Chapter 11
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Wen Biesang had no idea what he had done to anger him again. In his eyes, Crown Prince Cheng Yun was always so mercurial—when in a good mood, he would elevate others to the heavens; when displeased, he could draw his sword at a moment’s notice.
When the prince’s gaze fell on him, Wen Biesang lowered his head to grind the inkstone. His thick eyelashes cast a soft shadow beneath his eyes, his profile appearing especially gentle and quiet, utterly docile.
Lou Zhaizi sensed the tense atmosphere and was about to speak when the prince ordered, “Get lost.”
Wen Biesang stopped what he was doing and obediently sat back in his chair, looking toward Pang Qi.
Pang Qi smiled indulgently and took a step forward, but the prince interrupted again, “Let him leave on his own.”
Wen Biesang thought he had forgotten and said, “My leg is injured.”
Cheng Yun replied coolly, “It’s healed now.”
Wen Biesang was momentarily stunned. “It still hurts.”
The prince stared at him, enunciating each word, “I said it’s healed.”
Wen Biesang pursed his lips, braced himself on the table, and stood up. Frowning, he limped out, one step at a time.
Pang Qi glanced at Cheng Yun’s expression and, seeing he hadn’t forbade anyone from helping, hurried after Wen Biesang. He reached out to steady him. “Master, please rest. I will go get a chair.”
They hadn’t gone far, and Lou Zhaizi could hear everything clearly—let alone Cheng Yun.
He glanced at the prince’s expression, realizing that despite everything, the prince was sparing the crown princess some mercy. Clearing his throat, he suggested, “Your Highness, perhaps I should speak with Master Wen on your behalf?”
“No need.” Cheng Yun picked up a new brush, dipped it into the ink Wen Biesang had ground, and with a swift, graceful stroke on the rice paper, inscribed a large character: Kill.
“Master.” Pang Qi helped him back up gently. “Would you like to sit by the lake pavilion for a while, to clear your mind?”
“No.” Wen Biesang was in a foul mood. Once back in his small room, he curled up on the bed.
When the door knocked again, Wen Biesang was already drowsy.
He propped himself up and saw Lou Zhaizi standing there with a smile. “Master Wen, I will be frank. Are you skilled in the arts of thunder and fire?”
The blunt question caught Wen Biesang off guard. Only then did he realize that Gong Wuchang’s conversation in the study was meant to coax him into allegiance.
He shook his head immediately. “I am not.”
...Could his guess have been wrong? Impossible.
Yet his expression did not seem deceitful.
After some thought, Lou Zhaizi said, “Master, His Highness currently lacks talent under his command. If you truly have skills, don’t miss this opportunity...”
Uncertain whether he was distrusting or had other motives, Wen Biesang looked steadily at Lou Zhaizi and said again, “I am not.”
Lou Zhaizi pleaded earnestly, “Because of troubling dreams, the prince has been sleeping restlessly and thus is in a bad mood, which is why he has treated you harshly... Now, there is a rare chance for him to make use of you. If you work for him, life will be easier from here on, won’t it?”
Perhaps sensing his genuine concern, Wen Biesang averted his gaze slightly.
Lou Zhaizi pressed on, “You must have heard of the prince’s reputation among the common folk. Though somewhat arrogant, he is not a villain. Since he has taken the first step to lower himself, this is a good chance for reconciliation... Trust me, once you endure these times, better days lie ahead.”
Wen Biesang was silent for a long time. Clutching the small crossbow in his hand, he said calmly, “I am not.”
He could not stay in the Crown Prince’s residence forever, and he would never work alongside someone like Gong Wuchang.
He could not fathom what the other was thinking, nor was he adept at handling sudden fits of bad temper. To him, Gong Wuchang was no different from those at the prime minister’s house who liked to trample on him.
Besides, he had his own matters to attend to.
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As Lou Zhaizi stepped out of the small room and passed the bedchamber, Cheng Yun summoned him inside.
Before him lay a small wooden box containing some walnuts taken from Wen Biesang and a tiny crossbow picked up from the grave.
The crossbow was barely larger than a palm, looking like a child’s toy. Below the grip was a recessed slide holding several short spare bolts. It felt remarkably light in hand.
Cheng Yun turned the crossbow over and over, guessing it was custom-made for those without martial skill, with weak arms, unable to wield a heavy crossbow. Holding it, he took aim at the nearby door panel. With a click, a bolt no longer than his finger shot out with a sharp whistle, embedding three fingers deep in the wood—its penetrating power was impressive.
Lou Zhaizi said nothing after entering. Cheng Yun lifted his gaze to him.
Lou Zhaizi wore a sheepish, awkward smile.
Cheng Yun paused, his expression darkening immediately.
He realized that even Lou Zhaizi’s straightforward invitation had been rejected by that demon.
He ground his teeth slowly. “Does he want to die?”
In the western courtyard, Chang Xingzhu held the arms of his high-backed chair cautiously, lowering his bandaged foot to the ground.
He could no longer endure the emptiness and cold of the western courtyard. Determined, he resolved to use his own feet to escape this prison. Even if he could not find Gong Cheng Yun, he could at least find other friends in Shengjing city to play with!
His toes touched the floor. “Eh?”
No pain!
His foot pressed down. “Eh?!”
Still no pain!
He was overjoyed and sprang to his feet, but after two steps, his face paled. “Pain...”
Shifting the weight to his heel, he stepped back two paces and was about to sit, then tilted his head and tapped the ground with his heel twice, eyes lighting up. “Eh?!!”
Soon, Chang Xingzhu fashioned a cane and, wearing loose cloth shoes, happily but awkwardly hobbled out of the western courtyard.
He headed straight for the Crown Prince’s bedchamber.
Inside, silence reigned.
Lou Zhaizi dared not speak.
Regardless of whether Wen Biesang wished to live, he now understood why the prince had been so humble in his dreams.
The crown princess seemed gentle and harmless but was definitely not someone easy to deal with.
As long as the prince hesitated to take a life, he would have to contend with this nemesis.
“Lou Zhaizi.”
“I am here.”
“I have an important task for you.”
Alarm bells rang in Lou Zhaizi’s mind. “Yes, Your Highness, please speak.”
Cheng Yun gazed at the tightly shut door of the small room. “This demon cannot be of use to me; he must be eliminated as soon as possible.”
Lou Zhaizi dropped to his knees with a thud. “Your Highness, I am a humble servant—I do not kill...”
Cheng Yun stared at him. “You are my advisor. You should think of my grand ambitions. If I soften toward him, will I not become like in my dreams?!”
“Well, well, there is no need to kill him...”
Cheng Yun’s expression darkened. “Do I have to arrange this myself? You are my advisor; when faced with a demon who bewilders the lord, you should have opposed him from the first meeting, schemed in secret, and sought the chance to kill him! You should spare no effort to eliminate any unstable factors on my path to supremacy! Even if I have grown fond of him...”
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“You say the prince has grown fond of him—”
“Of course not!” Cheng Yun glared. “What is with that ecstatic look? Shouldn’t you be more worried about my future? If I fail to achieve greatness, have you thought of your own fate?!”
Lou Zhaizi hurried to say, “I am willing to stand with Your Highness through thick and thin!”
“Then you should kill him!”
“...” Lou Zhaizi composed himself. “Your Highness, in such circumstances, an advisor tasked with killing his lord’s beloved often encounters all manner of mishaps—it is rarely successful...”
“He is right there, within sight, in a room without a single guard. What reason is there for failure?”
“At least...” Lou Zhaizi lowered his head. “My legs tremble uncontrollably now; my hands are too weak to hold a knife.”
Silence filled the room. Lou Zhaizi dared not meet Cheng Yun’s gaze. Softly, he offered, “Or, perhaps Your Highness could send Guard Qi?”
Cheng Yun looked toward the door. Qi Song, standing with his back to them, stiffened. He held his breath and stared unwaveringly at a leafless dead tree in the courtyard.
“Come here.” The prince commanded. Qi Song turned, bowed in martial salute without raising his eyes, and said, “At your service.”
Cheng Yun spoke simply, “You go.”
“Yes, sir!” Qi Song stood and turned, walking out briskly.
At last, a satisfied smile appeared on Cheng Yun’s face. “I want to see what kind of mishap can befall someone trying to kill a demon like him...”
“Bang—”
Qi Song suddenly tripped on the threshold and fell headfirst.
He quickly scrambled up, hurried back to Cheng Yun, knelt, and pointed to the large bump forming on his forehead, looking alarmed. “Your Highness, this is fate...”
Cheng Yun kicked him aside. Qi Song knelt obediently, head bowed, motionless.
The air echoed with the prince’s steady breathing.
Meanwhile, Chang Xingzhu, leaning on his cane, amid several wary palace attendants’ gazes, happily and awkwardly hobbled past the corridors of the Crown Prince’s residence.
Cheng Yun silently rose from the table and drew from beneath his pillow the three-foot-long Green Peak sword.
“Fate?” He sneered. “Mishap?”
“Hmph—”
He was eager to see what kind of mishap could happen to him!
“Tap, tap, tap.”
“Scrape, scrape, scrape.”
The sound of cane tapping and feet dragging echoed simultaneously. Chang Xingzhu glanced down at his resilient feet.
At the bedchamber doorway, Cheng Yun’s figure stood straight as a sword. His disdainful eyes casually flicked toward the limping Chang Xingzhu.
Panting, Chang Xingzhu looked up just as Cheng Yun calmly withdrew his leg and silently slipped behind the folding screen.
“Hey.” Chang Xingzhu appeared at the door, watching the guards and Taoists kneeling to each other. “What are you two playing—wedding rites?”
They both turned to look at him. Chang Xingzhu asked again, “Where’s Cheng Yun?”
Lou Zhaizi and Qi Song exchanged glances, both pushing off the ground to stand, then shook their heads in unison. “We’re looking for His Highness too.”
“...Strange.” Chang Xingzhu muttered to himself. “What could he be busy with?”
Without dwelling further, Chang Xingzhu left the bedchamber and went to find Pang Qi. “Is the little dream demon asleep yet?”