Hearing the response from within, the woman waiting outside pushed the door open and entered. Cradling a pipa, she performed a graceful curtsy and said softly, "I am Bi Han. My greetings to you both, sirs." She looked up at us with a smile. "I shall be the one to attend to you this evening."
Her name and face were both familiar. I suddenly realized—wasn't she the other woman sitting next to Wen the Fifth that night at the Chunan banquet? It turned out that at a small dinner table of a dozen people, there had been two Yingzhao Temple agents lurking undercover in the Pingkang District...
Wei Qingming gave a faint nod. Bi Han turned back, seemingly glancing outside by chance as she pulled the door shut. She set the pipa gently on the table and then knelt with crisp, military precision. "Greetings, Emissary. What are your instructions?"
Xiong the Third’s earlier performance and his talk of the "strong liquor" business had not been for nothing. The "liquor" he mentioned was a code, signaling that she was the ninth-ranked Emissary of the Temple. While other women would have only felt disdain, a subordinate embedded in the house would understand immediately and naturally volunteer to fill the vacancy. Though Wei Qingming continued to use Xiong the Third’s voice, her tone returned to its usual cold composure. "The second cabinet in the Xun position. Send someone in to place this inside."
She produced a listening device shaped like a teacup and gestured for me to add an illusion to it. I understood at once and cast a matching glamour. As long as it was placed among the other cups in that room, it would perfectly replicate their appearance.
Bi Han bowed respectfully, took the cup into her sleeve, and answered in the affirmative. She turned to open the door and called for a page boy. "Go tell my maid, Ling He, to bring my five-stringed pipa. Tell her not to forget the plectrum." This was undoubtedly another code. Sure enough, her maid soon arrived in a hurry with a five-stringed pipa. After the hand-off, the rest was predictable; the maid would "accidentally" brush past Prince Xuan’s cabinet and slip the cup onto the tray of a servant bringing fresh tea.
The preparations were completed with such quiet ease. Wei Qingming looked serene, idly leafing through a book. Bi Han sat by the table as if nothing had happened, smoothing her skirts with a charming smile. "If the master has no specific requests, I shall play as my heart dictates."
She propped the five-stringed pipa against her leg, tuned it, and held it across her chest. Picking up the plectrum, she lightly plucked a single note.
Compared to Yin Deng’s natural, radiant beauty, Bi Han’s appearance was merely above average. When she spoke and bowed softly, she seemed like an unremarkable, ordinary woman. Yet the moment she revealed her identity as an agent of Yingzhao Temple, she exuded a decisive, heroic aura. Now, with her eyes downcast as she played the pipa, she possessed a quiet, solitary pride. Her posture was solemn, treating the performance with evident sincerity and respect.
The four-stringed pipa was common nowadays, while the five-stringed variety was rare, having reached its peak during the Tang Dynasty. It was an instrument introduced from Kucha in the Western Regions. Of the ten musical ensembles established in the early Tang, eight utilized the five-stringed pipa, including the Kucha ensemble. The famous *Rainbow Skirt and Feather Robe Dance* was a suite of Kucha music and dance. Bi Han’s instrument had a black lacquer base; the soundboard was inlaid with a pair of iridescent mother-of-pearl butterflies, while the back featured a spray of valley orchids in the same cold, elegant raden. It seemed like a perfect footnote to Bi Han herself. The plectrum was red lacquer with a scrolling branch pattern; held in her slender, white hand, it looked like a long, fiery bird feather.
She sang a rendition of *Su Mu Zhe*. Interestingly, "Su Mu Zhe" was originally a type of Kucha music as well, though after a thousand years of refinement by literati, it had become a melody of soft, lingering sentiment.
"Level are the dew-drenched banks, distant the misty villas. The tangled green grows lush and wild; after the rain, the river sky dawns. Only Young Master Yu is in his prime. His spring robes sweep the ground, their tender hue reflecting his youthful glow."
"Connecting to the long pavilion, the distant road is lost. One must resent the wandering prince for forgetting to return early. The pear blossoms have all fallen, and spring has ended once more. The setting sun fills the earth, its emerald light aging amidst the haze."
I listened, entranced. Thinking of the years we spent apart, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow. Wei Qingming had been silently reading, but halfway through the song, she glanced at my expression and reached out to take my hand. I suddenly remembered our current identities—two grown men pulling and touching hands was hardly proper, especially with her subordinate present. I felt a bit embarrassed, but she firmly grasped my hand, stroking the back of it with her palm to offer silent comfort.
As the song ended, a faint hum resonated in the room. The matching cup placed before Wei Qingming vibrated slightly. We could hear the music from the other cabinet, the singing of women, and the clattering sounds of cups being handled as people drank tea. The fake cup we sent in had been filled with tea, but that didn't interfere with its function at all.
The device worked on the principle of sound transmission. Bi Han couldn't hear it; she could only judge its success by watching the vibration of the small cup. She rose, performed a bow, and carried her pipa into the inner chamber, signaling her intent to avoid overhearing. That room was originally intended for guests to conclude their "business" on the spot...
I playfully waved my hand before Wei Qingming’s eyes, allowing her to share my vision. It turned out that the spell I had attached earlier was not just a transformation illusion, but also a fragment of my own clairvoyance. Now, everything happening in that room was laid bare before us. Wei Qingming gave me an appreciative look. With no one else present, we huddled together, leaning over the cup to watch and listen.
Six years ago, we had a run-in with Prince Xuan’s second son and discovered ironclad evidence of the Prince’s illegal grave robbing in Zhong He’s tomb. At the time, I thought that since the law dictated death for grave robbing, even a Prince would lose a layer of skin if he were treated leniently. To my surprise, he remained free and easy until I left the capital. But Wei Qingming never let anyone who fell into her hands go easily. Over a year later, using a completely unrelated pretext, she caused him to lose the Emperor’s favor, forcing him to suffer a salary deduction and leave the capital for his fief. Naturally, she arranged for eyes and ears to watch him; otherwise, how could the news have reached the Emissary’s hands the moment he stepped back into the capital? With the decline of the Thousand Color Palace, he likely could no longer stir up trouble underground. I was no longer the simple, foolish demon I once was; I understood that a minor crime like grave robbing was a mere trifle to the nobility. Wei Qingming’s current handling of the situation was the truly heavy blow.
This Prince Xuan was pale and thin, quite handsome, and indeed bore a strong resemblance to the Emperor—they were brothers born of the same mother. He was still in his traveling clothes; it seemed he hadn't even had time to enter his royal residence or private estate before rushing to the Pingkang District. Unless he was a glutton for lust, the person he was meeting had to be extremely important. The first possibility was quickly ruled out; he didn't even want to touch the beauties who threw themselves into his arms, roughly pushing them away with a frown. "Stop it all. Withdraw."
The voices of the two women playing and singing stopped abruptly. They fell silent and gathered their skirts, bowing demurely as they excused themselves. Prince Xuan sat quietly for a moment and drank a cup of tea. Hearing the faint music drifting from the neighboring room, he looked ready to flare up but restrained himself. Instead, the man opposite him comforted him with a faint smile. "Why be in such a hurry, Your Highness? I am sure Prince Yi will arrive shortly."
Prince Yi! I looked at Wei Qingming in shock. As expected, the Emissary hadn't moved for nothing. Two Princes meeting in secret—something big was definitely happening!
Wei Qingming’s face remained expressionless, but her eyes narrowed the moment the man opposite began to speak. She likely recognized him instantly. I also found the voice familiar, but the impression flashed through my mind too quickly to catch.
Soon, Prince Xuan called the man by name. "Zezhao, why don't you tell me first—what is Chancellor Zhang’s attitude?"
"Chancellor Zhang guards the treasury; naturally, he is unwilling to be the first to start a war," the man called Zezhao said with a slow smile. "The Ever-Normal Granaries across the lands are overflowing. Just the labor to turn and dry the grain each year costs tens of thousands of men. Chancellor Zhang can't even bear to bring out the stale rice from ten years ago; how could he be willing to spend a massive sum on military expenses?"
Only then did Prince Xuan show a hint of a smile. "Imperial Brother is bent on war; the words of this 'housekeeper' won't carry much weight."
Grand Secretary Zhang Guibai was a remarkable man who had achieved the "Triple First" in the imperial examinations during the reign of the late Emperor Zhenzong. He was the youngest among the regents but quickly became the most powerful Chancellor, known as the "Triple First Chancellor." Because he prioritized practicality, despised the "pure stream" scholars, and promoted mercantilist laws, he was scorned by the literati. In particular, because the treasury was empty when the current Emperor ascended—to the point where even the salaries of central officials couldn't be paid—Chancellor Zhang’s first policy upon taking over the Ministry of Revenue was to forcefully implement a three-month salary substitution using regulated items like Source Crystals and Featherstones. This sparked a rebellion among the court officials. Countless officials were stripped of their posts, lost their lives, or had their pants pulled down to be caned at Yonghe Bridge because of this. He earned the hatred of the entire court, who mocked him as the "Grandmother Chancellor"—a housekeeping old woman who haggled over every single copper coin. The Da You Merchant Guild was originally a second-rate guild in the capital region, but by riding this wind and purchasing Source Crystals in bulk from the capital officials, they not only made a fortune but also solved the Grand Secretary’s urgent crisis, quickly establishing ties with many ministers and leaping to become the number one merchant guild in the capital.
Yet, under the rule of this harsh and stingy "housekeeper" minister, the accumulated deficits were cleared in less than eight years. Three years later, both public and private granaries were full, ensuring no fear of famine for a decade. Of course, Chancellor Zhang had always been a figure of mixed reputation. One of the primary accusations against him was his collusion with Feng Zhen. The palace and the government were in league, controlling the court from within and without, privately selling offices and titles so that the civil and military officials were all their cronies. At this time, the sharp-tongued people of the capital paired the two together: Feng Zhen was the "Matriarch Chancellor" who lacked the parts between his legs, while Zhang Guibai became the "Patriarch Chancellor."
The man called Zezhao chuckled. This slightly acidic laughter reminded me of him—he was none other than Wu Ziming, the guest who had been chatting with Wen the Fifth when Wei Qingming and I first arrived at the banquet yesterday! He wore a blue-and-white scholar's robe and a Dongpo hat, with three wisps of soft, smooth beard under his chin. His thin lips always bore a slight, crooked smile, looking both humble and as if he were constantly plotting to stir up the world with his silver tongue. His eyes were always darting with a sharp light; one look told you he was a man who aspired to be like the strategists Su Qin or Zhang Yi. As for whether he would end up as a Zhao Kuo, a Jia Xu, or a Yang Xiu, it was hard to say. This man was clearly a retainer in Chancellor Zhang’s household, yet he was "in the camp of Cao but his heart was with Han," having already hooked up with the two Princes!
I heard Wu Ziming laugh. "Zhang of Yingdu has served through two reigns; he is incredibly seasoned. He knows he cannot go head-to-head with His Majesty, so he has never openly opposed him. However, in his actions, he always relies on the word 'delay,' abandoning his usual vigorous and resolute style. Grain, horses, armor, cotton clothes—he won't provide enough of any of them. That old thief Feng Zhen is truly the roundworm in his belly; on one hand, he uses music and beauty to entertain the Emperor, while on the other, his ruthless hands have already harmed several pro-war officials. The autumn Imperial Lectures that were supposed to be held for the Crown Prince from August to October were canceled because the Prince left the capital. Now, these two 'parental' Chancellors are going to hand-pick the lecturers for the spring session, stuffing it with anti-war ministers from their faction to fill the Prince’s ears with their sour, pedantic stench and pollute His Majesty’s vision!"
Yesterday, after just one meeting, this fellow had earned my dislike for no reason. Now that he was insulting my Father Feng, my anger flared. Wei Qingming, his legitimate godson, merely listened quietly, unmoved. Only a faint, cold light flashed in her eyes, vanishing in an instant. I suppose in ten years, she had heard far worse things, and with her own reputation being so notorious, she had long since grown accustomed to it.
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Dreams of the Ancient Mountain: The Cat's Masquerade | Chapter 126 | The Young Master in Green | Novela.app | Novela.app
