Chapter 31: Partridge Sky (Part 6)
It was only late afternoon, but the heavy rain made the sky dark and gloomy. Meng Yun Xian hurried up the steps, handing his umbrella to a servant, and entered the house, leaving wet footprints on the floor.
He Tong and the others, having just been dismissed by Zhang Jing, bowed to Meng Yun Xian. “Minister Meng.”
“Why did he suddenly cough up blood? Have you called for a physician?” Meng Yun Xian asked, glancing through the curtain into the inner room, then looking at He Tong.
“We have. He’s taken the medicine,” He Tong replied.
Meng Yun Xian entered the room. The bitter scent of medicine filled the air. Zhang Jing lay on the bed, his hair disheveled, his eyes closed. It was unclear whether he was awake or asleep.
“Chong Zhi,” Meng Yun Xian called softly, standing by the bed. Looking at his thin, pale face, he didn’t know what to say.
“If you have nothing to say, then leave,” Zhang Jing said, his eyes still closed, his voice raspy. “We agreed when we parted ways that even if we met again, we wouldn’t turn back.”
“That was you,” Meng Yun Xian said, wiping the rain from his face. “Not me.”
“Aren’t you afraid of being ridiculed for your shamelessness?” Zhang Jing sneered, his breathing rattling in his chest. He coughed.
“You know I don’t care about such things,” Meng Yun Xian shook his head. “Chong Zhi, when we parted ways, did you truly think I was wrong? If so, why are you willing to work with me now?”
“I’m simply obeying the Emperor’s decree.”
“Is that all?”
A long silence followed.
Zhang Jing opened his eyes and looked at Meng Yun Xian. “Must you ask? Meng Zhuo, do you know that the biggest regret of my life is agreeing to implement the new policies with you!”
He didn’t say whether it was right or wrong, only that he regretted it.
“Meng Zhuo, at least for now, don’t let me see you,” Zhang Jing said, his voice trembling slightly, his breathing ragged. He turned away, his hands clenching beneath the blankets.
The rain intensified, drumming against the eaves.
Meng Yun Xian left Zhang’s residence with heavy steps, his steward helping him into the carriage. He didn’t even notice the journey home.
“Did you see him? How is he?” his wife, Lady Jiang, asked, holding an umbrella as he entered.
“I saw him,” Meng Yun Xian said, coming back to his senses and letting his wife wipe the rain from his clothes. “He was lying in bed, ill. He couldn’t stop me. But he said something to me today.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘At least for now, don’t let me see you.’”
Lady Jiang’s hand froze. She looked up.
“He didn’t scowl or yell. He said it calmly,” Meng Yun Xian said, his throat tightening, unable to articulate the complex emotions swirling within him. “But it felt like I had been punished…”
“You deserve it,” Lady Jiang said, hitting him playfully. “What kind of punishment? You were the one who dragged him into this mess, and you were the one who drove his student away. He should beat you with a stick!”
“I’d rather he did,” Meng Yun Xian said, taking the teacup she offered. Steam warmed his face, and his eyes welled up. He looked at the rain outside and sighed. “Chong Zhi joined me because he admired my ‘Qing Qu Shu.’ But when the Emperor abolished the new policies, I was demoted, while he was exiled. His exile cost him his wife and son…”
“A-Shao, I have you by my side. But Chong Zhi… who does he have?”
***
Night had fallen. Zhou Ting, drenched, returned to the Yin Ye Si. Han Qing, his face dark, swept the objects from his desk and roared, “He attended the court session yesterday! You searched his residence before dawn today! How could you not find him?!”
Zhou Ting remained silent, his eyes downcast.
Lin Yu had confessed before dawn, naming Du Cong. And who was Du Cong? The Ministry of Rites official who had vouched for Miao Yi Yang.
Zhou Ting had immediately gone to arrest Du Cong, but he had vanished.
He had searched all day, to no avail.
“Without Du Cong, how can we continue the investigation?” Han Qing didn’t believe Du Cong was the mastermind. He was already an official, with no children to motivate such a risky scheme.
He must have been bribed.
“Director, the medicine woman, Yang Shi, has confessed,” Zhou Ting said. “She confirmed that someone paid her ten taels of gold to kill A-Zhou’s mother. Some of the assassins also confessed that they were hired to silence Yang Shi.”
“If they were hired, did they see who hired them?”
“No,” Zhou Ting paused, remembering the lead assassin who had fallen from the roof. “But I think one of them knows something.”
If he was different, he must know something. Han Qing slammed his teacup on the table. “Then make him talk, Zhou Ting!”
“Yes, Director,” Zhou Ting bowed his head.
It had been raining constantly in Yun Jing, no sign of the moon at night. Ni Su went to Yong’an Lake to gather more willow branches.
The disappearance of a fifth-rank official was causing a stir in Yun Jing. Ni Su suspected it was connected to her brother’s case, but without Zhou Ting, she couldn’t inquire at the Yin Ye Si.
“I remember Du Cong intervened and had Miao Yi Yang released from the Yin Ye Si,” Ni Su said, carefully avoiding the wet stone steps and reaching for a willow branch. She suddenly realized, “If he was the one who switched my brother’s paper, now that he’s implicated, wouldn’t Second Young Master Miao be a suspect again?”
After all, Du Cong had vouched for Miao Yi Yang. Now that Du Cong was missing, wouldn’t Miao Yi Yang be questioned again?
“This case won’t be closed until the real culprit is found,” Xu He Xue said, watching her footing. “Therefore, Miao Yi Yang is the designated ‘culprit.’”
“But don’t worry. The assassin who tried to kill Yang Shi is still being interrogated at the Yin Ye Si.”
“I know,” Ni Su said, listening to the rain against the umbrella. She reached for a higher branch and saw a hand reach past her.
The willow branch snapped.
In the mist, Ni Su turned and saw raindrops dripping from his pale fingers onto her forehead.
“Are you cold?” Xu He Xue asked, seeing the rain soak her right shoulder.
Willow branches swayed in the breeze. Ni Su shook her head, letting him take the branches, and held the umbrella over him as they walked away from the lake.
“You don’t have to do this,” Xu He Xue said, carrying the branches, walking beside her.
“But it’s been raining constantly. I can’t let you stay wet,” Ni Su said, quickening her pace. She wanted to change her wet shoes.
“You’re human. Your comfort is more important than mine,” Xu He Xue said, looking down at her mud-caked shoes.
Ni Su stopped abruptly.
“Why do you always say that?” she asked, holding the umbrella over him. “Yours is important too.”
She probably didn’t realize the weight of her words. Xu He Xue’s eyelids flickered.
Even though she was walking quickly, the umbrella remained steadily over his head, despite how strange it must have looked to others.
“If I didn’t hold the umbrella for you, you wouldn’t catch a cold. But even as a ghost, you wouldn’t like being wet,” she said, tugging at his sleeve, urging him forward. “I feel uncomfortable without bathing. Don’t you feel the same? See? We’re not so different.”
She tried to bridge the gap between them with the word “different,” but the difference was vast.
Back at the clinic, Ni Su saw Chao Yi Song waiting under the eaves. “Master Chao, what brings you here?”
“Miss Ni, why did you gather so many willow branches?” he asked, seeing the bundle in her arms.
“They’re medicinal,” she replied.
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Chao Yi Song scratched his head, then remembered his purpose. He followed her inside and accepted the tea she offered. “Have you heard about Minister Du’s disappearance?”
“Yes,” Ni Su said, avoiding his gaze as she put away her sewing, hiding the unfinished men’s garment. “Was he the one who switched my brother’s paper?”
Chao Yi Song nodded. “Yes. But he’s missing now. We’ve searched the entire city, but he’s vanished without a trace. Commander Zhou asked me to inform you and ask you to stay out of trouble.”
Zhou Ting was warning her not to act rashly, but Chao Yi Song had softened the message.
“Please tell Commander Zhou I won’t,” Ni Su said.
Chao Yi Song was relieved. “It’s as if Minister Du sprouted wings and flew away. But the medicine woman and the assassins are still at the Yin Ye Si. Commander Zhou is interrogating them.”
“When did Minister Du disappear?” Ni Su asked, sitting down.
“It’s strange. He attended the morning court session the day before yesterday. That night, Director Han got a confession from Master Lin. When I went to Minister Du’s residence with Commander Zhou, only his godfather and his wife were there. They didn’t know when he left.”
This wasn’t a secret, so Chao Yi Song continued, eating pastries and drinking tea. “I’ve heard quite a bit about him these past few days. He was originally a soldier, a military officer in the north. Fifteen years ago, he became the adopted son of a civil official. A military officer in his twenties, adopting a civil official in his thirties or forties as his father. Isn’t that strange?”
Chao Yi Song clicked his tongue. “I heard he even outranked his adopted father at the time. But that’s how it is in the Great Qi. Civil officials are always superior to military officers. He gained a powerful patron, then married his adopted father’s widowed daughter-in-law. He even changed his name and somehow rose to become a fifth-rank official.”
Ni Su was about to speak when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned and saw Xu He Xue, his clothes damp, his expression strange.
But with Chao Yi Song present, she couldn’t address him directly.
“Ni Su, ask him what Minister Du’s previous name was,” Xu He Xue said, his gaze fixed on Chao Yi Song.
Although puzzled, Ni Su turned to Chao Yi Song. “Do you know Minister Du’s previous name?”
The Yin Ye Si had been investigating Du Cong. Chao Yi Song thought for a moment, then slapped his thigh. “Du San Cai! That’s it!”
Xu He Xue’s pupils contracted, and a roaring filled his ears.
Ni Su saw him dissolve into mist and vanish. A sense of foreboding washed over her. She spoke to Chao Yi Song for a few more minutes, then, after he left, hurried to the back porch.
“Xu Zi Ling,” she called, standing outside his door.
Candlelight flickered inside. Xu He Xue saw her shadow on the window screen. “Mmm,” he replied.
“You…” Ni Su wanted to ask him something, but looking at the hazy light, she bit her lip. “I’ll go boil some willow water for you.”
Her shadow disappeared from the screen.
Xu He Xue stared at the window, then covered his eyes with his sleeve.
Fire beacons lit the night sky above Dan Yuan. Armor stained with blood.
Fourteen years ago, in the Hu Ning Army, surrounded by young faces, he had drunk his first bowl of strong liquor, coughing and his face burning.
They had laughed at him.
“The little scholar can’t hold his liquor! You need more practice!” a young officer had said, laughing heartily.
Young and impulsive, he had kicked up a spear, shattering the officer’s wine jar, and fought him as the others cheered.
“Xue Huai, do you yield?” he had asked, his knee pressing against the officer’s back.
“How can I not yield to the Xu family’s martial arts?” Xue Huai hadn’t been embarrassed, still grinning. “You’re so young, yet so skilled. Little scholar, those barbarians will regret crossing you!”
After several rounds of drinks, he had fallen asleep by the fire, his head resting on his armor.
A shy young man had approached him. “Scholar Xu,” he had whispered.
“Hmm?” he had mumbled drowsily.
“You’re only fourteen and already a Jinshi. Why come to the border?” the young man had asked nervously, clutching a small book.
“What’s that in your hand?” he had asked, noticing the book.
“Oh, this,” the young man had become even more nervous. “Scholar Xu, I… I was hoping you could teach me to read. Would you be willing?”
“Of course.” He had been surprised to find someone so eager to learn in the army camp. He sat up, brushing the dust from his clothes. “What’s your name?”
Firelight illuminated the young man’s face. He had smiled. “Du San Cai.”
Xu He Xue stood in the darkness, his fingers clenching, his knuckles white, the shimmering dust around him sharp and jagged, brushing against the candle flames.
Du San Cai wasn’t dead.
Why wasn’t he dead?
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