Shen Zechuan had not brought the full two million silver coins, but he had brought sincerity. Lei Changming looked at the few crates of silver—neatly stacked, all genuine. He casually grabbed a handful, feeling the heavy weight, and said, “A few crates of silver like this, even my sugar-cake-selling brothers could produce. To try to persuade me with such a trifle—you’re seriously underestimating Lei Changming.”
“If I had really brought two million, Lord might not even dare to accept it,” Shen Zechuan said, now seated. “Good deals are meant to be discussed slowly. Right now, the pressing matters are Cizhou and Xiao Chiyie.”
Lei Changming waved, signaling for Kong Ling to be dragged out of the tent, leaving only his personal guards and Shen Zechuan. He refused to leave the tiger seat, never approaching Shen Zechuan, and asked, “You and Xiao Chiyie broke through Qudu together—life and death comrades. How come you’ve suddenly changed, coming to beg a bite from me?”
“Lord knows me, so surely you know my father was Wei Shen. He stirred up quite a storm in Dunzhou, leaving grudges with Li Bei. Though Xiao Chiyie and I have reconciled, his father might not employ me,” Shen Zechuan said, troubled. “I have misunderstandings with Han Cheng, but those are minor offenses, not punishable by death. With someone vouching for me, I can return to Qudu and serve the court again.”
“So you still want an official post,” Lei Changming said, leaning on his knees. “Brother, I won’t hide it—I also want to be an official. In the past, wandering the mountains and fields, life was free, but it wasn’t a proper duty. Every action was watched by the Qidong garrison!”
“I share your ambition,” Shen Zechuan lifted his small bamboo fan slightly. “Isn’t that perfect?”
“But I’ve been cheated by scholars like you before,” Lei Changming admitted, a trace of caution in his voice. “This two million is in Cizhou. How do I get it? And Han Jin—how do you help me rescue him? Let’s be clear now, so I know where I stand before I act with you.”
“The silver is easy. Lord can send a trusted man to Cizhou to ask Zhou Gui—he knows where the coins are stored. If Lord can carry them, the silver can be taken immediately.”
“If I ask him, will he hand it over?” Lei Changming’s fingers twitched, still tempted to touch the silver.
“You have Kong Ling, Zhou Gui’s confidant,” Shen Zechuan said with a smile. “And you have forty thousand troops. Zhou Gui wouldn’t dare refuse. He wants to be a benevolent official, not anger you in a critical moment.”
Lei Changming studied Shen Zechuan, seemingly calculating. Silence fell over the tent; Shen Zechuan reached for his tea cup but did not drink. In the long standoff, Lei Changming suddenly laughed. “My reserves are ample. No rush for the silver; leave it a few days. Bring tea for Mr. Shen. Our priority is discussing how to rescue Han Jin. After all, that’s the key to meeting Han Cheng in Qudu.”
Kong Ling was locked in the stables, lying across the weeds, gasping. The rough hemp ropes bound him tightly, and the horses nearby left steaming manure. The stench made him dizzy. He turned his head, struggling to breathe, while a circle of bandits laughed at him.
“You thieves! Bah! A gentleman may be killed but not humiliated—don’t think you can use me to threaten Cizhou!” Kong Ling yelled angrily.
The horsewhips poked his face; mud and manure smeared him, while laughter rang around him. Once respected for his scholarship, treated with courtesy by the likes of Dantai Long and Zhou Gui, now he was bound and mocked. Memories of fleeing Dunzhou on a snowy night blended with the faces of these bandits, merging into blurry laughter. Overcome, Kong Ling began to cry.
“Patrol!” a soldier suddenly shouted. “What are you all doing here? This old dog skin is more important than the patrol mission? I swear, anyone delaying the patrol gets skinned! Move, disperse!”
The crowd scattered. Kong Ling moved to the edge of the stable, leaning his head against the railing as rain washed over him. He seemed to breathe freely, his goat-like beard now caked with mud.
From a distance, people moved in and out of the tent. Lifting the curtain, Kong Ling saw Lei Changming preparing a feast for Shen Zechuan. Spitting, he closed his eyes in the rain. After some time, a hand gently tapped his cheek.
Opening his eyes, he saw a soldier from before. The man, in his early thirties, dark-skinned and sharp-eyed, said, “Mr. Chengfeng!”
Kong Ling was startled.
“Don’t be afraid, sir. I’m an old subordinate of General Dantai, once serving in the Dunzhou garrison and met you before,” the man said, forcing a smile, then sighed. “Sir… you shouldn’t have ended up like this.”
“You were under Dantai Long. How can you follow Lei Changming, a bandit?” Kong Ling said dazedly. “Dantai Long hated such men in life.”
“I had no choice, sir,” the man said bitterly. “After Dunzhou was retaken, the court took the grain to fill Xuoxi’s deficit. We survivors chewed bark to survive. Lord Lei may be a bandit, but he’s righteous and generous. Following him, we at least have food. We had no choice.”
Kong Ling knew he spoke the truth, yet could only remain silent.
The man adjusted Kong Ling and said, “I heard the lord’s plan at the feast: to negotiate with Cizhou’s authorities. I feared your pride would not bear the humiliation, so I seized a chance to get you out. Sir, I will quickly ride you to safety!”
Seeing the sincerity, Kong Ling said, “If you release me, Lei Changming will not spare you.”
The man untied Kong Ling, speaking quickly: “I’ll take you to Cizhou and return to apologize to the lord. I was loyal under General Dantai, but circumstances forced me into banditry. Lord has treated me well; I cannot betray him. Sir, I’ll help you onto the horse!”
He helped Kong Ling mount, gripping his arm. Kong Ling choked back emotion. “You are a perceptive man.”
The man mounted his horse, draping a cloak over Kong Ling. With a tug on the reins, he guided them toward the camp’s gate. Rain-slick guards saluted. He showed his badge and led Kong Ling out.
They galloped but a short while before hearing shouts behind—the pursuers.
“We still have a thousand li to Cizhou, sir!” the man shouted through the rain. “We ride through the night!”
Kong Ling held the reins tightly, following the man at full speed. Branches whipped his face; he dared not look back. Pain aside, he focused on reaching Cizhou to alert Zhou Gui.
Shen Zechuan ate little, ignoring the singing and dancing in the tent, sitting below drinking wine.
Lei Changming had brought many concubines, several taken by force in Duanzhou. He sent one to pour Shen Zechuan wine, while he sat at the tiger seat, urging, “Brother Shen, drink! I brought fine wine; drink as much as you like tonight.”
Shen Zechuan saw Lei Changming’s flushed face, loud voice, openly joking and roughly handling the women. He lifted his cup, drained it, and said nothing.
Lei Changming ate meat. “You are the son of Wei Shen, Prince of Jianxing, never knowing hunger. Two million silver offered freely—that’s the daring of a man of the Jianghu! Brother Shen, not to flatter, I think you’ve done well joining me. Xiao Chiyie, still a greenhorn in Qudu, has little chance returning to Li Bei. He brings twenty thousand irregulars; Li Bei won’t accept him! Could Li Bei let him command Li Bei’s forces? Xiao Jiming is truly formidable!”
Shen Zechuan poured himself a cup, smiling. “Indeed.”
Lei Changming swallowed, wiped his mouth. “Speaking of generals, I fear only Commander Qi Zhuyin of Qidong! Among the four great generals, she’s the only woman. I saw her once in Hezhou. Damn, beautiful, yet wielding the ghost-headed blade! Xiao Chiyie also uses it—it can cleave bone with sheer force. I came to Cizhou to save her face, capture Xiao Chiyie, and deliver him to Qudu, so Qidong and Li Bei could contest without interference. With such merit, couldn’t I ask for a general’s post?”
“I hear Marshal Qi commands the Five Tigers, all fierce warriors she raised in the Qidong garrison over the years,” Shen Zechuan said. “If Lord goes, naturally you take the lead, as the eldest.”
Lei Changming laughed thunderously, grabbing a woman from his lap, kissing her indiscriminately, wiping his greasy hands on the silk. “I rose from the mountains, running east and west, fighting battles. In Zhongbo, everyone knows I can fight. Brother Shen, you know Lu Guangbai of the frontier? Poor, stubborn, just a hard head—year after year lighting beacons at the frontier. Nothing special. I say, let me take that post—I’d do far better!”
Shen Zechuan, seeing him drunk and boasting, gently adjusted the chopsticks on the table and smiled, “He indeed isn’t impressive.”
“Real heroes are like Commander Zuo,” Lei Changming said, drinking, half undressed, ignoring spills, tossing the wine bowl aside. “Thousands of li to seize an enemy leader, one arrow breaks their courage! Stories from Hezhou tea houses—he killed his wife to defend the city, hair turned white in three steps—people wept! Sadly, even heroes tire early, retiring young. If not, perhaps we could’ve sworn brotherhood!”
The tent resembled a den of chaos. The so-called guards and deputies exposed themselves, standing or lying, drinking and carousing with prostitutes. No discipline remained; they, like Lei Changming, had risen by blade and cudgel from banditry.
Shen Zechuan, seated among them, felt an odd discomfort.
Lei Changming should not be such a petty, hedonistic man. If he were, how could he have emerged above the rest? What he displayed was far from the rumors.
Now, Lei Changming chased a courtesan, pulling her into his embrace roughly, singing obscure field songs from Dengzhou, flailing wildly like a bull charging a chessboard. In his revelry, he suddenly tapped his forehead, pointing at Shen Zechuan: “Your mother’s a Duanzhou dancer! Brother Shen, come, dance for us!”