Chapter 66: The Burial of an Assistant Minister
Pitch-pot was a game that had enjoyed enduring popularity for many years, beloved by nobles and commoners alike. If one had no proper vessel, a flower vase or small jar would suffice. As long as there were arrows in hand, any place could become a gambling den.
A pot with a wide belly and narrow mouth was placed on the ground. Five paces away—a distance considered the range of a seasoned pitch-pot player. Zhang Jing glanced at Yang Xuan, noting his conflicted expression, which made her want to laugh. She handed him the arrow pot. Nian Ziyue nodded.
“How about…” Zhang Jing, understanding the princess’s intention, suggested, “A hundred coins per round?”
That was no small wager.
Yang Xuan looked troubled, wondering if winning too much might make the princess cry in frustration. Yet he desperately needed money! He glanced at Cao Ying, who looked as though he’d rather die, clearly worried Yang Xuan might end up losing even his undergarments. Only Wang Lao’er kept his gaze fixed on Zhang Jing’s long legs, even licking his lips. That glutton, surely he found those legs appetizing. What if he actually ate human flesh one day?
A stream of chaotic thoughts passed through Yang Xuan’s mind before he nodded with difficulty.
Nian Ziyue’s lips curled faintly; she mused that debts lost wouldn’t have to be repaid—she only needed to threaten him to mind his own business.
“I’ll go first.”
Yang Xuan nodded, “Please, Your Highness.”
Nian Ziyue picked up an arrow and lifted her delicate hand. The arrow flew in an elegant arc—a high trajectory was crucial, so it could drop neatly into the pot’s narrow mouth. The arrow landed squarely inside.
Nian Ziyue clapped lightly and stepped back, casting a glance at Yang Xuan and whispering to Zhang Jing, “Get ready to collect the money.”
Zhang Jing nodded, watching Yang Xuan lift an arrow and toss it casually. He probably hadn’t played before, she thought, her gaze following the arrow’s flight.
Clink!
The arrow slipped perfectly into the pot.
Nian Ziyue uttered a soft exclamation and stepped forward again.
Clink!
She looked at Yang Xuan, now with a spark of competitiveness in her eyes.
“A beauty, isn’t she?” The Vermilion Bird was asking.
Yang Xuan ignored it, for even through the veil, he felt the lively spirit in her gaze, stirring his heart. But for him, survival always took precedence.
Clink! Clink! Clink!
The pot’s small mouth was now crowded with arrows.
Bang!
Nian Ziyue missed.
She looked at Yang Xuan. “Shall we try from farther away? Do you dare?”
Yang Xuan replied, “What about the money?”
Zhang Jing had not prepared any, never expecting to lose. Thus, Yang Xuan witnessed the lavishness of the Southern Zhou.
A whole chest of copper coins.
“There is plenty more,” Zhang Jing remarked coolly.
“Wealthy lady! Wealthy lady! I don’t want to work hard anymore!” The Vermilion Bird howled.
Nearby, Cao Ying blinked, “You must strive, sir!”
The old rogue snorted, “That’s the Princess of Southern Zhou. Do you think you could marry in and compete for her favor?”
Cao Ying stroked his beard, “If she is generous with her money, perhaps Yi Niang will prepare some nourishing dishes for you.”
“Meat!” Wang Lao’er still believed Zhang Jing’s long legs looked delicious.
“The distance is increased,” Cao Ying observed as Nian Ziyue tossed another arrow into the pot’s mouth, watching expectantly.
Clink!
Yang Xuan maintained his casual stance.
Nian Ziyue gritted her teeth, “The stakes are too small.”
Cao Ying whispered, “Why not wager the princess herself?”
The old rogue shook his head, “The young master’s health is weak.”
Cao Ying was furious, “Who says so?”
The old rogue replied, “He soaks in well water late at night, a clear sign of kidney yin deficiency—quite severe.”
“One thousand coins!” Nian Ziyue peered at Yang Xuan through her veil, raising her chin slightly.
Yang Xuan crossed his arms, “Did Your Highness bring enough money for this trip?”
A mist crept into Nian Ziyue’s eyes, “Two thousand coins!”
“The convoy isn’t large,” Yang Xuan observed.
This convoy couldn’t possibly have hauled vast amounts of copper all the way to Chang’an.
Nian Ziyue nodded lightly, proud as a princess should be.
Soon, a heavy chest was brought forth. When opened, it gleamed brightly.
“Gold!” Cao Ying’s eyes sparkled.
“This is palace gold—I once found some in a noble’s coffin,” the old rogue licked his lips, recalling when he’d once instinctively tasted a bar of gold.
Such wealth!
“Move farther still!”
Nian Ziyue had met expert pitch-pot players before, but at such distances, skill meant little.
Zhang Jing cast a sympathetic look toward Yang Xuan, imagining the rustic magistrate losing even his undergarments, wondering what his expression would be.
Clink!
The distance was now challenging. Nian Ziyue’s first throw nearly veered off.
Clink!
She glanced sideways at Yang Xuan, biting her red lips.
Again!
Bang! Missed!
Again…
Yang Xuan still maintained his effortless posture.
Clink! Clink!
Cao Ying was stunned, finally snapping to his senses, “Quick, go collect the money!”
The old rogue trembled as he negotiated with Zhang Jing, then took the gold. He caressed it, eyes wet with tears.
Cao Ying asked, “Why so emotional?”
The old rogue choked up, “This is the first gold I’ve ever received from the living.”
Cao Ying: “…”
Clink!
Yang Xuan said, “Let’s stop here.”
He felt a little embarrassed by his winnings.
“No!”
Nian Ziyue, like a girl unwilling to accept defeat, kept throwing arrows.
“Ahem!” Cao Ying watched the old rogue fetch a wooden chest, feeling this was turning into a diplomatic incident, hurriedly urging Yang Xuan to quit.
Yang Xuan glanced at the gold ingots, estimated their worth, figured they’d buy a decent house, and dropped his arm, flexing his right arm as if in pain.
“Cramped up.”
“You’re lying!” Water welled in Nian Ziyue’s eyes.
Clearly, she was spoiled.
Yang Xuan quickly shook his arm, “It’s real—cramp.”
Zhang Jing, observing clearly, advised, “Princess, we have to head out soon.”
Nian Ziyue finally took a deep breath, “Let’s tidy up, then.”
Southern Zhou was wealthy, and as the most favored princess, she cared little for money. She was simply used to winning; a sudden defeat was hard to accept.
Nian Ziyue went to the back courtyard to change clothes…
“Aren’t those new clothes?” the old rogue wondered.
Cao Yi explained, “Nobles wear different clothes at home and when going out.”
“So extravagant,” the old rogue sighed. “A noble in a tomb wears the same outfit for centuries.”
Yang Xuan asked, “How much did we win?”
The old rogue thought carefully, “About as much as a vice minister’s burial goods.”
What kind of measurement was that?
Everyone stepped outside. Cao Ying glanced at Yang Xuan, “Sir, you have a house now.”
The carriage was ready.
Yang Xuan instructed, “Old Zhao, lead the way.”
“Understood.”
Zhao Guolin, shouldering his horse lance, led several newly recruited constables ahead of the carriage.
Inside, Nian Ziyue knelt, holding a book, but her mind kept drifting to the pitch-pot game.
Ah!
“I, who have always been invincible, lost to a country boy!”
Nian Ziyue clenched her fist with resolve, “I’ll practice hard and reclaim my honor next time!”
“Xiao Sheng requests an audience with the princess.”
A voice drifted in.
By the carriage, Zhang Jing said, “Princess, it’s the envoy from Northern Liao.”
Northern Liao had once been the ruler of these lands, famed for its unmatched cavalry. After being battered by the Martial Emperor, a tripartite division emerged. In recent years, Northern Liao had revived, growing restless and causing frequent border conflicts.
Xiao Sheng’s face was round and oily, his robust frame standing like a small mountain.
The old rogue sneered, “Sir, he ignored you.”
Yang Xuan glanced at him; the old rogue immediately amended, “He ignored us all!”
“We must have collective awareness.”
Yang Xuan rode forward.
“Protect the magistrate!” Zhao Guolin pointed his lance ahead, the constables closing ranks.
Xiao Sheng’s gaze shifted, as if noticing Yang Xuan for the first time.
“I seek an audience with the princess.”
“The princess does not wish to see you.”
Xiao Sheng smiled, “I have a solution.”
Yang Xuan thought him shameless.
“Try me.”
Xiao Sheng reached out to grab him.
Though the nation had declined, the old overlord mentality lingered in every Northern Liao man.
Xiao Sheng looked at Yang Xuan, cruelty glinting in his eyes.
If a foreign envoy injured a Tang official, at worst he’d be expelled—he cared little.
Yang Xuan extended his hand.
The carriage curtain lifted.
Those lively eyes now held curiosity.
Two hands clasped.
With force!
Hmm!
Xiao Sheng abruptly let go, giving Yang Xuan a serious look.
He retreated quickly, hands clasped, “I’ll return to seek the princess another time.”
He turned to leave. His attendant asked, “Did you use your trick?”
“I did,” Xiao Sheng’s face was dark. He opened his right hand to reveal a bloodied mark. His ring had a hard protrusion designed to pinch his opponent’s finger bones during a handshake—no one could bear such pain.
But now, Xiao Sheng’s palm bore a bloody hole.
Nearby, Yang Xuan opened his hand, pressed down the steel needle that had popped up on the ring.
He glanced back at the moving curtain.
He understood.
Northern Liao still coveted the Tang.
Coveted Chang’an!
He looked to the north.
He seemed to see countless cavalry thundering toward them.
Soon, word reached the palace.
“Your Majesty, the envoy from Northern Liao intercepted the carriage of the Southern Zhou hostage princess, but was stopped by the county constable of Wannian.”
The emperor asked absentmindedly, “A wolf with ambitions.”
“Who was that constable?”
Yang Songcheng, eager to spot talent.
“Yang Xuan.”
Yang Songcheng withdrew his step.
Pretend I never said anything…