Chapter 18 - 1#

Heaven’s Ear#

At the third quarter of the Yin hour, the servants carefully saw the physician out. Yuchi Liang had just finished applying his medicine and was lying on the mat. His entire face looked like an old hall that had recently undergone repairs—the central pillar had collapsed, the eaves had half caved in, and the paint had peeled and the vermilion flaked away. His appearance was truly pitiful.

Yuchi Lingze knelt beside the mat, attending to Yuchi Liang with his medicine. Yuchi Liang could barely open his mouth; even a slight opening would pull at the wounds.

“…Little beast,” Yuchi Liang slurred his curse. “Sent him off for nothing tonight.”

Yuchi Lingze wiped away the medicine that had spilled from his lips, and Yuchi Liang gazed at him. He was waiting for Yuchi Lingze to ask. Yuchi Lingze said cautiously: “Father… why… why didn’t you fight back?”

“Silly boy, I knew you’d have this question.” Yuchi Liang endured the searing agony and took the medicine bowl into his own hands. “You figured he’s a deposed crown prince, recently stripped down to a marquess—so even if I fought back and shoved him a couple of times, it wouldn’t matter, right?”

Seeing no sign of anger from Yuchi Liang, Yuchi Lingze finally answered: “…Yes.”

“If I had fought back, that would have been falling into his trap!” Yuchi Liang sat up. He looked at the bowl of medicine, his features contorting. “That beast has a vicious heart. Today at the court, he heard me plead before His Majesty. I said, ‘I dare not so much as look upon or touch a single blade of grass or tree in A-you City.’ His Majesty was willing to calm his anger precisely because my words struck his heart. Knowing this, how could I dare fight back tonight?”

Riding on the wave of agony, he downed the medicine in one gulp. The liquid soaked his lapel. The blood on his face had barely been stopped, yet he began to laugh in a low voice. “Little hound, lift your father’s sleeve and look.”

Yuchi Lingze carefully rolled up the sleeve. The candlelight was dim. Yuchi Liang said: “What is tattooed on my right arm? Read it for me.”

“Mi clan’s…” Yuchi Lingze had only been literate for two months. He strained to make out the four characters. “…Mi clan’s slave.”

“Yes. Mi clan’s slave.” Yuchi Liang set down the empty bowl. He sat across from Yuchi Lingze, his bloodshot eyes shifting toward the window. “Once you become a surrendered general, you’re a servant for life. I tell you—regardless of what His Majesty’s intentions are toward Fuxin Marquess, as long as His Majesty hasn’t stripped him of his surname, even if he beats me a hundred times, ten thousand times, I cannot fight back.”

Outside the window, snow fell silently. Plum branches slanted at odd angles, their shadows resembling gaunt ghosts. Yuchi Liang didn’t care for admiring flowers; the reason he planted plum trees in his courtyard was simply because Mi Linan liked them.

“Back in the Eastern Lands, I followed Zhenheba Khagan. He was a hero of sorts. Little hound, if he had been born a hundred years earlier and faced Dazhen’s Huilong Army, then who would be master and who would be servant in this world would be anyone’s guess.” Yuchi Liang rose to his feet, his figure half-concealed in the dimness as he continued addressing the view outside the window. “But our fates were poor, born in this era. Over fifty years ago, Linghu Ru of the Moon Sea Steppe forged a weapon—and it was precisely this weapon that turned the tide on the Eastern Plains battlefield. Those were stirrups.”

Yuchi Lingze had never ridden a horse. He asked: “Father, could stirrups really have such power?”

“In a few days, go to our Senluo Ghost horse ranch and try for yourself—then you’ll know.” Yuchi Liang turned back. “Without stirrups, a rider’s ability to exert force on horseback is limited. Facing infantry formations, they not only fail to break through enemy lines but are easily surrounded. Besides, back when Dazhen had very few warhorses and soldiers were all from ordinary military households, some of them had never even seen a horse, much less fought on one. So if you wanted a cavalry unit capable of charging, you either had to seek help from the Eastern tribes or hire the Jinwu.”

Yuchi Lingze said: “What exactly is the origin of these Jinwu people?”

“You call them the Jinwu people, but did you know that a hundred and fifty years ago, everyone called them the ‘Daughters of Jinwu’?” Yuchi Liang leaned out the window and snapped off a plum blossom. “Legend has it that the Jinwu tribe was originally composed entirely of women. They were tall and imposing—the most robust tribe in the Eastern Plains. Before the Nie clan’s Huilong Banner swept across the world, their chariots and Dark Bird banners were spread across every corner of the Eastern Plains. But then a man appeared—you should have heard of him. His name was Nie Youwei, the founding sovereign of Dazhen. Nie Youwei led the Huilong Army to defeat the Jinwu chariots, and the Daughters of Jinwu thus left the Eastern Plains. They wandered the grasslands of the southeast, becoming cavalrymen hired by powerful lords everywhere.”

Yuchi Lingze couldn’t help asking: “And then?”

“Then, Linghu Ru invented stirrups, and this allowed the Daughters of Jinwu to return to the Eastern Plains.” Yuchi Liang shook the snow from the plum blossom in his hand. “This time they didn’t fight alone. Instead, they chose to unite with the Guqi tribe, together forging the Jinwu Tujii. Little hound, think about it—if there were a cavalry unit that had both tall, robust physiques and powerful, fierce warhorses, how could ordinary infantry face them? What’s more, the Jinwu were already masters of horsemanship. With stirrups and taller saddle bows, the Tujii charge became even steadier. At the same time, they equipped their Tujii with full barding and horse spears. At that point, forget Dazhen’s Huilong Army—even Miluo couldn’t defeat them.”

Yuchi Lingze murmured: “So that’s what Tujii are… Father, can we never emulate them?”

“You think His Majesty doesn’t want to?” Yuchi Liang raised his forearm, revealing the words ‘Mi Clan’s Slave.’ “The very reason I am in Senluo is because of this! Warhorses are so precious. When Empress Chun Cheng was still alive, His Majesty used her prestige as a pretext—offering to cede the Moon Sea Steppe—to request five hundred Jinwu warhorses from the Guqi.”

Yuchi Lingze

“They naturally refused,” — the medicine bowl, “but Empress Chun Cheng was His Majesty’s first wife. She was a Daughter of Jinwu and a close relative of the Qi clan. On account of her, the Guqi…”

“Isn’t that very—” Yuchi Liang said. “With these warhorses, Zhonggu could establish a few more horse ranches and properly raise them.”

“Since even you can think of it, couldn’t the Guqi?” Yuchi Liang stood with his hands behind his back. “The warhorses they sent to Zhonggu were all gelded. Later, His Majesty tried to purchase warhorses from the Guqi through mutual trade, but the Guqi had long had strict rules: no mares, no ungelded horses. Any private sale—the lightest punishment was execution of the entire family, the worst was the annihilation of the entire village. Everyone trembled in fear and dared not transgress.”

A matter involving one’s family, involving the whole village—even wealth could not work its magic.

“To introduce new horse breeds, His Majesty not only dispatched Miluo on an eastern expedition against Kuntu, but also struck a pact with the Guqi,” Yuchi Liang said. “As long as Miluo is the crown prince, he must take a Daughter of Jinwu as his wife.”

This was an excellent arrangement. Mi Linan and Empress Chun Cheng were deeply in love. Miluo was their only son, carrying both Black Eagle and Jinwu bloodlines. Having him serve as Zhonggu’s crown prince was more fitting than anything. Once he married a Daughter of Jinwu, the Guqi and Zhonggu would become in-laws across two generations, and introducing new horse breeds to their homeland afterward would be perfectly reasonable.

This was why on the day Mi Jin returned to the capital, Mi Linan had told him that if Miluo was willing to offer up his own head, the Butchering King could forgive his son.

“Father, with such benefits for Zhonggu,” Yuchi Lingze asked curiously, “why would the Guqi have agreed?”

“Because they had their own troubles.” Yuchi Liang slowly sat down. “Little hound, no one in this world can take all the advantages. The Jinwu were tall and robust but suffered from infertility, so within their tribe, both men and women would go to battle, searching everywhere for equally sturdy tribes to pair with. But while the Qi clan was a hereditary aristocratic house, their descendants were frail and sickly. By these recent years, there were hardly any promising seedlings left who could shoulder great responsibilities. So Miluo taking a Daughter of Jinwu was a perfect match for both nations—each complementing the other’s shortcomings.”

Yuchi Lingze was even more confused. He stammered: “With such a fine fate, Miluo ran away.”

“Yes. Miluo ran away, and naturally Zhonggu’s marriage alliance with the Guqi was severed.” Yuchi Liang finished speaking, then propped his forearm on his knee, sinking into melancholy. “I’ve stayed in the old capital too long—once I start on these topics, I can’t stop. Little hound, you dare to question your father, and that’s very good. People like us learn to read and study later than everyone else. Whatever questions you have in your heart, you should ask early.”

Yuchi Lingze listened, enraptured. He gazed at the plum blossom in the empty bowl and suddenly said: “Father, since we are Mi clan’s slaves, why did we need to displease the Marquess tonight? The Marquess wanted to kill his brother, and his brother died—we could have just told him directly. Why say all those things?”

Yuchi Liang sat quietly across from him. The window was open, and the snow seemed to be falling in clusters. After a long time, he said: “And you, little hound—tell your father, that night, why did you eat that tongue?”

Yuchi Lingze always wore an expression of cowering fear. He raised his head, and in that moment, the candlelight seemed to have fallen into his eyes. He opened his mouth, and after a long struggle, finally forced out those words: “Because I didn’t want to die.”

“Just because you didn’t want to die,” Yuchi Liang’s voice was low and slow. He gazed at Yuchi Lingze, as though gazing at himself. “You chewed that tongue to pieces and swallowed it just because you didn’t want to die? What does living get you? Still just a worthless life.”

His gaze passed through Yuchi Lingze, as if returning to Dachi Mountain. The snow turned to rain, and once again he knelt on the ground, pleading to the Uman God.

“You endured those humiliations that no ordinary person could bear, just because you didn’t want to die? Living as someone else’s servant—no different from a stray dog. But little hound, just because we’ve become stray dogs, must we always keep our tails between our legs and serve others? Just because we’re someone else’s servants, must we forever lose our anger? My entire life has been branded in the old capital, with no chance ever again to pass the frontier and run my horses. When I entered A-you City and saw those horses, my hatred for Miluo surged in my heart. Little hound, those horses—those horses are all from our Kuntu!”

Yuchi Liang’s face was ruined beyond recognition. Red welled from his eyes: “Mi Jin used that batch of horses to set me up—I will make him understand his own incompetence! If becoming a stray dog means you can only keep your tail between your legs and serve others, then you shouldn’t have eaten that tongue, and I shouldn’t have surrendered to survive. We might as well have died right then and there!”

Yuchi Lingze faced Yuchi Liang, his lips trembling.

Yuchi Liang laughed again. His laughter was shrill and piercing, heedless of the pain on his face, his voice savage: “We were born into the lowly register—in this world, we deserve to at least look human! The person who caused Fuxin Marquess’s current predicament isn’t me. If he beats me to death, he’s incompetent. If he can’t beat me to death, he’s still incompetent! Since the Mi clan branded this ‘slave’ on my body, why can’t I carve this ‘rage’ into Mi Jin’s heart? Little hound, how laughable—he bears the Mi surname in vain, yet must kill his father and lose his brother, and in the end, he couldn’t even protect one lowly soldier!”

Blood seeped from Yuchi Liang’s wounds. He refused to let Yuchi Lingze wipe them.

“Mi Jin thought I was at the end of my rope, with no choice but to beg for his mercy. But he forgot—this is the old capital! I’ve been rolling around here for more than ten years; I’m not about to let a few horses throw me into complete disorder! Little hound, light the lamp for me—the honored guest I’m inviting tonight has only just arrived!”

Yuchi Lingze didn’t understand. He was about to climb to his feet when he heard footsteps from outside. A servant came carrying a lantern, leaning toward the door: “General, a retainer has arrived outside. He brought quite a few horses and says he’s under orders from his master to present them to the general.”

“Invite him in!” Yuchi Liang rose abruptly, his spirits lifted. “Quickly, invite him in!”

The door opened to fine, vast snow. The wind blew in a gust, and a wisp of white smoke was carried back into the room. Yuan Bocheng sat leaning against the railing, waving away the smoke, looking perfectly at ease: “Little sparrow finally decided to come home? Your old father was worried sick all night—truly afraid you and that kid were whispering secret words until dawn.”

“It’s the Mao hour now,” Shaque climbed the stairs with difficulty, needing no one’s support, simply making his way inside slowly. “I suppose that counts as dawn.”

“So?” Yuan Bocheng’s posture was relaxed. “Does he want to board our pirate ship?”

“I don’t think so.” Shaque hadn’t caught any snow. He shook off the cold. “I probed him, but he kept completely silent about wanting to meet with you.”

“I told you long ago—this kid is cunning as a ghost. Unless you lay all your cards on the table for him, he’ll never act rashly.” Yuan Bocheng put his pipe in his mouth and glanced back at Shaque. “You think he doesn’t know his own worth? Yesterday, his scheme succeeded—he now has a forty percent chance in his dealings with Mi Linan.”

“Why are all the people we need to kill so damn difficult?” Shaque grew irritated. “Go after someone else first.”

Yuan Bocheng chuckled softly, rubbing his stubble with one hand: “I think right now he’s the easiest one to kill. Why don’t you invite him out again in a few days, and we find a deserted spot and finish him off together?”

“I’d be willing, but you wouldn’t.” Shaque’s hands had warmed up. He slumped back against his seat cushion’s armrest. “Right now he’s the apple of Mi Linan’s eye. If we actually kill him, the one in trouble would be Yumian.”

“Who knew he’d confront Yuchi Liang just yesterday? I was still waiting to set my trap, and now he’s ruined the plan. How irritating.” Yuan Bocheng fretted. “If I’d known our Sanqing’s magic potion worked this well, I absolutely wouldn’t have let him live past these three months.”

The flower-knot was still tied at Shaque’s waist. It looked so ugly, but the tightness was just right. He propped his chin on one hand: “Will Mi Linan really view him in a new light because of this?”

“Of course he will. Why wouldn’t he?” Yuan Bocheng removed the pipe from his mouth—he hadn’t lit it. “Let me ask you: why did Mi Linan call him back to the capital?”

Shaque said carelessly: “Oh? Why?”

“You lazy little sparrow,” Yuan Bocheng looked around for something to throw at him, “you’re still ‘oh’-ing me? I’m waiting for you to answer!”

“Called him back to fight with others,” Shaque said fearlessly, stating it plainly. “Whoever wins becomes the next Mi Linan.”

“Exactly.” Yuan Bocheng crossed his arms. “Mi Linan locked him up for three months—first, to put on a show for others; second, because his own emotions were unsettled; third, to make the kid cool off. Now that he’s been released, he has to demonstrate his abilities to Mi Linan. Otherwise, why would Mi Linan keep him around? That bald fellow is quite pitiful.”

Shaque said: “So he correctly read Mi Linan’s mind with this gamble?”

Yuan Bocheng shook his head slightly: “Right now, he can only be considered to have gotten half of it right.”

Shaque pondered for a moment: “The other half will depend on how he performs after dawn.”

“Now you’re suddenly willing to put in the effort to answer.” Yuan Bocheng reached into his sleeve again, pulled out a cloth tiger the size of a palm, and tossed it to Shaque. “This is a reward from your father.”

Shaque wrinkled his nose, eyeing the cloth tiger critically as he watched it roll to a stop in front of him. He stayed slumped over the low table, not a bit willing to move.

“Actually, I’m also quite curious about how he’ll handle Mi Linan today.” Yuan Bocheng crossed his arms again. “If he hadn’t beaten Yuchi Liang last night, everything would have been fine. But the way he beat Yuchi Liang—even Lu Guanjie might not dare cover for him.”

Shaque’s gaze shifted slightly: “I haven’t told you yet, since I got back—he beat the man.”

“Sanqing, don’t test your father. This is Yumian—no gust of wind or rustle of grass escapes my ears.” Yuan Bocheng leaned forward slightly, looking at Shaque, quite mysteriously. “You must be terribly curious—why does your father know everything.”

“Your business interests span the entire capital region. It’s natural you’d know about things outside.” Shaque picked up the cloth tiger and reluctantly accepted it. “What I’m more curious about is—how do you know so much about what happens inside the palace?”