Chapter 18: Yang Lue Is a Traitor

Amidst the cheers, Bao Dong had somehow appeared, looking at him in surprise. "Your moves just now were really deft!"

"Really?" Yang Xuan had never paid much attention to such things. In the mountains, if you’re still thinking about being graceful when you strike, the tigers and wolves will teach you a lesson.

"If you don’t believe me, look—those girls are smiling at you!"

Yang Xuan didn’t look; he simply carried his food to a spot and began to eat heartily. The fare at the Imperial Academy was truly excellent: flatbreads and wheat cakes as much as you wanted, plenty of vegetables, and most importantly, lamb.

Bao Dong sat opposite him, took out a handkerchief, coughed twice, wiped his mouth, and probed, "Why don’t you like women?"

Yang Xuan looked up, swallowed his food, and said, "A man must first fill his stomach before he thinks of women."

Bao Dong coughed, his face contorted in pain, stunned for a while. "What you say makes so much sense."

Yang Xuan asked curiously, "Is your throat not well?"

Bao Dong coughed again. "When you enter the Imperial Academy, you need to choose a cultivation path. I chose the Path of Bittersweetness. One must comprehend suffering—the more you understand, the deeper your cultivation. You don’t know, do you? The Dean is the leader of our path. But it’s said the Dean’s cultivation has gone awry..."

Yang Xuan thought of Professor Zhong Hui, with his ethereal bearing and hands always folded behind his back, and wondered aloud, "What path is Professor Zhong in?"

"Path of Gracefulness!"

Bao Dong stared, dumbfounded, as Yang Xuan went for seconds—and thirds. The others whispered among themselves.

"Has he never tasted such good food since birth?"

"He’s from the countryside."

Everyone nodded, certain. No matter how elegantly Yang Xuan had fended off the earlier provocation, the invisible barrier of class still stood between him and them.

Yang Xuan didn’t care. After eating his fill, he wandered around the Imperial Academy, digesting and getting acquainted with his surroundings.

The Academy was vast; along the way, he often saw towers and pavilions, students engaging in debates—or rather, Yang Xuan thought, just idle discourse.

Each student held a whisk, swinging it lightly or vigorously according to their mood; Yang Xuan found it rather foolish. He found Little Lin and sat beneath a tree.

His back pressed against the rough bark, aching slightly, Yang Xuan closed his eyes and considered Zhao Sanfu.

Why did he approach me?

To kill me?

Yang Xuan shook his head. Hardly. If they truly wanted to kill him, Jing Tai wouldn’t need such methods—this was a hunter’s intuition.

So what did he want?

Yang Xuan pondered for a long time.

Meanwhile, in Jing Tai, Zhao Sanfu was also deep in thought.

He crouched beside a small clay stove, occasionally lifting the lid to sniff the aroma. Guarding his own pot of soup, Xin Quan scolded, "Don’t ruin my soup, get out!"

Zhao Sanfu leaned against the door, squinting as he contemplated what lay ahead.

Yang Xuan wasn’t a fool—this he knew. Once Yang Xuan learned he was from Jing Tai, he would surely keep his distance. Zhao Sanfu smiled bitterly, looked up, and asked, "Director, do people from Jing Tai have any friends?"

Xin Quan thought carefully and shook his head, very seriously. "None."

...

Yang Xuan sat beneath the tree, recalling Zhao Sanfu’s stand against the He Clan for him, and his own peculiar release from prison. Given the He Clan’s nature, they shouldn’t have let him go. The Deputy Commander Han was peculiarly cordial—yet his manner was false, painfully awkward.

He was compelled!

Who would force Deputy Commander Han for my sake?

The Wang Clan?

Yang Xuan shook his head. If the Wang Clan wanted to intervene, they would do so openly, not furtively.

Yan Cheng?

Yan Cheng was recently the brightest star in Chang’an. If he made a move, the whole city would know.

Who then?

Yang Xuan was troubled.

Footsteps approached from behind. Yang Xuan frowned, shrinking in on himself as he would in the mountains, closing his eyes to listen.

"Does your family allow you to make friends outside?"

A young man asked.

After a moment’s silence, a young woman replied, "Guess."

The young man responded with delight, "They allow it."

The young woman said, "Guess again."

Fool! Yang Xuan thought the girl had already firmly refused him, but the young man was oblivious. Yet he didn’t know the saying: ‘In the midst of the mountain, you cannot see it for what it is.’

The young man left, disappointed.

Yang Xuan returned to his own thoughts—he thought of Yan Cheng. That thin, stubborn old man was admirable. For his ideals, he dared to roar at the godlike Five Great Families, dared to cut their flesh.

What are my ideals?

Yang Xuan recalled his own experiences. In Yuanzhou, the officials were like gods; the fate and honor of the people lay in their hands. Someone’s land was annexed; they went to the county office for help, only to be beaten and driven out. Later, the whole family disappeared.

Villagers only sighed, feeling it unrelated to themselves. But Yang Xuan felt such things were not far off; if you stay silent now, when those nobles turn their greedy eyes upon you, who will speak for you?

After arriving in Chang’an, the He Clan’s brazen arrogance deeply shocked Yang Xuan. He hadn’t expected them to make even the Golden Guards bow, and their hunt for Yan Cheng chilled him to the bone.

So this is what it means to be a noble?

So this is the Tang Dynasty?

He vaguely felt he ought to do something, but didn’t know how.

Faced with such injustice… what should I do?

Yang Xuan raised his hand…

Behind him, a young woman snorted coldly. "He looks the part, but he’s not as manly as today’s new student, who dared to act when provoked. If you had even seventy percent of his courage, I’d be willing to keep company with you."

Bang!

The tree trunk shook, and the girl who had been leaning against it came around, wide-eyed.

Yang Xuan stood there, bewildered, still holding the pose of striking the tree.

"I—I—" Yang Xuan was embarrassed. "I didn’t mean to."

Having her praise overheard, the girl fled in panic.

Yang Xuan scratched his head, smiling helplessly.

There was only one class that afternoon, taught by an elderly gentleman. After entering, the old man, his cloudy eyes surveying the room, said, "Attend if you wish, leave if you don’t."

Bao Dong was the first to rise, gave Yang Xuan a meaningful look, and soon all the students slipped away.

This…

Outside the classroom, Bao Dong explained, "Afternoon classes are all bragging—no, lectures about the great philosophers. You understand."

So it was a boasting session!

Yang Xuan asked, "What can we do in the afternoon then?"

Bao Dong looked weak, raised his brows, "Whatever you like."

The next moment, the two were outside the Imperial Academy.

"Meeting as classmates today is fate—I’ll treat you." Bao Dong, judging from Yang Xuan’s lunchtime appetite that his finances were not optimistic, spoke generously.

Yang Xuan said with a wry face, "Will we drink?"

Bao Dong nodded. "Yes."

Drink? Yang Xuan calculated; he could afford to return the favor once. But when they arrived at Pingkang Lane and entered the brothel, Yang Xuan realized his funds were woefully insufficient.

"Such a handsome young man!"

"Come, come to me!"

Yang Xuan was surrounded by several courtesans, nervously casting a pleading look at Bao Dong.

Bao Dong laughed heartily, coughed a few times, put his arm around a courtesan and went upstairs, instructing her, "Just sleep."

A courtesan squeezed over and kissed Yang Xuan hard on the cheek. Yang Xuan, blushing, touched his face, saw the powder on his hand, panicked, pushed the women aside and fled.

"Hahaha!"

The courtesans’ uninhibited laughter rang behind him as Yang Xuan dashed out of the brothel, furiously wiping the lipstick from his face, and slipped away without looking back.

Yang Xuan made his way to the outskirts of the imperial city, hesitating.

"Who are you looking for?"

The gate guard, helmeted and armored, looked formidable. Seeing Yang Xuan loitering, he seemed suspicious.

Yang Xuan was about to speak when he saw Zhao Sanfu and two men in dark robes coming out. He waved, but Zhao Sanfu ignored him.

So he thinks, now that I know his identity, I’m of no use?

Yang Xuan felt a pang, but Zhao Sanfu was his first friend in this world; thinking of this made him sad.

Bang!

Someone slapped his shoulder hard; this time, Yang Xuan hadn’t sensed it beforehand. Before he could turn, the person behind him said impatiently, "Lady Nine is singing at Pingkang Lane today. If you’re late, you’ll have nowhere to stand. Hurry up!"

Yang Xuan turned around, replying, "I don’t frequent brothels!"

Zhao Sanfu hooked his arm around Yang Xuan’s shoulder, wickedly. "A man who doesn’t frequent brothels—does he make friends with his own two hands? Kid, today I’ll show you what a true beauty is."

The two walked, arms around each other.

This was Yang Xuan’s second visit to Pingkang Lane that day. Upon entering a brothel, he saw it was packed, someone shouting, "Lady Nine, I’ve prepared fifty thousand coins for a night of joy!"

Fifty thousand coins for a night…

Poor Yang Xuan was stunned.

"Dream on!" Zhao Sanfu scoffed. "Lady Nine isn’t that kind of woman, or she’d have been claimed by some noble long ago."

Not selling herself?

Yang Xuan knew of a certain kind of woman—artiste.

Prostitute and artiste may seem similar, but worlds apart.

One earns with her body, the other with her skill.

Amidst the music, Yang Xuan, trying to hide his nerves, asked, "The He Clan is so brazen—does His Majesty not intervene?"

Zhao Sanfu shook his head. "They’re the watchdogs of the Yang Clan. The Yangs are powerful; even His Majesty can’t act openly. Just like Lady Nine—I think she has someone behind her, else how could she remain untouched?"

Yang Xuan had been waiting for this chance. "Last time you mentioned the Filial Emperor—why have I never heard of this emperor?"

Zhao Sanfu sighed, "You didn’t study well in Yuanzhou, so naturally you don’t know. The Filial Emperor was the Crown Prince during Emperor Xuande and Empress Wu’s reign. He poisoned the Emperor and Empress, was then poisoned in turn. But later, both regretted it and posthumously honored the Filial Emperor… Ah, imperial matters are never clear."

So that’s how it was.

Yang Xuan vowed to catch up on Tang history.

But for now, he needed to figure out if this Yang Lue was the same as that Yang Lue—hopefully not. If not, he’d be innocent.

"What does Yang Lue look like?" Yang Xuan asked.

Zhao Sanfu thought his young friend had many questions, but considering he’d just arrived in Chang’an, he answered, "Yang Lue… When the Filial Emperor was poisoned, rumor had it he fled with his child; Jing Tai’s people chased but failed. As for his appearance… Over ten years ago I was still a child…"

Perhaps not.

Yang Xuan’s eyelid twitched—for Zhao Sanfu had mentioned over ten years ago.

"Did they ever catch him?"

Yang Xuan recalled those three men—one he’d killed with a poisoned needle.

Yes, those three wore dark robes.

Zhao Sanfu glanced at Yang Xuan, seeing his face flushed and breathing quickened, laughed, "Are you impatient to see Lady Nine? Wait a bit."

He hadn’t answered whether Yang Lue had been caught, but Yang Xuan already knew.

The three men who hunted Yang Lue dressed much like Zhao Sanfu; in Chang’an, only Jing Tai’s people wore such styles and colors.

But why was Yang Lue hunted?

Yang Xuan thought the Filial Emperor was poisoned, but didn’t Emperor Xuande and Empress Wu regret it? Didn’t they honor the Filial Emperor posthumously? Clearly it was a misunderstanding. If so, why was Yang Lue still hunted?

Up ahead, someone raised their hand and shouted.

"Lady Nine!"

"Lady Nine is coming out!"

Zhao Sanfu raised his hand and shouted, enraptured.

Music began. A woman in a white dress walked out slowly. Two handmaidens beside her held whisks, shielding her face. One raised a drumstick, lightly struck the drum; with the sound, the whisks parted, revealing a stunning face.

"Lady Nine!"

The cheers were deafening.

Zhao Sanfu glanced at Yang Xuan, who was also shouting, and smiled, whispering in his ear, "That Yang Lue is a traitor!"

Zhao Sanfu joined in with the crowd’s shouts. Amidst the cheers, Yang Xuan stubbornly declared, "He is not!"