Chapter 28#

Aberration#

Chà Què was a formidable assassin. The strike he had aimed at Mí Jīn appeared grave, but in truth he had avoided all vital points. Thus, once Mí Jīn returned, a single night’s rest was all he needed before he could move about as usual.

“The physician says you need to rest quietly,” Lóng Shān said, entering the room and setting the tray on the low table. “My lord, there are eyes watching from both inside and outside—you’d better lie down.”

“In a while, the palace will send someone to ask questions,” Mí Jīn said, touching his own neck. “You must answer carefully.”

“I understand that—I won’t be careless,” Lóng Shān said, offering up the decoction. “But my lord, yesterday’s situation was far too dangerous. Next time, please take me along.”

“Exactly because it was dangerous, it laid bare the predicament we’re in right now,” Mí Jīn accepted the medicine with one hand. “At least these assassins are obedient—bite at the hook the moment they see it. They didn’t disappoint my expectations.”

“That bald pate was cautious enough,” Lóng Shān sat down. “He noticed our horses at once.”

“He just took a bad fall from horseback a few days ago—there’s no way he’d make the same mistake again any time soon,” Mí Jīn downed the medicine in one go. “If he hadn’t suggested swapping horses, I would have had to ride in Jǐnxiù Gōng’s carriage.”

“The moment Jǐnxiù Gōng appeared yesterday, my heart started pounding—I was terrified he’d disrupt my lord’s arrangement,” Lóng Shān said, still shaken by the memory. “He really is audacious. The Supreme One said he’d have the young lord killed, yet he could still play the zither and sing.”

“The young lord isn’t his own son, so of course he can afford to let him go,” Mí Jīn lowered his gaze, studying the empty medicine bowl in his hand. “Since he dared to come through the snow, he must have had everything planned out. You think his boldness comes from those two songs? It’s actually because of himself.”

Lóng Shān asked, “What about himself?”

“Because he is Jǐnxiù Gōng.” Mí Jīn raised the empty bowl and said to Lóng Shān across the low table: “The world’s brocade belongs to only three districts—Yǔmián, Yǒngxià, Rúyì Láng. The latter two belong to others; only Yǔmián could be considered his own. This year’s incorporation of Xiǎnglíng Plains hasn’t gone smoothly, and once spring comes we’ll need to deploy troops. Where will the money come from? He’s a ready-made moneybag.”

“I’ve been putting some effort into reading lately too,” Lóng Shān fished a scrap of paper from his sleeve and held it up to the light from outside. “This is that one about… killing the donkey once the grain is ground.”

Mí Jīn gave him a complicated look. “Read a bit more, will you.”

“I sleep during the day and take the night watch,” Lóng Shān tucked the scrap back into his sleeve. “I still have to go report to the palace in a bit. In just three months, reading this much is already pretty good.”

“Before, when we told you to study,” Mí Jīn threw something at him, “you pretended not to understand. What were you waiting for?”

“Who knew we’d end up here back then,” Lóng Shān dodged. “You ran too, didn’t you? Even stuck a turtle sticker on the teacher’s back. If Brother hadn’t peeled it off in time, we’d all have been strung up on the city walls by His Majesty.”

“Drop it.” Mí Jīn was in the wrong. “Killing the donkey after the grinding—but this donkey hasn’t even been put to the millstone yet. Why kill it? The fact that Yǔmián could build its business to this scale within the capital region means there’s tacit approval from the Supreme One behind it.”

“I understand that principle,” Lóng Shān sat up properly again. “Let it come first and graze. Shear off some of its wool, fatten it up, and then ask it for milk and meat. If it’s willing to give, let it keep grazing. If not—eat it.”

“So articulate,” Mí Jīn said suspiciously. “Long Xiáng taught you that, didn’t he?”

“My lord, you really underestimate me,” Lóng Shān paused, his expression sheepish. “Fine, it was my brother. But this Jǐnxiù Gōng truly knows his place—he didn’t wait for the Supreme One to speak; he came to our door himself.”

“That’s exactly why I said he had everything planned out,” Mí Jīn set the empty bowl back on the low table. “As long as he conveys his message, what song would the Supreme One dislike?”

Lóng Shān said, “Then why did the Supreme One still use the young lord to frighten him?”

“That was to tell him: don’t think that just because you’re a moneybag you can do as you please. If the Supreme One truly wanted to deal with him, it would take just one word. Besides, that young lord…” Mí Jīn leaned against the armrest, “isn’t his either.”

“They’re a picture of fatherly love and filial devotion,” Lóng Shān said with abundant patience. “Not biological father and son, but might as well be.”

Mí Jīn said, “Do you even know how to use words properly?”

“…We have fraternal affection and mutual respect,” Lóng Shān went on, “no worse than theirs.”

“Why would I want to compete with them?” After Mí Jīn said this, he felt uncomfortable all over. “When did I ever say I wanted to compete with them… Fake is fake.”

“Yes, yes.” Lóng Shān humored him, nodding repeatedly. “The young lord braved the danger this time and drove his carriage to find my lord. How should we thank him?”

“I already thanked him,” Mí Jīn said, a dull ache in his abdomen, his gaze composed. “I thanked him with absolute sincerity.”

Chà Què suddenly choked on two mouthfuls of medicine. The young servants gathered around him, asking, “Young master, is it too hot?”

Chà Què handed the bowl back to them, half-covering his mouth and nose as he said, “Mm—next time, let it cool a bit more.”

The young servants murmured among themselves. Yuán Bóchéng came in from outside, bringing a chill with him. “Is your young master refusing his medicine again? Don’t indulge him—next thing you know he’ll kick us all out and no one will be able to manage him.”

Chà Què’s tongue was numb. “Go away, I’m busy here.”

“What are you busy with?” Yuán Bóchéng took off his outer robe. “Tell your father about it.”

“Busy recovering,” Chà Què raised his hand, glancing again at his own waist and abdomen. “These wounds are healing far too slowly.”

“That’s for sure,” Yuán Bóchéng directed the young servants to bring things in. “You should have played dumb. When that kid was ambushed, you should have screamed once, then fainted in our cart—how logical that would be. Later, even if he wanted to settle scores, he couldn’t find fault with us.”

“The ground was covered with assassins,” Chà Què slid down along the armrest onto the mat. “If I’d fainted in the cart, my head would have been sent back to Jiǔchóng by this morning.”

“Don’t be lazy,” Yuán Bóchéng rapped on the floor. “Get up and look at what this is.”

Chà Què turned his head and saw a pile of gorgeous fabrics. “I don’t want to get up for several days.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Yuán Bóchéng pulled out a bolt. “This was just sent from the palace—genuine Yongzhou tribute goods…”

Chà Què caught on. “Bestowed by Mí Línán.”

“You saved his grandson—doesn’t he owe you proper thanks?” Yuán Bóchéng examined the brocade. “Hmm, easy on the eyes. Tomorrow I’ll have it sent to be tailored—let our little sparrow wear tribute silk too.”

“Am I about to become a deity? Getting gilded and all?” Chà Què slowly turned his face back. “Take it and wear it yourself.”

“You don’t need to tell me—eighty percent of this silk goes to you, and the remaining twenty percent goes to your father so he can look pretty too.” Yuán Bóchéng picked through the colors. “Who would’ve thought—after being a wealthy merchant for so long, in the end it’s our Sān Qīng who gets us the spoils.”

“Why is he rewarding me with such precious things?” Chà Què stared upward. His cloth tiger sat on the low table, big eyes meeting his small ones. “I don’t have the strength to tie up a chicken.”

This was their explanation to the outside world—crediting the breakout entirely to Mí Jīn’s merit, since Chà Què was still a “frail and sickly” merchant’s son at this point.

“Your ox cart charged out—how many people saw that? That can’t be called fake.” Yuán Bóchéng sized things up with his hands. “His reward to you now—the first layer is for your merit, and the second layer, naturally, is for Mí Jīn.”

“With all this commotion,” Chà Què flicked the cloth tiger, “someone should be let out of their cage.”

“Mí Jīn used himself as bait,” Yuán Bóchéng suddenly remarked with feeling. “That kid has courage and daring in spades. But how did he know for certain those assassins would dare to act?”

“A gamble,” Chà Què said, mind clear. “The chips he has are just that many. His life counts as one. As long as there’s even the slightest chance, he’ll dare to stake it.”

Yuán Bóchéng asked humbly, “Oh?”

“Someone wanted him dead—this was something he knew back at Ayō Palace. But once inside Senluo, security was tight everywhere and they had no chance to strike. So he decided to give them one.” Chà Què tugged at the ugly bow between the cloth tiger’s ears. “Mí Línán going out of the city to enjoy the snow was a heaven-sent opportunity. He first swapped himself onto an old horse and carried no blade—the meaning was obvious: hurry up and come kill me.”

“That doesn’t answer everything,” Yuán Bóchéng said, covering himself with the brocade and propping up his armrest. “Whether it’s the Imperial Guard inside the city or the Fúchéng garrison outside, both have cavalry. Their reinforcements arrive fast—the assassins striking there was hardly a wise move.”

“He must have had a death-wish reason that drove those people to come for him like madmen,” the cloth tiger accidentally dropped onto Chà Què’s chest. The bad little sparrow swatted it away. “I’m now suspecting he knows about Jiǔchóng.”

“Then when you were fleeing for your lives together,” Yuán Bóchéng complained, “didn’t you try to pump him for information?”

His mouth was too sharp!

Chà Què’s tongue went numb again. Expressionless, he watched the cloth tiger roll back, then swatted it away again. “Didn’t you say my shrewdness isn’t as good as his? And you want me to pump him for information? That person is terrible—he’ll be asking about my whip in no time… Yuán Bóchéng, where’s my whip?”

“That you’ll have to ask him about,” Yuán Bóchéng spread both hands. “It wasn’t your father who took you running all over the place, nor was it your father who carried you back.”

Mí Wúyē.

Chà Què sat up in one roll, then flopped right back down.

That bastard grand thief!

“The whip can be discussed later. You just said he must have had a death-wish reason that made those people come for him like madmen—that’s not wrong.” Yuán Bóchéng picked up the cloth tiger. “Your father can tell you this—they were desperate to kill him, and that was also by his own design.”

He set the bones of the brutally abused cloth tiger right, fussing with it for a while.

“Jiǔchóng—those filthy things went to Ayō Palace to kill him. Why? Precisely because they didn’t want him to enter Senluo. But now he’s not only gotten in, he’s also on good terms with Mí Línán. That’s no small problem.” Yuán Bóchéng placed the cloth tiger back beside Chà Què. “Give him more time—what if he truly becomes the Crown Prince? That’s why they’re anxious. That’s the greatest reason they were willing this time to risk being pincered by cavalry, willing to strike at him now.”

“What did Mí Luó actually send him to Senluo for?” Chà Què pointed at himself, then at Yuán Bóchéng. “Something that makes Jiǔchóng so unified in wanting to kill him.”

“That,” Yuán Bóchéng turned his head, gazing out the window, “is also something your father hasn’t been able to figure out yet.”

Chà Què lowered his hand. He listened to the wind for a moment, then said out of nowhere, “Perhaps he didn’t follow Mí Luó’s instructions completely either. He was actually very…”

Snow Guest thought for a long while, finally squeezing out a single word.

“Aberrant.”