Kong Ling did not dare complain inwardly, afraid Xiao Chiye might notice something. After wiping the sweat from his forehead, he tried to cover it up by taking a sip of tea. Nodding, he said, “Your Lordship returning to Libei means going to war with the Biansha tribes. Cizhou can’t keep troubling the Imperial Guards either. Besides, with the Assistant Magistrate here now, even if Lei Jingzhe makes a comeback, he probably won’t gain any advantage.”
Zhou Gui had not yet caught the implication and simply said, “A thousand-mile march is full of hardships. Cizhou sits to the south of Libei precisely so Libei can have no worries behind it. If Your Lordship ever needs anything in the future, Cizhou will certainly do its best. As for the bandits currently imprisoned—how does Your Lordship intend to deal with them?”
“Among those bandits are a few who were once the most notorious leaders in Luoshan. Killing them won’t do much good. Better to release them along with Lei Jingzhe,” Xiao Chiye said. He had already made his plans. “I’ve bribed a few of them to spread the news everywhere that Lei Jingzhe was released by the Imperial Guards. In half a month, they’ll break out of prison with Ding Niu and Liu Er. At that time Cizhou can send people to pursue them and simply drive them back into Dunzhou territory. Some of their men previously died at the hands of the Imperial Guards. Once they believe that the eastern encirclement happened because Lei Jingzhe leaked the news, they will never spare him.”
Zhou Gui and Kong Ling both nodded.
Zhou Gui was thinking that Xiao Chiye would soon return to Libei, so the matter of military grain had to be discussed. A few days earlier they had talked with Shen Zechuan about subsidizing grain for the Imperial Guards next year, but Shen Zechuan had rejected it.
“Cizhou originally planned to give the Imperial Guards sixteen thousand shi of grain next spring,” Zhou Gui said carefully to Xiao Chiye. “We know it isn’t much, but it’s a small token of Cizhou’s gratitude to Your Lordship. I already mentioned this to the Assistant Magistrate. Understanding Cizhou’s difficulties, he suggested we sell the grain to Chazhou at a suitable price to fund reconstruction. But after thinking about it these past few days, we still feel uneasy about it. Your Lordship, in the northwest of Cizhou there is a vacant stretch of land—the former site of the Beiyuan Hunting Grounds. At first we wanted to cultivate farmland there, but the soil isn’t good and crops won’t grow, so we could only plant a few oilseeds. Rather than leaving it idle, we’d rather give it to Your Lordship. It could serve as a horse-training ground, or a new camp.”
The Beiyuan Hunting Grounds had once preceded the Nanlin Hunting Grounds. Later, when Xiao Fangxu rose to power in the north, the Li clan canceled the annual ceremony at Beiyuan and moved it to the safer Nanlin grounds. The land was not small—larger than the Fengshan training field Xiao Chiye had in Qudu. From afar it could threaten Dancheng, from nearby it could support Cizhou, and it straddled the Libei frontier line. It was an excellent position, suitable for both offense and defense.
Xiao Chiye truly grew interested.
He was wary of the Qidong Garrison in the south. Shen Zechuan remained in Zhongbo; if Xiao Chiye had no place to station troops, he would have to run back and forth between two ends. If it were only himself, that would be fine—but moving tens of thousands of soldiers that way would not only expose their movements but also invite unnecessary trouble.
The problem was that Xiao Chiye had no money.
The Fengshan training field had been built from his own frugal savings. It could not compare with the grand training grounds of the Eight Camps, but it still cost real silver and gold. Now his noble title was useless—no one paid him a stipend anymore. The mansions in Qudu had become things he could only look at but not eat. Even a handful of copper coins could stump him.
The little jade bead Shen Zechuan wore on his right ear now—Xiao Chiye had carved it himself. In the past he could throw away a few ivory fans without even blinking, but now if Lan Zhou’s small bamboo fan got dirty, although he promised to replace it, he would end up thinking about making a new one himself.
Seeing Xiao Chiye remain silent for a long time, Zhou Gui thought he had not taken a liking to the land and said, “The place is large. Although it used to be a hunting ground, it has fallen into disrepair and the servants have all run off. But the surrounding walls are still quite solid. Once Your Lordship takes over, a bit of reinforcement will make it usable.”
Kong Ling added, “Your Lordship solved Cizhou’s troubles. Naturally we would not deceive you over something like this. We mentioned the land to the Assistant Magistrate yesterday as well. He said he would find time in the next couple of days to inspect it personally—he seems interested too.”
The previous night had been full of passion, so Shen Zechuan had not had time to mention it. And in the morning Xiao Chiye had left early; Shen Zechuan had still been half-asleep.
“The land is good. It’s suitable for the Imperial Guards to settle down. Both Lan Zhou and I like it,” Xiao Chiye said calmly. “You two needn’t be so polite. Many thanks.”
Shen Zechuan had gotten up and was wearing a plain white casual robe. He had originally planned to go out, but the marks from last night’s indulgence were too obvious.
The marks on his chest, waist, thighs, and the hollow of his neck could be hidden by clothing. But his skin was thin—whenever the night had been particularly intense, the faint redness around his eyes would not fade the next day.
Ding Tao stood under the corridor feeding the red carp in the jar. He was telling Gu Jin a story with great enthusiasm. The fish feed in his hand kept spilling out, dropping into the jar, and the two carp gobbled it up greedily. By the time Gu Jin noticed, one of them had already eaten so much its belly had flipped upward.
Gu Jin was about to beat Ding Tao. Seeing trouble coming, Ding Tao stuffed the remaining fish food into his pocket and hopped toward the main room, shouting, “Young Master! Something terrible happened! Brother Jin fed the fish to death!”
Shen Zechuan took a bowl of sweet soup from the tray and handed one to Ding Tao, letting him sit under the eaves and drink it. Then he asked Gu Jin, “How are your injuries today?”
Seeing Shen Zechuan wearing wooden clogs, Gu Jin knew he was not going out today. After saluting, he said, “Much better. The doctor comes on time to change the medicine. Since Young Master isn’t going out today, shall we have the kitchen start preparing now?”
The courtyard was shaded with trees, and the open doors on both sides cast flower-shaped shadows. The weather was fine today. Even before noon, it had already begun to feel hot.
Shen Zechuan’s slender fingers rested in the sunlight like they were holding a piece of clear amber. He disliked the cold and feared heat as well. Today he looked tired, carrying a faint air of laziness.
“It’s hot. Master doesn’t like greasy food, and Ce’an gets irritable easily. Tell the cooks to make something lighter,” Shen Zechuan said, stepping back into the shade beneath the eaves. “Since you’re injured, follow the doctor and Master’s instructions. Have the kitchen prepare a separate portion for you.”
Then he said, “Ding Tao, go call Master in from the yard.”
Ji Gang had not stayed in the private courtyard Shen Zechuan originally prepared for him. Instead, he lived with Qiao Tianya and the others.
When people grew older, they feared loneliness. Now that Qi Huilian was gone and no longer there to quarrel with him, Ji Gang was alone and inevitably melancholic. Fortunately many of the guards were from Libei or formerly from the Imperial Secret Police. They respected the Ji family’s boxing techniques and hoped for guidance, so when they were off duty they liked to stay with Ji Gang. Most of them were young men without families. Ji Gang found the lively atmosphere pleasant and felt happy.
Ji Gang slept early and rose early. Today he had gotten up at the first quarter of the mao hour, watching Qiao Tianya and the others practice boxing in the yard. After tea he wandered out and noticed Shen Zechuan had not gotten up yet. He walked around again, came back, and still saw no sign of him. So when he finally saw Shen Zechuan now, he asked, “Why did you wake so late today? Are you sick?”
Shen Zechuan froze for a moment, paused, and then said, “…I overslept this morning and missed the time.”
Seeing that Shen Zechuan did not look energetic today, Ji Gang said, “Even though there is much to do now, you still must take care of your health. I’ll cook tonight and make you two fish dishes.”
While they chatted, Xiao Chiye returned.
At the courtyard gate he saw Ding Tao and knew Ji Gang had come. Removing his outer robe and washing his hands, he asked Chen Yang, “Did Master come this morning as well?”
Chen Yang answered honestly, “Young Master bought Master a little skylark a few days ago. Every morning Master takes it out to walk. Today he came to our gate and saw Young Master hadn’t gotten up yet, so he asked about it several times.”
After wiping his hands, Xiao Chiye walked along the corridor. When he entered, he first saluted Ji Gang as a disciple.
Even back at the Mei residence he had treated Ji Gang and Zuo Qianqiu with great respect. But Ji Gang had never forgotten the kick Xiao Chiye gave six years ago. Now Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye were working together, so Ji Gang assumed their past grudges had simply been privately reconciled. They were friends with some personal ties. For Shen Zechuan’s sake, Ji Gang would not easily give Xiao Chiye a cold face.
Ji Gang and Zuo Qianqiu were sworn brothers. By seniority, Xiao Chiye should pay respects. Ji Gang nodded and said succinctly, “Your Lordship need not be so formal.”
They took their seats. Ji Gang sat at the head, while Xiao Chiye and Shen Zechuan happened to face each other. During the meal Ji Gang asked about the bandit suppression and about Zuo Qianqiu. Xiao Chiye answered everything honestly—he did not seek to answer well, only truthfully.
Ji Gang was a man who valued loyalty deeply. In his youth he once drank and missed his duty, causing his adoptive father Ji Wufan to fall from favor with Emperor Guangcheng. He had carried that guilt ever since. Later, after Duanzhou fell, he never touched alcohol again.
Though he did not have Qi Huilian’s famous talent, he commanded great prestige among the Imperial Secret Police. The faction led by Ge Qingqing had done their utmost to help Shen Zechuan—from the beating with the court rods, to the imperial prison, and afterward—all because of Ji Gang. When Ji Gang served as Assistant Director in the Secret Police, he rarely used power to oppress others and despised people like Pan Rugu. He often helped innocent people clear their names, offending many nobles in the process.
For an elder like this, Xiao Chiye would not play tricks. Only by offering complete sincerity could he make Ji Gang truly regard him differently.
The meal lasted half an hour. Thinking the two of them still had matters to discuss, Ji Gang did not stay long and left early.
Xiao Chiye was changing clothes. Bare-chested, he pulled Shen Zechuan’s hand and pressed it against his back.
Shen Zechuan was still sitting on the floor mat, pen in hand, calculating recent expenses. Feeling the sweat on Xiao Chiye’s skin, he glanced up and said, “So nervous.”
“Scared to death,” Xiao Chiye said quickly while dressing. “I was afraid I didn’t sound sincere enough and Master might grow distant again. We’ve been too busy lately. I should find a day to talk with him properly.”
“A loving father loves his son not for repayment,” Shen Zechuan said, setting down the pen. “There are no benefits involved in passing Master’s test—only genuine feeling. Second Young Master, the road ahead is long. That kick of yours sent yourself flying far away.”
Xiao Chiye sank into the rattan chair and thought for a moment. “If it had been my father today, we might not even have finished the meal.”
Still shaken, Xiao Chiye rubbed his chest and looked at Shen Zechuan.
Shen Zechuan was focused on the account book. He picked up the pen, then set it down again. His sleeve slipped back, revealing a section of pale skin. His profile was calm. No one else was in the room. Because of the heat, his collar hung slightly open, exposing snowy skin marked with bite marks.
So thin.
For a moment Xiao Chiye simply stared. His mind drifted through many thoughts, yet somehow produced none.
“Lan Zhou,” Xiao Chiye called suddenly, almost without thinking.
Shen Zechuan’s attention was elsewhere. He was considering asking Ge Qingqing to bring a few capable accountants from Juexi. Hearing Xiao Chiye’s voice, he did not lift his eyes from the book, only tilted his face slightly and replied, “Speak.”
Xiao Chiye suddenly stood up. After pacing around twice, he abruptly crouched behind Shen Zechuan and pulled him into a tight embrace.
Shen Zechuan was still writing. Only his strong composure kept the pen from slipping crooked.
Xiao Chiye rubbed his cheek against Shen Zechuan’s, making his face grow hot. He did not even know what had come over him. Without saying a word, he touched him everywhere, clinging to him like he could not let go.
So Shen Zechuan simply sat in Xiao Chiye’s lap and continued doing the accounts.
Whenever he reached a difficult calculation, he asked Xiao Chiye to extend a finger for counting.
Xiao Chiye refused, holding him while calculating mentally—and astonishingly fast.
“Second Young Master,” Shen Zechuan said, pushing the abacus aside, “you seem to have some skill. Why not calculate all of this for me?”
Xiao Chiye pulled the abacus back. “If I keep calculating, I’ll mess up eventually. This is too complicated. You should leave it to professionals. Do you know who’s best at calculations in Qudu?”
Shen Zechuan said, “That I really don’t know.”
“Third Miss Hua—Hua Xiangyi.”
Shen Zechuan asked, “Then do you know who’s best at luring the enemy in Zhongbo?”
Xiao Chiye replied, “…Tantai Long?”
“Xiao Ce’an,” Shen Zechuan finally looked at him and said seriously. “Rubbing against me like that until my mind wanders and I can’t focus on proper business.”
“Name without substance,” Xiao Chiye leaned closer. “I saw the young master sweating lightly, clothes in disarray, so I came over to remind him.”
“Then you must be a gentleman,” Shen Zechuan said. Dipping his fingertip in tea, he traced it across the back of Xiao Chiye’s hand. “Unlike me—I was thinking about quite a lot.”