Chapter Fifty-six: The Return to the Vast Sky (End)

On the fifteenth day of the tenth month, in the first year of Yongchang, the grand embassy of Langqiong set out on its journey. The spectacle was immense, with yellow flags of the Four Directions Hall fluttering everywhere, and the stately strains of the Qingping Grand Music filling the air with solemn majesty.

Upon reaching Anxi Gate, the city gate officer Du Guanshan raised his right hand and ordered the procession to halt. The Great Tang had its own laws—even an embassy must be subject to random inspection for identity verification. Du Guanshan walked from the head to the tail of the embassorial retinue, scrutinizing each face. When he saw a man with fair skin, acting furtively, he paused, then briskly moved on, randomly selected a few people for inspection, and then gave the order to proceed.

The embassy passed smoothly out of the city, heading north along the official road. Every half an hour or so, they encountered a detachment of troops—sometimes from the Eastern Capital’s Imperial Guards, sometimes cavalry, sometimes the Left Martial Guard, or even Luoyang’s patrol constables.

“Stay vigilant. Maintain formation. No one is to act rashly,” Bang Shixi issued the command, his eyes narrowed.

In Shanglin Quarter, at the Princess Yiyang’s residence, Quan Ce did not go to see the embassy off. Instead, he accompanied his mother for breakfast. Quan Luo, now just over a year old, was already showing a mischievous streak, with a distinct air of pride and disdain in his features, making him all the more endearing.

After breakfast, Quan Ce rose and approached Princess Yiyang, watching her feed Quan Luo. His eyes reddened. The princess glanced at him briefly, quickly looking away as if she hadn’t noticed. “Is my son free of official duties today?”

Quan Ce also turned his face aside, rubbing his eyes. “Mother, I’ve heard that the special candles from Tubo fetch a high price. If one can manage to buy them, profit is certain.”

“This is true, but such purchases are not easily made. When did you become concerned with commerce, my son? Do you require money?” Princess Yiyang replied calmly, handing Quan Luo to the wet nurse.

“I do not need funds, Mother. I will try my own way to procure them, but don’t expect much; it likely won’t succeed.” Quan Ce forced a smile, barely masking his anxiety. “Please, though, mention it to Father. Perhaps he can help.”

“I will remember. Rest assured.” Princess Yiyang replied gently.

Quan Ce knelt to take his leave. At the door, turning his back to his mother, he added, “Mother, I have an appointment with Assistant Minister Wu tonight and won’t be home for dinner.”

“Very well. Do not drink to excess,” the princess reminded him, just as she always did.

“I will obey,” Quan Ce replied in a choked voice and strode away, unable to let his mother see the tears on his face. Had he turned back, he would have seen that Princess Yiyang, too, was weeping.

A mother’s heart is tied to her child’s. She had long sensed something was amiss in Quan Ce’s manner, but forced herself not to ask. For a mother unable to shelter her child from fate, any question would only be superfluous.

At dusk, Du Guanshan finished his shift at Anxi Gate. He went to the guardroom, changed into plain clothes, tossed his uniform carelessly on the floor, and stamped on it in frustration. He had cracked this major case—there was no need for him to return here. Lijing Gate was where he belonged now.

He bought a jug of wine and half a pound of spiced lamb offal, returning to his quarters to drink alone. He had endured enough of this dry, humble existence. When dawn came, good days would begin.

Perhaps because his mood was buoyant, even the wine tasted sweet today. But it was strong—after a few bowls, his vision blurred. Surely that wretched tavern had adulterated the wine with water before it had properly fermented. Tomorrow, he would go and smash their stall.

He staggered a few times before collapsing to the ground with a thud, raising a cloud of dust. From his mouth and nose, blood—bright as the lamb offal—began to gush.

At Lijing Gate, Hou Sizhi, dressed all in white, mounted his white horse, his face sullen. Once his black-clad subordinates were assembled, he lazily ordered, “Let’s go. Time to collect the dead chickens.”

It was the informants at Lijing Gate who had uncovered the smuggling plot, but the Meihua Inner Guard had intervened and claimed the main prize of arresting the fugitives. All that remained for Lijing Gate was to pick up the scraps, which was deeply frustrating.

“Censor Hou, who do we take first?” asked the captain beside him.

“First…” Hou Sizhi pondered, then curled his lip in a cold smirk. “First, seize Gong Siyi. Right Detachment, go after Pan Shan.”

At his words, several officers galloped ahead to investigate and seal off every passage.

Quan Ce, oh Quan Ce—once my net is drawn tight, let’s see you escape! A man has but two hands, after all, and disaster comes from within one’s own walls. Hou Sizhi sighed, feeling a sense of futility, and urged his horse forward at speed.

“Censor, fire! There’s a fire at Gong Siyi’s home!” A messenger galloped back, dismounting in haste with a shrill cry that pierced the night.

“Faster!” Hou Sizhi lashed his horse, which leapt over the reporting officer as he coldly commanded, “Send urgent word to the old Exalted—plans have changed; act at once!”

But at Gong Siyi’s house, the fire had already consumed everything. Nothing remained but broken walls, charred corpses, and ashes.

Hou Sizhi sniffed. The air was thick with the stench of burning oil.

“Censor! Pan Shan—Pan Shan has vanished!” The Right Detachment returned in panic.

Vanished? Hou Sizhi glanced at the smoldering ruins, suspecting Pan Shan was buried in the flames. Fury rose within him. He lashed the officers with his whip from horseback, cursing them furiously.

“Censor, should we still go after Quan Yi?” the captain dared to ask once Hou Sizhi’s anger had ebbed.

“Hmph. Wait,” Hou Sizhi replied coldly. His net had collapsed; whether they could act now depended on the Meihua Inner Guard’s moves.

North of Luoyang, at a relay station a hundred li along the official road, the king’s banner of Langqiong was unfurled.

Across those hundred li, signal arrows soared skyward every five li, relaying the message to the relay station. By the time it arrived, more than half an hour had passed.

“Exalted, Lijing Gate has sent an urgent warning: we are to act immediately.” Outside the relay station, in a dry culvert, a dozen black-clad men sat cross-legged. Hundreds of Northern Garrison Imperial Guards surrounded the station in a tight ring.

The Exalted frowned. The traitors were already trapped. The original plan had been to lure out their accomplices and root them out, but now, there was no more time. “Order the Imperial Guard to move in.”

The station gates swung open. The station master, already instructed, ushered the soldiers inside.

The young captain addressed the Langqiong Secretary, “By order, the Imperial Guard will search the premises. Please cooperate.”

The Secretary’s expression did not change. “Even members of the embassy must be searched?”

“Please cooperate,” the captain insisted, leaving no room for negotiation.

“General, wait a moment. I must ask my king for instructions,” the Secretary said, sweeping his sleeves and departing.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream rang out. The captain surged into action, leading his team toward the sound. There, they saw a pale-faced man, dressed as a member of the Langqiong embassy, lying in a pool of blood, head separated from his body. Several dark figures flashed past the window. “Seal the station! Catch the murderer!”

Clashing steel, cries, and the whistling of arrows filled the air as the outer cordon clashed with the attackers. Dozens more black shadows leapt through the night sky to join the fray.

The captain tore off his mask of courtesy and drew his broadsword. “I suspect there are criminals among the embassy. Assemble everyone at once for inspection!”

Bang Shixi did not appear. The Secretary’s attitude changed at once, complying readily, “General, may I have a word?” The two conversed in hushed tones for some time.

“Everyone, stand in line. I will now verify your identities,” the captain said with a cold smile, intent on playing cat and mouse.

But the mice refused to play. Before he finished speaking, six people stepped forward. “We are not members of the Langqiong embassy. We are a merchant caravan from Princess Yiyang’s manor, sent by our Young Master to trade in Tubo.”

These six, some old, some frail, carried heavy pouches filled with ledgers and account books. Several chests of coin and silk stood in their quarters, cumbersome and obvious.

The captain frowned, turning to the Secretary, who nodded quickly, a chill running down his spine.

“And what of the other man? The one Gong Siyi smuggled in?” the captain pressed, betraying the Secretary without hesitation.

The Secretary cursed inwardly, his mouth bitter. “He is the one found dead in the room.”

By now, after all the delays, the sounds of battle outside had faded. A group of black-clad, masked men strode into the station. The captain hurried to report the situation in full.

The Exalted’s sharp gaze swept over the six from the Quan family. With a cold snort, he strode into the guest room, seized the blood-soaked head of the dead man, and laughed loudly to the heavens. “Ha! So it is you, Xu Jingzhen! You made me search so long for you! Ha ha ha!”