Tigers Sniff the Rose - Chapter 104

Chapter 104

Liu Wenji arrived at the North Forbidden Army camp in Chang'an in his capacity as the Inspector of Military Appearance.

With the Prince of Qin punished and ordered to face the wall in reflection, and the Crown Prince having seized control of a portion of the Forbidden Army, the Emperor had dispatched an eunuch to serve as the Inspector of Military Appearance to oversee the state of the troops.

Liu Wenji had secured this assignment entirely through his master, Cheng'an. He had spent nearly all the wealth he had accumulated in the palace over the past half-year to obtain this opportunity to leave the palace and inspect the military. Before he departed, Cheng'an had warned him that the Emperor likely intended to use the period of the Prince of Qin's confinement to reorganize the Forbidden Army. If Liu Wenji wanted to make a contribution, this was an opportunity not to be missed.

Having served before the Emperor for several months, Liu Wenji had roughly discerned that the old Emperor was a man who enjoyed using one party to strike at another.

In the eyes of the world, the reorganization of the Forbidden Army would likely be seen as a victory for the Crown Prince over the Prince of Qin; few would imagine that the Emperor might have intended to do so all along.

Dark clouds hung low, obscuring the sky. At the North Camp in the outskirts, several generals greeted the eunuchs led by Liu Wenji, but they were perfunctory and did not treat him with any real importance.

Liu Wenji was accustomed to the cold sarcasm and ridicule of others; he had known of the world's disdain for eunuchs back when he worked in the Hanlin Academy. His heart had long since been tempered into numbness, so he did not take the generals’ coldness to heart. Liu Wenji only pondered how to quickly finish this mission and return to report his duties.

However, the eunuchs who accompanied Liu Wenji were not looked upon kindly, and they were so furious that their faces twisted. They had always served the masters in the palace; how dare these rough men treat them with such attitude?

They stirred up trouble in front of Liu Wenji, and seeing that he ignored them, they came up with an idea. Several eunuchs intentionally provoked a few lieutenants, plying them with wine during lunch. They then led Liu Wenji over, letting him hear exactly what the drunken soldiers were saying about them—

"They’re just a few eunuchs! So what? Does the Emperor think he’s going to behead us over a few eunuchs?"

"To think the Emperor would send a eunuch to inspect military appearance! This is preposterous! Do eunuchs understand warfare? Do they know what we’re doing? Especially that Liu Wenji... he’s nothing but a dog raised by the head eunuch. He dared to put on a straight face in front of us—what is he trying to pretend to be?"

"When I was out killing people, these eunuchs must have been scared senseless, leaking urine everywhere! Wait, can they even urinate? Hahaha..."

Liu Wenji stood outside the tent, listening to the unbearable profanity within. The eunuch who had brought him watched his expression. He saw Liu Wenji suddenly raise his eyes to look at them; the gloomy, depressed color in his eyes flashed away in an instant, replaced by cold, murderous intent. Liu Wenji flicked his sleeves and walked away, ignoring the even more degrading insults inside.

It was nothing more than looking down on him.

It was nothing more than humiliation.

The injustice of fate pressed down upon his head, as thick and heavy as the gathering clouds in the sky. The road was steep and treacherous, the journey against the current arduous. Liu Wenji walked faster and faster, his complexion changing from its initial gloom to something increasingly calm. He hid the murderous intent in his heart, no longer revealing it.

Under the overcast sky, tree shade covered the ground. The small flowers on the trees, during this transition between spring and summer, bloomed in profusion like thin mist.

Inside the Wei manor, Zhao Lingfei jumped down from the wall. She had intended to take a side path, but unexpectedly, she saw Wei Shu standing under a tree, looking up at the leaves in a daze.

The leaves and the light fell upon him, overlapping like algae, bright as snow.

Zhao Lingfei met Wei Shu’s pitch-black eyes; she flushed with embarrassment. After all, having snuck in over the wall only to be caught by the master of the house was indeed awkward.

However, Wei Shu did not speak, so Zhao Lingfei brazenly pretended to be unaware of the situation. She jumped down from the wall, clapped her hands, and pretended to be natural as she explained her actions: "I went home, only to see that my father has actually started exchanging betrothal papers, truly intending to marry me off to that old man. In a fit of anger, I had an argument with him and ran out again."

Wei Shu said nothing.

Zhao Lingfei lowered her head and kicked at the plants by her feet: "Hey, why are you at the manor? Aren't you supposed to be working at the government office?"

Wei Shu replied: "I was warned by the Censorate. Starting from today, I am to rest at home. As for when I will return to work, I am waiting for further notice."

Zhao Lingfei widened her eyes, feeling aggrieved for him: "Why?! What wrong did you commit for the imperial court to treat you this way?"

The youth was as pure as clear snow, quiet and indifferent. Zhao Lingfei gazed at him for a long time, and suddenly, a thought struck her: "Is it because... you refused to become betrothed to Princess Danyang, and the Wei family went to your superiors and said something? Are they threatening you?"

Wei Shu lowered his eyes.

The Li family and the Wei family wanted to cooperate, and he and Mu Wanyao were the keys to that plan. The decrees of the mortal world loomed over him, forcing him to submit, time and time again.

He was merely an illegitimate son of the Wei family, a tool in the hands of the Wei and Li families. He was supposed to do whatever they needed him to do, and if he made a single mistake, he would be discarded.

However, was this his fate? He had run away from the Wei family at fourteen, entered the court as an official at fifteen, and was already sixteen this year... was he still unable to escape this fate? 

Inside the Prince of Jin's manor, Chunhua turned and looked at Yan Shang outside the screen.

Yan Shang's voice carried a tremor; she could not ignore him. This was the first time Yan Shang had asked anything of her, appearing so humble and powerless... Chunhua watched him for a long time before speaking softly: "The Princess would not want me to tell you. She especially does not want you to know, nor does she want you to pity her."

Yan Shang said sadly: "I know, which is why I never ask. But I need to know these things—not to humiliate her. Too many problems stand between us; only by knowing the past will I know what I must do. I do this out of respect, not pity.

"I might help someone out of pity, but I would not love someone out of pity. I know what I am doing."

Time could not be wasted; if they dragged this out too long, the Prince of Jin might return.

After a long time, Chunhua whispered: "Then you must promise me that you will find an opportunity to tell the Princess later, and not deceive her. If I have the chance to see the Princess in the future, I will not hide today's events from her either. I tell you this because I trust Young Master Yan’s character. If, knowing these things, you choose to separate from the Princess, I will have nothing to say. But the Princess has done nothing wrong; you cannot blame her for her misfortunes!"

Yan Shang whispered: "I would never blame her."

Chunhua was silent for a long time.

Across the screen, Yan Shang heard her voice, low and slow, devoid of anger: "The Princess’s coming-of-age ceremony at fifteen was spent on the road to our marriage alliance. At that time, we only thought the Wuman region was barren and savage. The Princess was full of confidence, wanting to teach a group of savages how to be cultured.

"The most capable personal maid at the Princess’s side at that time was not me, but an elder sister named Nonghua. Nonghua was a bit older than us; she guarded the Princess like an elder sister. I was even a little jealous of Nonghua back then, wondering when I would be able to be like her...

"There was only one Nonghua; we were all named after the four seasons, and only Nonghua was different. But Nonghua died in Wuman forever. She was the first person among us to die..."

Dark clouds gathered; even far from Chang'an, the clouds overhead followed.

Mu Wanyao sat in the carriage, resting her chin on her hand, eyes closed. The carriage swayed, and the huasheng (ornamental hairpiece) in her hair gently tapped against her forehead. The red gemstone on the huasheng reflected her magnificent features and skin as white as snow.

Fang Tong tapped on the carriage wall from outside: "Your Highness, it seems it is going to rain. Should we stop the carriage early and check into a post station?"

The woman in the carriage did not answer.

Fang Tong was accustomed to the Princess’s occasional eccentric moods, so he stopped bothering her and instead instructed the guards: "Pick up the pace and travel a bit further. Since the Princess does not wish to rest here, we will try to reach the next post station before dark."

The speed of the carriage increased, fearing they would be trapped on the road by the coming rainstorm.

Mu Wanyao, inside the carriage, slept soundly and did not hear Fang Tong’s request. She had fallen into an absurd dream, one she was loath to wake from...

Inside the Prince of Jin's manor, Chunhua told Yan Shang a long story.

In storybooks, the story of a princess sent for a marriage alliance is always a passionate and beautiful cross-cultural romance.

In storybooks, the princess is always gentle, kind, firm, and brave; in storybooks, the barbarian king is always young, handsome, wise, and intelligent. It is a collision of different cultures and an attraction of beautiful souls. In these stories, the princess endures great hardships and grievances, but there is always a moment when her sincerity is seen by the barbarian king; she is always understood in the end.

However, reality is not like that.

Mu Wanyao was not strong enough; when wronged, she would only weep in a daze. The Wuman King was not young or handsome; he was a middle-aged man who, it was said, abandoned his previous queen to welcome the Princess into Wuman. Because of this, he disliked Mu Wanyao from the very beginning.

He blamed Mu Wanyao for being delicate, for not being strong enough, and for being unable to be like the Wuman women, unrestrained by the etiquette of the law.

Wuman women were treated as communal goods, but Mu Wanyao, who had come for a marriage alliance, refused this. Wuman women only sought to please their men, but Mu Wanyao, arriving as a royal princess, held herself high above them and did not regard Wuman men with any respect.

The old Wuman King was not wise. Perhaps the wisest decision of his life was to enter into a marriage alliance with Great Wei. And the reason he made this decision was merely that he coveted the jewelry, glassware, and fine silks of Great Wei. He was crude, barbaric, wild by nature, and knew nothing of the rules.

Mu Wanyao suffered deeply for this.

Chunhua whispered: "It was the current Wuman King, Meng Zaishi, who saved the Princess from that fate. Meng Zaishi rescued the Princess many times, leading her away whenever she was on the verge of a breakdown. The Princess seemed to have truly become the kind of woman she wanted to be.

"But I don’t know—when sitting on the grasslands of Wuman, when gathered around the campfire, when everyone was singing and laughing, when the Princess looked at Meng Zaishi—was there truly love in her tender, smiling gaze?

"But I don’t know—when the Princess became powerful, when she plotted to kill the old Wuman King, and she sat by the old man's bedside listening to his confessions—when the Princess sighed softly, was she truly pitying the fact that the old King was about to die?"

Chunhua’s voice trembled: "When she was passed between different men, and when the people around her died one by one, what was she thinking?

"When she told me she was pregnant, but that she could not keep the heir, and she had to abort the fetus—what was she thinking?

"Young Master, do you know? The Princess was cutting off her own path to survival... the child could not be aborted, so she tried every method... When she was on the verge of death, she bled so much that the Wuman King went to the snow-capped mountains to beg for a divine herb to save her life... But when the Wuman King knelt before the Princess’s bed, looking at that bloody, dead fetus, what was the Princess thinking?

"Meng Zaishi held the Princess that night and wept. But the Princess did not shed a single tear. She did not even look at the dead fetus once; we were the ones who secretly buried it... I don't know what the Princess has been thinking all these years. She doesn't open her heart to us, yet she smiles charmingly and beautifully at men. She has become willful, she gets angry at the drop of a hat, and she often scolds us for being clumsy... but what does that matter?"

Chunhua lowered her head, tears filling her eyes.

She braced her hands on the wooden table, her shoulders trembling slightly. Tears dripped down, splashing onto the floor tiles, creating withered "flowers" where they landed. She muttered to herself, as if lost in a daze:

"It’s just a temper tantrum, just unhappiness. What does that matter? I have seen her grievances, I have seen how she struggled through... I would rather she lose her temper every single day.

"Let it all out. Forget it all.”

"Young Master, are you blaming the Princess for being unable to bear children? Even if you blame her, do not leave her for this reason. You can find any other excuse..."

Yan Shang was silent.

He staggered backward under the weight of it all, leaning against a table behind him. His fists were clenched tight in his sleeves, his face muscles taut, trembling slightly from the tension. In extreme humiliation, in a daze, in complete disarray, he said: "Excuse me... I, I must take my leave."

It was too stifling; he could no longer stay in the Prince of Jin's manor. Yan Shang bowed hurriedly and turned to walk out.

When he stepped out of the great hall, he heard the dull rumble of thunder in the sky. He closed his eyes. Although he had not witnessed it personally, he felt as if he could truly hear her crying in his ears.

Yan Shang left the manor and mounted his horse. As he rode, those old events surrounded him, entangling him. He was already possessed of deep empathy, and this time, it was Mu Wanyao. So, the young man held the reins tight, and with every step his horse took, it seemed as if he heard her sobs.

Whether his eyes were open or closed, it felt as if he saw her standing in the darkness.

She was holding a sword, her body stained with blood, her face as pale as paper. The wind was bitter, the rain was cold, and the wasteland stretched before them. She looked at him with pitch-black eyes and reached out her hand to him, whispering:

"Yan Er-gege, save me."

Yan Shang slumped over on his horse, his heart aching as if someone were striking it with a hammer.

In his hallucinations, he saw her lying on the bed, blood flowing everywhere, her life ebbing away with it; he saw her chasing after that old man, begging him not to take away her maid; he saw her and Meng Zaishi riding on horseback through the stone cliffs, laughing carefree... and as she turned her face to look at him, the smile in her eyes became hollow and false.

She reached her hand out toward him, whispering:

"Brother, save me."

"Save me."

"Save me!"

Tears welled in Yan Shang’s eyes, clinging to his lashes. He hunched over, pressing his hands against his heart, the pain so tearing and ripping that his whole body shook. A massive, crushing sorrow descended upon him, making him yearn to weep aloud.

His heart ached to the point of tears, yet he was too grief-stricken to speak.

"BOOM—"

Thunder exploded in the sky, and a torrential downpour poured down like a flood from the heavens.

The sudden downpour hindered the progress of Princess Danyang’s party on the road. Outside, Fang Tong directed the group to move quickly to shelter from the rain. Inside the carriage, Mu Wanyao’s cloud-like hair was disheveled, her long eyelashes fluttering. She remained deep in a dream, unable to wake.

She dreamed that she had become a fifteen-year-old Princess once more.

In her dream, she had escaped the fate of the marriage alliance.

She grew up happily in Chang'an, waiting for her grand coming-of-age ceremony at fifteen. Afterward, she met a young man in Chang'an; he was spirited and handsome, as beautiful as a jade figure from the heavens.

She liked him so much that she begged everywhere, finally working up the courage to act the spoiled princess for the first time, insisting on marrying that young man. The Emperor and Empress had no choice; they granted the man the rank of Third Place Scholar, finally fulfilling their young daughter’s wish. On the day of her coming-of-age ceremony, they married her off.

And so, in her dream, Mu Wanyao was always following behind that young man:

"Yan Er-gege, staying in Chang'an would be good, wouldn't it? If you came to marry into the Princess's house, wouldn't that be good?

"Yan Er-gege, playing with me would be good, wouldn't it? Hugging me would be good, wouldn't it?

"Yan Er-gege, us getting married would be good, wouldn't it? If we became husband and wife, wouldn't that be good? If I gave birth to many children for you, wouldn't that be good?

"Yan Er-gege, if you always liked me, that would be good, wouldn't it? If we were always, always... together, that would be good, wouldn't it?"

Under the dull thunder, the rain fell as large as beans.

The city of Chang'an in the afternoon was washed clean by the rain. The torrential rain swept through like a wild wind, and the people in the marketplace scrambled to hide from it.

Only one young man did not hide from the rain. He rode his horse, dazed and trance-like, passing through the market. The men and women hiding under the eaves of the shops looked at the young man in the vast mist of rain. A bold, love-struck maiden called out loudly:

"Young Master, it’s raining so hard! Come over here to hide from the rain!"

Yan Shang rode his horse, his body and robes soaked through by the rain. Wet hair clung to his face, and he turned his head with a bewildered look, seeing the men and women standing under the shops.

He suddenly steadied himself, losing his manners for the first time, forgetting to return the greeting to the kind-hearted girl who had called out to him. Yan Shang gripped the reins, turned his direction, and headed toward the Princess’s manor.

Many people from the Princess’s manor had already left Chang'an, though some had stayed behind to create the illusion that she was still there, so as not to let Yan Shang know she was gone. Yan Shang dismounted in the alleyway and knocked on the gates of the Princess’s manor. The servants opened the door and offered the usual apologies. However, this time, Yan Shang insisted on entering; he had to see her...

In the struggle and commotion, the people of the Princess’s manor could not handle Yan Shang and had to shout: "Our Highness is no longer in Chang'an! Young Master, even if you beg us and manage to get through these doors, it’s useless!"

"BOOM—"

The thunder rumbled again in the sky.

The lightning illuminated Yan Shang’s ice-cold, damp eyes.

He said not a word. He turned and left, mounted his horse again, and rode straight in the direction of the city gates! 

In Chang'an’s North Camp, just after lunch, the rainstorm arrived, and a riot broke out.

A conflict arose between some soldiers and the eunuchs. A lieutenant came to mediate, but in his speech, he showed a lack of respect for the eunuchs.

Liu Wenji, having been brought there by the eunuchs, heard the lieutenant laughing: "You guys are really something, why bother with those who have no roots? Since they were sent by the Emperor, we have to give the Emperor some face... Ah!"

The lieutenant let out a miserable scream. All the surrounding soldiers stood up, glaring: "Young Master! What are you doing!"

The first sentence was addressed to the dead lieutenant, and the second was addressed to Liu Wenji, who was holding a sword, slowly and methodically pulling it out from the lieutenant's back, then wiping the blood from the blade.

Liu Wenji took a handkerchief and coldly wiped the blood from the sword. The soldiers surrounded them, their eyes splitting with rage and indignation. As they moved to act, Liu Wenji raised his eyes, staring at them with gloomy, vicious eyes: "Let’s see who dares to move!

"Do you wish to resist an imperial decree?

"Move one more time, and I will wash your entire camp in blood! Let’s see who the Emperor favors!"

Liu Wenji’s face was pale, his eyes dark. For a moment, the soldiers dared not move.

In the silence, a bold soldier said: "Of course the Emperor favors us..."

Liu Wenji said coldly: "Are you sure?"

"If I kill you, what can you do?"

Liu Wenji held the sword in his hand, his gaze icy. He stepped forward, step by step, and the soldiers retreated, step by step. He looked around at the people, shouting loudly: "Do you all wish to be traitors?!"

The breath of the surrounding soldiers was heavy; those who looked down on him did so with hatred in their eyes. But these people were so cowardly that they did not dare to act. Despite holding weapons, not a single person dared to rush forward and kill Liu Wenji.

Liu Wenji heard the sound of the rain pattering outside. He faced a whole camp of soldiers suppressing their anger. The colder and calmer he remained, the less they dared to move. Finally, when someone dared to move, he pointed his sword at them, and the bold one was tied up by the quick-witted eunuchs.

His back was soaked with sweat; the feeling of killing someone with a sword for the first time was terrifying, but at this moment, he felt a mix of bitterness and intense pleasure. He suddenly wanted to burst into wild laughter—

Ridiculous! Pitiful!

This is fate! 

Inside the Wei manor, while the rain poured down, Wei Shu and Zhao Lingfei sat in the hall.

Wei Shu sat before a chessboard, sitting opposite a dismal-looking Zhao Lingfei.

Zhao Lingfei murmured, bewildered: "Am I truly going to have to marry an old man..."

Wei Shu said: "No."

Hearing him speak, Zhao Lingfei looked at him in astonishment. She saw a white piece in Wei Shu’s hand drop onto the board; the youth lowered his brows and eyes, his eyelashes thick and heavy.

As if convincing himself as much as he was convincing Zhao Lingfei, his tone was light yet firm: "Even a mayfly can shake a tree; even an ant should fight for spring. Why should we bow to fate?"

Zhao Lingfei stared at him blankly.

He raised his eyes to look at her, as if his gaze passed through her to look at a broader future. Zhao Lingfei turned her head with him to look at the world outside the window being drenched by the rain, seeing the ancient trees standing tall in the rain, seeing the vines under the window being battered by the deluge yet refusing to fall from the wall.

The young man and woman watched the great rain together. They muttered to themselves, speaking in unison, whispering: "...Indeed, why should we bow to fate?"

Fate is unjust! Fate is unbearable! Fate plays tricks on people!

Then one must spend a lifetime fighting it, never yielding, never falling!

Rain watered the world. A young eunuch held a sword, facing an entire camp of soldiers, and began to kill; a young official and a young lady sat opposite each other, a decision made in their hearts, preparing to break the stalemate.

A young princess woke up in a carriage miles away from Chang'an, gazing at the curtain of rain between heaven and earth; a young man handed over his medallion, mounted his horse, and left Chang'an—

Darkness had long since fallen, and the rain had become a bit lighter. Fang Tong and the others finally found a post station over ten miles from Chang'an, where they would stay for the night.

Xia Rong helped Mu Wanyao step out of the carriage. Mu Wanyao’s magnificent dress spread out behind her. After she landed, the maids held up the hem from behind, not letting the Princess’s clothes splash into the muddy water.

Mu Wanyao moved leisurely, steadying herself to look at the lights of the post station. Just as she was about to walk toward the station, she heard the sound of horse hooves pursuing from behind. Mu Wanyao was so proud that she felt no curiosity. The dream she had in the afternoon left her exhausted, and she couldn't be bothered with whoever else might be staying at this post station.

Just as Mu Wanyao raised her foot to step onto the stairs, the sound of horse hooves stopped, and the footsteps approaching from that direction were both hurried and unsteady.

Mu Wanyao still did not pay it any mind.

Until she heard a maid’s perplexed and bewildered murmur: "Y-Young Master?"

Mu Wanyao froze.

However, she thought there were many young masters ranked 'second' in the world; it could not be that one. At this time, that person should have just returned home from the Ministry of Personnel; with luck, he would have just learned that she was no longer in Chang'an.

Just as she thought this, that person caught up to her from behind.

Her wrist was grasped from behind.

She was yanked down from the steps, twisted around to face the person who had pursued her. Her wrist was gripped, and her eyes gradually widened. She stared, dumbfounded, at this Yan Shang, who was completely soaked and looked like a drowned rat.

His collar and sleeves were stained with many spots of mud, his hair ribbon hung wetly on his shoulders, and his long hair was matted into strands, clinging to his cheeks. His face was pale, his lips vividly red.

Although the disheveled beauty presented by this pathetic appearance was very moving, this was not how Yan Shang usually looked.

Mu Wanyao was dazed, thinking, is this a dream?

This afternoon’s dream... it’s been so long.

In the darkness and light, Yan Shang’s hand, which was gripping hers, was trembling slightly. The rainwater on his eyelashes dripped down, landing on her clean, slender wrist. Mu Wanyao lowered her head to look at the wrist he was gripping, then looked up at him in a daze, still feeling perplexed and lost.

The rain fell steadily. Xia Rong held an umbrella nearby, her mind and the other maids’ in a daze. The maids watched Yan Er-lang standing before the Princess, gazing at her.

The rain drenched his entire body, highlighting his slim and upright figure. Like jade, like bamboo, filled with the frost of the journey.

In front of the post station, the faint light in Yan Shang’s eyes shone upon her, as quiet and dark as the night, yet clear and gentle as spring water. The Princess’s eyes changed; she wanted to break free and leave, but Yan Shang was unusually firm, refusing to retreat.

The rain enveloped the two of them. Fang Tong held a lantern and pushed open the post station door. They saw Yan Shang standing under the corridor, clutching their Princess’s wrist without letting go, whispering: "You have always blamed me for not being impulsive, have you not?

"I suppose this counts as me being impulsive for your sake once... I didn't ask for leave, and I left Chang'an."