Xiao Chiye said, “I’m all ears.”
Pressed so close to him, Shen Zechuan grew warm and began to sweat a little. He said, “Things like loosening robes and untying sashes—once spoken aloud, they lose their meaning.”
Xiao Chiye caught the fingers Shen Zechuan tried to withdraw and held them firmly. After smiling for a moment, he said, “Lose their meaning once spoken? Just listen—I’ll tell you.”
Shen Zechuan lowered his eyes back to the account book.
Xiao Chiye pinched the pad of Shen Zechuan’s finger and looked at the ledger with him. “I haven’t even started talking yet. Why are you already getting hot?”
Shen Zechuan turned his eyes sideways to glance at him and silently shaped the words with his lips: Because of you.
Xiao Chiye looked at him for a long while. Suddenly he lowered his head and buried his face in the hollow of Shen Zechuan’s neck.
Everything he had been feeling just now melted into water at the sight of Shen Zechuan like this. It flowed through Xiao Chiye’s chest and spread through his whole body, turning into another kind of boiling current. Yet no matter how violently the tides churned inside him, as he held Shen Zechuan he did not even dare use a bit more strength.
That kick back in the years of Qudu had seemed unremarkable at the time. But as time passed, it slyly transformed into the dull ache that followed whenever Xiao Chiye’s emotions stirred. The muddled mixture of love and hatred had been washed through by torrential rain and turned into a lake clear to the bottom. Xiao Chiye drew in his sharp edges and bowed his head in surrender beneath the two words—beloved.
Shen Zechuan loosened his grip and then interlaced his fingers with Xiao Chiye’s again. He tilted his head and nudged Xiao Chiye’s motionless head after a while.
“Did you fall asleep?”
Xiao Chiye lifted his head. His voice was hoarse as he said, “I love you so much.”
Shen Zechuan froze slightly.
Xiao Chiye looked at him and repeated it word by word. “I love you so much.”
Shen Zechuan stood stunned for a moment. “I—”
Xiao Chiye could not wait any longer. Tilting his head, he kissed Shen Zechuan, hard, as though he wanted to pour all the love in his chest—love that words could not carry—into Shen Zechuan.
The breeze in the courtyard stirred the bamboo curtain. Flower shadows slanted beneath the eaves as the sun tilted westward. The golden light that slipped through the obstructions and reached inside scattered across the ground.
The Beiyuan Hunting Grounds were not far from Cizhou, and there was a connected horse road. Even Langtao and Xuejin could reach it in half a day at a gallop. The next day Xiao Chiye took Chen Yang and Ding Tao to inspect the place. Shen Zechuan finished organizing the accounts from their time in Cizhou and made several further adjustments with Zhou Gui and Kong Ling regarding the Cizhou garrison.
“Although we expected quite a few people to come and answer the recruitment call, we never imagined there would be this many!” Zhou Gui was delighted. “At this rate, next year we can expand the farmland even further.”
“There’s a grain shortage outside, while Cizhou can supply it,” Kong Ling said with equal satisfaction. “For many people driven into desperate straits, that’s like sending charcoal in the snow. It solves their urgent need and keeps them from turning into bandits. As for the military equipment, we’ll have to trouble the Assistant Magistrate.”
“Judging by this trend,” Zhou Gui said after a sleepless night of calculations, “by next year there won’t be any bandits left within Cizhou. If we could solve the problems in Dunzhou and Duanzhou as well, the Luoshan bandits would collapse without a fight.”
“The recruitment has shown results, but you must not rely on it alone,” Shen Zechuan said. “Cizhou can sustain such large grain consumption only because everyone here has worked together over the past five years. Duanzhou borders the Biansha tribes—even if they wished to settle down and reclaim land, they couldn’t manage it.”
He had other considerations as well.
“Besides, the imperial throne is vacant now. In troubled times heroes emerge easily. Luoshan has Lei Jingzhe, but Chazhou might have someone else. Cizhou has only just begun to learn how to walk. There’s no need to rush anything.”
“That’s true,” Kong Ling said with a nod. “Our immediate concern is the household registration issue. Many of these people fled here from elsewhere. They have no documents proving their identity. If they want to live in Cizhou long-term, they must have proper registration.”
Shen Zechuan paused briefly before saying, “During the Yongyi era, the Eastern Palace strongly promoted household registration through the Yellow Registers. Each level—from prefectures and counties down to villages—verified them layer by layer. Now Cizhou has few people. Since we no longer follow the orders of the Great Zhou, we can abolish the old three-department registers and establish new ones ourselves. Vagrants will still be strictly forbidden inside the city. Once the registers are confirmed, Cizhou can collect taxes according to them, and the accounts will become clearer as well.”
“We can begin organizing it in the next few days,” Zhou Gui said, then hesitated. “Right now we’re only worried about the Qidong garrison.”
“It’s been so long,” Kong Ling added. “Why haven’t we heard a single word from Qidong?”
Shen Zechuan had also begun to sense something unusual during this waiting.
If Qudu had truly wanted to stop Xiao Chiye from returning to Libei, they could have sent Qi Zhuyin immediately and blocked him at the Zhongbo border a month earlier. But Qudu had not done that. Instead they sent Han Jin, a man who knew only armchair strategy. That legitimate son of the Han clan had been captured by the Imperial Guards outside Dancheng and was still locked in prison.
According to the division of the five Qidong commanderies, Qi Zhuyin could gather one hundred thousand troops within half a month. Yet even now she had not come.
When Shen Zechuan left the Zhou residence, night had already fallen. Judging the time, Xiao Chiye should still be on the road back to the city, so Shen Zechuan did not hurry home. As he stepped down the stairs, a light suddenly appeared ahead. Fei Sheng held a lantern, lighting Shen Zechuan’s path clearly.
Shen Zechuan had been busy these past few days and had not yet spoken with Fei Sheng. Every day Fei Sheng tried his best to get close to Chen Yang and the others, and he was the most diligent in serving tea to Ji Gang. This man had crawled his way out of Qudu and knew how to conduct himself. Holding the lantern now, he walked quietly without interrupting Shen Zechuan’s thoughts. On the surface, he looked content simply to light Shen Zechuan’s way.
There were a few people on the street. Fei Sheng carefully guided him around them when Shen Zechuan suddenly said, “I heard that when the Marquis left this morning, you volunteered yourself as well.”
Fei Sheng replied calmly, “I saw that Gu Jin’s injuries haven’t healed yet. I wanted to go along with the Marquis in his place.”
Shen Zechuan watched the road and said nothing more.
When they returned to the residence, Qiao Tianya took the lantern. Gu Jin was also in the courtyard, so Fei Sheng was not on duty. He quietly withdrew.
“You’re leaving him hanging,” Qiao Tianya said. “He might grow resentful.”
As Shen Zechuan stepped into the corridor, he glanced back. Fei Sheng had already disappeared through the moon gate.
“I intend to use him,” Shen Zechuan said with a faint smile, “but he may not think much of me. In the Imperial Secret Police his rank was no lower than yours. Han Cheng was one of the powerful backers behind him. Before the late emperor suddenly died, he was still Han Cheng’s right-hand man. If Han Cheng wanted to kill him, he would need a reason. Yet after coming to Cizhou for several days, he still hasn’t explained that reason to me.”
He paused and continued.
“He risked everything in Qudu, but he wasn’t originally aiming for me. He was aiming for Ce’an. Ce’an is the second legitimate son of the Prince of Libei. At the time the heir was severely injured, and everyone assumed Ce’an would return to take Xiao Fangxu’s place. Fei Sheng had already fallen out with Han Cheng. Rather than swallow the humiliation, he simply left Qudu and sought another future in Libei. Being the man who saved Ce’an’s life would be enough to secure him a stable place there.”
Qiao Tianya knew a bit about Fei Sheng. “Gu Jin is injured and can’t move easily right now. Today’s volunteering was his attempt to take Gu Jin’s position. Unfortunately the Marquis has a hard heart and refused to give him the chance.”
But Fei Sheng had prepared for that long ago. His attentiveness toward Ji Gang was meant to leave himself a backup path. Today’s volunteering had been a test. Now that he understood Xiao Chiye’s intentions, he had shifted his gaze back to Shen Zechuan.
“This man truly has ability,” Shen Zechuan said. “He’s no less capable than Gu Jin. If we abandon him entirely, it would be a waste.”
By the time they finished speaking, they had reached the courtyard. Gu Jin was about to arrange the meal, but Shen Zechuan told him to wait.
“They should be back soon,” Shen Zechuan said, turning around. “Go to the gate and receive them.”
But once Qiao Tianya left, half the night passed and Xiao Chiye still had not returned. Shen Zechuan stayed awake, and only when the candle had burned halfway down did he hear movement at the front.
Xiao Chiye strode inside but did not immediately enter the room. Covered in dust, he removed his outer robe in the courtyard. Looking back at the person behind him, he called out, “Lan Zhou.”
Shen Zechuan’s gaze passed over Xiao Chiye’s shoulder and saw Chen Yang and Gu Jin supporting someone as they came in. The courtyard was dimly lit, and Shen Zechuan could not recognize who it was.
The man’s robe was torn to shreds, the legs of his trousers ripped open. He wore cracked straw sandals, and his legs were caked with mud. He could barely stand and leaned entirely on Chen Yang and Gu Jin. He muttered nonsense under his breath, disheveled and miserable.
By the faint light, Shen Zechuan suddenly remembered something.
“Lord Yu?”
The man trembled all over. He struggled a few times and stared forward from the darkness in disbelief. Through the tangled hair covering his face, his eyes emerged. When he saw Shen Zechuan, he froze for a long moment, swallowed several times, his lips trembling—then suddenly burst into loud sobs.
“I’m exhausted to death!” Yu Xiaozai cried hoarsely, wiping his face again and again. “Assistant Magistrate! The Grand Secretary is gone! I’m going to die too! Hiding here and there all along the road—living has been too damn hard!”
Shen Zechuan was shocked. Stepping forward, he said in a deep voice, “How did Elder Hai die?”
Yu Xiaozai’s throat was choked with sobs. He tried to answer, but only cries came out. He wept so violently that he nearly collapsed to the ground, shaking his head repeatedly. Finally, amid heartbreaking grief, he shouted hoarsely in official speech:
“The Grand Secretary… the Grand Secretary died remonstrating—without success…”
“Take him away first so he can calm down and change clothes,” Xiao Chiye said calmly. “Gu Jin, go tell the kitchen to prepare some soup.”
The desperate crying lingered in the air. Shen Zechuan remained standing where he was.
Of all the possibilities he had considered, he had never imagined that Hai Liangyi would die. Hai Liangyi had been the stabilizing pillar of Qudu. Back when the Hua and Pan factions wielded overwhelming power, he had still stood firm within the Grand Secretariat. Now that Li Jianheng was dead, even if Han Cheng wished to promote his own kin, Hai Liangyi should have been the obvious choice to serve as regent.
Xiao Chiye held Shen Zechuan’s arm, pulling him out of his stunned stillness.
“I found him among a bandit group several miles west of the hunting grounds,” Xiao Chiye said. “It wasn’t easy for him to leave Qudu. After leaving Dancheng he was robbed by bandits and had to walk barefoot all the way to Cizhou. He carried a letter on his person—Cen Yu wrote it for you. He knows the news from Qudu. He also knows the news from Qidong.”
When Yu Xiaozai entered the room again, he still needed help walking. Hunger had drained his strength. Before speaking, he hugged his bowl and devoured the food. Tears streamed down his face as he ate, as if he were racing against time. He choked repeatedly from swallowing too quickly. Only after the worst of his hunger was eased did he cover his face with a clean handkerchief and wipe himself for a while.
“To still be alive and see the Assistant Magistrate again—what fortune. Lord Cen’s letter is in my robe. I kept it close all the way, afraid the bandits would search me.” Yu Xiaozai knelt there with difficulty and said, “Before we speak of anything else, I must tell you both: the new emperor who is about to ascend the throne… is a woman.”