HLCOB C62

Chapter 62

 

On the verge of his coming of age, Jaheon was raised to Chamberlain for Attendants.

Though yet untitled, the swiftness of his ascent surpassed even that of Emperor Ai’s male favorite Dong Xian, famed in history for his cut sleeve. The favor was so extraordinary it threatened to eclipse the reputation Jaheon had so carefully built for himself.

And the Throne went so far as to proclaim that Choseon, Jaheon’s younger sister, would serve as attendant to the Crown Prince.

“This gift is from Lord Grand Administrator of Henan…”

“This one, from Lord Grand Chamberlain of the Palace…”

Thus it was that even Cao Cao’s appointment as Captain of the Guards and Yuan Shao’s as Commandant were drowned beneath the tide.

All eyes turned to Jaheon.

It was unprecedented favor. Among the gentry of Luoyang, there was none who did not speak his name. Some said he was at last showing his true colors; others said it could not be, that the Throne’s indulgence was simply excessive.

“Master.”

Yet in one thing all agreed: Jaheon must now be watched.

“What shall we do with all these gifts?”

Or, if not watched, then courted.

“……”

At Ojukyŏp’s inquiry, Jaheon let out a hollow laugh.

Absurd.

The Throne had sealed off his every path.

To bind me with favor?

He had never thought the Throne ignorant of his designs. But that It would knowingly raise him so high had not been in his reckoning.

Thus, though granted a lofty post, he found himself unable to move.

All eyes were fixed upon him; his every step would be scrutinized. Worse yet, this indulgence fanned anew the suspicions of Wang Yun, which he had barely managed to quiet.

“Send them all back.”

So he resolved to return every gift, even those he might otherwise have accepted. He would leave no pretext for reproach.

If they bind it to bribes, it will become a snare.

For now, he would have to restrain even the workings of the guild he had founded, and his dealings with the merchant consortium.

The first matter to settle must be with the merchants.

Ojukyŏp, watching Jaheon press his brow in thought, caught his intent. In his time at Luoyang, he had grown perceptive; he knew well that an inundation of gifts could bode no good.

“Understood. I shall prepare a list, and all will be returned.”

He obeyed without hesitation, and so did the other retainers — save one.

“…Master!”

Ma Teng, who alone had no grasp of such things.

“Would it not be wasteful to send them away? If not, then perhaps, could I—”

But as soon as he spoke, Ma Teng faltered.

“……?”

For he met the stormy rise of Jaheon’s brow. Ojukyŏp, standing beside him, mouthed furiously for him to stop. Swallowing hard, Ma Teng stammered,

“Ah, ah….”

Jaheon had ever been lenient with him. Or rather, it was not lenience but resignation. To scold Ma Teng was like berating a pup for gnawing a chair leg; better to train obedience than waste time on reproach.

As now.

“About that…!”

But before Jaheon’s cutting gaze, Ma Teng quaked. His dull wits spun desperately, until he jabbed a finger at a scroll laid atop a chest and blurted:

“I only thought it a pity that your portrait should be discarded, Master!”

At his outcry, Jaheon frowned.

My portrait?

Who would dare send such a thing? Portraits were tokens exchanged between lovers. Since coming to Luoyang, he had scarcely had a moment for leisure, let alone for—

Damn it.

No time for lovers, true, yet he had found time to cross paths with certain dissolute sons.

I wished only to see that beauty smile.

The words of one such libertine flashed back. Jaheon’s hand trembled. He had known the man meant to send a painter — but not a finished portrait.

“If you mean to return it, might I not keep it instead? My wife says that beauty before a child’s eyes fosters their growth—”

Before he could finish, Jaheon flung the scroll, portrait unseen, into the brazier.

“Ugh!”

Ma Teng wailed as the scroll curled and blackened in the flames, even tears brimming in his eyes. Jaheon ignored him, jabbing the bundle deeper into the fire with kindling for spite’s sake.

Dusting his hands, Jaheon spoke.

“Ojukyŏp.”

“Yes.”

Still shaking his head at Ma Teng’s futile attempt to fish it out with bare hands, Ojukyŏp hastened to answer.

“Did you not say the merchant-master sought an audience?”

“Yes, my lord. Only the time remains to be set.”

“Where is he lodged?”

“At the inn of the Mi consortium.”

“Then tell him this.”

Jaheon could not be sure if Cao Cao had sent the portrait to provoke him.

“Say that the matter is urgent, and I shall come tonight.”

But he knew well enough it would be perilous if his movements reached Cao Cao’s ears.

Two matters plagued him most.

The first, inevitably, was Choseon’s entrance into the palace.

That, however, was beyond his power to prevent. He could neither bar it nor spirit her away. All he could do was to shield her from the aftermath.

The second was different.

So this will be our first meeting face to face.

Seated in a private room at an inn, his face half hidden by a white veil, Jaheon tapped at the table.

Tok— tok—

Though now he was a figure of renown in Luoyang, he had once been but a boy, working any sordid trade to scrape coin together. He had mastered every petty ruse for profit — and with the memories of another life besides, his ingenuity was inexhaustible.

But he needed hands to work for him.

Thus he had taken alliance with a merchant house: a consortium of Xu Province traders, long barred from Luoyang by the eunuchs’ enmity. In return for opening their markets, he demanded their cooperation. That bond had endured to this day, straddling the line between lawful and illicit.

On the whole, little cause for concern.

He had left no trace. He had even intended to hand much of the enterprise to Choseon in time.

Save for one thing.

Through the merchants he had organized the poor, and through that power he had unearthed the Guard’s corruption.

A charge of slandering the imperial army could be turned upon me…

To defame the army of the Throne without cause was to challenge Its authority. Worse still, the former Commandant’s death might yet be laid at his door. Or Cao Cao might divine rebellion in his designs.

So many snares.

He turned these thoughts over and over—

Clatter—

The door banged open. A man of gentle features stumbled in. Yet for all his mild face, his fingers bore heavy gold rings, a thick chain hung at his throat, and his oiled hair gleamed, bound neatly atop his head.

He blinked at the veiled figure seated within.

“……?”

Flustered, he bowed hastily and turned to leave. From the hall came his voice, raised in alarm:

“Is this truly the right room? A guest of such distinction—!”

His clamor abruptly fell silent.

Creak—

The door opened once more, this time with studied care. Laden with gold, the man reentered, grinning foolishly.

“Ahaha, forgive me, my lord. With your veil, I mistook you entirely.”

Jaheon gave a faint laugh.

“Is there law that veils are only for women?”

“Haha, just so. Yet as women most often wear them, I feared I had caused you unease with my error.”

The man’s words flowed smooth, crafted not to offend. Fitting, for the head of a mercantile clan.

Jaheon, smiling, gestured him to sit.

“Ah, but first—”

The man hurried forward, bowing deeply.

“I pay my respects to Lord Huaseo.”

And then, respectfully, he gave his name.

“I am Mi Zizhong.”

Mi Zhu, style name Zizhong — the very magnate who, in the annals of history, would become the unfailing purse of Liu Bei.