Chapter 9
The umbrella fell at their feet, splashing a string of water droplets. Without its shelter, the hems of their robes whipped in the intensifying wind and rain, tangling together in the air.
Yan Yunhe grabbed Yu Qin by the collar and pinned him against a nearby round pillar. He closed in, stopping at a distance that was both suggestive and dangerous. “It was Zhao Yi who offended you. Why are you taking it out on me?”
Yu Qin’s eyes were filled with ice cold fury. “Let go.”
“Didn’t you say I harbored such feelings for you too?” Yan Yunhe sneered. “Now that I finally have you close, why would I let go?”
He didn’t only hold Yu Qin’s collar; he followed along his neckline, running the pads of his fingers over the trails of water that he had been staring at for so long. His hands stopped at Yu Qin’s face, cupping his cheeks.
Yan Yunhe said, “Lord Yu, since you’ve already secured the empress dowager’s protection, you can’t silence public opinion. Getting so angry is useless—ridiculous, even.”
At these words, the coldness on Yu Qin’s face gradually faded, and a faint smile actually appeared.
Yan Yunhe suddenly let go and stepped back, his right foot steadying him as he arched his body backwards with the formidable strength of his waist, avoiding the palm that cut through the rain, aimed straight for his throat.
Had that palm charged with internal energy struck him, even if he didn’t die, he would have been rendered mute for quite some time.
Unable to defeat him with words, Yu Qin resorted to brute force to shut him up. His temper was worse than it had been ten years ago.
Yan Yunhe seized Yu Qin’s wrist and used his momentum to pull himself back up as he kneed Yu Qin in the abdomen.
The two immediately began exchanging blows in the corridor. This time, there was no musket, and there was no golden saber. With every move and strike, fists struck flesh. It was a contest of skill, a clash of internal energy. Yu Qin practiced internal martial arts, using softness to overcome hardness. Yan Yunhe was just the opposite—he fought with ferocious aggression.
Yan Yunhe’s fist shot toward Yu Qin’s face. The other party sidestepped to dodge, and the fist slammed into the wall, leaving a clear crack. Yu Qin stared at the cracked wall, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
Just as Yan Yunhe launched a kick toward him, Yu Qin grabbed his ankle, and a sharp, frigid internal energy surged from his palm into Yan Yunhe’s ankle bone, piercing into his meridians. Yan Yunhe’s face twisted slightly from the pain as he wrenched himself free. In an instant, Yu Qin raised both arms to block another punch. This time, the force was different from before. He was driven back several steps, his arms trembling uncontrollably from the intense pain.
“Lord Yu, if you wish to fight, feel free to go to the military drill grounds. People will have plenty to say about such behavior in the palace,” Yan Yunhe said with a forced smile.
Yu Qin glanced at the wall Yan Yunhe had smashed. “So Lord Yan does consider the occasion, after all.”
“I may be outspoken, but I’m nowhere near as ruthless as you.” Yan Yunhe touched his neck as if still shaken, subtly implying who’d struck first.
Yu Qin smiled faintly. “Even without me, sooner or later, your own tongue would bring disaster upon you.”1
Thanks to Yu Qin, Yan Yunhe was no longer able to appreciate a beautiful smile. Whenever Yu Qin smiled, a chill would run down his spine, unsure if he was mocking him or wanted to take his life. It was simply terrifying.
“You and I have orders from His Majesty to quell the unrest in Yunzhou. Let’s try to get along in the days to come.” Yan Yunhe made sure to emphasize the words “get along.”
Clearly, he didn’t believe he could get along with Yu Qin either.
The junior eunuch, who had been hiding nearby for quite some time, saw that they were no longer fighting and finally mustered the courage to come out. He told Yu Qin that the empress dowager had summoned him.
Yan Yunhe couldn’t help snorting softly when he heard this. With a provoking look, he gestured for Yu Qin to go ahead. Yu Qin didn’t give him as much as a glance; he simply turned around and walked away with the eunuch.
Amid the incessant sound of the rain, Yan Yunhe was once again the only one left in the corridor. After standing there for a long time, he bent down to pick up the cracked umbrella abandoned in the corner and stepped into the rain. His pace quickened from a slow walk to a frantic, chaotic dash, as if he were fleeing.
Song Wen was surprised when a servant announced Yan Yunhe’s arrival. He hurriedly rose and instructed the servant to fetch a bowl of ginger soup from the kitchen. Then, he muttered to himself, “That's odd. The palace has eunuchs to escort him out. How could he get soaked like this?”
When he finally saw Yan Yunhe, he couldn’t help but exclaim, “My lord! Did you swim back from the city moat?”
Yan Yunhe flung the towel he’d been using to dry his hair, hitting Song Wen squarely in the face. “If you have nothing helpful to say, then shut up!”
As he finished speaking, Yan Yunhe’s complexion grew even worse. “Prepare water! I need a bath!”
Yan Yunhe didn’t like anyone attending to him while bathing. When Song Wen brought in fresh clothes, soapberries,2 and ginger soup, he was leaning against the bathtub, both his arms outstretched, resting on the rim. The muscles of his back were clearly defined beneath the wet hair draped over them.
“It’s freezing outside and you come back soaked like this. You’ll probably catch a cold.” Song Wen set down the items. Only then did he notice the scrapes and bruises on Yan Yunhe’s hand.
“How did you hurt your hand? You haven’t been to the camp…” Song Wen exclaimed, “You got into a fight at the palace!”
He waited for a reply, but none came. Yan Yunhe soaked quietly in the bathtub, unnervingly silent.
Song Wen could only say, “I’ll apply some medicine and bandage it for you.”
Yan Yunhe waved his hand. “No need. Pain teaches lessons. You may go.”
Seeing that he had a lot on his mind, Song Wen had no choice but to withdraw.
As soon as the door closed, Yan Yunhe scooped up water with both hands and washed his face. The hot water stung the wound on his hand. He looked at his distorted reflection in the water and slowly closed his eyes. “You bastard.”
It was unclear who this curse was directed at.
In Cining Palace, Empress Dowager Jiang, who was nearing forty, reclined on a divan. A young palace maid knelt beside her, massaging the soles of her feet.
Pearls and jade weighed down her raven-black hair, and her looks still retained a hint of the unrivaled beauty that had once outshone all others in the imperial harem. Her well-maintained skin seemed ageless, to the extend that whenever she stood beside Emperor Chengjing, they looked more like sister and brother than mother and son.
Yet the weariness in her eyes betrayed her age and the traces of years navigating the treacherous currents of palace life in the palace.
With her eyes closed, she leisurely asked, “How long has he been kneeling?”
Auntie Zhang,3 her personal maid, softly replied, “It’s been two shichen.”
The empress dowager hummed in acknowledgment. “Have him change his clothes and let him in.”
Soon after, Yu Qin, now dressed in robes as white as the moon, was led by Auntie Zhang to the empress dowager. He knelt before her.
A blue finger guard5 embedded with precious gems hooked under his chin, forcing Yu Qin to lift his face. His lashes remained lowered as a show of respect.
Empress Dowager Jiang asked, “Did you fight with that brat from the Yan family?”
Yu Qin’s expression remained unchanged, showing little fear. “Your Majesty, please forgive me.”
Empress Dowager Jiang smiled. “When have you ever truly admitted to your faults? You’re merely paying lip service to me, nothing more.”
“Never mind. For this bandit suppression campaign, I’ve secured an opportunity for you. You will accompany Yan Yunhe on this mission to Yunzhou.”
Yu Qin lowered his head in acquiescence.
The woman’s hand glided across his cheek, leaving behind the rich fragrance of incense and a delicate touch, so different from that person’s scorching heat in the rain.
One touch was ice cold, the other rough.
With that, the empress dowager raised her eyes in a silent command. The palace maids in the chamber quietly rose and withdrew.
Yu Qin rose to his feet and walked to the table, where a guqin had already been placed. He glanced at the empress dowager and began to pluck the strings with ease.
When he and the empress dowager were alone together, he rarely spoke. She didn’t require him to speak.
Because his voice was nothing like the original’s. His face bore the most resemblance, but in the end, it was only a partial likeness. The rest that wasn’t him, the empress dowager loathed.
Amidst the languid melody of the guqin, Empress Dowager Jiang closed her eyes and said, “I heard that you and Yan Yunhe were classmates.”
Yu Qin responded softly in affirmation. The empress dowager continued, “What was your relationship like?”
“Extremely poor,” Yu Qin replied succinctly.
The empress dowager slowly opened her eyes. “If that’s the case, if I were to command you to kill him…”
Before she could finish, a string snapped abruptly, emitting an ear-piercing sound. Yu Qin stared at the broken guqin, the faint sound of his blood drumming against the ancient wood barely audible amidst the lingering vibrations.
The empress dowager studied him intently, then chuckled softly. “Hanchu, could it be that you’re reluctant?”
“Say the time and the place,” he said, without the slightest emotion.
Author’s note:
Yan Yunhe, courtesy name Huaiyang. Yu Qin, courtesy name Hanchu. These names were derived from the poem by Song dynasty poet Xiang Ziyin “Yu Meiren: Once We Faced Each Other in Huaiyang Hall”:
Once we faced each other in Huaiyang Hall
As the evening clouds dispersed, a crisp chill filled the air.
You can support the author by purchasing the original novel on Changpei! Go here to consult the purchase guide.
Comments
Post a Comment