Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Soon, Shen Che realized that the young master Song he had hoped to rely on was not spared either.

The two were thrown onto a carriage, back to back inside a sack—such a predicament they had never imagined.

Two imperial officials, sent by the emperor on a secret mission, had planned their journey carefully, traveling incognito. Yet, before they could uncover the truth, barely stepping into Yangzhou, they were captured.

An enormous joke.

The little girl’s medicine only drained their strength; it did not take away their consciousness. It was precisely because they remained aware that the humiliation of being so thoroughly overpowered was all the more intense.

Defeated and enraged, Shen Che struggled furiously, only to realize that aside from the faint whimpering sounds escaping their lips—making them seem ever more pitiable—there was no use resisting. Like lambs led to slaughter, he and his unfortunate companion fell into silence.

The carriage moved forward, the noise of the bustling market growing louder.

They were passing through the busiest part of the city, a brazen display of power from their captors.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the carriage stopped. Someone lifted the curtain. A woman’s voice drifted down from the upper floor: “These are the ones the lady wants. Be careful.”

A female thief, indeed.

Shen Che’s vision darkened, his sense of insult deepening. He cursed inwardly, daring the wicked woman to open her eyes and see who he was.

But she could not hear his thoughts. “Be careful,” in practice, meant two burly men lifted the sacks from either end, stepped over the threshold, jolted up the stairs, then roughly peeled the two men out like fruit skins.

Finally able to see daylight again, Shen Che glared furiously at the thief before him.

Bright light flooded his eyes. It was not the dark cell he had imagined, nor was there a fearsome hag. Instead, they found themselves in a room faintly scented with tea. At the far end, a lattice window stood open, revealing a few branches of crabapple blossoms stretching inwards. By the window sat a radiant young lady.

Her hair was neatly coiled, adorned with a golden crown set with thumb-sized sea pearls. Her attire was fine Song brocade and light silk, and she held a white porcelain teacup. She had been admiring the flowers, but upon noticing the two men’s ‘appearance,’ she turned to face them. The spring sunlight streaming in illuminated half her face, revealing clear apricot eyes and flawless, moonlit skin—a truly breathtaking beauty.

Jinling was never short of beautiful women, yet Shen Che was momentarily stunned.

The young lady also paused, a flicker of surprise, like spring crabapple blossoms blooming in her eyes, then deepening into a lush glow.

But she was looking not at Shen Che, but at the young master Song.

Indeed, Qian Tong, who had acted at the teahouse, had not seen the young master’s true face, choosing him based on his stature and clothing.

She preferred tall men.

Compared to scholars, warriors suited the Qian family better; only those who could protect themselves could survive long.

The young warrior was more destitute, more impoverished.

Poor was good—it made them easier to control.

Unexpectedly, the young master’s looks were a delightful surprise.

Though rough hands had been clumsy in handling them—lifting sacks, tossing them about—there was no trace of destitution on the youth. A fair face, dark eyes, and sparse brows, his gaze held a restrained anger, a stubborn pride that warned not to underestimate a young man’s poverty.

She was not a villain.

Qian Tong tried to appear friendly, but even the warmest eyes, when fixed for too long, could become intrusive. Sensing a flicker of hostility in the young master’s gaze, she withdrew her probing look, set down her teacup, and stepped forward.

As she moved, her golden crown caught the sunlight, sending a dazzling ray that made the young master squint.

Song Yun Zhi was caught off guard by the blinding light, turning his head away. When he looked again, the young lady had leaned forward, taking the cloth from his mouth, softly saying, “Young master, I promise you a lifetime of glory. How does that sound?”

So close, he could clearly see her amber eyes, clear and pure, and the gentle, sacred smile that made one feel as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

The golden light was too dazzling, his eyes stung, and Song Yun Zhi blinked.

Countless thoughts swirled in his mind.

The Great Yu dynasty had endured eight years of war, leaving the land wounded. Though five years of peace had followed, many still went without proper clothing or food.

The young lady before him was dressed luxuriously, her outfit worth several years of a commoner’s earnings. Such extravagance indicated she belonged to one of Yangzhou’s four great families.

Pu, Qian, Lu, Cui.

Who was she?

“Are you doubting you’re dreaming?” Qian Tong understood his reaction and said, “It’s no dream.” To bring him back to himself, she grasped his arm and gave a firm twist.

The strength was not light.

Seeing a faint chill flash in his eyes, Qian Tong released him. “See? It’s real. Falling pies from the sky—young master, you’ve met one today. Aren’t you happy?”

Song Yun Zhi was fully alert.

Yet, caught off guard and weakened, he could do nothing but endure the pain radiating from his arm, his bright black eyes flickering with intensity.

Shen Che’s reaction was far louder.

The favored scion cherished by the emperor and princess, a jade-faced general on the battlefield, the moon he had admired since childhood—feared, respected, and loved by all.

Now, he was bound by a young lady and had his arm twisted.

Such humiliation, to the young master Song, was worse than a blade in the heart. Shen Che struggled with all his might, protesting, “Wuwuwu—”

Qian Tong turned to examine him, misreading the situation. “Since you two are friends, I’ll take you both.”

She wore an expression of reluctant acceptance, as if it was a burden to choose among the spoils. Shen Che, the emperor’s favorite nephew, whimpered in protest, “Wuwuwu—”

Qian Tong paid him no mind. There was no need to waste words; she called Fu Yin, “You persuade them.”

Fu Yin took on the role of persuader with the poise befitting a pie being offered to reluctant diners. “Gentlemen, it’s your fortune that my lady has chosen you. Don’t fail to appreciate the favor...”

Yangzhou was a land rich in goods and people. Though these two young masters were handsome, handsome faces were everywhere. Few were as wealthy as the lady.

Shen Che whimpered again, “Wuwuwu—”

“Many naive youths come to Yangzhou to make a living—plentiful at the docks—but none have your luck. Meeting our lady is a blessing. From now on, you’ll never want for money.” Having said all she needed, Fu Yin straightened and declared, “The choice is yours.”

No one dislikes wealth, and Fu Yin was certain they would not refuse. They were untied.

By now, half the effects of the drug had faded. Free, Shen Che immediately spat out the cloth gag, glaring furiously at Qian Tong, ready to warn the impudent thief, “Bold woman, do you know—”

Before he could finish, Song Yun Zhi interrupted, “Lady’s kindness, I am unworthy to accept.”

Before leaving, he quickly scanned the jade pendant at her waist, grabbed Shen Che’s arm, and despite his protests, walked toward the door without looking back.

“Brother Song...” Shen Che’s face was ashen with rage. Such humiliation was unbearable. “Are you just going to let this go?!”

Song Yun Zhi said nothing, only gave him a shushing look.

Shen Che, still fuming, muttered, “Damn Yangzhou...”

Fu Yin stared at the two retreating, staggering figures, confused. Had she not been clear enough? They were so poor—where would they find the courage to refuse wealth offered so plainly? She glanced at her mistress in bewilderment. “My lady...”

Qian Tong was equally puzzled.

Were young people today really so stubborn? If someone promised her a lifetime of glory, even if they tied her up, she would be willing.

Watching the two disappear without a glance back, Fu Yin breathed a sigh of relief. “Good thing the lady prepared a backup plan.”

—

The two were taken to a teahouse.

Presumably because of the young lady’s bold kidnapping, the teahouse owner had cleared the place out. The upstairs private room was empty. Passing through the main hall led to the teahouse’s front door.

Stepping outside was a wide street where carriages could pass.

The street was bustling with pedestrians, evidently unaware of the earlier commotion inside.

Shen Che followed behind, still scowling. Song Yun Zhi led the way, then turned to notice a towering crabapple tree on the teahouse’s right side. After a moment’s inspection, he grasped Shen Che’s arm and lowered his voice, “Pretend to be persuaded. Let’s go back.”

Shen Che did not understand, “Huh?”

Song Yun Zhi explained, “This woman is one of the four great merchants. The prey is delivered to your door—do you want it or not?”

After a string of defeats, Shen Che had been too angry to think clearly. Hearing this, he gradually calmed. They had come undercover to infiltrate the corrupt merchants and gather evidence to destroy their rampant power.

To avoid alerting their targets, they had left the patrol team and disguised themselves as struggling merchants, moving through the most chaotic docks of Yangzhou—unknown even to the magistrate.

They had hoped to make a grand move, but had been outwitted again and again.

He was eager to see the young lady’s face when she realized whom she had offended, but he did not understand, “If that’s so, why are we going back...?”

Song Yun Zhi replied, “She’s no ordinary woman. Our identities are unclear. If we take things too easily, she might...”

“Gentlemen, haven’t found a place to stay yet?” A sarcastic voice came suddenly from a nearby alley.

The two exchanged glances.

A group of men marched in from the left alley, led by a middle-aged man with sunken cheeks and a mean expression—Chai Tou, the man who had earlier tried to pull business at the docks.

Seeing them again, Chai Tou’s face darkened. “You ragged fools, playing high and mighty. If you won’t drink the wine offered, then you’ll drink the penalty wine. Before coming to Yangzhou, you should have known who not to offend.” Without waiting for a response, he gestured sharply, “Beat them, but leave them alive!”

At his command, his bodyguards charged forward with wooden clubs.

Street vendors and passersby, long used to such scenes, scattered like birds.

Still seething, Shen Che laughed bitterly, “Looking for death...”

Cui family’s thugs, formerly bandits, had long terrorized the area. Most would flee from two seemingly weak, destitute youths. Unexpectedly, these two could fight back—especially the young warrior.

The wooden club never struck him; instead, it ended up in his hands, wielded like a sword.

In the alley, the young master’s green robes fluttered, speckled with crabapple petals. The flowers fell as branches shook, making him all the more conspicuous. The wooden club seemed alive, striking relentlessly at the attackers.

Hidden onlookers watched breathlessly. The young and reckless were unafraid of tigers—another disaster was unfolding.

The current emperor descended from the late emperor’s sixth generation line, mostly residing in Shu Province. The family were all martial artists, including the princess, who, though married young into the famed scholarly Song family of Jinling, continued her rigorous training of her son.

Thus, Song Yun Zhi inherited not only his father’s literary talents but also great martial skill.

Shen Che, the empress’s nephew, had trained with the emperor’s uncle from childhood, learning both sword and spear, later turning to scholarship without neglecting his fighting skills.

By now, seven-tenths of the drug’s effect had worn off. Handling these ruffians was no challenge.

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