ITIEQ C44

Chapter 44 — Let’s Cooperate

The prison was utterly silent, save for Wulan’s hoarse voice.

“Enough nonsense.”

He turned his head away, refusing to look at this detestable trickster.

“Though you have captured me, my soul will not allow humiliation.”

“Little wolf cub, you’ve got some backbone.” Shen Qinghe drew out a ring of keys, tilting them toward the light before selecting one.

The iron door screeched with a harsh groan. Wulan narrowed his eyes at the sight—today the trickster was finely dressed, clad in a fresh pale-blue robe, a feathered ornament like a spearhead fastened at his neck. Elegant and resplendent, he seemed wholly ill-suited for the rotten air of this place.

On the grasslands no one wore such clothes. He looked like a heron standing beside a lakeshore.

One of Wulan’s hands was chained to the wall, his chin tilted slightly as he watched the man approach.

He counted the steps silently. If that Yong man dared take five more strides closer, he was confident he could kill him bare-handed in an instant.

Three… two… one…

But before the last number landed in his mind, the pale-blue figure stopped—his eyes now level with Wulan’s.

Shen Qinghe had crouched down, meeting him gaze to gaze.

“Hey, do you want to become the King of the Kunyi?”*¹

The Hu tribes had never absorbed much of Central Plains culture. Kingship bore no weight of loyalty or filiality. Whoever amassed the most men, strongest horses, and best weapons became ruler. When two tribes clashed, the outcome of brutal battle determined the new authority.

Purely a contest of strength—barbaric and raw.

Wulan let out a faint scoff. The man bore a light fragrance about him. Whenever he drew close, it tickled his nose.

Mockingly he said: “You, a Yong man, meddling in our affairs?”

“So you don’t want to, eh.” Shen Qinghe tilted his head, long strands of black hair sliding over his shoulder. “Then—do you want to become the overlord of all the Hu? No more divisions among a dozen tribes—only one King, and that King is you.”

The words had barely left his lips when Wulan’s pupils shook violently.

He understood—oh, he understood. Even though he was the one saying it, he knew: to a hot-blooded teenager in his rebellious years, such a dream was irresistible.

“You won’t kill me?”

“No. I will not kill you—because I am merciful.”

Propping his chin in one hand, Shen Qinghe stretched the other to tug on one of Wulan’s braided locks. Sure enough, the boy shot him a furious glare, forcing him to snatch his hand back quickly.

“So the county magistrate is allowed to set fires, but I’m not allowed to requite hostility with virtue?”*²

“…I am not a county magistrate, and I have not set any fires.”

“You’d best come study at our academy.” Shen Qinghe grinned broadly. “Of course, it’s not an empty promise. There are conditions. Remember this well—you now owe me a life. Never forget my kindness. There’s no greater benefactor in all the world than I.”

So easily he dispensed hollow cheques.

“…”

Wulan felt ashamed of his earlier judgment. How could he have thought this Yong man even slightly better than the rest? There existed no shamelessness greater than his!

The boy regarded him with a cold, sinister smile, slowly tightening his fists.

Hatred gnawed at his guts, but before cutting a path of vengeance, he first needed freedom. He had already sworn to the Eternal Heaven that this Shen Qinghe would one day pay a most bitter price.

Summer in the capital was more vicious than in the northern frontiers.

Inside the Han Chang Hall, beside grey stone dragon-pillars, lotus-shaped bronze braziers exhaled faint trails of incense before court attendants gently snuffed them out.

“Did your journey south to the capital go smoothly?” Emperor Zhaohuan wore his usual gentle smile.

Yao Guang bowed in cupped-fist salute. “On the way I encountered bandit groups several times and put down a few dens of thieves. I had thought only the northwest was turbulent, yet even the south is so unsettled.” Lowering his voice, he added: “I also inquired—several great clans are causing overwhelming evil, particularly one surname Chang.”

“Mmm, you fight valiantly—no less than your father’s charisma in his prime,” Emperor Zhaohuan praised.

Just then Jin Chang hurried to the throne, delivering a sealed letter onto the imperial desk. Xiao Yuanzheng paused his words, unfolded the script, and read. “Stay a while. I’ll have the imperial physicians examine you. You’re still young—we mustn’t let ailments take root.”

“Many thanks, Elder Brother Xiao!”

Emperor Zhaohuan was son of the late King of the Northwest. Yao Guang’s father had once been a general under him. Since childhood, Yao Guang had chased after Xiao Yuanzheng, calling him “Elder Brother.” Even now that this beloved elder brother had ascended as emperor, Yao Guang still addressed him so casually, and the emperor allowed it as before.

Palace servants entered bearing trays of melon and fruit, freshly chilled. One tray was placed before the emperor, another turned toward the regional inspector-general at his side.

“These were tribute fruits sent only at the month’s beginning. Soaked overnight in well water—now at their best,” one servant explained.

Yao Guang picked up a fragrant pear. It was chilling to the touch, perfectly refreshing for summer heat. Delighted, he exclaimed: “Soaked in well water—that’s quite a clever idea! Whose was it?”

“You may not know him—one of Lord Shen the Minister’s sons. He once did tasks beside His Majesty, but is no longer here,” Jin Chang cautiously replied, keeping words carefully measured.

“You mean Young Master Shen?” Yao Guang tasted recognition. “Was it Shen Qinghe?”

Jin Chang chuckled and nodded.

“Hahaha—that’s exactly the sort of thing he’d think of!” Yao Guang’s brows and eyes lit with fond amusement. His tone bespoke closeness with that Shen Qinghe, to Jin Chang’s great surprise.

Xiao Yuanzheng himself never touched the fruit, smoothing out the letter with his hand. When he was done reading, his brow softened and his lips carried a slight smile.

“His report—he’s managed another excellent deed.”

Yao Guang’s curiosity peaked. “Elder Brother Xiao, tell me at once what’s in the letter! Did Shen Qinghe cause trouble again and come asking you to cover for him?”

At this, the emperor regarded him sidelong with a faint smile: “So you mean to say—he often causes trouble?”

“That’s not it!” Yao Guang, mouth stuffed with pear, chewed quickly to swallow. “Though his ways are sometimes unorthodox, and his words occasionally peculiar, the people of Qiuchuan truly revere him. I regret my rash mouth just now—he is greatly praised, far more than me. I can only fight battles. If you allow him to return here, Elder Brother, in time he will surely be a mighty arm to aid you.”

Jin Chang broke into a cold sweat. Ah, little general—what words are those? However fond the emperor is, one cannot so bluntly question imperial judgment!

The emperor did not answer directly—only gave a vague “Mmm.” “He reports that the Kunyi tribe has agreed to establish trade with us. Soon your camps will be able to buy their horses.”

“Truly!” Yao Guang leapt excitedly to his feet, then remembered palace decorum and hastily sat. “Hu steeds—tough in heat and cold, superior in endurance. Give warriors good mounts and they’ll be fierce as tigers with wings! For so long our friction prevented trade—it seemed impossible. But if he’s pulled it off, I knew he’d make it!”

The emperor inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Half an hour later the physicians arrived. They checked Yao Guang’s pulse; no lingering harm was found, only an overabundance of fiery energy, so cooling medicine was prescribed.

Yao Guang hated bitter decoctions. Pounding his chest he protested: “No worries! I’m sturdy—I can still wipe out ten more bandit nests! Elder Brother Xiao, when will I return to the Northwest? Staying idle in the capital—I can’t bear it.”

The palace was resplendent, golden and magnificent, with servants at beck and call—yet everywhere were rules and rigid atmospheres, stifling vitality. Even in blazing summer, the walls felt cold. How he longed for muddy tussles on the grass, rolling about, spearing his way in open sun!

Elder Brother Xiao too had risen from the Northwestern camps. Now a decade confined to these halls, day after day sitting like a statue for endless court audiences—surely he must have grown bored long ago.

Secretly Yao Guang studied his face. Stern, steady, an emperor’s restrained authority. Elder Brother Xiao was indeed an excellent emperor.

But the memory of the past—spirited, dazzling—was wholly changed. When had that transformation begun? Elder Brother had never married. Yuan He… Yuan He was gone. For all these years, he had remained alone.

He must be lonely.

“Missing home?” Xiao Yuanzheng put aside the memorial he was reading. “Han Chang Hall can grow tedious.”

“No,” Yao Guang quickly shook his head. “It’s just—I’ve been away from Qiuchuan too long. Shen Qinghe is only a scholar. If something happens, I thought I might help him out.”

“You truly like him.”

Yao Guang’s face went crimson in an instant. “N-no! It’s just—He—he’s always getting into trouble, a true nuisance. That’s all!”

“He is rather likable,” the emperor’s gentle smile remained. “Jin Chang, go to the storeroom. Bring me the spear I once used. Present it now to him so he may take it back to the Northwest.”

“The Tiger-Head Overlord Spear!” Yao Guang’s eyes widened with joy, then he shook his head rapidly. “That spear accompanied you many years. With it you slew the rebel prince—its battle honors immense. Such meaning—I cannot take it.”

“The words of a ruler are no jest,” Emperor Zhaohuan shook his head.

“No matter what glories it once bore, it now gathers dust. Better passed into your hands, that it may again taste the daylight.” His tone calm, he added: “I will also send Kong Qing with you. He is steady and reliable. He can manage the aftermath of bandit eradication.”

Yao Guang, careless in many things, never questioned his elder brother’s words. Concentrating, he listened as Xiao Yuanzheng sighed lightly.

“I once thought to keep him at Qiuchuan, to shield from calamity. But he is destined to cry out early in life with his voice resounding between heaven and earth. I wish he could stay safe and tender longer, yet I will not block his growth.”

The emperor’s expression was complicated—bearing helplessness, lament, and also admiration. Fingers ran again across the letter as his gaze grew still.

“So, Xiaoguang, until that day arrives, I must trouble you… to care for him.”

Footnotes:

1. Kunyi King (昆夷王): A tribal monarch of the Hu people (nomadic steppe tribes). “Kunyi” represents one of these nomadic confederations. 
2. County magistrate sets fires (州官放火): A proverb meaning “officials may act however they like, but common folk are punished for the same acts.” Shen Qinghe twists it humorously here, making the boy glare.