Chapter 5#

Wuye#

Yuchi Liang’s soldiers arrived belatedly. At the hour of the Hare, the sky had brightened, and the rain had finally stopped. He sent people to sweep the battlefield. The palace servants of Ayu Palace knelt on the floor, scrubbing the boards meticulously.

“Hard to tell at a glance,” Yuchi Liang said after tallying the recovered waist tags. He raised his eyes and reexamined the two standing before him. “You two are so valiant—not only did you heroically defend the crown prince, but you both came back whole and intact.”

“We had armor bestowed by the court upon our bodies, and the general’s military orders to bolster our courage,” Shaque said with a straight face, speaking words of perfect propriety. “Of course we did our utmost to protect His Highness.”

There was nothing objectionable in his words. Even though Yuchi Liang knew he was playing dumb, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

“Very well,” Yuchi Liang fixed his gaze on Shaque. “We came here in the capacity of envoys from the superior empire[1] to accept surrendered subjects. The crown prince’s merit in dispatching the rebels is not in question—his safety concerns the court, the capital, and the state. There is no room for the slightest carelessness. Since you two are so brave, I hereby promote you both to squadron leaders of the palace guard, each commanding thirty men.”

After speaking, he called his deputy to exchange their waist tags. “On the crown prince’s orders, your names have been provisionally inscribed. Hold onto these for now—you can get them replaced later when we return.”

The Senluogui’s roster was strictly regulated; changing waist tags required reporting to the Left Central Military Affairs Office, and even under the fastest review it would take the better part of half a month. Therefore, the tag he was now giving Shaque was actually that of an Eastern Palace Guard.

This was Mijin’s wish, and also Yuchi Liang’s. Having failed in his assassination attempt the previous night, he had already lost the initiative. As long as Jin Mingshi remained alive, there would be no further opportunity to frame him. The crown prince was a hot potato—but a rare treasure besides. Yuchi Liang still took to heart what Xu Daochun had said yesterday: what if Milinan, for the sake of Miluo, specifically wanted this grandson back? Showing Mijin a little goodwill now couldn’t hurt.

Besides, what were two squadron leaders? Even if he promoted them another rank, they were still grasshoppers in his palm—nowhere to hop.

Shaque turned the new waist tag over in his hands. This one bore the pattern of a heidong snake, with his name engraved on the back.

This is a real crown prince, Shaque thought. With a single command, even the hardest waist tag could be engraved instantly. Such decisive authority meant there must be a cadre of strong generals and elite soldiers around him. But why? The man he’d killed was Miluo.

“General!” Xu Daochun, escorted by several palace servants, was wiping his face back and forth with a handkerchief. “There you are. Have you finished your lecture? If so, let’s go inside—the crown prince is still waiting for you in the hall!”

Yuchi Liang remembered there was still an important matter to attend to, so he said to Shaque and the other young man, “You two have worked hard through the night. Go rest first. Later, someone will call you out for your watch rotation.”

He was eager to see Mijin, and after speaking, he followed Xu Daochun away. Amid the sounds of sweeping and scrubbing, Shaque turned his head and appraised the young man. “Oh—it’s you.”

This young man was none other than the one who had eaten the tongue last night. He nodded at Shaque, somewhat awkward. “Brother Shaque…”

“What a good memory,” Shaque said, clasping his hands behind his back. His eyes seemed still to harbor the rain. “What should I call you?”

“My name is Kong Xiaoquan,” the young man didn’t dare meet Shaque’s gaze. “You… you can call me Xiaoquan.”

The name was fitting for the situation at Tianxing Prefecture. In the past, the Four Garrisons had risen in rebellion alongside Milinan, and all the household registrations under their command were hereditary military families obligated to serve in perpetuity. These soldiers were drawn from the Mil clan’s main branch as well as the sons of soldiers from the Four Garrisons’ home regions. Their status was slightly higher than ordinary civilian households[2], but due to years of continuous warfare, the soldier population had been decimated, and they eventually had to conscript new men from various provinces.

Some of these new men came from civilian households, others from criminal registries. Their names naturally couldn’t be as elegant and subtle as those of great aristocratic families—hence most were something like “Qier” or “Xiaoquan.”

“Good, Kong Xiaoquan.” Shaque feigned curiosity. “Have you fought in battle before? You move with such agility.”

In last night’s chaos, there had been not only disciplined soldiers but also bloodthirsty assassins. How had a mere low-ranking soldier from Tianxing managed to survive?

“How would I dare duel with anyone?” Kong Xiaoquan’s face flushed red. “…I don’t have any real agility either. I used to work as a strength-slave for others—strong, and good at hiding…”

A strength-slave was a type of servant kept by the powerful clans of the Eastern Plains. They were broad, imposing, docile, and obedient. They could serve as mounts for children of the household or as watchdogs guarding the gates. A strength-slave with no tattoos anywhere on his body could command a very high price, and was one of the baits that aristocratic families threw gold on to flaunt their wealth.

“…Thank you just now, Brother Shaque,” Kong Xiaoquan stared at his own toes and muttered. “You didn’t expose me, and you even had me made squadron leader too…”

“Don’t mention it. We both come from Tianxing Prefecture,” Shaque said warmly. “We’ll have plenty of opportunities to look out for each other in the future.”

While they left the scene, Yuchi Liang was still kneeling below the steps. Given his rank, he needn’t have knelt—but Jin Mingshi held a grudge against his scheming the night before and was determined to teach him a lesson today.

“A general rule, of course,” Jin Mingshi said from the side, his tone cool. “A banner-general of the Imperial Guards need not kneel when meeting the crown prince. And our esteemed Brother Yuchi here prides himself on being an envoy from the superior empire—an unusual identity, no less. He ought to be standing shoulder to shoulder with me.” He had already removed his armor, and his right shoulder was still wrapped in gauze. “But given your background, when meeting people—”

He had been about to say “kneels at the sight of anyone,” but now deliberately drew out the words “meeting people,” casting a sidelong glance at Yuchi Liang. “—kneeling wouldn’t be right either. But the crown prince is no ordinary person. Kneel, you should, and you must not embarrass the Senluogui’s propriety.”

Yuchi Liang, contrary to his usual demeanor, prostrated himself on the floor in trembling reverence. “General Jin speaks most truly. That this lowly servant, as a former retainer of Kuntu, can serve in the Imperial Guards is entirely due to His Supreme Majesty’s sagacity and benevolence. Since His Supreme Majesty does not slight this lowly servant on account of foreign blood, naturally this one dares not approach official duties with obtuse neglect. Last night’s crisis erupted suddenly, and as banner-general of the Imperial Guards, this one’s response was hasty. It is only right that I be punished! But fortunately, heaven’s special favor kept the crown prince from harm—truly a blessing!”

Jin Mingshi had only meant to needle him a couple of times, but hadn’t expected him to launch into such a grandiloquent speech—though the meaning embedded within was unmistakable.

First, he was indeed a surrendered general from Kuntu. As long as Milinan still employed him, no one could slight him. Second, the main force guarding the Eastern Palace last night was not their Senluogui—it was Jin Mingshi. Jin Mingshi had clashed with the Eastern Palace Guards, allowing someone to fish in troubled waters and nearly endangering the crown prince. Yuchi Liang at most was guilty of arriving late to the rescue. Third, the crown prince came through unharmed because the person who saved him in the end wore a Senluogui waist tag.

Damn his eyes. Jin Mingshi swallowed his bitterness, able only to stomp inwardly. Damn his eyes—they never should have learned the Eastern Plains language! One little phrase after another: “sagacity and benevolence,” “obtuse neglect”—he’d almost failed to understand!

“Ayu City has only just been subdued. The inspections inside and outside the palace are not yet complete. I…” Jin Mingshi drew a deep breath, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “This general offended the crown prince’s presence. Truly, I deserve death.”

He had wanted to say his manpower had been dispersed, letting someone slip through. But his lord had once said he was impulsive in his dealings and that he who talks too much is bound to misspeak. So he simply owned up to it: his inspection had been negligent. If Milinan had the ability, let him come take him—he still had five thousand Fucheng Guards camped outside the city.

While they went back and forth here, Mijin was quite at ease. After being “rescued,” the crown prince had bathed and changed into fresh garments. Now he wore a distant-traveler’s crown on his head and a deep black robe, with collar and cuffs embroidered in crimson-purple heidong patterns. At his waist hung a leather belt with a serpent-shaped jade hook, and beside it, a heidong-headed tablet pouch symbolizing his station.

This outfit was appropriate to Mijin’s status, but seemed too grand merely for receiving these few men. However, the crown prince’s casual posture made up for it. He sat slightly tilted, one elbow propped on a three-legged armrest beside him, wearing an expression that hovered between a smile and not. “The remnants of Miluo’s rebel faction have not yet been eradicated. It’s only natural that a few rats scurried into the palace. I say we put this matter to rest.”

He actually addressed Miluo by name, and showed not the slightest trace of pain in his expression.

Xu Daochun felt a surge of genuine relief. As a chief attendant, he cut a dashing figure when traveling outside, but back in the palace, he had to conduct himself with the awareness that his head could be taken at any moment. Milinan was domineering and tyrannical, and in recent years his temper had grown increasingly unpredictable. If he wanted Mijin back, then Mijin had better be returned in one piece—who knew whether they’d see another massacre of a hundred thousand?

“The crown prince is right,” Xu Daochun said, following Mijin’s lead. “Right now there are bandits and rebels everywhere. If we pursued every one of them, would the generals ever get any sleep? Would the crown prince ever return to the capital? As His Highness says—as long as all the assassins have been slain, let’s put this to rest.”

That Mijin was willing to let things go was fine with both Yuchi Liang and Jin Mingshi. They had just relaxed when they heard the crown prince continue: “The matter of the assassins can be set aside, but you disturbed my Eastern Palace Guards. You’ll have to give me an accounting of this. Longshan, report the casualties to the generals.”

The Eastern Palace banner-general from last night had removed his helmet. He was no native of Zhonggu either—judging by his age, he was slightly older than the crown prince, in his early twenties, with a darker complexion. He looked at Jin Mingshi below the steps and said: “Sixteen lightly wounded, three severely wounded, thirty dead.”

Jin Mingshi had noticed last night that the banner-general’s Zhonggu language was poor, and now hearing him emphasize the word “thirty” so heavily, he nearly laughed. What were the Eastern Palace Guards anyway? If that foreign bastard hadn’t killed his soldiers first, he wouldn’t have bothered engaging them seriously. Forget thirty dead—three hundred dead would have been no less than they deserved! He’d already given Mijin face by not slaughtering them all.

“Under our Zhonggu regulations, the Eastern Palace Guards number eight hundred in total. The crown prince has suffered grievously in the campaign against the rebels, and now…” Yuchi Liang’s face showed deep sorrow. He looked at Jin Mingshi and shook his head lightly. “General Jin, how can you explain this?”

Jin Mingshi immediately said: “You—”

“It is unjustifiable,” Xu Daochun chimed in from the side. “Your Generalship was roaring outdoors yesterday, which was already a serious breach of propriety. The crown prince has not held it against you, and you ought to take it as a lesson.”

“You…” A wave of stifled fury surged up in Jin Mingshi. He forced it down. “Fine… fine! I ask the crown prince—what kind of accounting do you want? I, Jin Mingshi, have nothing but my life to offer!”

Mijin fixed his gaze on Jin Mingshi. The crown prince was only twenty this year, and he had a pair of profoundly deep eyes. Having just had his outburst the night before, the color of his pupils was even darker than usual. The doors and windows of the hall stood wide open, but the light was still not bright enough to reach him. Yet when he sat there, it did not seem as though the light had forgotten him—more as though he had not permitted the light to shine upon him.

Though young, when he was silent like this, he bore a striking resemblance to the Milinan of years past. The pity was that Milinan had not possessed his physique—his grandmother hailed from Jinwu, the most robust and towering tribe under heaven.

“What use would I have for your life?” Mijin curled his lips, his tone mockingly light. “Fifty men. Compensate me with that.”

The chill along Jin Mingshi’s spine receded slightly. Xu Daochun hurriedly said, “Make it a hundred. I’ll handle explaining it to the King of Fucheng. General, thank His Highness quickly—we still have important business to attend to.”

Jin Mingshi bowed his head in thanks. Yuchi Liang continued: “Since everything has been settled, Attendant Xu, please read the imperial edict to the crown prince.”

“Oh my, this humble one is an ignorant fellow—can’t even read all the characters,” Xu Daochun turned his head, speaking to Jin Mingshi with exaggerated solicitude. “Your Generalship should do it. We’ll listen with rapt attention.”

Hearing the two of them pass the buck back and forth, Jin Mingshi sensed something was off. But he had just barely avoided a confrontation with Mijin, and now it was even less possible for him to refuse. The palace servants Xu Daochun had brought were keen-eyed—before Jin Mingshi could speak, they trotted forward with quick, small steps and placed the edict in his hands.

Jin Mingshi looked closely and very nearly cursed aloud.

The edict was simple. Strip away the empty phrases of commendation and consolation, and in truth it contained only a single sentence: Milinan intended to bestow a courtesy name upon Mijin. From this day forward, everyone in the world was to address Mijin by this name.

Wuye.

A beast with no father.