Chapter 67
“DO YOU HAVE A PORTRAIT?” Bian Lingbai asked.
“I’ll d-draw you o-one,” He Mo replied.
Three hundred yi of gold! Bian Lingbai would dig three feet deep into the earth bare-handed to find this man—he would turn over the entire land of Great Chen if he had to.
And so the matter was settled. After promising he would deliver a portrait of the man in question, He Mo retired to his rooms.
Duan Ling and Wu Du had been out purchasing medicinal herbs; upon their return, they paused to observe a group of Tangut men unloading sundry things from their caravan.
“Getting a wife sure isn’t easy these days,” Wu Du remarked. “Having to give away boxes and boxes of stuff… A poor bastard like me will never be able to afford one.”
“The Tanguts have plenty of money. Just selling horses would have them set for life,” Duan Ling said. He looked at Wu Du sidelong, feeling a little sour at the prospect of him marrying—as if what belonged to him would be taken away—but he offered a reluctant promise anyway: “When you’re ready to take a wife, I’ll save up the money for you.”
“Tch,” Wu Du snorted in obvious amusement.
After a few more such remarks, the pair went back inside to prepare Fei Hongde’s medicine. As Duan Ling sat outside the door crushing herbs with a mortar and pestle, he could hear Wu Du and Fei Hongde talking inside.
“You two have taken such good care of me, despite my being a stranger. I find myself deeply indebted to you.”
“We’re all but rootless duckweed drifting about in the world,” Wu Du replied. “My master used to say that whenever we’re out in the world, we need no reason to take care of one another.” There was a long pause before Wu Du continued. “Sir, do you have an idea of who the assassin might be?”
Fei Hongde didn’t answer. In the ensuing silence, Duan Ling couldn’t resist stealing a glance inside—only to discover that Fei Hongde was studying him in return.
Bian Lingbai had been hunting for the assassin since the ambush, but Fei Hongde had said almost nothing about the incident since they’d returned. Duan Ling had wondered about this as well—but now that Wu Du had asked the question, he realized it was impossible for someone as observant and learned as Fei Hongde to have no speculations on the matter. Could a personal grudge have been the reason for the attack?
“Was it the Tanguts?” Duan Ling asked.
Upon their return, Duan Ling had examined Fei Hongde’s injuries alongside Wu Du. The wound in his shoulder was the work of a thin, black cast-iron arrow with grooves designed to induce further bleeding, a type mounted bandits from the Western Regions and Tangut territories often used. The culprit might have been a Western Liang assassin; it was entirely plausible for Western Liang to attempt an assassination of Bian Lingbai’s trusted aide as a warning, or provocation. But had it truly been a meticulous political plot, Western Liang surely wouldn’t have employed a one-hit assassin stupid enough to use his own obviously recognizable arrows. Which meant anyone could be the culprit—even Helan Jie.
“My guess is an assassin from Western Liang,” Fei Hongde finally said.
“Could it be someone from the bridal escort?” Duan Ling asked.
Fei Hongde shook his head. “Do you remember the bandits you encountered on the way here?”
Dots began to connect in Duan Ling’s head.
“General Bian is merely carrying out his role as a middleman in this affair,” Fei Hongde elaborated slowly. “Young Mistress Yao’s marriage is part of a long-standing deal between Western Liang and the Yao clan of Huaiyin.”
“What deal?” Duan Ling asked, stepping back into the room and closing the door behind him. He passed Wu Du the crushed herbs, and Wu Du began to decoct the medicine.
“A deal of trade, and of alliance,” Fei Hongde explained. “Yao Fu needs warhorses. He needs the power to keep Xichuan in check. Most importantly, he needs an alliance with Western Liang to resist the pressures of Han Weiyong of Liao’s Southern Court. Since the fall of Shangjing last year, the stretch of the Silk Road passing through Western Liang’s Shazhou and Jincheng has been blocked; the Yao clan need this path reopened for Jiangnan’s silk trade to run.”
“Does Prime Minister Mu not know about this?” Duan Ling asked.
“He is aware,” Fei Hongde replied, nodding approvingly at Duan Ling. “But Yao Fu doesn’t want to take this matter to the imperial court. If the court gets involved, restraints would be placed on him.”
“Right. Because once Yao Fu and Western Liang formally cement an alliance, the imperial court would try to take control of the trade route,” Duan Ling said.
“Yao Jing’s marriage is only the first step in the Yao family’s efforts to create an opening,” Fei Hongde said with a leisurely calm. “If everything goes to plan, she will marry into the Shang clan, which has close ties with the queen dowager of Western Liang. Their nation is currently divided into two factions: The queen dowager and the late king’s maternal relatives from the Tuyuhun tribe form one; after the death of Western Liang’s king, Consort Helian and her son were also taken under the queen dowager’s wing. The Shang family, who serve as the cavalier aides, and the founding cabinet members are the backbone of their power. The second faction consists of the court officials led by the late king’s elder brother, Helian Da. This group has a closer relationship with Liao’s Southern Court.”
Duan Ling nodded in understanding. “Then does Southern Chen’s court know of this marriage alliance?”
“What do you think?” Fei Hongde asked. “I suspect the appearance of the bandits was no accident—they were sent to disrupt the marriage alliance between the Yao and Shang clans. Or perhaps…Yao Jing isn’t marrying into the Shang clan after all, but into the royal house itself.”
Thanks to Fei Hongde’s educational explanation, Duan Ling was finally getting a grasp on the situation. It indeed seemed plausible that the Liao-friendly faction in Western Liang would want to prevent the marriage—but then, what connection did this alliance have with the attack on Fei Hongde?
“What do you think?” Duan Ling threw the question to Wu Du.
“I didn’t understand a word of that,” Wu Du replied carelessly.
Fei Hongde laughed. Wu Du wiped his hands and tossed the towel aside. “I can’t follow the logic of you educated people,” Wu Du added. He ordered Duan Ling, “Take this and apply it to Mister Fei’s wound.”
“Mister Wu is a free spirit—a gull flying high over the world,” Fei Hongde said, still chuckling.
“Nothing but a hero defeated by poverty, a shadow of my former self,” Wu Du replied, just as casual.
And how old even are you, to sound so ancient? Duan Ling scoffed to himself.
As Duan Ling applied the medicine, Fei Hongde spoke up again. “I shared something of a friendship with Yao Jing’s mother in the past, so I’d hoped to speak with her. But just as she arrived, I’ve become confined to my bed. Gongzi, if you happen to be free, might you pay her a visit on my behalf?”