Chapter Twenty-Six: Spring Blossoms Once More

Slender, fair fingers delicately lifted a green leaf from a potted plant. The young master, clad in sumptuous robes, leaned in to inhale its scent, then turned his head and offered a smile rife with a thousand unspoken charms.

Ji stood silently, watching him execute this series of movements with practiced allure. Though he had seen such scenes countless times, he could not help but feel awkward.

“There’s been no movement at all?” Dai Yuheng toyed with the leaf as though it were the most exquisite thing under heaven. His tone was cool and detached. “When she was transferred here, wasn’t it to silence her? So why are you now speaking in her defense? How can you be so certain she’s simple-hearted and poses us no threat?”

“I have observed her closely for some time,” Ji replied calmly. “Her temperament is rash, her martial skills unrefined—she is not someone with hidden depths.”

“Yet such people are the easiest for the cunning to exploit.” Dai Yuheng cast him a sidelong glance, then released the leaf.

Ji frowned. “Are you suggesting General Dayin?”

Dai Yuheng casually drew two crumpled sheets of white paper from beneath the potted plant and handed them over. “See for yourself.”

Ji stepped forward, puzzled, and unfolded them. The first bore four neatly written characters: How are things lately? Dai Yuheng’s voice, as if drifting from another realm, explained, “Found this morning on the carrier pigeon. It’s confirmed to be Dayin’s handwriting.”

Ji’s expression shifted as he quickly unfolded the second note. The reply was also four characters, but left him completely bewildered. He could neither cry nor laugh: Eat, drink, excrete, sleep. Moreover, each character seemed to be written in a different hand, cut out with scissors and pasted onto the page.

Dai Yuheng chuckled. “This Kaiming is the most ridiculous spy I’ve ever seen. I looked into it—she found four people and tricked each into writing one character, claiming she was illiterate.”

“She can’t read?” Ji was stunned. An illiterate spy—was that possible?

“She’s not a real spy. Dayin must have another reason for using her,” Dai Yuheng mused, his fingers drifting to the bright bloom at the tip of the leaf. He smiled faintly. “The flower’s beauty draws all eyes, but the unadorned green leaf often grows strong unnoticed.”

He pinched the stem and, with a twist, snapped the vibrant leaf clean off. “If it threatens the plant’s life, it must be removed.”

Ji bowed. “Yes, sir.”

“You are clever. The most capable hand in my household.” Dai Yuheng dropped the leaf and turned to face him. “The astrologers once said the three stars of Yuheng are the principal stars of the Dipper—equals to me.”

Ji, startled by his half-jesting words, fell to his knees. “I dare not, sir. Please, don’t jest so.”

Dai Yuheng turned away, gazing far out the window. His eyes seemed to pierce walls and rooftops, as though glimpsing the palace of glazed tiles beyond. “This morning, word came from our man inside the palace. It turns out Emperor Tianjue is not as weak as we imagined. He’s had a chess piece at my side all along.”

Ji trembled. “Have you found out who it is, Master?”

“He is clever, highly skilled, and has won my trust,” Dai Yuheng sighed. “His only slip was during the failed assassination attempt on the prince. The man with the greatest martial skill was the first to fall injured.” His eyes sharpened like blades as he spoke, fixing on Ji, who still knelt.

Ji’s face blanched, his whole body shaking. “Surely, Master, you do not suspect me?”

“Have you nothing worthy of suspicion?” Dai Yuheng’s gaze turned icy, the usual gentle curve of his lips now coldly upturned. “Dayin serves the emperor, yet you go to great lengths to protect her spy. That only deepens my doubts.”

“My life has long been yours to command. As the saying goes, ‘If you employ a man, do not doubt him; if you doubt him, do not employ him.’ At this point, I ask only to take my own life to prove my loyalty!” Ji pressed his forehead to the ground, kneeling unmoving.

Dai Yuheng studied him for a long while. The ice in his eyes gradually melted, his face softened like spring wind, and he laughed. “No need for such drama, Commander Ji. I was only probing you out of a moment’s suspicion.” He reached down to help Ji up, but Ji kept protesting he dared not accept.

Looking at him, Dai Yuheng said with double meaning, “I only hope to find the emperor’s agent. If you can, tell him: forsake the shadows and come into the light—his past offenses will be forgiven.”

Ji met his gaze without expression, saying nothing.

What was wrong with the commander today? He’d missed half a day’s drills for no reason and returned with a face as dark as thunder, as if the world owed him something. Was he still brooding over what happened last night, embarrassed and angry? Kaiming watched Ji hurry back to camp, scowling at everyone, and wondered.

How odd. If anyone should be upset, it should be me—I was the one pinned down and kissed! Enough, enough, don’t let your thoughts run wild. She quickly cut off the unhealthy images in her mind and forced herself to think straight.

Dayin’s carrier pigeon had arrived, but the scrawled message was incomprehensible. Spies were supposed to send written reports, weren’t they? She’d never considered this problem—an illiterate spy! The very idea made her break out in a cold sweat.

Thank goodness the pigeon was gone. Amitabha, please let me live in peace. Kaiming muttered a prayer and gazed at the sky, bowing a few times for luck.

A fruit from the tree above fell, brushing lightly against her before bouncing off. She looked up—nothing out of the ordinary. Then, another struck her directly on the back of the head. “Ow!” She rubbed her skull, looking around. What tree could possibly produce such heavy fruit?

“Kaiming!” The sound, barely more than a mosquito’s buzz, reached her ears. Startled, she saw, far beyond the bushes, a distant figure waving frantically.

Surprised, she glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then dashed toward the figure. As she drew closer, the outline became clear. She stopped short, eyes wide. “Chunhua?!”

A wide, fleshy face broke into the broadest grin. That large, sturdy body was half-crouched in the shrubbery, yet somehow did not seem out of place. Wasn’t this Chunhua, whom she hadn’t seen in ages?

Chunhua waved even more excitedly. “Kaiming! Is it really you?”

“What are you doing here?” Kaiming looked around anxiously, praying no patrolling soldiers would stumble upon them.

Chunhua could barely contain her excitement. “Xiaoqiao said she saw you here, but I didn’t believe it until she asked her cousin and confirmed it. I’ve waited here for days, and finally I found you!”

Kaiming was moved. Though her friendship with this woman was mostly forged through bouts of fighting, in this strange world, Chunhua might be the only one who truly cared for her.

“You’ve turned misfortune into luck—after just a few days in prison, you’re already in the elite guard. Not bad! Come on, let’s find a place to drink and celebrate.” Chunhua chuckled.

“Drink?” The word alone made Kaiming’s mouth water. “You’re joking, right? The tavern is a hundred miles from here.”

“Who said anything about the tavern?” Chunhua grinned slyly, producing a jug from her sleeve and shaking it enticingly. “Guess what this is?”

Kaiming’s eyes lit up. She snatched it away and sniffed deeply.

“There’s more!” Chunhua bent down and, when she straightened, held a basket of long-necked enamel bottles tied together with string. She waggled her eyebrows. “Surprised? Ha!”

Kaiming, delighted, threw her arms around Chunhua and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I adore you!”

“Hey, stop it!” Chunhua squirmed, scrubbing her face. “For the record, I don’t like women.”

“Purely friendly affection!” Kaiming cackled, making no effort to explain further.

Clutching their basket of wine, the two found a secluded spot, where they felt safe enough to clink cups and drink freely. They swapped stories of past embarrassments—what had once been angry arguments now seemed hilarious in retrospect. It felt like being back in their school days, lying on the grass with dorm friends, eating sunflower seeds, drinking beer, laughing and cursing and saying whatever came to mind.

“You were fierce as a tigress then, rolling in the mud, your shoulder about to pop out, thinking you looked impressive—what a joke!” Chunhua laughed heartily, tipsy and unrestrained.

Kaiming raised a finger to her lips, and they both glanced around, stifling their laughter.

“You’re not one to talk! All that makeup made you look like a painted ghost, baring your teeth like a mangy hen who fancied herself a phoenix,” Kaiming shot back mercilessly.

“Who are you calling a hen?” Chunhua glared and punched her on the shoulder.

Kaiming giggled, swaying from the impact.

“Kaiming, your tolerance for wine has gone down. The first time we drank together, none of us could keep up with you.”

“Maybe it’s the tough training,” she replied indifferently, uncorking another bottle to take a long swig.

Chunhua watched her, then gazed off into the distance. “Honestly, Kaiming, since you came here, have you ever thought about Xuan?”

Kaiming paused, surprised by the sudden mention.

“Well, he’s the dream lover, isn’t he? Of course someone would miss him.” She grinned wickedly, winking at Chunhua.

Chunhua clenched her jaw, raising her fist halfway before letting it fall. She bit the cork from her bottle and took a long drink. “Kaiming, you never used to talk like this.”

“What do you mean, ‘used to’? Back home? I’ve always been this way,” she said, shaking her head. Chunhua was right—her tolerance had dropped; they hadn’t finished even a basket before her vision was blurring.

“I mean when you and Xuan first moved to town.” Chunhua blinked, puzzled. “Every day you dressed up, flirting with all the men who passed your door. It was so shameless.”

“Was I really like that?” Kaiming looked at her, dazed. She knew Yasha were ugly, but hadn’t realized it was that bad.

“The first time I saw Xuan, you’d kicked him out, and he stood helplessly at the door. From that moment, I liked him.” Chunhua blushed, biting her lip. “Don’t laugh at me. I may be brash and single, but when I care for someone, it’s genuine. I’m not like you.”

“I think I’m pretty great,” Kaiming said, tilting back on her elbows with a laugh. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You don’t know how lucky you are.” Chunhua drained the last of her wine, smashed the bottle, and sprawled on her back with a sigh. “I wanted nothing more than to follow him, but he ignored me and insisted on clinging to you, that shrewish woman. What a waste.”

“Is it a waste that you can’t have him, or that he’s stuck with me?” Kaiming laughed shamelessly, letting herself fall back onto the dry earth.

“Both,” Chunhua replied, staring at the sky. Under the slanting western sun, wisps of cloud drifted by, as if winding gently around her troubled heart. “I just don’t get it—what does he see in you? No beauty, no temper!”

“Maybe he likes to be bullied,” Kaiming quipped with a wry smile.

Chunhua turned on her, growling, “Don’t you dare speak ill of Xuan!”

“He’s your idol,” Kaiming thought privately, amused. If Chunhua lived in the modern world, she’d be a textbook devoted fangirl. Fall for someone and you can’t even let people joke about him. “Just kidding, don’t get upset.”

Chunhua gazed at her for a long moment. “Kaiming is a coarse village woman. All she can do is shout and curse—she can’t speak elegantly, can’t get along with people, and certainly can’t handle a romantic rival. Who are you, really?”