Chapter 18 - 2#
“I can see that with this Mi Jin business on your mind, you’re not sleepy at all.” Yuan Bocheng glanced at the sky. “It just so happens the time is about right. If you don’t want to sleep, why don’t you bring your medicine along and ’listen in’ on the situation in the palace with your old man?”
Shache leaned back, and honestly shook his head: “I was out all night, I’m very tired, and I don’t want to get up yet.”
“Who said anything about going out?” Yuan Bocheng raised his hand and clapped three heavy times toward the door, calling out loudly: “Bring Tian Ting—the fastest ones—open young master’s eyes!”
Footsteps immediately sounded in the corridor, the sound of a dozen or so people running back and forth. Shache heard the clinking of iron horse bells—ding-ding, ding-ding—and moments later, a young pageboy entered carrying a tray.
“The first listen,” the pageboy bowed low, “please, Master, Young Master, reveal the slip.”
Yuan Bocheng tipped his chin, signaling Shache to lift the small wooden slip on the tray. Shache flipped up the small wooden slip; beneath it was pressed a piece of white paper.
The pageboy’s voice was clear and crisp: “At the hour of Mao, a quarter past two, the Sovereign consumed one bowl of fish soup and two steamed buns with cracks in the crust.”
Shache looked at the sky again. It was just past the quarter mark of Mao.
Yuan Bocheng said: “Continue listening.”
The ding-ding from the corridor never ceased; the pageboys took turns, and the second listen and third listen arrived in quick succession.
“The Marquis of Fuxin has just entered the palace precincts and is waiting in the corridor, awaiting summons.”
“Attendant Xu announces the name—”
Mi Jin bowed his head as he stepped into the hall.
The eunuchs respectfully retreated; as Milinan made his entrance, they all prostrated themselves in the shadows of the great hall, like light-fearing vines grown within these palace walls.
Milinan took his seat. Today he still wore a chan robe with wide sleeves, and his spirits seemed good. Xu Daochun stood attend at the desk, presenting memorials one by one. He opened a memorial, glanced at Mi Jin: “You were quite wrathful last night, weren’t you? Why didn’t you beat him to death?”
“Reporting to the Sovereign,” Mi Jin had not slept all night. He had only just washed and changed before entering, and his speech was clear: “I’ve vented my anger; as for his life, I’ll let him keep it—for now.”
“Is it that you’ve vented your anger,” Milinan said, eyes on the memorial, “or that your courage is too small?”
Mi Jin kept his head bowed: “Since I dared to strike him, I was already somersaulting on a blade’s edge—unafraid of death. Does that count as having too little courage?”
“Hear that,” Milinan said to Xu Daochun. “We haven’t seen our Marquis of Fuxin in three months, and his temper has grown. What hardship did you give him at Changdu Palace, that he comes out and dares to bite people at random?”
Xu Daochun immediately broke into a smile: “How would this lowly one dare to make things hard for our Marquis of Fuxin? It’s just that our Marquis has recovered and is in good spirits. Whatever temperament he had in that Ayou Palace of old, that’s the same temperament he has now.”
He didn’t mention Miluo by name, yet every word was about Miluo.
Milinan turned his gaze on Mi Jin again: “I ask you—what grudge do you hold that you must beat someone to vent it?”
This was a cunningly double-edged question. Milinan knew better than anyone what anger Mi Jin carried; his question carried a double meaning.
“He shouldn’t have taken my horse,” Mi Jin paused briefly, then continued, “and even less should he have killed my men.”
“I know about the horse,” Milinan tossed the memorial back onto the desk and took a fresh one from Xu Daochun. “Didn’t I order him to kill those men? If you’re angry, why don’t you come to me? You bully him because he’s a surrendered general from Kuntu, assuming he wouldn’t dare fight back. What kind of courage is that? That’s merely opportunism.”
“He dared to pocket my horse without orders—isn’t that a slap in my face?” Mi Jin steeled himself. “He was bold enough not to utter a word when the horse entered Senluo, so killing my men—of course he’d obey the order? I thought that was his second slap in my face.”
This was indeed disrespectful.
“What nonsense are you saying to me!” Milinan slammed the desk, shaking loose several memorials. “I ordered him to kill—did he dare disobey the decree? If he showed favoritism and covered for them, I would be the first to seize him!”
“I’m answering truthfully,” Mi Jin raised his head, expression cold. “As for courage, his is certainly greater than mine. He’s a surrendered general—when he sees me, he should treat me as he would his lord! Isn’t that the rule? But what does he do? Outside, he disobeys his former lord; inside, he pays lip service while defying in practice! What’s wrong with my beating him? There’s nothing wrong with it at all!”
“Mi Wuye!” Milinan bellowed, hurling the memorial in his hand. “Do you want to die?!”
“Then let the Senluo demons drag me away right now!” Mi Jin refused to yield; a vicious edge appeared between his brows. “I’m already Mi Wuye—what do I care about death? Instead of letting him trample me like this, you might as well kill me this instant!”
“You want to die so badly?” Milinan shot to his feet; the Black Dragon screen behind him seemed to glare at Mi Jin as well. “Then I’ll grant your wish! Men! Men!”
“Oh dear!” Xu Daochun knelt at just the right moment. As he gathered the scattered memorials, he said, “Your Majesty, please calm your anger—allow this lowly one to speak boldly. That whole business with the horse and the men, I don’t understand a thing. But the Marquis’s words, I do understand. After all his talk, the Marquis simply wants to vent Your Majesty’s anger for you!”
Milinan laughed in his fury: “I’m the sovereign—do I need him to vent my anger for me? I’m not dead! That Yuchi Liang, whatever else he is, holds the rank of a divisional general. He serves before the imperial presence, with name and standing. And now? Beaten so badly he can’t even step out the door!”
This was tantamount to granting Xu Daochun permission to continue. Xu Daochun used the opportunity to rise, beaming with an ingratiating smile: “That’s where our Marquis went wrong. But Your Majesty, how old is the Marquis? You’ve weathered storms all your life and seen every trick there is—any crooked scheme that passes before your eyes reveals its true form at once. But our Marquis? He’s only been in Senluo for less than half a year. There are many things he still needs Your Majesty’s guidance and instruction.”
He placed the memorials back on the desk in order. Seeing that Milinan still looked angry, he continued: “Let this lowly one speak plainly, Your Majesty. Look at our Marquis—with his abilities, if he truly intended to make things difficult for General Yuchi, let alone letting the general leave today, the general might not even have made it home last night!”
“Stop speaking for him. The reason nothing happened last night is because of Guanjie.” Milinan swept his wide sleeve aside and sat back down. “Mi Wuye, you’ll go apologize to Yuchi Liang later.”
“Fine,” Mi Jin agreed. “As long as he still dares see me.”
“You little brat! Don’t use your father to bolster your reputation! When your father was still alive, not a single one of the Eight Divisions of the Imperial Guards defied him.” Milinan turned to the side, pressing down on the armrest table, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Mi Jin. His anger didn’t seem to have subsided; his chest rose and fell noticeably. “When he wanted to deal with someone, he certainly wouldn’t go charging in with just his two fists like you did.”
Mi Jin hadn’t wanted to either—Yuchi Liang had to provoke him by bringing up Shache. He could only pick up the thread: “When my father was still here, he had his own establishment, his own staff. The men he could call upon stretched from Senluo all the way to the Xiangling Plains. What else do I have but two fists?”
“What’s sitting on your shoulders?” Milinan shifted his body, casting two more glances at Mi Jin. “Little brat—you’re using this incident to ask me for people.”
“A clever woman can’t cook without rice.” Mi Jin picked up his dragon-headed pouch. “I’d like to establish my own office too.”
Milinan’s eyes narrowed to half-slits; the gold on his Boshan headdress glimmered faintly, like the golden eyes of a Black Dragon. The hall fell silent. The fury from moments before seemed like a jest. This murderous ruler, whose moods were unreadable, stared at Mi Jin for a long time. Then slowly, he raised one hand and pointed outward: “Get out.”
Mi Jin really did “get out.” When he emerged, Xu Daochun followed behind him with quick little steps, still covering his lips in a suppressed laugh: “The Marquis truly is a rare talent—catch on at once, you do.”
“I haven’t thanked you yet,” Mi Jin stopped and turned back. “If you hadn’t notified me in time, I’d probably still be in Changdu Palace right now, striking the bell.”
The reason Mi Jin was able to leave was that Xu Daochun had told him in advance that the previous day was the first day of Miluo’s episode. Mi Jin had therefore “fallen ill” for a brief spell, which stirred Milinan’s sympathy and allowed him to leave Changdu Palace—and serve within the inner hall.
“This little matter hardly deserves the Marquis’s personal thanks,” Xu Daochun knew his place. “Besides, all I could do was tell the Marquis about it. Everything else—that was the Marquis’s own doing.”
Old fox. Mi Jin understood his meaning. He wanted to curry favor, but didn’t want to get too deeply involved—so he only credited Mi Jin’s own abilities, and said absolutely nothing about the business with the horses.
“If thanks are due, they must be given.” Mi Jin didn’t beat around the bush on this. “Even business dealings require this kind of give and take to last.”
I’m actually talking about business dealings. Mi Jin bit his own tongue lightly, as if in punishment. It’s all that bad little sparrow’s fault—
“This lowly one will await it, then. Ah, how refreshing it is to speak with our Marquis. So many people are all hollow and empty-headed—dealing with them is utterly tiresome.” Xu Daochun stepped aside. “It seems to me that Your Majesty is unusually pleased today, and that’s entirely the Marquis’s merit.”
Mi Jin walked alongside him: “That also owes much to your guidance just now—‘whatever temperament he had in that Ayou Palace of old, that’s the same temperament he has now.’ Those words truly deserve to be regarded as golden counsel.”
“Easier said than done—the fine line is terribly hard to walk.” Xu Daochun drew his sleeve up; his whisk hung from the crook of his arm. “Ordinary people, upon meeting our Sovereign, either tremble like sieves or murmur endless yeses. Someone with the Marquis’s mettle? Haven’t seen one in the old capital in nearly a decade.”
Not necessarily. Mi Jin’s thoughts wandered. I met one just last night—not only did she think the flower knot I tied was ugly, she demanded I serve her, and in the end she clapped her hands once and vanished into thin air.
“Just now the Marquis mentioned establishing your own office,” Xu Daochun clutched his chest dramatically. “That nearly gave this lowly one a fright—I was terrified the Sovereign might take one displeasure and have us all punished.”
“The Sovereign might punish me, but he would never punish Attendant Xu,” Mi Jin observed. The sky was about to brighten fully, and the snow was still falling intermittently. “With someone as quick-witted as Attendant Xu serving at his side, no one else could possibly catch the Sovereign’s eye.”
Now this was real vigor—far easier to get along with than back in Ayou City. Xu Daochun felt thoroughly pleased with himself, convinced this goodwill had landed right in Mi Jin’s heart. He was fond of watching tigers fight from the mountain, and so he said: “Just now, when the Marquis mentioned business dealings, it occurred to me—I actually did hear of one today.”
Mi Jin spotted Longshan waiting at a distance. He asked with patience: “What business?”
“A horse-trading business.” Xu Daochun turned his head, smiling at Mi Jin. “Within the old capital’s domain, there are quite a few horse farms—some are state-run, some belong to merchants.”
Zhonggu lacked horses, so the government encouraged private horse breeding. But horses were precious, and land within the old capital’s domain was limited. Ordinary households and merchants could in no way afford to keep them. Therefore, some wealthy merchants would choose to purchase Horse Tribute Transit Permits from the court. Armed with these permits, they would lead the horses they’d acquired from mutual-trade markets and border garrisons into the interior, and raise them with meticulous care.
Most of these horses were of eastern breeds. They were generally rented out to nearby relay stations or to officials who had need of them. In times of wartime exigency, they could also be directly requisitioned by the court.
This was not exactly headline news. Mi Jin shifted his gaze back, knowing Xu Daochun hadn’t finished.
Sure enough, Xu Daochun continued: “The state-run horses naturally can’t be touched, but the merchants’ horses come with far fewer restrictions. When I was serving His Majesty at breakfast, I heard from the eunuch in charge of procurement that this morning, several wealthy merchants presented horses to General Yuchi. They were fine horses, every one of them. One or two would have been one thing, but they numbered in the hundreds.”
He feigned astonishment: “My word, our General Yuchi is truly one to hide his light. In a single night, he’s gathered every last horse.”
Something flickered in Mi Jin’s eyes, but he spoke first with a smile: “Yuchi Liang didn’t mention it last night? He hides things well, doesn’t he?”
“Indeed—otherwise how would this lowly one be so surprised?” Xu Daochun stopped walking and shifted his whisk to the other arm. “That’s the business, then. The Marquis can treat it as a curiosity and file it away. As for my own opinion—your beating of him last night was truly well done. Out of guilt, he’s rushing to make amends. That’s a good thing, publicly and privately.”
He had escorted Mi Jin this far and should now return to serve inside the hall. Mi Jin exchanged a few more pleasantries with him, and at last Xu Daochun left.
“Go find Prince Fucheng,” Mi Jin said to Longshan after a moment of silence as he approached. “Tell him that my episode last night caused trouble, and tomorrow I’ll host a banquet to apologize to my uncle.”
Longshan had grown considerably steadier these past three months. With snow piled on his shoulders, he gazed up at the looming palace structures: “Where would the Marquis like to hold the banquet?”
“Changdu Palace.” Mi Jin raised his hand; the golden flowers on his sleeve cuff lightly chimed together as he brushed away the snow drifting toward him. “It’s drafty everywhere out here—not a word can be spoken in private. How are the wealthy merchants I asked you to look into?”