Chapter 26: Cousin, Old Dog

After raising their arms and shouting, Tang Xiaonian and his companions became noticeably warmer toward Yang Xuan, which reminded him of the old ritual of swearing brotherhood in blood.

Once the ceremony concluded, Yang Xuan asked, “If that’s the case, why hasn’t the Great Tang made a move against the feeble Southern Zhou?”

Yuanzhou bordered Southern Zhou, and news about the latter was common. In a word: Southern Zhou was weak.

Zhao Guolin, who sat nearby cradling his horse lance, suddenly spoke, “They have money.”

Yang Xuan was puzzled. “But the Tang’s soldiers are fierce and well-armed…”

“They have money,” Tang Xiaonian replied helplessly. “It’s not that the Tang hasn’t considered wiping out Southern Zhou in recent years, but every time the thought arises, Southern Zhou cries out to Northern Liao.”

“What do they say?”

“Come, we have money!”

Isn’t this just begging for disaster?

As if reading his mind, Tang Xiaonian sighed, “Northern Liao… is poor.”

A vivid image arose in Yang Xuan’s mind: the Great Tang mobilizes its armies and marches south. The emperor of Southern Zhou stands atop the city wall, beckoning to Northern Liao, “Come, we have money!” Immediately, the ragged cavalry of Northern Liao, their eyes glowing with greed, begin to mass for a southward charge as well…

Tang Xiaonian and the others went off in pursuit; Yang Xuan returned home to earn a living.

“Yang Xuan’s here.” Mealtime had just passed, and Wang Shun was tidying up.

Han Ying sat inside, silently eating her noodles.

“There’s more in the pot.”

Yang Xuan unceremoniously served himself a large bowl, and after eating, began to work.

At some point, Han Ying and Wang Shun ended up sitting together, their chins resting in their hands, watching Yang Xuan work without pause.

“Interesting,” Han Ying mused. She’d intended to find a burly man, but instead, a youth had arrived.

“Fourth Mistress, this boy is a student at the National Academy,” Wang Shun said, licking his lips.

Han Ying sneered, “And what of it? Isn’t he still here working for his keep?”

Wang Shun glanced at her. “Fourth Mistress, you’re drooling.”

“Nonsense!” Han Ying hastily wiped her mouth.

In half an hour, a pile of firewood was stacked and the water vat was full.

Yang Xuan headed home.

But he found he couldn’t enter.

A woman stood outside the door, in her early thirties, with a full figure. She carried a bundle on her back, her hair meticulously arranged, chin lifted just so, exuding an air of pride as she strode up to the ingratiating Lord Xie.

“Yang Xuan is here.” Lord Xie pointed at the dazed Yang Xuan.

Who are you?

Yang Xuan was about to ask when the woman threw down her bundle and rushed over.

“Cousin!”

The soft, ample embrace made Yang Xuan uncomfortable. He opened his arms, frozen in place.

Hot breath brushed his ear, followed by the woman’s urgent whisper, “Quick, call me Cousin.”

“Cou… Cousin.” Yang Xuan was utterly bewildered.

Every muscle was tense, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

“Yang Lue!” the woman whispered in his ear.

A buzzing filled Yang Xuan’s mind. He was utterly stunned.

The two parted. Lord Xie looked on with envy. “Relatives, is it? Good, very good!”

As he said this, his gaze drifted toward her lush figure.

From behind the door, a hand slipped through the crack and pinched him hard on the rear.

Yang Xuan opened the door, and the two entered together.

The woman turned and bowed. “Yiniang pays her respects, my lord.”

Yang Xuan hesitated. “You are…”

She raised her head, speaking respectfully, “I am your servant, my lord. I have been waiting for your return.”

He saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

But he did not believe her.

Yiniang produced a letter.

It was Yang Lue’s handwriting. The letter explained that Yiniang belonged to his father, and Yang Xuan could trust her implicitly.

Yang Xuan raised his eyes and took a step back. “I don’t know this person.”

Yiniang covered her mouth, laughing softly—a sound that reminded him of a fox spirit possessing a hen.

“My lord is so cautious… Only the cautious can achieve great things. I am delighted.”

From her towering bosom, she drew a ring.

Yang Xuan recognized it at once—it was the one Yang Lue always wore, bearing the same slanted groove worn by bowstrings.

Unless Yang Lue was dead, the ring would never be given to another.

So, Yang Lue was subtly telling him: Yiniang is someone you can trust with your life.

Yang Xuan felt uneasy. “Do you… have a place to stay?”

Yiniang giggled, covering her mouth, her eyes crescent-shaped with charm. “I am here to serve you, my lord. Where else would you have me stay?”

Yiniang was skilled at cleaning and cooking.

Yang Xuan sat on the steps, blankly watching her busy herself. Before long, the house was completely transformed.

“My lord, it’s time to eat.”

They sat down, Yang Xuan at the head, Yiniang at his side.

“Why not sit across from me?” Yang Xuan felt that someone so capable shouldn’t be made to sit aside.

Yiniang lowered her eyes. “I am here to serve you, my lord. How could I dare sit opposite you?”

After the meal, Yang Xuan rose to wash the dishes.

“That is my duty,” Yiniang said sternly. “My lord must not perform such menial tasks in the future.”

“Why is it menial?” Yang Xuan had been working since he was ten; it seemed perfectly normal to him.

With deliberate clarity, Yiniang replied, “My lord is destined for greatness.”

“What greatness?” All Yang Xuan wanted was to clear his father’s name. Yet now another question arose: Yiniang was his father’s servant, but who was his father?

Yiniang lifted her chin. “That old dog Yang Lue let my lord suffer much…”

Old… dog?

Yang Xuan: “…”

He could be certain Yang Lue was not his father.

“Who is my father?” Yang Xuan asked, a trace of anticipation in his voice.

Without hesitation, Yiniang replied, “Years ago, my lord’s father was a great scholar, teaching at the emperor’s court. After the crown prince’s death, he followed him in sacrifice… Before he died, he asked Yang Lue to take my lord away.”

That night, lying in bed, Yang Xuan lowered his voice and whispered, “Vermilion Bird.”

“I am here,” came the soft reply.

“If there’s someone at home and it’s inconvenient for you to speak, what should I do?”

“Please open the back panel and remove the earpiece.”

The next day, dark circles rimmed Yang Xuan’s eyes.

Yiniang briskly swept and cleaned. Seeing his condition, she frowned. “My lord has no woman?”

Yang Xuan yawned. “No.”

Yiniang noted this and advised, “My lord should indulge less; it’s bad for your health.”

“What?” Yang Xuan was puzzled.

Yiniang covered her mouth with a coquettish laugh. “Does my lord not understand? Technically, I should be serving you, but I am old now. Perhaps I’ll find a young woman for you…”

Yang Xuan blushed deeply. “I was just thinking last night.”

After breakfast, Yang Xuan set out for the National Academy.

Yiniang escorted him to the door, bowing. “My lord, study well.”

“I know.” Yang Xuan stepped outside.

“Yang Xuan, where’s your cousin?” Lord Xie stretched on the opposite side of the street.

Yang Xuan ignored him. Yiniang’s voice drifted from inside, “So energetic, Lord Xie. No wonder I saw a woman stop to look at you yesterday.”

Later, the sounds of a beating echoed from across the street.

As Lord Xie wailed, Yiniang leaned against the door, arms crossed, frowning. “That old dog Yang Lue didn’t take good care of my lord. He seems so unambitious…”

Yiniang entered her own room, where a birdcage sat in the corner.

Three falcons lifted their heads.

She sat down and began to write a letter.

—The young master you raised is hopelessly mediocre. He doesn’t even keep a woman in his bed… old dog.

Three days later.

In a courtyard in Southern Zhou.

Yang Lue stood beneath the eaves, watching the storm clouds above as a man came to report.

“After you left, we kept a close watch on Yang Ding’s family. The brothers want to kill them all… General,” the man paused, puzzled. “Someone as noble as you, and yet you were mistreated for five years. The brothers are itching to grind that family to dust, and it would help cover your tracks…”

Yang Lue narrowed his eyes, his burly frame leaning against the doorway. He spoke calmly, “Though the young master seems unremarkable, he is fiercely independent. The night he left Dingnan County, I crept to the Yang household but, in the end, couldn’t do it. Not out of mercy—I only worried it would trouble his conscience…”

The man was surprised. “Is the young master truly so… compassionate?”

Yang Lue nodded, worry clouding his eyes. “Anyone can be compassionate in this world, except him. Now I fear most for him in Chang’an. Yiniang should have arrived by now.”

Suddenly, the man looked up and reached out. A falcon darted down from the sky, landing on his leather-clad arm. He untied a small cylinder from its leg, opened it, and smiled. “A letter from Yiniang.”

“Nang He, fetch food for the falcon.” Yang Lue took the cylinder, shook out a small scroll, and unrolled it.

The man, Nang He, had once been Yang Lue’s bodyguard.

Nang He brought food and water for the bird, and swapped in a fresh falcon.

Acquiring these falcons had cost them dearly, each one worth its weight in gold. They’d been trained over and over—swift as lightning, they could carry messages from Chang’an in just three days.

Nang He leaned in. “What did Yiniang say?”

Yang Lue rubbed the paper to shreds between his hands.

With his hands behind his back, he gazed at the blue sky. “The young master has entered the National Academy, mingling with those lazy metaphysicians. Also, he’s gone to Wannian County, hunting down Southern Zhou spies.”

Nang He watched as, for the first time in fifteen years, the furrow between Yang Lue’s brows slowly eased.

A shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds, shining brilliantly upon the earth.

…

As for whether there will be a third chapter this afternoon, that depends on the situation.