Chapter 218 - The Hidden Code
The names of those people no longer occupy much of my thoughts. Perhaps it is the shift in my surroundings, or perhaps my mind has simply grown weary of the weight of the past, but the faces of the departed have begun to flicker and sway in my memory like shadows cast by a dying candle.
Leveraging the formidable influence of the Prince’s manor, I employed every ounce of my silver-tongued guile to weave a web of evidence. It did not take long for that profligate dandy’s family to be ensnared, their lineage uprooted and their wealth confiscated by the state. While Jinzhu’s biological father, Master Tang, had been the previous master of the tower, the current master was his legitimate eldest son—a rising star in the social circles who prided himself on his adherence to ritual and decorum. He viewed the brood of illegitimate children his father’s lust had produced as a stain upon his reputation. I made a conscious effort to cultivate his favor, acting as a discreet intermediary to resolve several of his more delicate complications.
Gradually, my voice gained weight within the tower. It was a simple matter to ensure that Jinzhu’s mother, a woman defined by her acerbic tongue and petty selfishness, fell into the young Master Tang’s disfavor. She was eventually cast out, left to wander the streets without a roof over her head. Jinzhu felt not a shred of affection for her mother; instead, she reveled in her newfound freedom. Yet, the woman would return daily to the foot of the pavilion, screaming obscenities and demanding food and finery until Jinzhu, desperate for a moment of peace, was forced to surrender half her monthly earnings just to silence the hag.
That same year, I completed my "debut" mission for the Yingzhao Temple. I successfully dismantled a plot by a band of desperate outlaws to plunder the national treasury. Following several other high-profile successes, I was promoted to the rank of Secret Emissary. My deployment to Suizhou was my first assignment under this new title. My objective was to rendezvous with another Secret Emissary and his subordinates to eradicate the bandit infestation at Yanfeng Stronghold in the eastern reaches of the Huangbai Mountains.
As I crossed into the prefecture, the order of the world seemed to dissolve. The roads grew chaotic, and the horizon was frequently marred by the pillars of smoke rising from burning villages. Brutal bandits roamed the streets, committing acts of slaughter and rapine with impunity. Had it not been for the clandestine protection of the Temple’s martial experts, the fate of Biyao and myself would have been easy to imagine. Biyao was a maidservant assigned to me by the Temple; she possessed some martial skill, though not enough to hold a battlefield. Her role was to handle overeager patrons and ensure I suffered no unnecessary indignities—the maximum protection the Temple could afford me while I remained undercover.
To maintain absolute secrecy, the mission briefings never disclosed the identities of other agents. I knew nothing of the Secret Emissary I was meant to assist. Our only means of recognition was a coded phrase adapted from a poem by Qin Guan: *"Dusty fate mistakenly leads to a stay among flowers."* The key lay in the omitted words—*wu ji*, meaning "no way"—and how they would be restored to create a plan.
According to the plan, the Temple’s forces remained stationed three miles from the foot of the mountain. I was to be "captured" and taken up to the Huangbai Mountains. From that point on, my survival—and more importantly, my ability to win the favor and trust of the bandit chief—depended entirely on my own wits. As expected, within half a mile of leaving our escort, we were intercepted by a group of lackeys. Seeing my refined beauty and expensive silks, they followed their usual protocol: I was to be bound and presented to the "Great Kings" for their inspection. Only after the leaders had taken their fill would the underlings get a chance to see if any scraps remained.
My carriage and its drivers were hauled up the mountain. Biyao and I remained unharmed, though we were unceremoniously thrust into the middle of the bandits' evening banquet. The hall was ablaze with torchlight. Eight bandit chiefs sat in a row, but at the very end of the table sat a figure who looked entirely out of place, drawing the eye despite his position in the shadows.
He sat obscured by a pillar and a folding screen, his profile a mere blur in the dim light. He was tall and lean, possessing an air of noble refinement that felt alien to this den of thieves. Though it was late spring and the air was sweltering, he was bundled in thick seasonal robes and a heavy cloak, occasionally breaking into fits of coughing. When the coughing grew severe, a sickly flush would bloom on his pale cheeks, and a page would hurriedly offer him medicine. He looked for all the world like a frail, pampered young master who had never stepped foot outside his study. What was such a man doing here? If he were an ally of the bandits, his manner was far too stiff and scholarly; if he were a hostage, his treatment was far too luxurious. By contrast, I, the "captured concubine of a capital official," was forced to kneel on the cold ground without the slightest hint of mercy.
The leader of the gang was Liu Yuan, the primary target of my mission. Intelligence suggested that beneath his boisterous, crude exterior lay a mind as sharp as a needle and a heart riddled with suspicion. He was short, dark-skinned, and built like a block of granite, rumored to possess Herculean strength. A "honey trap" had been attempted once before, but Liu Yuan had seen through the ruse and killed the agent before she could even begin her work.
The banditry itself was a secondary concern; the true threat was the nearly ten thousand men they had gathered in Suizhou, right on the doorstep of the capital. They intended to march on the provincial seat within days. If they turned north, they could reach the outskirts of Pingjing in three days. The imperial army was already massed at the border, but a full-scale conflict during the harvest season would devastate the tax revenues of Jin, Sui, and Yue provinces and leave the common folk in ruin. The Emperor, in his benevolence, viewed military force as a last resort. This was a task perfectly suited for the Yingzhao Temple—to resolve the crisis from within without spilling a single drop of a soldier's blood.
I kept my head low, weeping softly and trembling as if paralyzed by terror. Liu Yuan barked an order for me to look up, demanding to know why I was traveling. I whimpered that I was returning to my ancestral home to visit relatives. Noticing that my maidservant, though shaking so hard she could barely kneel, was clutching an ancient guqin to her chest, he surmised I was a trained songstress or musician kept by a high official. He commanded me to play for their entertainment.
The sickly young master’s coughing subsided. As he sipped tea to steady his breath, he didn't miss the chance to eye me lecherously. He began to chant a verse, critiquing my hands: *"Wrists of white and skin of red, like jade bamboo shoots; tuning the strings and drawing the silk, revealing tapered tips."* His tone was oily and decadent, his words lacking any shred of dignity.
I couldn't help myself; I shot a cold, piercing glare at the "consumptive ghost," only to be momentarily stunned by his full face. Though his smile was crooked and roguish, his features were impeccably balanced and refined. There was an unmistakable aura of arrogance and disdain in his eyes, and his skin was so fine it clearly had never known the bite of wind or frost. The moment a woman entered the room, his posture shifted from stiff to fluid, shedding his scholarly air for one of pure debauchery. He was clearly a veteran of the pleasure quarters. I had known countless princes and nobles, but I had never seen a man of such "Qilin" caliber.
That such crude words came from such a mouth created a jarring sense of discord. A suspicion began to take root in my heart. On the surface, I maintained my act of insulted modesty, looking at him with a mix of resentment and fear. "What would the Great Kings like to hear?" I asked, my voice trembling with feigned grievance.
Liu Yuan laughed. "We’re all rough men here; we don't understand those fancy tunes. Young Master He Ruo, you decide!"
The man, He Ruo, tilted his head back with a look of feigned intoxication, as if his soul were wandering through the clouds. He tapped his fingers on the table in a rhythmic beat. "I didn't bring my beloved lady on this trip, and I miss her dearly. When I left, she sang 'Dian Jiang Chun' through her tears. Today, I see this beauty has been so frightened by you Great Kings that her lips have turned pale. Why not sing that tune? It might put some color back in her lips so we can better enjoy her company later."
The room erupted in lewd laughter. My suspicion was now a certainty. I bit my lip, pretending to be both shamed and angered. Looking at him, I whispered, "Shall I sing the lyrics of Shao You?"
"Excellent, excellent," He Ruo replied, closing his eyes and snapping his fingers. He began to hum the first line: *"Drunkenly swaying in a light boat, following the current..."*
I ignored him and struck the chords, beginning my song:
*"Drunkenly swaying in a light boat, following the current to the depths of the flowers. Dusty fate mistakenly leads, no way to stay among the flowers.*
*The mist and water are vast, a thousand miles of evening sun. Countless mountains, falling red petals like rain; I remember not the path from which I came."*
When I reached the second line, he joined in, but at the words *"no way"* (wu ji), he pretended to forget the lyrics, pausing for a beat before skipping over them. It was him. He was the Secret Emissary.
The crowd cheered and clapped. I looked at Liu Yuan with feigned anxiety, as if unsure if he liked the song or if he would have my head for it. Men can rarely resist such a look from a woman. Liu Yuan laughed heartily and beckoned me to sit closer, telling me to pour wine for his brothers and sing a few more tunes.
The emissary, disguised as He Ruo, was loud and demanding, shouting instructions even as he coughed until he was blue in the face. He insisted I sing this or that, telling me to tighten the fourth string or loosen the fifth, all while peppering his speech with off-color jokes that kept the bandits roaring. Biyao, unaware of the truth, ground her teeth in rage as she poured wine alongside me. Even after she eventually realized the situation, she never once gave that man a pleasant look.
By midnight, the atmosphere was electric. Liu Yuan had stripped off his tunic, revealing a physique of terrifying, knotted muscle. Someone suggested a contest of strength, playing right into Liu Yuan’s vanity. He glanced at me, seeing my look of feigned awe, and waved his hand for his men to bring out the equipment.
It was a stone drum, not particularly large—about the size of an embroidered stool—but fitted with heavy iron rings on either side. It took four men with poles to carry it in, followed by eight more carrying baskets of black stone weights, each shaped like a counting chip. I had never seen such a thing and watched with feigned confusion as Liu Yuan ordered, "Add fifty chips!" Two lackeys opened the top of the drum and began sliding the weights inside.
I soon realized the nature of the device. Each chip weighed ten catties. Two baskets held two hundred chips, totaling two thousand catties. Combined with the drum’s base weight of one thousand, the total was three thousand catties. Each of the bandit chiefs took a turn. Liu Yuan was easily the strongest; once the weight hit twenty-four hundred catties, no one could match him. He then turned his gaze toward He Ruo and grinned. "I heard Brother He Ruo also practices martial arts. Why not give it a whirl?"
He Ruo immediately began to cough. "No... no. I would love to join you, but truly... *cough*... I’ve been sickly since the womb..." His page hurriedly patted his back, fussing over him. "My dear Young Master, you’ve already finished a whole bottle of medicine! No matter how happy you are to see these brothers, you mustn't drink another drop!"
"Brother, this is our first business deal. We have no history of trust or brotherhood yet," Liu Yuan said, his eyes narrowing. "The world is a hard place, and Old Liu has no patience for friends who aren't transparent. Tell you what: if Young Master He Ruo is willing to show us his hand, for every catty you can lift up to three thousand, I’ll give you a discount of ten thousand in profit."
The sharp glint of a merchant immediately flashed in He Ruo’s eyes. He smiled faintly. "And if I lift the full three thousand?"
"I’ll waive thirty million in profit. I’ll consider it my treat to a brother and won't even blink."
"Fine! Then I must say, if the Great King can lift three thousand catties, I, He Ruobì, will gift you an extra thirty crates of goods."
The stakes were clear. In this environment, thirty crates of goods worth a million each could only mean one thing: armaments. I watched with genuine interest as Liu Yuan personally added forty more chips, bringing the weight to twenty-eight hundred catties. He gripped the iron rings, sank his weight, and with a roar of effort, hoisted the drum over his head.
Amidst the thunderous applause, He Ruo looked relaxed, almost eager. His page, A-Hong, tried to stop him. "Let me take this weight for you, Master! You can just do the final three thousand!"
"Brother Liu would take offense!" He Ruo replied with a frown. Liu Yuan laughed generously. "Let the boy try, what does it matter!"
"Fine. A-Hong, be careful. If you throw out your back, no one’s going to massage it for you."
A-Hong bowed to the crowd, called out a polite "Excuse me," tucked his robes into his belt, and hoisted the stone drum with startling ease before setting it down steadily. Both men then successfully lifted twenty-nine hundred and twenty-nine hundred and fifty catties. A-Hong seemed to have strength to spare, while Liu Yuan was reaching his limit. Driven by the prospect of the thirty crates, Liu Yuan managed to heave the three thousand catties over his head, though he stumbled slightly as he set it down.
He Ruo rolled up his sleeves and stepped forward with a smirk, pushing aside the sweating A-Hong. He playfully adjusted the leather belt around his thin waist, sank into a horse stance, and—to the shock of everyone in the room—hoisted the three thousand catties as if it were made of balsa wood. He even took a few small steps in a circle...
I found it almost comical. The Temple truly was full of eccentrics. Since I was the "helpless woman," pairing me with a literal god of strength for this mission made perfect sense. But this man played the weakling so convincingly that the result left the room in stunned silence. Even Liu Yuan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, though he didn't seem offended; instead, he looked at He Ruo with newfound respect and clapped him on the shoulder with a booming laugh.
He Ruo returned to his seat, and before he had even caught his breath, he spoke again. "Can we add more?"
"You want to keep going? We’re out of weights," the second-in-command, Jin Wenguang—a man who looked more like a refined merchant—replied with a gentle smile.
"We don't need weights. Let's add something else." He Ruo pointed a finger directly at me. "Let's add this beauty!"
***
