The customs of summer nights hung heavy; the moon dangled among the green treetops.
Xiao Chiye, strong and robust, grew fiery with just a little wine. At this moment, he was restless, staring at Shen Zechuan as he descended. “Even at the Temple of Atonement, one can teach restraint… change one’s nature.”
Shen Zechuan dismissed the attendant. “I’m best at enduring whatever comes.”
Xiao Chiye took the tea offered by a servant, rinsed his mouth, wiped it, and said, “At least your calligraphy looks proper; these four characters—’enduring adversity’—I doubt you could write them yourself.”
“All just part of the show,” Shen Zechuan smiled as he wiped his hands, “no need to take it seriously.”
Xiao Chiye didn’t look at him, tossing the handkerchief back onto the tray. “A performance is one thing, but who would believe it? There always has to be someone to play the part—me, Xiao Ce’an, am perfectly suited. Didn’t you enjoy watching?”
“That blade’s a treasure,” Shen Zechuan’s gaze drifted downward.
Xiao Chiye raised a hand to block him. “And what about the person?”
Upstairs, a lantern went out. Shen Zechuan sighed. “How am I supposed to respond to that? Doesn’t quite fit.”
“You’ve got a keen eye,” Xiao Chiye moved his hand aside, eyes sharp and fierce. “Not many recognize a good blade.”
“A person is a treasure,” Shen Zechuan followed his lead, “so of course they wear fine things. Even a blind cat can catch a dead mouse—I’m just guessing.”
“Why is it,” Xiao Chiye said, “that whenever you praise me, I feel like I’m seeing a ghost?”
“Not enough heard, perhaps,” Shen Zechuan said reassuringly. “My earnest heart hasn’t even spoken yet.”
The others had dispersed.
“You’ve got endurance,” Xiao Chiye said, neither warm nor cold.
“Small patience prevents ruin, my ability’s yet to come,” Shen Zechuan smiled. “Don’t rush.”
“Ability?” Xiao Chiye said. “In this tiny capital, what could you possibly scheme for?”
“I’ll tell you,” Shen Zechuan paused, looking at Xiao Chiye with something like pity. “You really trust people. Second Young Master, you’re still innocent and naive.”
“I’m just a drunkard playboy, living off the world,” Xiao Chiye said. “How would I know the world’s this treacherous, or that someone like you would toy with me?”
“My sin,” Shen Zechuan moved slightly closer. “I see even your lackeys are bound; pathetic. Tonight, drawing the blade was satisfying, wasn’t it?”
“A little,” Xiao Chiye raised a foot, blocking the path. “Where are you going? Our talk isn’t done.”
“I’ll take you home,” Shen Zechuan said. “Tonight you saved me. I’m grateful, yet can’t repay it.”
Xiao Chiye smirked. “Full of lies—you’ve tricked plenty, haven’t you?”
“Few were fooled,” Shen Zechuan replied, looking back. “People always tell a few lies—like ‘he’s got plenty of money.’”
“Compared to you, I’m a minor trickster,” Xiao Chiye said.
“You see,” Shen Zechuan said gently, “polite again.”
He was impossible to talk to.
One couldn’t tell which words were true or false; each phrase seemed evasive, circling back without yielding anything.
Xiao Chiye turned, whistled, and called his horse. “Because of tonight, you spoke so intimately. Now that everyone’s gone, pretending further is meaningless.”
“What else?” Shen Zechuan held his lantern, looking at him softly. “Should I bite you again?”
Xiao Chiye stepped closer, casual yet precise. “With that face, you use it all to manipulate. Looking at me like that… you want me to think what?”
Shen Zechuan remained unmoved. Softly, he said, “I just happen to have these affectionate eyes.”
Xiao Chiye tapped the whip lightly against his brow, teasing: “What a waste—full of schemes inside.”
“I was born with a lowly fate,” Shen Zechuan lifted the whip aside. “How could I play without scheming?”
“Second Young Master, tonight it’s all for yourself,” Xiao Chiye said coldly. “Don’t mistake my actions for sentiment.”
“Good thing the moon is bright tonight,” Shen Zechuan said. “Why ruin my self-deception?”
Xiao Chiye mounted, reins in hand, looking at him a moment. “Afraid you’d cling to me over a small favor, whining and bothering me.”
“You’re not drunk,” Shen Zechuan said subtly. “You’re terminally ill.”
“Who knows?” Xiao Chiye said. “After all, you’ve seen me throw tantrums before.”
The night gradually quieted.
Xiao Chiye withdrew his gaze—claiming a small victory. He urged the horse forward, then heard a laughing voice behind him:
“The thing you lost five years ago—have you found it?”
Xiao Chiye abruptly turned, reins tight, voice cold: “Return the ring to me.”
Shen Zechuan looked at him, eyes mischievous.
“Want the ring? Fine—learn to bark like a dog, and you’ll have it.”
Hai Dongqing leapt onto Xiao Chiye’s shoulder, frostily staring at Shen Zechuan. The night deepened; an unknown night watchman struck his clapper, snuffing the lantern in Shen Zechuan’s hand.
The path fell into darkness.
A few days later, Li Jianheng dared to show himself to Xiao Chiye. He found the young man still irritable; even listening to music, ice shards kept dropping around him, scaring away all the delicate girls.
Li Jianheng hid behind a teacup, whispering, “Still angry?”
Xiao Chiye chewed the ice. “Gone.”
Li Jianheng shivered at the crisp sound. “Autumn’s coming; don’t eat ice like that—creepy.”
“Stored it every year anyway; waste not,” Xiao Chiye said, legs raised, leaning back.
“Then let me tell you something cheerful,” Li Jianheng shifted slightly. “That Feng Quan—do you know who he is?”
“Who?”
“That girl I mentioned before,” Li Jianheng’s eyes twinkled slyly. “Feng Quan is her brother. She’s favored by Pan Rugui—of course he’ll advance Feng Quan. He’s charming, persuasive, even Ji Lei’s delighted; he intends to treat him like a son!”
“Looks like,” Xiao Chiye propped his head on one arm, glancing at Li Jianheng, “you really care for that girl.”
“Exactly,” Li Jianheng said. “So that night’s mess? All Ji Lei’s doing. Feng Quan, as a son, wouldn’t dare defy his father.”
“Sounds like you want me to let him off?” Xiao Chiye said.
Li Jianheng, pliable and humble, slid off the chair, crouching before Xiao Chiye. “Brother, spare him for my sake. Besides, we already made him suffer. He’s Pan Rugui’s man; can’t be too disrespectful. Little Fuze’s affair just passed; the emperor’s still watching.”
Xiao Chiye suddenly stared. “Did you touch her?”
Li Jianheng mumbled.
“You touched a woman under Pan Rugui’s nose?”
“If he were a real man, I wouldn’t,” Li Jianheng protested, standing. “He’s just an old eunuch, playing with a stunning beauty all day, making her cry! That beauty is mine! If it were you, would you stand by?!”
Xiao Chiye said, frustrated: “I wouldn’t!”
Li Jianheng pleaded again. “Ce’an, we’re brothers! It’s not a big deal. Just look the other way. Let Feng Quan go, I’ll give you something else to play with!”
Xiao Chiye lay back, silent.
If Pan Rugui discovered this, Little Fuze’s affair would be nothing; the old eunuch would try to kill them both. From Feng Quan’s promotion alone, one could see his favor for that woman.
Pan Rugui, sixty-five, without sons, had kept no concubine for long. If he truly cherished this woman, he might not hesitate to kill Li Jianheng.
Xiao Chiye listened to Li Jianheng ramble. “You’re daring enough to act on this, confident?”
Li Jianheng picked at his bamboo fan, whispering: “…Not really… just heard, heard Pan Rugui used to raise a pet rabbit. Give him one to play with, right?”
Xiao Chiye said, “Few could compare to your beauty.”
Li Jianheng, uneasy, confessed: “Then… Shen Lanzhou—lately, many inquire about him.”
“Inquire about what?”
“His price, whether he can be supported.” Seeing Xiao Chiye’s expression, he leaned forward. “Money’s not an issue, but I dare not approach him. If he acts rashly… Ce’an, help me this once. Deliver him to Pan Rugui; after it’s done, I’ll pay him! Gold too!”
Xiao Chiye remained silent, knees propped.
Li Jianheng thought he had a chance. “You hate Shen Wei, right? Once this’s done, Shen Zechuan won’t dare act against you again. He’s alive, but trapped in the capital, doing this deed—life worse than death! Besides, even the Empress Dowager wants—”
“Make sure your head’s in gear when you speak,” Xiao Chiye slowly drew back his legs. “Turns out, what’s inside you is all paste.”
“Ce’an! Ce’an!” Li Jianheng ran after him, robe in hand.
Xiao Chiye mounted, leaving without looking back.
Let Shen Zechuan become Pan Rugui’s plaything—would Pan Rugui dare? Protected by the Empress Dowager, he could not. Li Jianheng had lost his mind!
But if Li Jianheng really dared…
If he really dared…
Shen Zechuan, having finished his duties, removed his badge, and saw Xiao Chiye’s fine horse waiting.
Descending the steps, he said, “Here for the ring?”
Xiao Chiye snapped a branch, clenched it in his teeth, staring. “In broad daylight and still not sober? Give me the ring—no more nonsense.”
“Not so irate that night,” Shen Zechuan said, observing the sky. “Standing here barking like a dog, Governor would be embarrassed. This look isn’t for the ring; what is it? Speak plainly.”
“You know best,” Xiao Chiye sat on a stone, long legs crossed over arms. “Prince Chu wanted to harm Little Fuze; you knew from the temple. I turned away then. Now thinking—he must have someone around, right? Either a spy or someone inciting him.”
“My skills aren’t that far-reaching,” Shen Zechuan said. “Wouldn’t be used to raise elephants.”
“True or false, who knows,” Xiao Chiye’s gaze grew cold. “You’d better explain clearly, then I’ll decide whether to trust you.”