“Why’s he so set on killing me?” Unspoken was the fear that Helan Jie recognized him somehow, since he’d met his father. But it seemed unlikely. Bian Lingbai, Mu Kuangda—even Wu Du himself—had seen Li Jianhong before, but none of them had recognized him. Perhaps their own preconceived notions had prevented them from considering the resemblance, or perhaps he simply didn’t look much like his father.
He would rather believe Helan Jie hadn’t guessed his identity. But then, what possible grudge could the assassin bear against him to warrant his death?
“He just wants revenge,” Wu Du said.
Duan Ling froze. “Revenge for what?”
“Revenge on me, for catching his poisoned needles before,” Wu Du said. “You can’t apply normal logic to someone like that. He’s a mad dog; he slaughtered his own sect.”
“But why wouldn’t he attack you directly? Why would he go after me instead?” Duan Ling asked, perplexed.
Wu Du glanced at Duan Ling but remained silent. Before Duan Ling could ask any more questions, he said, “Forget it, let’s not talk about it right now. Time to train.”
Duan Ling wasn’t sure what he’d missed.
After too many restless nights on the road, they finally had a proper bed again. With Helan Jie’s threat in mind, Wu Du hauled Duan Ling onto the bed and nudged him toward the wall while he slept on the outside for protection. Unlike with Duan Ling’s paranoia regarding Wuluohou Mu from before—the frantic surety that he would be murdered—Wu Du was taking this seriously.
Much later, in the dark of the night, Wu Du wailed in frustration: “Stop clinging! How old are you, that you keep latching onto me like this in your sleep?”
“Huh?” Duan Ling mumbled. He’d been dreaming about a fish carrying him through warm waters when Wu Du’s outburst woke him. Though it was autumn, the weather was still humid, and they were both sweating from being plastered together. He sat up and asked, half asleep, “Who’s there? What’s going on?”
Wu Du couldn’t believe this kid.
He grabbed a fan and prodded Duan Ling to lie down again, after which Duan Ling slept comfortably all the way through until morning.
Bian Lingbai summoned them for breakfast early the next day. His attitude toward Duan Ling had changed completely; he spent the meal reminiscing about the time he’d spent at Zhao Kui’s residence in the past. Zhao Rong hadn’t been particularly close to Zhao Kui, so all Duan Ling had to do was nod along with whatever Bian Lingbai said.
After breakfast, Fei Hongde joined them. “I was thinking of taking a trip outside Tong Pass today. Young Master Zhao, why don’t you come along?”
Bian Lingbai gave Duan Ling some additional instructions and had horses readied so he and Wu Du could follow Fei Hongde on the excursion.
The sun shone brightly overhead as the group left the city. Duan Ling rode in a carriage with Fei Hongde down the mountain. Wu Du trailed a little distance behind them on horseback, guessing that with Fei Hongde present, that mad-dog assassin wouldn’t dare make a move.
Spotting that Fei Hongde had taken a compass from his sack, Duan Ling surmised the man must be skilled in geomancy and was likely attempting to divine the location of Zhao Kui’s hidden treasure.
“I went to visit Miss Yao this morning,” Fei Hongde told Duan Ling amiably as he adjusted the compass.
Duan Ling nodded. “How is she doing?”
“She is understandably distressed at being married off all the way to Western Liang,” Fei Hongde said. “The groom is the son of Western Liang’s cavalier aide, Shang Leguan.”
“Why is the Yao family sending her to marry so far away?”
“Since the fall of Shangjing, the relationship between Western Liang and the Liao Empire has cooled—a sign that a storm is coming,” Fei Hongde replied lightly, leaning over to show Duan Ling the compass. “If all goes to plan, after Bian Lingbai dies, Southern Chen and Western Liang will be able to renew their alliance.”
Duan Ling flinched, almost knocking the compass out of Fei Hongde’s hands. Fei Hongde nodded, and a cunning smile crossed his face, as if he was satisfied with Duan Ling’s reaction.
“You’re still too inexperienced,” he said, maintaining his smile as he glanced at Duan Ling.
Duan Ling gave him a wary look. “What do you mean by that, sir?”
An alarming realization struck him. Fei Hongde seemed to know too much, as if he’d seen right through their plans. What should they do—kill him quickly to silence him?
“Keep that knife hidden in your sleeve,” Fei Hongde said, turning away to grab his abacus. “It’s not time to wield it yet. Anyway, if you were to kill me in this carriage, how would you explain my death to Bian Lingbai?”
Duan Ling was struck speechless.
“Chang Pin is my shizhi,”16 Fei Hongde continued. “I was the one who sent the letter to Xichuan that exposed Bian Lingbai’s plans. But I didn’t expect Prime Minister Mu would send Wu Du with a young man such as yourself.”
A long, relieved sigh escaped Duan Ling; the weighty fear of being executed lifted from his mind. Even so, he didn’t dare let down his guard. “So why did you…”
“For all my life, I have been loyal only to justice and to the realm. After the late emperor’s passing, Bian Lingbai sent a messenger to recruit me. If the northwest border is not properly secured, Xichuan and the Central Plains might be conquered yet again by our foreign foes. Thus I joined General Bian and waited for an opportunity.”
Duan Ling studied Fei Hongde. “You knew the late emperor?”
“At that time, Zhao Kui, Bian Lingbai, and their allies were already planning to rebel,” Fei Hongde said. “I offered the late emperor advice, but before we could complete our preparations, Zhao Kui launched his attack. Three opposing forces fought for power at the battle of Jiangjun Ridge.”
Duan Ling kept his own silent counsel on this matter. Fei Hongde might be trying to trick him.
But a moment later, Fei Hongde said, “Before that, of course, I had advised the late emperor to send Wuluohou Mu to Shangzi to locate the missing princess consort. Many years have passed since then.” The man paused again, and when Duan Ling still said nothing, he finished: “You may continue carrying out the prime minister’s plan. Though I don’t know what he intends, this old man will assist as I can.”
Seeing that no further questions were forthcoming, Duan Ling finally nodded his understanding.
The carriage stopped. “Ah—that’s right,” Fei Hongde said, as if he’d remembered one last thing. “When I saw you last night, I thought you resembled an old friend.”
Before Duan Ling could react, Fei Hongde exited the carriage.
What had he meant by that? Fei Hongde’s words shook Duan Ling to the core; there were too many possible implications within them. When Wu Du lifted the curtain, the first thing he saw was Duan Ling’s ashen face.
“What’s wrong?”
“He knows…” Duan Ling said, his voice shaking. “How does he know?”
Wu Du’s head whipped around to stare at Fei Hongde’s retreating back. Duan Ling grabbed his sleeve. Their eyes locked, gazes full of panic. Fei Hongde was strolling into the valley with his compass in one hand. Bian Lingbai had sent them with only two small squads of five soldiers each to avoid drawing unwanted attention.
“Don’t worry,” Wu Du said, seeming to recover his calm. “Before we left, Prime Minister Mu told me someone would be here to coordinate with us. It must be him.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?” Duan Ling asked.
“It was early in the morning; you were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“But why didn’t you tell me later?”
“I forgot,” Wu Du said.
Duan Ling stared at him.
“Fei Hongde is impressive,” Wu Du said. “A great many scholars in the Central Plains have been his students over the years. You shouldn’t worry too much about him; if he intended to expose us, he would’ve done so right away. He could’ve revealed nothing to you. Since he did, maybe it means he trusts you.”
“What if he wants to use us to uncover Prime Minister Mu’s plans?” Duan Ling asked.
Wu Du’s brow furrowed, as if a headache was coming on. “Why are you overthinking this?”
Fine, Duan Ling thought. He could admit he was overcomplicating things. “He told me he used to counsel the late emperor.”
“Mm-hmm.” Wu Du hummed a confirmation. “That speaks to his character, at least.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t know,” Wu Du said. “I wasn’t on the same side then. But he might know Wuluohou Mu.”
Fei Hongde’s last words gnawed at Duan Ling, but he couldn’t share those concerns with Wu Du. Perhaps Fei Hongde had guessed his circumstances and found a time when Wu Du wasn’t within earshot to test his theory.
The valley around them was quiet. Fei Hongde beckoned Duan Ling to his side. “Zhao Rong, look at this mountain. A river flows beneath it, like a dragon; it’s an excellent spot,” he said.
Duan Ling remained unsettled. Fei Hongde laid his hand over Duan Ling’s and patted it, telling him silently to relax. “Where do you think your uncle buried the things he wished to give you?” he asked.
After mulling the question over, Duan Ling said, “Well, it’s not really for me… But, um, if I were him, I wouldn’t dig a hole. That’s too obvious.”
“Indeed,” Fei Hongde said. “The bluffs of Qin Ridge are perilous; excavation here would be difficult to say the least. But there are many mausoleums from the previous dynasty scattered throughout this area. I’m guessing your uncle hid the treasure in one of these. Geomancy is an art of the Han people. ‘The buried body carries qi; qi rides on the wind, is dispersed by the wind, and is confined by water. The way of qi collection is therefore called feng shui.’”17
These words conveyed great wisdom; suddenly, Duan Ling’s thirst for knowledge overcame his fear of Fei Hongde. He looked around and saw only a mountain with a river flowing around it. “Perhaps the treasure is in this mountain.”
“I’ll go down and take a look,” Fei Hongde said.
Duan Ling replied quickly, “Please be careful.”