Chapter 22: Applauding Oneself

In the early hours before dawn, Yang Xuan awoke and sat in a daze, pondering the long conversation he’d had with Vermilion Bird the previous night.

No, it wasn’t a conversation—he’d been the one talking, and Vermilion Bird had listened.

“Vermilion Bird,” he called softly.

“I’m here,” came the answer.

Yang Xuan picked up the Vermilion Bird that lay beside his pillow, feeling as though he held the entire world in his hand.

Morning study commenced.

Seated behind his desk, Yang Xuan lifted his brush and wrote ceaselessly. Nearby, a green light flickered on the scroll, and knowledge not of this world flowed forth in an endless stream.

This had been his routine for many years.

He washed and then began his cultivation.

Standing in his bedroom, eyes closed, he turned his focus inward.

He drew in a deep breath; the energy of heaven and earth entered his body through every pore, then coursed through his meridians, transforming into inner energy. That energy gently nourished every inch of his skin, every strand of muscle, and revitalized his already spirited mind.

“Hah!” He exhaled a breath of turbid air, opened his eyes, and frowned. “After each cultivation, my inner strength grows, but when will I become truly formidable?”

The intimidation he’d received in Chang’an City had yet to fade. He Huan of the He clan… Remembering last night’s commotion outside, Yang Xuan felt the weight on his shoulders grow heavier.

He stepped out, greeted Master Xie across the way, and, bathed in the morning glow, left Chenqu District.

There were more people at the ward gate than usual, all looking alert and wary.

“Our Yongning Ward’s great scholar is off to his studies,” the ward guards teased.

Yang Xuan feigned embarrassment. “I’m hardly a great scholar. By the way, what’s going on?”

One guard replied, “You don’t know? The county magistrate himself patrolled last night—said there was a dangerous criminal. Had us all hauled out in the middle of the night, ah…” The guard yawned.

The county magistrate?

Zhang Qiyuan, magistrate of Wannian County—a name often praised by the ward guards.

Out front, Zhao Sanfu gnawed on a flatbread.

Yang Xuan approached, and Zhao Sanfu swallowed his mouthful, lowering his voice. “Don’t write any letters home to Yuanzhou for the time being.”

“Why not?” Yang Xuan thought of how his foster parents, Yang Ding and wife, would be delighted to learn he had property in Chang’an.

Zhao Sanfu glanced around. “Yesterday, the palace gate supervisor sent men to Southern Zhou, pressing the Secret Lovers Division to act and drive Yang Lue back to the Tang. If they can capture or kill Yang Lue, they’ll trade a thousand dan of refined salt to Southern Zhou each year… From today, all correspondence between Chang’an and Southern Zhou, and between Chang’an and Yuanzhou, will be strictly inspected… Whether justified or not, any suspicious letter will result in arrest.”

The Secret Lovers Division of Southern Zhou—originally named the Kin Restraint Division, meaning even offenders among kin must be brought to justice. Because of a homophone, it came to be called the Secret Lovers Division, the headquarters of Southern Zhou’s spies.

Yang Xuan asked, “Why not send experts to capture him?”

Zhao Sanfu sighed. “Yang Lue is cunning and highly skilled. Southern Zhou would never permit large numbers of Jingtai’s experts to cross the border, so unless Yang Lue shows himself… In more than a decade, he’s only been spotted twice. Fleeing far this time, Jingtai judges he won’t return. The palace gate supervisor is furious. Be cautious—don’t write letters.”

Zhao Sanfu hurriedly mounted his horse.

Yang Xuan felt a pang of anxiety. “So, maybe this year they’ll catch that traitor?”

Zhao Sanfu smiled faintly. “Southern Zhou isn’t stupid. No matter what Jingtai offers. Southern Zhou mostly has rock salt, bitter and unpalatable, so the palace gate supervisor uses refined salt as bait. But Southern Zhou’s appetite won’t be small. Negotiations will go back and forth—at least two or three years before anything is settled.”

Traveling between Chang’an and Southern Zhou took many days, and vice versa. Envoys would shuttle endlessly, and it would take no less than two years to reach an agreement.

And then they’d still have to track Yang Lue—three years, at best.

Moreover, the fact that Jingtai intended to scrutinize letters between Chang’an and Yuanzhou showed that the fruitless manhunt of the past decade had enraged Lord Wang, who had gone so far as to offer a thousand dan of refined salt for Yang Lue’s head.

Three years!

That old fox Yang Lue, so slippery—surely he would evade capture? At worst, he could hide in the mountains, where local tribes lived year-round, ungoverned.

But as Jingtai’s investigation deepened, would they uncover Yang Xuan’s own connection with Yang Lue?

A powerful sense of crisis left Yang Xuan unsettled. In three years, he must discover the reason behind Yang Lue’s persecution and do all he could to clear his name.

...

At the Imperial Academy, Yang Xuan found his classmates in lively discussion.

Bao Dong and the burly Han Dingzhu were talking animatedly.

“They say He Jincheng was nearly assassinated. The He clan has gone mad, offering a reward of a hundred thousand coins. Tsk! A hundred thousand! He Jincheng is only a Vice Minister of Central Secretariat, yet his family can casually offer that much. Where does it come from?” Bao Dong scoffed.

Han Dingzhu, seeing Yang Xuan enter, shot him a disdainful look and said, “The Yangs of Yingchuan have accumulated wealth for generations. Giving the He family some money is nothing. But not so directly. He Huan, working for the Yangs, controls numerous businesses—he’s made a fortune these years.”

Qian Shen in front licked his lips. He was notorious for stinginess and freeloading, much disliked. He turned and said, “A hundred thousand coins! If I knew who the killer was, I could claim that reward.”

As Yang Xuan passed by Hua Yuxie, lost in thought about these events, he failed to notice her slight frown and the way she edged away, trying to put more space between them.

Yang Xuan sat down. Han Dingzhu sneered, “Yan Cheng was killed, and He Huan is the prime suspect. But with the He clan backed by the Yangs, who can touch him without proof? Even with proof, who would dare act?”

Bao Dong stroked his chin, coughed, and looked pained. Qiao Huiyan said, “Who told you He Jincheng was nearly killed? Last night, it was a He clan adviser who died.”

Bao Dong was taken aback. “How do you know?” He slapped his forehead, “Ah, your family must have sources.” He sidled over, grinning, “Hey, Xiao Qiao, what else do you know?”

Everyone looked to Qiao Huiyan. Her father was assistant magistrate of Chang’an County, the best informed among them.

Qiao Huiyan tried to hide her satisfaction, but Hua Yuxie, seeing the pride in her brows, couldn’t help but smile.

“The killer murdered the He family adviser. He Huan led men to investigate and was nearly killed by the traps left behind. Even so, another man died.”

“Incredible!” Han Dingzhu slapped the desk. “Yan Cheng was killed, and He Huan’s reputation shook Chang’an. Many pitied Yan Cheng. Honestly, so do I. But what can I do? Only sigh. Who would have thought someone would dare strike for Yan Cheng…”

His eyes shone with longing. “Yan Cheng had no allies; many thought he died forgotten. Yet last night, someone avenged him with defiant courage…”

He looked around at his classmates and slapped the desk.

“Bravo!”

Bang, bang, bang!

All present struck their desks in unison, shouting.

“Bravo!”

Cheers echoed through the schoolroom.

Yang Xuan joined the applause, but felt awkward.

Bao Dong said, “We could ambush a He family adviser, but who would dare face their revenge? And…” His voice dropped, “The Yangs of Yingchuan.”

A hush fell over them.

Behind the He family stood the Yangs—that colossal power, the foremost clan of the Tang.

Young and fiery though the students were, before the Yangs of Yingchuan, they fell silent.

Bao Dong praised, “But last night’s man had such courage. He killed, then dared set a trap, trying to take He Huan’s life as well, to avenge Yan Cheng. Tsk! What a hero! I, Bao Dong, am ashamed by comparison.”

Yang Xuan blushed, noticing Hua Yuxie striking the desk, thinking this girl rather bold.

Qiao Huiyan stood and said, “That good man must have fled far, or else, if ever I met him, I would surely protect him!”

Seeing Yang Xuan’s vacant look, she rebuked, “Are you afraid of the He family?”

This was the Imperial Academy—metaphysics was a power unto itself. Even He Huan wouldn’t dare break in.

Yang Xuan was startled. “Of course not!”

Qiao Huiyan frowned. “Yet earlier you seemed unconvinced—do you think last night’s man was not a good man?”

“Hmph!” Several others snorted disapprovingly.

With all eyes upon him, Yang Xuan had no choice. “Of course, last night’s man was a good man.”

Bao Dong leaned over and clapped him on the shoulder, saying heartily, “If you offend the He family, I’ll back you up!”

Yang Xuan thanked him sincerely. Seeing Bao Dong leaning on the desk, wearing a lovesick expression, he recalled the ward guards describing last night’s events.

Last night, the He family had mobilized their entire force, together with the city’s ruffians, knights-errant, and even members of the Golden Guard. Chang’an had not slept.

Qiao Huiyan and Hua Yuxie whispered together. “My father went out last night and didn’t return until dawn, hurried through breakfast, and said he’d be busy for days.”

Hua Yuxie frowned. “Because of the He family?”

Qiao Huiyan nodded indignantly. “Father said that man was bold—not only did he kill, he also set traps that nearly killed He Huan. Furthermore…” She glanced around, then whispered in Hua Yuxie’s ear, “After killing the adviser, he even lit three sticks of incense…”

Hua Yuxie felt a chill down her spine. “He was…”

A voice nearby interrupted, “He was making an offering to Yan Cheng!”

They turned to see Bao Dong shrink back, then stand and announce, “That man even lit three incense sticks before the corpse.”

“Oh!”

A group of young people were stunned.

“Bravo!”

Among the various powers in the Tang, metaphysics was unique. While others expanded endlessly, the metaphysical scholars were content with their small patch at the Imperial Academy—perhaps even found the Academy bothersome, wishing to shrink enrollment each year.

To scorn fame and fortune was high praise, but many said it was simply a den of idlers, each wishing to mind only their own affairs. If not for fear of breaking the lineage, the Dean of the Academy and chief of metaphysics, Ning Yayun, might have run off with his disciples long ago.

The entire Imperial Academy buzzed with the news. At the door, a minor official appeared, calling out, “Who is Yang Xuan? The Director wants to see you.”

Silence fell instantly; everyone sat up straight.

Director An Ziyu—the head of the sentimentalists, the most formidable figure in the Imperial Academy!

Bao Dong muttered, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you—be careful… very careful. If anything happens, I’ll burn three sticks of incense for you.”

Yang Xuan shivered. Was this Director truly so fearsome?

He glanced at his classmates, all looking terrified—and that was just the power of a name. If the Director himself appeared, wouldn’t they be scared out of their wits?

But what could An Ziyu want with him?

As he followed the minor official, thoughts whirled in his mind.

Along the way, he tried to make conversation and subtly probe the reason for the summons. The official kept a stern face. “I’d love to tell you…”

Then say it! Yang Xuan rejoiced inwardly.

The official turned to look at him. “Ten coins.”

Yang Xuan, so poor his liver trembled, replied, “I have no money.”

A look of regret appeared in the official’s eyes. When they reached the Director’s office, Yang Xuan saw a notice posted outside.

He glanced over it…

“Clause six: Should anyone offer a bribe, whoever reports them shall receive a reward of a thousand coins, and a top evaluation…”

The official laughed awkwardly. “Just testing your integrity.”

For the first time, Yang Xuan wanted to hit someone.

The official entered. A woman’s voice spoke inside, “Come in.”

...

Yesterday I went to the hospital and posted all my drafts. The second chapter for today is still in progress and will be posted later.