha Que had to do nothing at all, and everything before him would pale into insignificance.

“The horse administration,” Mi Jin found his voice, “is extremely important to Mi Linan right now.”

“That’s precisely why Mi Linan let Yuchi Liang off lightly today.” Cha Que said: “Yuchi Liang will be reprimanded for two reasons. First, you seized the right moment and, through your father’s light, stirred up something that grieved Mi Linan. Second, Mi Linan needs to employ Lu Guanjie heavily on the outside, so naturally he’ll take Yuchi Liang to task on the inside.”

“Seems he’s treated you well, telling you all this about the old capital.” Mi Jin raised his hand and confiscated the broken bowl shard from Cha Que’s fingertips, tossing it onto the low table. “Not bad. The allegiance of Xianglingyuan hasn’t gone smoothly, and they’ll inevitably need to use troops externally—that’s the reason Mi Linan won’t criticize Lu Guanjie. Today he berated Yuchi Liang over the horse administration; tomorrow he’ll placate Yuchi Liang over the same.”

Cha Que asked, “Does it taste good?”

Mi Jin wanted to be angry again. This person always looked at him like that—just wanting to get close, eyes tilted upward, all sorts of curiosity on his face. He opened his mouth, almost blurted out “stop looking,” but fortunately he was clear-headed enough. If he were still having an episode, he’d surely start spouting nonsense.

Not clear-headed, Mi Jin thought. Spouting nonsense would be normal too.

“Not good to drink,” the former crown prince said with a poor tone. “Don’t bother asking him for some.”

The most prominent merchant in all the land, and he couldn’t even be given a sip of curds. Mi Jin used his knee to push aside the broken bowl shards, fished out an empty bowl from Fucheng Prince’s low table, and scooped out a bit of warm curds from the heated jar a servant had left in the room.

“Only a little.” Mi Jin handed the bowl over. “The main reason Mi Linan sent my father to fight Kuntu in the first place was horses. The native horses of Zhonggu are all Da Zhen horses. In the past, when the Da Zhen Nie clan ruled the land, the entire Dongyuan relied primarily on infantry, with cavalry serving only as a supplementary force for support and harassment. Later, Linghu Ru of the Yuehai Steppe forged the stirrups, and the daughters of Jinwu returned once more to Dongyuan. They joined with the Qi clan of Naga and together created the Jinwu shock cavalry[1] that sweeps all battlefields today.”

Cha Que knew this—Yuan Bocheng had taught him not long ago. He stared at the bowl of warm curds, choosing to be “served” over “take it yourself,” so he lowered his head and bit the rim of the bowl.

“—Your hand isn’t injured, is it?” Mi Jin almost wanted to pinch his chin. “Why are you biting it?”

Cha Que released the rim—this was a signal that Mi Jin could serve him now.

He has a fragrance. Mi Jin lifted the bowl very gently, watching the warm curds slide into Cha Que’s mouth. I owe him. One who owes must repay.

Fine, fine.

The former crown prince took the empty bowl back and held it in front of him. The spot where Cha Que had bitten and held it was slightly damp, and he was instantly struck by that fragrance again. That scent was one he had never smelled before. His mother loved spices so dearly, yet he had never smelled it on her. It was Cha Que’s—it was Cha Que’s own unique scent.

“I heard those twenty thousand Jinwu shock cavalry are unmatched in Dongyuan. Mi Linan couldn’t beat them and was forced to cede the Yuehai Steppe.” Cha Que savored the memory for a moment. “This warm curds doesn’t taste good either.”

Mi Jin felt he was being played. He suspected Cha Que was deliberately toying with him. He set the bowl back on the low table, then turned the spot where Cha Que had bitten away to the opposite side—but that gesture only made it more conspicuous, so he turned it back, facing himself.

“The situation in Naga is entirely different from Zhonggu. Their emperor is decided by the Qi clan. Dongyuan has countless great houses, but among those truly worthy of being called noble families, in the southwest there is only the Qi clan.” Mi Jin brushed away his troubled thoughts. “Zhonggu can’t defeat Naga, and the Jinwu shock cavalry are the biggest reason why. That’s why Mi Linan wanted to expand Zhonggu’s horse pastures so early on. But Zhonggu’s horses simply couldn’t catch up with the Jinwu shock cavalry, so he turned his eyes eastward, attempting to introduce Kuntu’s horse breeds.”

This was one reason this batch of surrendered Kuntu generals had been able to enter the Imperial Guard. Mi Linan needed them not only to breed warhorses but also to teach riding techniques to soldiers of the Mi clan’s own forces. Zhonggu had always been trying to build a cavalry capable of matching the Jinwu shock cavalry. To achieve this goal, Mi Linan had not hesitated to seek peace with Naga.

But the Qi clan of Naga had their own considerations. Their horse pastures spread across the southwest, and their warhorses were all Jinwu’s warhorses. They could give or sell warhorses to Mi Linan as gifts or merchandise, but they would certainly be gelded.

For this reason, Yuchi Liang’s status as a surrendered Kuntu general was actually quite delicate. He had originally been a fierce cavalryman, but now he was stuck in Senluo, having to teach his greatest skills to others. This was also why Cha Que had said that unless it involved treason and rebellion, Mi Linan wouldn’t move against him lightly.

“I think he still has a long way to go before he can breed warhorses,” Cha Que said. “And you beat him up tonight.”

“I didn’t originally,” Mi Jin’s voice lowered slightly, “mean to kill him in one go.”

That’s different from what Yuan Bocheng said. Cha Que had intended his remark as a hook, but Mi Jin was well-versed in such tactics. Moreover, his posture and gaze in this relatively enclosed space added a great deal of invisible pressure to anyone before him.

“Did you come to see me tonight just to worry about how I’d kill Yuchi Liang?” Mi Jin watched Cha Que, then abruptly shifted the conversation: “Bad-tasting curds can go unwritten from now on, but bad questions may not always go unanswered.”

He still calls me Naga.

Mi Jin was certain: Cha Que intended to unsettle his heart tonight. This person hadn’t even bothered to conceal his new identity—perhaps this was also one of Cha Que’s ways of dealing with him? Many questions Cha Que hadn’t answered seriously, because he knew he’d be seen through, so he simply answered randomly with a mix of truth and falsehood, and Mi Jin could only follow along guessing.

This is a kind of conversational technique, Cha Que was also thinking. Miluo must have taught him hand over hand. And judging by his performance, he must have regularly dealt with such convoluted and troublesome matters in the past—he was extremely experienced.

“Actually, I came to see you tonight to tell you something as well.” Cha Que resumed that game. Looking directly into Mi Jin’s eyes, he said with absolute sincerity: “I too have only one purpose where you’re concerned for now. Don’t die, Naga.”

The fragrance emerged because Cha Que was lightly cupping Mi Jin’s cheek. Mi Jin’s mind was caught for an instant, and he knew with perfect clarity: this person was lying again.