Chapter 78: Lining Up to Join

The hall was silent.

Everyone knew that Chen Shen would not have anyone kill Qin Jian. It simply wasn’t worth it… Reporting him would earn a reputation for putting justice above family—would he be so foolish? Zheng Qi’s smile remained fixed on his face, though it was as stiff as a corpse. Yang Songcheng smiled gently. The emperor’s expression was inscrutable.

But everyone remembered a single name.

—Yang Xuan!

Chen Shen, who had been silent all this while, rose to his feet. His gaze was as calm as the surface of a dead lake.

“Minister Yang.”

Yang Songcheng inclined his head. “What is it, Left Chancellor?”

Chen Shen asked quietly, “You have an advisor named Sun Yan, don’t you?”

Yang Songcheng nodded but said nothing.

Chen Shen continued slowly, “Last year, someone told me they saw Sun Yan drinking with Qin Jian. The place was rather secluded—perhaps to save money.”

He sat down quietly.

Yang Songcheng’s hand, which had been reaching for his beard, froze in midair.

Zheng Qi’s smile turned from that of a corpse to a dead man.

So Chen Shen had known all along.

His earlier silence wasn’t incompetence—it was…

He was simply watching the show!

Chen Shen sat there, silent as ever. Yet everyone seemed to see his head shining with the light of wisdom.

Later, after everyone had dispersed, Chen Shen returned to his office, drank a cup of tea, picked up a document, and asked, “This Yang Xuan—isn’t he one of Wang’s men?”

His advisor smiled. “They say they met on the road but didn’t keep in touch much. Apparently, the young man has backbone and refused to curry favor with the powerful.”

After reading for a while, Chen Shen said slowly, “The Wang clan is a whirlpool right now. Get too close, and you’ll be dragged in.”

…

A few words from the great ones settled the matter, but the lower officials had to scurry about for it.

Men from the Ministry of Justice arrived. So did those from the Supreme Court. Only the best investigators and coroners came.

After a thorough examination, no one raised any doubts.

Yang Xuan raised his hand. “Bring a basin of water.”

“I’ll go!” a petty official dashed off.

Qiu Sheng watched all this, while Cao Ying said deliberately, “A wrongly slain soul nearly couldn’t find its way home.”

The old thief added, “Whoever harbored ill intentions toward him, best be cautious at night.”

Qiu Sheng sneered and turned away—

At some point, a piece of fruit peel had found its way onto the floor. Qiu Sheng stepped right on it.

Smack!

He fell flat and lay motionless.

Then his body trembled; supporting himself on his hands, he rose with utmost composure.

A petty official gasped, “Master Qiu, your nose is bleeding.”

Qiu Sheng strode away as if nothing had happened.

Yang Xuan turned back. “Who threw that?”

The old thief feigned innocence.

Cao Ying stroked his beard, brimming with righteousness.

Wang the Second sheepishly raised his hand.

The boy was learning bad habits!

Yang Xuan was torn between exasperation and pride.

Behind him, the old thief asked, “Why did you throw it?”

Wang the Second replied, “Master gives me meat to eat.”

Yang Xuan couldn’t help but smile.

The old thief teased him further, “And if someone else gave you meat?”

Wang the Second answered without hesitation, “Master’s meat tastes better.”

Yang Xuan was speechless.

Soon after, Huang Wenzun summoned him.

“Well done.”

Yang Xuan bowed slightly. “It was all thanks to your wise command, my lord.”

“You’re really laying it on thick,” Zhuque remarked.

Huang Wenzun stroked his beard and smiled, looking quite pleased.

He glanced at Yang Xuan and said, “I hear you’ve had some friction with the He family?”

What was he getting at? Mediation? Unlikely.

Yang Xuan knew that in the eyes of the He family, he was nothing more than a bothersome little ant—hardly someone worthy of being placed on equal footing.

So this was…

An attempt to win him over.

All he had to do was say a few words of regret—something about his youthful folly in the past, and how he now regretted his actions…

He looked at Huang Wenzun.

His calm gaze held a trace of contempt.

“Yes.”

Leaving the office, Yang Xuan couldn’t help but recall the look of surprise in Huang Wenzun’s eyes, and he laughed quietly to himself.

Zhao Guolin was waiting for him in the front courtyard.

“Just now, Qiu Sheng was speaking, and Wen Xinshu overheard some things.” Zhao Guolin’s face was troubled. “They say there’s a movement in court to encircle the Left Chancellor. Once he’s weakened, crushing the Magistrate will be as easy as swatting a fly.”

“You’re worried?” Yang Xuan smiled.

Zhao Guolin was considered one of Yang Xuan’s people—this was common knowledge among the county clerks. If Yang Xuan suffered, Zhao would fare no better.

“Yes.”

Old Zhao was an honest man!

Yang Xuan patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

“You’re more and more like a leader,” Zhuque joked.

Zhao Guolin walked beside him. “At worst, I’ll join the army!”

Yang Xuan thought of his horse lance.

Ordinary families couldn’t afford to play with such weapons, and training with the lance required a special background—only families with connections could manage it.

But Zhao Guolin said nothing, and Yang Xuan did not ask.

It wasn’t a matter of curiosity, but respect for privacy.

What’s gossip to you might be someone else’s wound.

Yang Xuan himself had considered joining the army, but when he realized he’d have to rebel, the thought dissipated.

The military had its own system; without connections, one was just a drop in the ocean. To stand out, you needed not only talent but also someone willing to give you a hand.

Yang Xuan knew if he entered the army, he’d be just another face—either dying on the battlefield or drowning in the web of relationships.

“Master.”

Cao Ying was visibly excited.

“Cao, restrain yourself.”

After all, you’re supposed to be a man of virtue!

Cao Ying coughed, and Zhao Guolin tactfully withdrew.

“Good eye,” Cao Ying whispered. “Master, word just came—there’s a vacancy for a county magistrate.”

A county magistrate!

This was the first crucial goal for the little band of rebels.

A magistrate was the local overlord of a county; only with such a post could their cause take root.

“I’ll look into it.”

At critical moments, connections must be used.

But whom to ask?

The scholars at the Imperial College only liked discussing philosophy behind closed doors and ignored the outside world.

The Left Chancellor… Yang Xuan had never even spoken to him. To seek him out would seem crazy.

The Wang family…

Best not for now.

Yang Xuan went to see Liang Jing.

“A magistrate? I’ll ask around.” Liang Jing was being a true brother.

He got up at once, but—this was a brothel! Several female musicians nearby were tuning their instruments.

“Hey!”

You didn’t even pay!

Yang Xuan thought to protest but held his tongue.

Several female musicians eyed him.

The eldest, in her thirties, matched current beauty standards well—her curves visible as she stood.

“Would Master like to hear a song?”

Since he had to pay anyway, Yang Xuan thought, why not? “Sing.”

He sipped his wine, listening to the music, and suddenly found this kind of life quite alluring.

Wang the Second sat by the door, bored out of his mind and eyeing the women’s legs…

“Zitai!”

Liang Jing returned, sat beside him, and draped an arm over his shoulders. “There is a vacancy.”

Opportunity!

Hope stirred in Yang Xuan’s heart.

Liang Jing downed a cup of wine, catching his breath.

“There are more than twenty people in line.”

Yang Xuan drained his cup in frustration.

“Next time, let me know sooner,” Liang Jing said breezily, as if it were nothing.

“But how can I predict who’s going to die?”

“True enough,” Liang Jing set down his cup.

Yang Xuan took his leave.

The feeling of not having to pay was wonderful.

That feeling lasted until dinner.

After dinner, Cao Ying liked to take a walk.

This evening, he had company.

With his hands behind his back, the old thief said quietly, “Master is scheming for the magistrate’s seat. Something’s not right…”

“What’s not right?” Cao Ying’s gentlemanly face smiled.

“Don’t forget, I’m a tomb robber. I’ve read many epitaphs. Any official with a background never goes out to be a county magistrate. They’ll enter the capital, work in the ministries… In short, it’s better to be a minor official in Chang’an than a magistrate out in the provinces.”

Cao Ying glanced at him with interest. “What are you getting at?”

The old thief sniffed. “I smell murder in the air.”

Cao Ying smiled. “There’s no need for that.”

A chill ran down the old thief’s spine. “So, you were planning to silence me before?”

Cao Ying replied earnestly, “I was not.”

“Forget I asked,” the old thief said with a wry smile. “You all are so eager to take up posts outside as if Chang’an were covered in thorns. But I know, if Master kept his head down, life in Chang’an would be very pleasant. So why go out at all?”

Cao Ying stopped, leaning against a tree. “What do you want to know?”

The old thief looked at him. “Tell me.”

“Want to get on board?”

The old thief grinned. “You’re a crafty one. You egged me on to rob the Chunyu family’s ancestral tomb. If that ever got out, not even the emperor could save me. So what are you worried about? Or rather, what is Master worried about?”

Cao Ying hesitated. “Are you sure you want to hear?”

“Absolutely,” said the old thief, mentally prepared.

“If I said we were planning a rebellion, would you believe me?”

Cao Ying didn’t mention ‘opposing the traitors,’ thus concealing Yang Xuan’s identity.

The old thief breathed a sigh of relief. “You should’ve said so earlier!”

“You’re not afraid?” Cao Ying was curious.

The old thief laughed. “At my age, with no attachments, I’ve been looking for some excitement—nothing could be more thrilling than this.”

Cao Ying took him to see Yang Xuan.

“He knows now.”

Yang Xuan looked up. The old thief straightened. “I am willing to serve you unto death, Master.”

Yang Xuan nodded. “Let’s celebrate.”

So, late at night, the household gathered for a barbecue.

Huge chunks of lamb were roasted over the fire, flames licking the meat as it sizzled.

When the lamb was done, the old thief took a short knife, sliced off the first piece, and reverently offered it to Yang Xuan.

“Master, have some meat.”

Yang Xuan took it and ate.

The old thief sat down and asked, “Cao, since my joining is a happy occasion, shouldn’t there be music and dancing?”

Cao Ying sneered, “Shall I sing and dance for you?”

The old thief waved his hand. “I’d probably throw up if you did.”

The initiation was as simple as could be.

After a few pieces, Wang the Second clutched his belly and ran to the latrine, shouting as he went, “Save some for me!”

“In your dreams!” The old thief and Cao Ying both burst out laughing.

The group drank and ate lamb, the atmosphere warm and lively.

Afterwards, Wang the Second was still in the latrine.

The lamb was gone. Fearing he’d make a fuss, Yi Niang prepared another small piece to roast for him.

As she cleared the plates, she noticed:

The first plate was Yang Xuan’s.

It still held a fine piece of roasted meat.

The second was Cao Ying’s.

Two pieces.

The third was the old thief’s—three pieces.

Yi Niang picked up her own plate.

Two pieces.

“There’s no need to roast more!”

“My meat!” came the cry.

Yang Xuan sat inside, listening to Wang the Second’s wails, feeling utterly at peace.

This world was filled with many sounds, but in the end, laughter was the most beautiful of all.