Chapter 138

Jing Yijun returned to the manor quite late, by which time the Grandson of the Emperor had already dispatched messengers from the capital to announce to the world that Yang Yaozong had successfully quelled the rebellion of the Prince of Qin in Shangjing.

"Sister Princess!" Yin Ruxin had been waiting in the main hall. Seeing Jing Yijun enter the courtyard, she hurried out to meet her, gripping Jing Yijun’s hand with visible agitation.

Seeing her excitement, Jing Yijun, though still stirred by the news herself, gently patted the back of Yin Ruxin’s hand and smiled. "You have heard the news, then? Brother Yang has avenged you thoroughly, Sister Xin. How do you intend to thank him?"

Yin Ruxin’s eyes misted over, and she said with firm resolve, "I am willing to do anything for Brother Yang. Even if it costs me my life, I would not hesitate."

Jing Yijun led Yin Ruxin into the main hall, seated her in a chair, and smiled. "You are the person Brother Yang cherishes most. How could he bear to take your life? Wouldn't that be the same as taking his own?"

Yin Ruxin blushed and asked, "Sister Princess, when will Brother Yang return to the capital?"

Jing Yijun beamed. "I was just about to tell you. The Grandson of the Emperor has issued a decree; Brother Yang is expected to return to Tianjing by next month."

The two women exchanged glances, their eyes filled with joy and excitement.

***

Ever since receiving the decree from the Grandson of the Emperor, Zhang Lie had been making arrangements for Yang Yaozong’s return to the capital.

Yang Yaozong, however, declined Zhang Lie’s offers of escort. He handed Zhang Lie the deed to a plot of land that Mother Jiang had purchased at a bargain, left him fifty thousand taels in silver notes, and provided blueprints for the construction of a restaurant. He instructed Zhang Lie to take charge of building the "Heaven on Earth" restaurant, designating it as a secret liaison point for the Shangjing Secret Intelligence Office. After further discussing plans for the post-disaster reconstruction of Shangjing with Zhang Lie, Yang Yaozong drove a carriage quietly out of the city under the cover of night.

As Yang Yaozong and Yin Ruyun were on their way back to the capital, the news of Yang Yaozong’s success had already reached Yanmen Pass and was spreading through the military camp. Late that night, Nangong Qingyi and Mu Qinghan lay in bed discussing the matter.

Mu Qinghan turned over, propping herself up on her elbow to look at Nangong Qingyi, who was lying flat. "Sister Nangong, I never expected that Yang Yaozong... well, your husband, would actually go to Shangjing and quell the Prince of Qin’s rebellion. I thought he was only good for writing poetry, but to think he possessed such capability."

Nangong Qingyi, deep in thought, simply gave a soft, thoughtful hum of acknowledgment.

"Sister!" Mu Qinghan looked at her with concern.

"Yes?" Nangong Qingyi looked at her, waiting for what she had to say.

Mu Qinghan shook her head with a faint smile. "It’s nothing. Let’s get some rest."

The tent fell silent, but neither woman could find sleep, both lost in their own troubled thoughts.

Outside Yanmen Pass, in a large tent belonging to the Turkic army, two women sat together: Ayi and Sewu.

Ayi idly poked at the roaring furnace in the center of the tent and laughed. "Shangjing truly suffered an earthquake, just as he predicted!" Her smile, illuminated by the red glow of the fire, appeared even more enchanting, yet it held a spark of pride—a pride she displayed specifically for Yang Yaozong.

Sewu smiled. "The Prince of Qin is dead now. Will this not affect your plans?"

Ayi giggled. "I have already obtained what I sought. The Prince of Qin was of no further use to me; his death will only give Khan Tuolie a headache."

Sewu pondered this for a moment and nodded.

Ayi toyed with the jade pendant hanging at her throat. "Sewu, what should I do? I miss him." She looked up at the frowning, pensive Sewu, then squinted at the blazing fire in the furnace. "Tell me, who is smarter, me or Nangong Qingyi?" Seeing Sewu still frowning at her, she suddenly burst into a trill of giggles. She rose, walked to a low table, picked up a brush, and wrote a letter. With a cunning smile, she asked, "What expression do you think Nangong Qingyi will wear when she reads this?" She tapped her beautiful fingernails rhythmically against her charming cheek, as if she could already see the expression on Nangong Qingyi’s face.

Ayi had long learned of the situation between Yang Yaozong and Nangong Qingyi from Wang Youwei. Moreover, Wang had gone out of his way to embellish the story, claiming that Nangong Qingyi held Yang Yaozong in contempt, abandoned him on their wedding day to follow the army to Yanmen Pass, and mentioning the ambiguous relationship between Yang Yaozong and the Tianjing courtesan, Yin Ruxin. Wang did not realize that the more he spoke, the more interested Ayi became in Yang Yaozong.

The next morning, Nangong Qingyi received the letter from Ayi. It had been sent from outside the pass and bore no signature. Frowning, Nangong Qingyi unfolded the parchment and saw elegant, fluid calligraphy; it was clearly written by a woman. She gave a soft hum and read aloud: "The cicadas are shrill and mournful, facing the pavilion at dusk, the sudden rain having just ceased. In the tent at the city gate, we drink without heart; where we linger, the orchid-boat is urged to depart. Hand in hand, we look at each other with teary eyes, choked with words, unable to speak. Think of the path ahead: a thousand miles of misty waves, the evening mists heavy, the southern sky vast. Since ancient times, the sentimental have suffered at parting; how much more so in this cold, desolate autumn season! Where will I wake from my wine tonight? The willow-lined bank, the morning breeze, the waning moon. This journey will last for years; all the fine scenery will be in vain. Even if I possess a thousand kinds of charm, to whom shall I pour them out?"

Mu Qinghan, who was beside her, heard the poem and whispered, "A beautiful poem!" Seeing Nangong Qingyi staring intently at the paper with a furrowed brow, she asked curiously, "What is it, Sister Nangong?"

Nangong Qingyi handed her the letter. Mu Qinghan looked at her, then took the paper. After reading it, she gave a soft "Eh?" and looked up, frowning. "Why is it signed by Yang Yaozong?"

Nangong Qingyi replied coldly, "The letter has no signature; it came from beyond the pass, delivered by a military messenger."

Mu Qinghan pondered for a moment. "No signature—it means she doesn't want you to reply. Judging by the lyrics, it describes an inseparable longing between lovers. If we have never heard of this poem before, could he have written it privately for the owner of this letter? Or perhaps he didn't write it at all, and the person who sent it is doing so deliberately? What is the true motive of the person who wrote this to you?"

Nangong Qingyi gave a soft scoff. "The motive is clearly not kind—a mere child's game. Never mind whether Yang Yaozong wrote it; if he did, this Turkic woman simply wants me to see it, feel annoyed, become jealous, and lose my composure."

Mu Qinghan frowned but teased, "And has Sister felt jealous or annoyed? Has your composure been rattled?"

Nangong Qingyi replied with a hint of bitterness, "If I said no, would you believe me, sister?"

Mu Qinghan laughed softly. "So, Sister is indeed annoyed! The woman who wrote this is truly formidable. Being able to use a military messenger to deliver a letter—she must be a very powerful barbarian woman!"

Nangong Qingyi snorted, strode to the desk, picked up a brush, and wrote a reply. She folded the letter, tied it to an arrow, and, grabbing a curved bow, walked out of the main tent.

Nangong Qingyi climbed to the city gate tower and looked down at the Turkic tents scattered nearby. Since the Emperor had ordered the strict defense of Yanmen Pass with no permission to sortie, the Turks had been brazenly moving their tents closer to the gates every day, howling, insulting, and constantly harassing the gates. The Great Zhou soldiers held the walls, retaliating with arrows, cannons, muskets, and catapults, but they never ventured out to meet them in open combat.

Today, a large group of Turks was once again provocatively taunting them near the gate. The leader, seeing Nangong Qingyi on the ramparts, laughed loudly and began shouting a string of obscenities, his spittle freezing into icy bumps on his unkempt beard.

Nangong Qingyi nocked the arrow bound with the letter to her bow and suddenly drew it to its full length.

"Whoosh!" "Thwack!" Even as the barbarian was mid-laugh, the arrow pierced clean through both of his cheeks!