Chapter 77
BRIGHT STARS SHIMMERED in the black sky above Xichuan, a shadowed ghost town in the final days before the capital’s relocation. The Liao Empire’s southern invasion had led to a period of prosperity for the city never before seen in its thousand-year history. Yet only a year after the new emperor’s accession to the throne, all that bustling activity sank into stillness, biding its time for a day when it might once again flare back to life.
Wu Du washed himself from head to toe by the well and changed into clean, fresh clothes. He sat down in the silent yard. Within moments, the stillness was broken by the faint sound of snoring from beyond the walls. He opened the gate and spotted the source of the noise—Zheng Yan, passed-out drunk—and dragged the man inside, where he dumped a bucket of cold water over his head.
Zheng Yan startled awake, then burst out laughing when he saw Wu Du standing over him.
The manor’s servants had brought dinner while Wu Du was asleep, dropping the meal box on the veranda along with a note requesting he report to Mu Kuangda once he was awake. Wu Du plopped onto the steps and proceeded to wolf down his food, ignoring Zheng Yan completely.
Clothes in disarray, Zheng Yan sauntered over to sit on the veranda as well. He yawned, leaning back to gaze at the stars overhead. “I thought you were going to sleep till morning.”
Wu Du rinsed his mouth with tea after cleaning the entire box. “I dreamed about a man from the past; it woke me up.”
Zheng Yan gave his wine flask a testing shake and reached out to pour some into Wu Du’s cup. Wu Du moved it out of reach. “Can’t drink; I’ve got a mission.”
“Life is but a fleeting dream; how brief our happy moments seem,”22 Zheng Yan recited nonchalantly. “There’s no time like the present. People come and people go; life is fleeting. Have a cup with me.”
His words stirred something in Wu Du, and he placed his empty cup in front of Zheng Yan, who quickly filled it. Raising his flask, he clinked the rim lightly against Wu Du’s cup.
“Life is but a fleeting dream; how brief our happy moments seem… Huh.” Wu Du looked briefly pensive, then shook his head with a wry chuckle. He refused Zheng Yan’s attempt to top up his cup and placed it upside down on the table. “I’ll drink with you properly next time we meet in Jiang Prefectural City.”
Zheng Yan shrugged off Wu Du’s promise and poured himself another. “Who did you dream about?”
“The Guardian,” Wu Du replied. “Everything changed in a single night. I still remember what he said back then: ‘You turned Flashblade into a butcher’s knife. When will you restore the glory of the White Tiger Sect?’ It was like a bludgeon to the head.” He paused. “But I never imagined that in one night he’d be gone, just like that. The times are changing as fast as turbulent waters; everyone’s trying to ride out this maelstrom, apprehensive of what tomorrow may bring.”
“It’s almost the anniversary of the late emperor’s death,” Zheng Yan remarked with leisurely calm.
“The seventh day of the seventh month,” Wu Du said, then sighed. “His Majesty chose Qixi as the date to move the capital. I wonder if the death anniversary informed his decision—paying respects before the move eastward; informing His Late Majesty’s spirit so he won’t lose his way home.”
“His way home, eh?” Zheng Yan chuckled as he surveyed the courtyard. “It’s been years since we last saw each other. I didn’t expect you to take up gardening. Or does someone else live here too?”
“A kid I picked up.”
“Well, where is he? Call him out here.” Zheng Yan tapped the threshold with his flask.
“Don’t get fresh with him, Zheng Yan, or I’ll poison your wine,” Wu Du warned with a chilly edge. When Zheng Yan stood as if to search inside, Wu Du snapped, “Did the booze go to your head already?! He’s not here.”
Zheng Yan relented, raising his hands.
Wu Du got to his feet. “You can stay here if you want; I’ll lend you the space. But I’ve got a mission, so I’m off.”
“Where? Where’re you off to?” Zheng Yan asked eagerly. “I’m so bored in the palace, an excursion sounds like a great idea—”
“Fuck off!” were the last words Wu Du hurled at him before vanishing from the courtyard.
The lamps were still lit within the prime minister’s study. As soon as Wu Du arrived at the door, Mu Kuangda’s voice rang out: “Don’t bother coming in. Accompany me to the palace.”
Wu Du frowned, puzzled. He followed as Changliu-jun escorted Mu Kuangda from the building and into the carriage in the backyard before settling himself in the driver’s seat. Mu Kuangda motioned Wu Du to join him inside.
“Don’t be so impatient,” Mu Kuangda chided upon seeing the look on his face. “One thing at a time. First: This is a letter for Wang Shan.” He handed Wu Du a thin envelope. “Handle the affair at Tong Pass as expediently as possible.”
A weight lifted from Wu Du’s mind, and he nodded in acknowledgment. Mu Kuangda took out a roll of golden brocade, sealed and knotted. “Second: An imperial decree appointing Mister Fei as acting imperial envoy. You can announce it publicly or privately; do as you see fit. After you depart tonight, the court will dispatch Zheng Li to Tong Pass to assume the position of governor, but his journey will take at least seven days—the road is rough, and he’s getting on in age; he can’t travel any faster. Before he arrives, you must work together with Wang Shan to hold Tong Pass.”
“I understand.” Wu Du packed away the items Mu Kuangda had handed him.
Before he could climb out of the carriage, however, Mu Kuangda pressed him back into his seat. “There’s a third thing. This I will tell you once we enter the palace.”