Tyrion stared at him blankly for a while, then spoke: "Greene, frankly, I don't want to believe a single word you say, but I don't dare not believe it; you make me fearful."
Upon hearing this, Greene put down the wine flask and said: "If that's truly the case, you should be even more rational, Tyrion."
He smiled faintly: "At least Crabb's reputation is known throughout Seven Kingdoms."
Tyrion had been trying to maintain a calm expression, but he finally revealed his exhaustion, rubbing his head, and said: "I can't think, perhaps you can tell me directly... if I want to save my life, how can I serve you?"
"Good."
Greene looked at Tyrion, his lips slightly parted: "Joffrey."
As soon as the words fell, Tyrion's pupils suddenly contracted, and he unconsciously murmured: "It's as I thought... it's as I thought..."
Greene's lips curved slightly: "What did you think?"
Still in shock, Tyrion blurted out: "What you want is the Iron Throne..."
As he spoke, he suddenly realized, and quickly covered his mouth with his hand: Damn it, his mouth had accidentally gotten ahead of his brain again.
Tyrion frantically pondered how to naturally change the subject, while observing Greene's expression out of the corner of his eye.
Greene smiled, raised his cup to Tyrion, and said nonchalantly: "You're just speculating privately, this doesn't violate the kingdom's laws."
He added: "Haven't you ever suspected that Old Lion intends to sit on the Iron Throne himself?"
"My poor nephew."
Tyrion smiled somewhat unnaturally, lowered his eyes to look at his still trembling hand, and cursed himself for truly being a cowardly Dwarf.
Greene seemed not to notice Tyrion's slight abnormality, he sighed, and continued: "Yes, King Joffrey is indeed very pitiful."
After a period of silence, Tyrion slowly exhaled and whispered: "Greene Crabb, my friend, will you spare the innocent?"
Greene's brown eyes moved slightly: "Tyrion, don't you dislike promises that lack value?"
Tyrion shrugged: "Duke Green, I actually realized long ago that your promises are the most valuable thing in Seven Kingdoms; you and Duke of Winterfell both value your vows greatly, of course... you are much more flexible than him, but this does not diminish their value."
Greene put down his wine glass and said: "Clever Tyrion, this is the game of power. If you want to bind me with invisible chains prematurely with your sweet tongue, I will have to reconsider your value."
He sighed: "If I were inside, and you were outside, I think... you wouldn't choose to take risks like me. Do your discerning eyes only see my methods, but not the risks I bear?"
He smiled: "Or rather, as a friend, do you sincerely wish for me to proceed more steadily?"
Tyrion forced a smile to match Greene's.
Exhaling again, he stared unblinkingly at Greene and said directly: "I confess to you, I have always been a despicable Dwarf full of suspicion towards everyone and everything. I want to know, why do you trust me, or rather, why are you so sure I won't betray you?"
Without speaking, Greene extended a hand and casually pulled out a parchment roll from the small stack.
He unfolded the parchment, the back of the paper facing Tyrion, while he examined the painting on it, murmuring: "Black hair... blue eyes... very charming... I heard she used to love to laugh... if she were still alive... perhaps her smile would carry a hint of sadness..."
As Greene spoke, Tyrion's pupils first gradually widened, then contracted.
"Tysha?!"
He suddenly left the bed, wanting to snatch the parchment from Greene's hand, but Greene's hand lifted, causing his hand to miss.
"Be rational, Tyrion."
Greene handed the parchment to Tyrion, who had already bounced several times: "This is just a portrait I had an artist deduce based on your wife's appearance, which I inquired about in the Westerlands."
Tyrion snatched the portrait, held it before his eyes, paused, and his eyes gradually grew warm: "Yes, it's like this... she has long, shiny black hair, and a pair of blue eyes that make one intoxicated and unable to extricate themselves... her mouth isn't this big... her chin is slightly rounder than this..."
Greene pointed to the stacked parchment rolls, reminding Tyrion: "There are different ones over there, you can see which one is most similar."
Tyrion finally looked up from the portrait, he stared blankly at Greene for a moment, then scurried over.
He unfolded the parchment rolls, examining each one carefully, muttering to himself.
Greene took a sip of summer red, then leaned back in his chair quietly.
After a long while, Tyrion stared unblinkingly at one of the portraits, murmuring: "Tysha... this one is the most similar... she should look like this now..."
Tyrion first haphazardly wiped the corners of his eyes, then vigorously rubbed his face, and then, with reddened eyes, came before Greene.
Looking at Tyrion, Greene's expression was gentle: "Before the trial begins, I will have the artist disguise himself as an attendant I sent, to visit you every day. Please recall more features of your wife."
Tyrion looked up at Greene, trembling, and with difficulty squeezed out his voice from his throat: "You want... you plan... you wish..."
Greene, under his cautious and hopeful gaze, nodded and said: "I've found out she was exiled by your father across the Narrow Sea. I will secretly search for your wife without alarming your father, and I will also ask Iron Bank for assistance. As long as Lady Tysha is still alive..."
He revealed a gentle smile: "You and your wife will reunite sooner or later, may The Seven Gods bless you."
Tears kept overflowing from Tyrion's eyes, and he couldn't wipe them away. He simply gave up, knelt before Greene, and couldn't help but choke up: "Thank you... truly, thank you so much... I have no way to repay you... please, you must help me find her... please, let me have a chance to compensate... please..."
Greene reached out and gripped Tyrion's shoulder: "You should thank yourself more; this is a chance for amends earned by your own abilities."
He patted him: "Believe me, Tyrion, your remaining life is still very long."
...
That night, in the grand dining hall on the first floor of Prime Ministers Tower, Sandor Clegane, a Kingsguard who happened to be dining with him, took an extra look at Monton, a Crabb's Blue Cloaks, who was eating roasted meat from a basin. The two then got into a big fight (fistfight).
After the fight, Monton's head swelled up like a pig's, and Sandor had a leg broken by Monton's mountain-like body. Grand Maester Pycelle told him he would have to stay in bed for at least three months.
Rumor has it that Duke Green was very angry upon hearing this, threatening to severely punish Monton for daring to cause trouble in Prime Ministers Tower.
Rumor has it that Monton was confined in Kettleblack Mansion in Hook Alley, forbidden from going out for a period of time.
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