TSBIRBV Ch 95

Chapter 95 Heaven above, Suzhou–Hangzhou below (7)

“It’s a wreck.”

As Haryang said, it was. The interior was utterly ruined.

There was no sign of people. The bolts of cloth that workers had handled so carefully, lest they crease in a fist, lay strewn across the floor. Some were torn to shreds, and muddy footprints tangled in chaos over them.

The waters used for dyeing were mixed any which way, turned turbid. To make matters worse, as if it had rained, the cloth that had been soaked then dried gave off that peculiar musty smell that tickled the nose.

Spotting patches of dried blood here and there, Yegyeol pressed his lips together. He hadn’t given much affection, but seeing the one place where he could at least take shelter in childhood reduced to this left him ill at ease.

It had originally been worn, but always orderly. Though the spaces people used were meager, the colors born at their fingertips were among the most splendid and brilliant in all Hangzhou.

“It wasn’t like this…”

Yegyeol let the words trail off.

He hadn’t come expecting golden beams or marble plinths, but this was plainly a scene trampled by destruction.

“Seems they had ‘guests.’”

At Je Haryang’s crisp summation, Yegyeol slowly nodded, stepped back a pace, and took the ruin in.

He hadn’t come expecting greatness, but watching a place he’d known in childhood wholly collapse left him oddly deflated.

“Let’s go back.”

“Hm?”

At Yegyeol’s firm words, Haryang looked at him in puzzlement.

“If we stay here, we might get caught up in something nasty; better to go.”

Enunciating in case his senior brother didn’t understand, Yegyeol tried to turn away without hesitation. But before he could fully turn his back, Haryang caught him.

“Didn’t you want to find the old worker who helped you?”

“But for a respectable dyeing workshop that was making its way to end up like this, the heterodox are clearly involved.”

Having spent his childhood in Hangzhou in a former life, Yegyeol knew well how such things happened.

“If they’d borrowed money and failed to repay, they wouldn’t wreck the shop this far. Even taking interest would more than recover the original; it isn’t normal for a creditor to sabotage the capital a debtor uses to earn.”

He’d felt something off the moment he saw the costly silk scattered on the floor.

Some might think the heterodox lot knew nothing but cutting with a blade, but they were optimized for draining the lifeblood of commoners.

If there’s silk, they carry it off to sell; for them to deliberately stomp it into uselessness with muddy feet happens only when they expect profit beyond that.

“We should leave before someone sees us here.”

A specialist of Hangzhou’s underbelly, Mun Yegyeol, came to a neat conclusion.

He grabbed his senior brother’s hem and tugged, but senior brother didn’t budge.

“Hm…”

“Senior brother? We have to go.”

In the time he remembered, he’d never thought the crooked‑ear or pit viper who had staked claims in Hangzhou’s back alleys would still live. But just as there had been a Blood Tally before the pit viper, and a Black Dog before the Blood Tally, the lineage of Hangzhou’s heterodox would have continued, even if the individuals changed.

Different men, each and every one, but their commonality was similar cruelty.

“Let me ask one thing.”

Haryang spoke in his usual tone.

Even with the wreckage as a backdrop, there was no sense of tension in his manner.

“Do you still wish to find that old worker?”

Yegyeol explained earnestly,

“Regardless of what I want, this workshop is finished. Even if there’s someone who remembers Old Huang, it’s best not to get entangled.”

Even as he spoke, he glanced around, gauging for signs of life. Haryang, wearing a curious expression, ruffled his hair.

“I understand that base men have been here. But that cannot obstruct what you wish to do.”

Yegyeol blinked.

“Do you understand what I mean?”

Surprisingly, he did understand Je Haryang.

“But.”

Unable to hide his discomfiture, Yegyeol spoke,

“It’s only to offer a single stick of incense, and that’s that. It isn’t some great, long‑cherished wish; if you hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t even have remembered. Why get caught up in trouble and hassle?”

As Yegyeol edged back, Haryang lightly lifted him in his arms.

Even in his confusion, Yegyeol didn’t miss his chance; he clung back and was caught by those deep, dark eyes.

“Gyeol, the reason is this.”

Haryang brushed his cheek lightly against Yegyeol’s bright yellow sleeve. It was the new outfit he had changed into before leaving the clothing shop.

“Because dressing you in something fair and lovely isn’t the only kind of luxury.”

The soft‑spoken words held ambiguity rather than clarity.

But Yegyeol, like a priest heeding an oracle, listened to Haryang.

“I want my one and only disciple to accomplish everything he wants, and do everything he wishes.”

“Everything?”

As if to confirm, Yegyeol asked; Haryang nodded.

“Everything.”

“Even the very trifling?”

Though he did not voice them, a stream of desires flitted through Yegyeol’s mind.

“Of course.”

A low chuckle brushed Yegyeol’s ear.

“This elder brother has the skill to accomplish whatever you want…”

Holding his breath, Yegyeol wrapped his arms around Haryang’s back.

“Won’t you entrust it to me and see?”

Propping his chin on his senior brother’s shoulder, Yegyeol happened to spot a murky stain below, soaking the hem of a silk robe.

Following the path where he had been carried, gray footprints trailed.

Tracing Haryang’s tracks with his gaze, Yegyeol found a puddle formed by spilled dye.

“There’s no way senior brother didn’t notice that…”

It was likely the very spot he would have stepped as he moved to leave the workshop.

His head spun like a roller coaster; his stomach churned. At the same time, his heart thudded wildly.

Haryang set Yegyeol on a desk that looked relatively intact, then stepped back and gazed at him.

There was no further urging or persuasion. Only a tender force, violent in that it allowed neither escape nor retreat, bound Yegyeol.

Even for him, at that moment, meeting his senior brother’s gaze was hard.

“Isn’t a blindfold for times like this?”

Chewing over his lingering vexation with the Black Ghost, Yegyeol lowered his eyes. The silk his senior brother had newly bought came into view.

Aside from being a bit rumpled, its glossy, fine color confused his sight.

“Old Huang wasn’t such a kind man. I don’t even know if he’s alive, and it’s not as if I decided I must offer incense. It just came to mind as we were passing.”

Biting his lip, Yegyeol looked at his senior brother beseechingly, thinking perhaps he would say, Then let’s stop and go back.

But Haryang only wore a vague smile and said nothing of the kind he wished to hear.

“But since senior brother says it’s all right—perhaps it wouldn’t be bad to try to find him.”

“Well done.”

Haryang’s hand went to muss Yegyeol’s hair.

Suddenly shy, Yegyeol busily straightened his hair, and with uncharacteristic primness, asked,

“What, exactly?”

“Did you not decide to trust me?”

Haryang looked very pleased. For a man who had just carried out an irresistible persuasion, his expression was guilelessly simple.

“For me, besides senior brother, there’s no one.”

Yegyeol clasped his hand tight.

“No one at all.”

He didn’t care how his senior brother, who surely knew of the Black Ghost, chose to interpret that.

“Will he think I’m lying, while there’s a man to whom I give my body without giving my heart? Or… will he be angry that the Black Ghost is merely a flesh‑only relationship?”

To a confession that could be neither wholly false nor wholly true, Haryang replied in a low voice,

“How could I not know.”

An inchoate black fire seared Haryang’s insides. Yet for now, he could be satisfied that his disciple was desperate not to let go of the far end of this bond.

“For me, too, there is only you.”

For now.

—

Walking back to the manor alongside Haryang, a pleasant flush warmed Yegyeol’s cheeks.

“But first we’ll have to find the heterodox who wrecked the workshop—how do you plan to do that?”

“First, we’ll wash and eat, then I’ll explain.”

The new nation’s esper, who listened well to his guide, nodded meekly. Curiosity pricked him a little, but he could wait.

Only after thoroughly drying his hair and finishing his meal did Haryang ask for tea to be brought, then dismissed the attendants.

Yegyeol didn’t even think to wet his lips; he simply watched his senior brother. Haryang, savoring the tea’s fragrance with his customary elegance, cast him a glance.

Feeling embarrassed at having been so breathless, Yegyeol gave a sheepish grin; Haryang set down his cup and spoke gently,

“Read this.”

There was a paper cleverly hidden beneath the saucer. Yegyeol clicked his tongue inwardly.

“When senior brother is nearby, my vision keeps narrowing.”

He was using those fine senses to study his guide, and so gaps kept opening.

Even that unfamiliar carelessness, Yegyeol welcomed gladly. Had it not been for Je Haryang, there would have been no leisure to be careless at all.

In truth, everything arising from him was little different from a blessing to Yegyeol.

“You’ve already had the dyeing workshop investigated.”

Murmuring his quiet admiration for Haryang’s swift methods, Yegyeol read the note’s contents.

Contrary to expectation, what directly contributed to Seonye Workshop’s downfall was a merchant. With ties, it was said, to a high official in Luoyang, the merchant sought to obtain Seonye Workshop’s dyeing methods—famous even in Hangzhou. As his means, he tried to buy the workshop; when things did not go his way, he hired the heterodox to wreak havoc.

At the familiar name of the Red Blood Sect, which the merchant had hired, Yegyeol smiled wryly and turned the paper over. There was a sketch of the merchant—the instigator—his visage broken down into features.

“Huh…?”

This was a face he knew.