RONG QING WATCHED, his heart racing in fear.
He'd known Cui Buqu would use both carrot and stick to force these people to hand over their remaining grain. Without this, the city's residents would starve, to say nothing of the displaced victims of the floods.
Still, Rong Qing hadn't expected Cui Buqu to be so ruthless. He had killed Wu Yi and Li Yan like it was nothing. Even the head of the Li family had met the same fate, bleeding out before their eyes. Everyone was stunned. Rong Qing had braced himself to spend the entire day persuading these stubborn mules. Instead, a single iron-fisted blow from Cui Buqu had cowed them in an instant.
Rong Qing watched them all bow their tear-stained faces, pleading before Cui Buqu, and realized the grain shortage in the county was as good as resolved. The worries of the past few days were swept away.
Yet Cui Buqu showed no sign of joy. His demeanor toward these wealthy families remained unchanged throughout—cold and unsmiling, like the incarnation of King Yama himself.
"You've purchased your lives with this grain. I hope you will keep your promises—if not, I don't mind sending a few more of you to keep Li Geng company. Understand?"
Everyone trembled. When King Yama himself was speaking, who would dare deceive him? Any such thoughts were long extinguished.
Cui Buqu glanced at Feng Xiao by his side. "Deputy Chief Feng, thank you. The Jiejian Bureau's hard work is certainly appreciated."
Qin Miaoyu thought this a bit strange. Cui Buqu knew who she really was, so why address her so deliberately in public? Was he trying to buttress his actions here with the Jiejian Bureau's reputation? She blinked, suddenly sure she had fallen into a trap.
Before she could consider this further, Pei Jingzhe called to the assembly, "Please follow me."
Time was of the essence: Where the grain was stored, and in what quantities, all needed to be meticulously recorded. They couldn't allow the families a moment for second thoughts, nor allow the clerks any opening to line their own pockets.
The crowd was long since nauseous from the reek of the hall. They scrambled out the door after him as if fleeing a fire.
Rong Qing looked at the bodies strewn across the floor and furrowed his brow. "Cui-xiansheng, regardless of their crimes, Wu Yi and the others were officials of the court. Such rash action is sure to draw criticism when we return to the capital. If you must petition for a defense, I am willing to co-sign."
Cui Buqu's face showed none of the gratitude Rong Qing had anticipated at this offer to share the burden of responsibility. His expression remained inscrutable as he said, "Bring them here."
A moment later, Rong Qing's eyes went round.
The Zuoyue guards pushed two men through the door. They hung their heads, their faces filled with despair, like defeated soldiers returning from battle.
Were these not Wu Yi and Li Yan?
Rong Qing looked at them, then at the bodies on the ground. He felt like he was dreaming. "What's…" What's going on?
Qin Miaoyu, still wearing Feng Xiao's face, took it upon herself to explain: "Cui-xiansheng didn't kill them; he just used the corpses from last night's tavern brawl to scare that lot."
In truth, disguise was not one of Qin Miaoyu's skills, and her imitation of Feng Xiao's voice was far from perfect. She'd only succeeded that night in the tavern because their enemies had been unfamiliar with Feng Xiao. Aware of this, she spoke now in her own soft, feminine voice. The jarring mismatch between the evidence of his eyes and ears compelled Rong Qing to avert his gaze.
"Then is Li Geng also still alive?" He breathed a sigh of relief.
Qin Miaoyu was unimpressed. "He's dead! You saw it with your own eyes, didn't you?"
Rong Qing froze, glancing at the fallen Li Geng. The man's face was twisted in death, the fatal wound through his chest still oozing blood.
The Li family's eldest son was both angry and aggrieved, but he valued his life; he didn't dare rush forward and grab his father's body. Even he had obediently followed Pei Jingzhe out of the hall to register their grain.
So—Li Geng was the only one dead.
Rong Qing didn't know how to feel. He had offered to share the responsibility with Cui Buqu, but seeing Wu Yi and Li Yan still alive had given him hope they could avoid death altogether. If only they'd managed to convince Li Geng instead of killing him, they'd have won without any bloodshed at all, making their victory all the sweeter.
Yang Yun leapt up, jabbing a finger at Cui Buqu. "You lied to me, you bastard! You didn't have the guts to kill them!"
Cui Buqu regarded him coolly. Rong Qing thought he might order Qin Miaoyu to strike Yang Yun. Instead, he grabbed Yang Yun's hair himself and slammed him into a nearby pillar with a muffled thud.
Yang Yun had had only water and no food for several meals; he lacked the strength to fight back. He gave a pained cry and covered his mouth and nose, hunching as blood dripped through his fingers.
Rong Qing felt his own nose twinge in sympathy.
"Make no mistake: It's not that I cannot kill you," Cui Buqu said. "I simply do not wish to. I advise you not to spit on my kindness. If you refuse to cooperate, I will throw you before the refugees and tell them you're the one who left their families to starve. I'll retrieve you after they beat you halfway to your grave."
Yang Yun squatted, covering his face and whimpering. It was unclear if he was weeping or moaning in pain.
Fortunately for him, Cui Buqu's chronic illnesses left him lacking in strength, or Yang Yun would be sporting a broken nose rather than just a bloody one.
Cui Buqu stepped forward. Yang Yun shrank back.
Suddenly Cui Buqu's expression shifted. Crinkling his brow in concern, he asked, "Governor Yang, how have you hurt yourself again? If something's troubling you, please tell us. Don't hold back."
Rong Qing, watching, was just as speechless as Yang Yun.
The governor felt like crying. He was currently too feeble to beat even Cui Buqu in a fight. Even if he could, he wouldn't dare—not with Qin Miaoyu and the Zuoyue guards glowering at him. But Cui Buqu had truly driven him to desperation: Tears mixed with the blood streaming down his face as he huddled, trembling.
Cui Buqu bent down to pat his shoulder and offer a few words of consolation. "Governor, you should get some proper rest. I'll take you back to the capital in a few days."
Rong Qing's eyes had been opened. If he had been in charge, could he have resolved the situation so quickly? Would he have dared to resolve it like this?
He knew he would not.
It wasn't because he wielded less authority than Cui Buqu. Imperial censors operated under the emperor's authority and had a similar prerogative to act first and report later. He could take a life if required, so long as he was prepared to explain himself before the court. But Rong Qing couldn't bring himself to be so ruthless. Forget Wu Yi—even if he was confronted with Li Yan, who had arguably done the most to deceive him, he would likely waver, unable to bring the knife down.
Within a mere half a day, Cui Buqu had exercised both murder and deception to force these greedy landowners into coughing up what they'd swallowed.
Yang Yun surely loathed Cui Buqu to the bone, but what could he do? Cui Buqu held damning evidence against him. Escaping this disaster with his life was already great good fortune. Whatever mischief he got up to in the future, whatever connections or identity he used to rebuild himself, he'd never dare provoke Cui Buqu again, not even if he had ten times the guts.
Rong Qing wiped the last traces of doubt from his heart and finally reached acceptance.
***
The most pressing matter had been settled, but Cui Buqu was feeling too poorly to revel in his triumph.
After instructing the guards to lock Yang Yun up, he'd returned to the relay station. His first thought was to go see Feng Xiao—but he was still in seclusion after his qi deviation and shouldn't be disturbed. Perhaps Cui Buqu could just stand at the entrance to see whether the inner room remained shut. This would be enough to tell him if Feng Xiao was out of danger.
Just as Cui Buqu reached the courtyard where Feng Xiao was staying, he stopped in his tracks.
A pain, sharp as a needle, pricked his chest and quickly spread through his body. He struggled to breathe. An unseen hand seemed to wrap around his throat and push him underwater. He fought to surface, yet his efforts were futile. The breath he drew through his nose thinned, and his limbs grew limp and heavy as if weighed down by stones.
These were his old symptoms flaring up again. Shortness of breath and heart palpitations—not an infrequent combination for him. Under normal circumstances, an ice-fungus pill could alleviate them, but he had none left. He'd given the last three to Feng Xiao. Qiao Xian had gone to a neighboring county to collect herbs to refine him new ones; she'd be gone some time yet.
He hadn't anticipated his old ailment would rear its head so quickly, yet the symptoms overtook him now with incredible ferocity.
He must have overexerted himself these past few days. First he'd wracked his brain for a way to deal with Yang Yun and his men, then he'd ventured out in the rain to search for Feng Xiao at the tavern. Considering the state of his body, the outcome was hardly surprising.
This was also why Qiao Xian had kept quiet about Feng Xiao's predicament. She hadn't wanted him to give out the ice-fungus pills. But a qi deviation was far more dangerous than labored breathing. He could endure it—after so many years, he was used to it.
Eventually, the pain would pass.
Cui Buqu's pace was agonizingly slow. He kept a hand on the wall for support as he walked, putting one foot in front of the other. His back was less straight than normal, but not so much that anything was obviously wrong. His expression was utterly calm. So calm it was as if he was merely admiring the scenery as he passed. No onlooker would guess he was in agony.
Bone-deep, heart-devouring agony.
Pei Jingzhe stopped to greet Cui Buqu as he passed. "Are you here to see my lord, Cui-xiansheng?"
"Mm," said Cui Buqu. He added placidly, "But I can't walk any farther. You'll have to help me."
If Cui Buqu said he couldn't walk, he truly couldn't. This man had an iron will and a pain tolerance equal to that of any top martial artist. It was only a pity that his body was like cracking wood and crumbling stone.
Stunned, Pei Jingzhe quickly took his elbow as he swayed. "I'll call a physician right away!"
"No need." Cui Buqu's brow was furrowed, but his voice was steady. "The physicians here can't compare to Qiao Xian, and she's gone to get medicine. Just help me back so I can rest."
Recalling the three ice-fungus pills, Pei Jingzhe felt a twist of guilt. "Mm," he murmured, not daring to say more as he hoisted Cui Buqu onto his back and carried him to his room.
"Don't worry about me; I'll just lie down for a bit," Cui Buqu said hoarsely.
He slipped out of his shoes and lay down without even changing his clothes, wrapping the blankets around himself. He'd never been the type to complain or moan in pain. Both would be meaningless—other than the ice-fungus pill, no medicine was effective. Rather than waste his breath explaining this to Pei Jingzhe, it would be more prudent to conserve his energy and weather this flare-up.
Pei Jingzhe left; the door snicked gently shut behind him. Cui Buqu exhaled slowly as another wave of pain washed over him. He closed his eyes.
He could barely recall the first time his illness had flared up like this.
It would have been back at the Cui family manor, after he struck back against a younger child of the clan who'd bullied him. The other boy had run away to tattle, and a prejudiced elder had locked Cui Buqu in the woodshed with instructions to reflect on his wrongdoing.
It'd been a winter night. Icy winds had rushed through the cracks in the door and windows, howling within the empty woodshed. Cui Buqu had been very young then; regardless of how precocious he was for his age, there were times even he suffered defeat. After all, he was only a child.
The elder had likely planned to lock him up for no more than an hour, but it had happened to be the day of the Winter Solstice. Everyone was busy with various rites to worship the ancestors, and both the inside and outside of the manor bustled with noise and activity. Who would remember the nameless child in the woodshed? Cui Buqu froze the entire night. Not until almost dawn did someone find him.
After that night, everyone had thought his death was nigh, yet he'd miraculously pulled through—Cui Buqu had survived again. Even Cui Yong had had to admit the name he'd given this child was ominous. Cui Jie, steps. He was truly like the weeds at the base of stone steps, resilient and indomitable.
From that moment on, Cui Buqu's heart palpitations and asthma had worsened, becoming severe enough to threaten his life. Still, he clawed his way back from the brink of death time and time again. It was as if his life was so cold and hard even King Yama refused to take it.
Over the course of his life, he'd experienced countless such flare-ups. It was a familiar pain, almost a part of him. But since he'd begun taking the ice-fungus pills, most mild flare-ups no longer affected him. Even major flare-ups became manageable.
Cui Buqu thought of Feng Xiao.
His qi deviation had left him in a precarious state, but Cui Buqu had a vague yet unshakable feeling that he would pull through. Perhaps it was only an illusion brought about by Feng Xiao's overbearing arrogance.
The good die young, while the wicked live to a thousand.
The corners of Cui Buqu's lips quirked up.
His forehead and the back of his neck were clammy with sweat, and his robes were soaked through. Even the blanket was damp where it touched his body. But the thought of Feng Xiao seemed to take his mind off the pain, and the passing of time became a little less torturous.
That man's face took shape in his mind's eye. It was a supremely beautiful face, its most outstanding feature those shining and gracefully curved eyes. How unfortunate that some of its charm was lost whenever he opened his mouth to speak.
Perhaps Cui Buqu's pain had pushed him to the point of hallucinating—he suddenly felt as if someone was blowing lightly on the back of his neck.
A ghost in broad daylight?
Cui Buqu didn't have the strength to turn and look. He registered a hand touching his neck, while another slipped under the quilt, landing unerringly on his wrist.
True qi, rich and pure, surged from his acupoints into his body. It was as if he was bathed in warm sunlight, and the pain in his chest, though it didn't disappear entirely, seemed to lighten as well. He knew of only one person whose foundation of true qi was so solid he could afford to waste it like this.
Feng Xiao, Cui Buqu mouthed. He didn't have the strength to voice it aloud. But a bud of joy sprouted within his heart, bursting through the parched soil.
As expected, Feng Xiao had successfully emerged from seclusion.
Cui Buqu was no martial artist, but he knew that with each obstacle a martial practitioner overcame, their abilities would increase in turn. If Feng Xiao was here before him, he must have surpassed himself and taken his martial arts to even greater heights.
"In exchange for those three ice-fungus pills, my venerable self is willing to pledge myself to you. What do you say?" Feng Xiao bent his head and captured Cui Buqu's lips. True qi poured in, flowing from his lips and tongue to flood Cui Buqu's mouth.
Cui Buqu was stunned—was he healing him or shamelessly taking advantage? He sat frozen, unable to make a sound as he tilted his head back and yielded to Feng Xiao's demands. His neck curved in a fragile arc securely supported by Feng Xiao's hand. Their bodies were separated by the covers, yet intimately entwined.
The instant his mouth was free, Cui Buqu was quick to express his opinion. "Get out."
Undeterred, Feng Xiao kissed his eyelids until they blushed red. Reflexive tears brimmed in Cui Buqu's eyes, on the verge of spilling over.
Chief Cui was at his limit. "I said get the hell out!"