Futile Devices Scans

Yugong Zhaoye’s breathing did not so much as falter. He answered smoothly, “There is no longer any ‘Bihua’ in this world.”

Wei Fu gave a derisive snort through his nose, the meaning perfectly clear: Go ahead, keep being stubborn. “The constables found two pieces of freshly flayed tattooed human skin at the burned country estate. The deceased, Song Man, and his adviser, ‘Mr. Lin,’ were both followers of the Ten Aspects Sect, and judging from the patterns, neither held a low rank. According to the testimony of an assistant at the apothecary, Xu Shifu had an eighteen-petaled camellia tattoo on his right arm. He was one of them too.”

“But for someone of Xu Shifu’s rank to warrant Your Highness personally going to investigate, he clearly wasn’t important enough on his own. That means there was someone more significant behind him. You had your eye on him long ago, didn’t you?”

A pampered young noble raised in the household of the Duke Who Stabilizes the Nation, a refined civil official who had never held a provincial post and spent all his time around the emperor—how could he possibly know the Ten Aspects Sect in such minute detail?

“I’ll venture a guess,” Wei Fu continued. “The members of Bihua followed some lead to Xianglian City and dealt with Song Man and his companion, then followed the trail to Xu Shifu. Unfortunately, Zhang Wan stabbed him to death first, leaving only one living lead—the guest who met Xu Shifu that night.”

“Zhang Wan blundered into the matter by accident, but it looks as though he alerted your quarry in the process. Was the wound on your arm left behind when you fought that person? Who is he?”

Yugong Zhaoye seemed to freeze in place. Only after Wei Fu finished his leisurely analysis and looked at him with bright, expectant eyes, plainly waiting for an evaluation, did Yugong Zhaoye turn his head slightly and grudgingly squeeze a terse answer through clenched teeth—addressing only the final question.

“A dead man.”

In the deathly silence that followed, Wei Fu clapped twice. “……Very funny.”

Yugong Zhaoye: “……”

Heaven and earth, gods above, sun, moon, and stars—was it too late to beg the emperor of Xiling to send someone else to Longsha?

“Before coming to Fengdu, I asked His Majesty what sort of Minister-Regent he hoped Xiling would send.”

Compared with the threats and counterquestions that came so effortlessly to him, making a calm statement—or merely “telling the truth”—seemed unexpectedly difficult for Yugong Zhaoye.

Every word sounded as though he lightly bit down on it before letting it leave his mouth, lending his speech a deliberate solemnity. “His Majesty said that if the person can arrive safely and leave safely, that would be the best possible outcome.”

For the Longsha court, the most important quality of a Minister-Regent was neither talent nor a pleasant temperament. It was simply the ability to fulfill the three-year agreement step by step without incident and avoid giving the other nations any opening they could use to attack Longsha.

What sort of “minister” he actually was did not matter. Mediocre, sensible enough to read the situation, and content to keep his head down—that was sufficient.

Wei Fu was plainly the exact opposite of all those qualities.

“Longsha isn’t like Xiling, where everything has gone smoothly. The smarter you are and the more you know, the greater a threat you become to us—and the more dangerous your own position becomes.” Yugong Zhaoye lowered his voice. “Bihua is a secret tied to Longsha’s very survival. Young Master Wei, don’t let a moment’s curiosity leave you with no way out in the future.”

“I—”

Before Wei Fu could argue, the horse pulling the carriage suddenly gave a long neigh. The harness bells clattered wildly as the carriage jolted violently and swung through a sharp turn, nearly flinging both men against the wooden walls.

Yugong Zhaoye grabbed the carriage roof with one hand to steady himself, while his other hand caught Wei Fu by the front of his robe and hauled him back. Outside, the coachman had already launched into furious curses. “Are you trying to die?! You blind fool! Rushing as though a dog’s snapping at your ass—are you in that much of a hurry to reincarnate?!”

It sounded as though someone had crashed into the carriage. Wei Fu reached for the curtain to see what was happening outside when a dark object suddenly came flying straight toward his face. He jerked his head aside. The object grazed his cheek, struck the seat with a dull thud, bounced away, and rolled into a corner of the carriage with a faint sizzle.

The coachman, thoroughly provoked, exploded in rage. “You bastard! Tired of living, are you?! Stop right there! I’m dragging you to the authorities and having you whipped today!”

“What—”

Yugong Zhaoye turned his head and glanced over. A flicker of red light flashed in the dimness. His expression changed instantly. His first instinct was to grab the object and throw it outside, but just then Wei Fu lifted the curtain and the clamor of the crowded street suddenly flooded into the carriage. Yugong Zhaoye forcibly checked his movement, spun toward Wei Fu, and barked sharply: “Get out! Run—now!”

His reaction was already extraordinarily fast, but the carriage door was narrow, the vehicle had not yet come to a complete stop, and the coachman was still standing there looking utterly bewildered. Even if Wei Fu obeyed immediately, there was no way he could squeeze past in time. Yugong Zhaoye lunged forward. Without another word, he caught the coachman by the back of his collar and flung him bodily away. His other arm hooked around Wei Fu, and he sprang into the air—

Boom!

A heart-piercing pain shot through the wound in Yugong Zhaoye’s left arm. In that split second, Wei Fu tightened his arms around him. A scorching blast of heat and force struck them from behind and hurled them both through the air. The next instant, every sensation was swallowed by the thunderous explosion and roaring flames.

“Ah——!”

“Fire! Hurry, put out the fire!”

“Murder! Murder!”

“Run! Help! Help!”

Thick black smoke surged into the sky while dust billowed across the street. The two of them tumbled and rolled more than a zhang before finally coming to a stop.

Elio’s Notes: A zhang is a traditional Chinese unit of length, roughly 3.3 meters (about 11 feet).

Yugong Zhaoye’s ears rang violently, but strangely enough, he did not hurt very much. Wei Fu had protected him tightly, using his own body to take the brunt of their impact with the ground. Propping one hand against the street, Yugong Zhaoye pushed himself up from Wei Fu’s arms. At such close range, he saw Wei Fu’s eyes tightly shut and his lips utterly drained of color. For no reason at all, his heart suddenly clenched.

“Young Master Wei?”

The hollow silence of near deafness. Fingertips tangled together in disarray. And that final glance before catastrophe struck—resolute, desperate, as though facing annihilation…

Why did those memories suddenly surface?

“…Wake up. Can you hear me?”

“Cough, cough, cough, cough!”

Wei Fu sprang upright from the ground like a fish thrown onto dry land. Forgetting every shred of decorum, he collapsed against Yugong Zhaoye’s shoulder and began coughing violently, nearly hacking his lungs inside out. Every breath tugged at his chest, back, and even his tailbone. There was not a single place on his body that did not hurt.

“Who the hell would do something this rotten… cough, cough…”

“This isn’t just someone being rotten. They’re after your life.”

Only moments ago, Yugong Zhaoye had been warning Wei Fu not to meddle in other people’s affairs. The very next moment, his own words had come back to slap him in the face. He was someone accustomed to facing danger head-on and staying behind to cover others. Yet now he had been held securely in someone else’s arms and thrown clear without even getting much dirt on himself. For a moment, Yugong Zhaoye could not quite describe what he was feeling. His expression became even colder than usual as he reached out to steady Wei Fu. “Where are you hurt? Can you stand?”

“Hiss… I’ll live.” Wei Fu grimaced as he took Yugong Zhaoye’s hand and climbed to his feet. “Are you all right?”

Yugong Zhaoye wanted to say, What could possibly be wrong with me? But when the words reached his lips, they suddenly felt too cold, so he merely shook his head. Wei Fu reached over and touched his sleeve. His fingertips came away stained with fresh blood. He sighed regretfully. “It split open again right after I wrapped it. Your Highness, that arm of yours really is plagued by disaster. Rebandage it yourself when you get back.”

“Worry about yourself first.” Yugong Zhaoye was almost at a loss for what to do with him. “The person who blocked the carriage escaped in the chaos. Did you see who threw the thunderfire bomb—”

“Look!”

“What is that?”

Something suddenly began drifting down from above like snow. Countless pieces of coarse paper covered in black writing fluttered into the crowd. Wei Fu reached out and caught one. After a single glance, his expression changed. “Who threw these?”

Yugong Zhaoye looked around. The buildings lining the street were crowded with spectators, while more people continued pouring into the surrounding alleys. Whoever had scattered the papers had already vanished like a clay ox sinking into the sea. By now, they were probably already on another street.

He gave Wei Fu a slight shake of the head, indicating that finding the person would be difficult. Wei Fu’s face darkened as he handed him the paper. “Your Highness, look at this.”

The ink strokes on the coarse paper were bold and dripping. It read: “Better to perish with the city; wash away national humiliation with blood.”

Those few words struck with no less force than the thunderfire bomb. Yugong Zhaoye’s mind buzzed sharply. In an instant, half the blood in his body seemed to turn cold. He instinctively looked up, and his wavering gaze collided with Wei Fu’s dark, intent eyes.

The spring-water softness in those eyes had frozen over. His voice hoarse from coughing, Wei Fu asked: “With whose blood are they washing away whose national humiliation?”

Yugong Zhaoye, remembering what he had just said about Wei Fu: “……”

He could not even bring himself to say, “It wasn’t us.”

Whether it was the method—committing violence in broad daylight to shock the world—or the declaration that they would perish together for the sake of national hatred, it all resembled Bihua far too closely. Or rather, it was exactly the sort of thing the notoriously unyielding people of Longsha might do.

What was more, Xiling’s delegation list had not yet been made public. Outsiders had no way of knowing who was on it. Yet only moments ago, Yugong Zhaoye had personally admitted to Wei Fu that Longsha had already obtained the identities of the Minister-Regent and deputy envoy through its spies.

If it was not one of Longsha’s own people, then who else could have targeted Wei Fu so precisely? And at the very moment of the attack, Yugong Zhaoye had been sitting inside Wei Fu’s carriage after following him around for the entire day. There could hardly be anyone who looked more like the culprit.

“Does Your Highness have anything you’d like to say to me?” Wei Fu asked.

What was left to say? The more he explained, the guiltier he would look. Rather than waste his breath desperately defending himself against something he had never done, it would be better to go back immediately, investigate who had leaked the information, and work out how he was supposed to apologize to the emperor of Xiling and clean up this mess.

Yugong Zhaoye said nothing and turned to leave. Wei Fu caught him by the shoulder and forcibly turned him back around.

“Say it. ‘It wasn’t me.’”

When trust had already completely collapsed, insisting on pretending to be a good person could no longer be called maintaining one’s dignity. It was closer to sheer affectation. Yugong Zhaoye stared back at him coldly, his eyes plainly asking, What is wrong with you?

Wei Fu gave his uninjured arm a small shake. “Say it.”

Who would believe me?

Yugong Zhaoye was certain he had only thought those words without opening his mouth, yet Wei Fu seemed able to read minds. He answered quietly and naturally: “If you say it, I’ll believe you.”

“Why?”

Yugong Zhaoye knew perfectly well that his attitude toward Wei Fu could hardly be called kind. More than once, he had held a dagger to the man’s throat, and his words were constantly edged with sarcasm. Yet Wei Fu’s instinct to protect him was astonishingly unwavering. That trust was so solid and yet so freely given that such excessive tolerance made Yugong Zhaoye instinctively bristle all over.

“Because you saved me again. I don’t believe you came here to kill me.” Wei Fu’s eyes curved briefly, his smile blooming and vanishing like an epiphyllum. “And just now, you could have thrown that thunderfire bomb out of the carriage. But you were afraid it would hurt the innocent people outside, so you chose to risk jumping from the carriage yourself. Thunderous methods, a Bodhisattva’s heart. Whoever did this may imitate you very well, but in the end, they aren’t you.”

Those words struck Yugong Zhaoye as though a thunderfire bomb had been hurled directly at his forehead, exploding open the true feelings he had buried deepest inside himself. He fell silent for a long while before abruptly asking something completely unrelated. “Why do I seem to have more questions the more I ask? What do you mean, ‘again’? When was the first time?”

Wei Fu’s smile disappeared instantly, his expression changing as quickly as turning a page. “Figure it out yourself.”

Yugong Zhaoye: “……”

“I need to enter the palace and see His Majesty immediately. If someone deliberately orchestrated this to drive a wedge between Xiling and Longsha, then Lord Han Shao may already be in grave danger. I’ll go reassure His Majesty first and work out a response.” Wei Fu blinked at him, then opened his mouth and demanded without the slightest attempt at subtlety: “You still owe me that sentence, Your Highness Zhaoye.”

All around them, discussion surged like a tidal wave, mingling with the smell of smoke and fire. The situation before them was treacherous and unpredictable, like standing at the edge of a cliff where one wrong step would mean eternal ruin. And yet Yugong Zhaoye felt an inexplicable sense of steadiness.

It came from the unwavering certainty of the person standing before him, like someone taking his hand in the middle of a fog and continuing to lead him forward.

“I knew nothing of this matter. It was absolutely not ordered by our sovereign, nor does it reflect the will of the people of Longsha.”

Through the smoke and dust filling the air, Yugong Zhaoye met Wei Fu’s gaze and enunciated every word clearly. “This was a deliberate scheme designed to drive a wedge between Xiling and Longsha—”

“Such malicious intent deserves death.”

“Your Highness speaks truly.” Satisfied, Wei Fu rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. His tone remained easy, but an icy chill edged every word. “Now, no matter what methods you use, find out who this ‘schemer’ is. His Majesty and the court must receive an accounting for what happened, but the findings cannot come directly from you. Do you understand what I mean?”

“…I understand.” Yugong Zhaoye immediately grasped his meaning. “If it were you, where would you begin?”

Wei Fu’s smile deepened, full of significance. “Naturally, we start with whoever leaked the delegation list.”

Yugong Zhaoye: “……”

So he’s still holding a grudge?!

By the ordinary rules of social conduct, this was the moment when Yugong Zhaoye ought to say a few polite words, offer Wei Fu a tactful apology, and smooth over the lingering knot left by what had happened earlier. But before he could speak, the orderly sound of footsteps came from the distant end of the street, accompanied by shouted commands clearing the way. “Don’t crowd! Everyone move aside—make way!”

Taking advantage of his height, Wei Fu turned and glanced back. Then, quick as a flash, he slipped the white porcelain bottle into Yugong Zhaoye’s palm and lightly pushed his shoulder. His soft laughter brushed past the hair at Yugong Zhaoye’s ear. “The Imperial City Guard is here. You should run.”

Elio’s Notes: “Young JUMP” is a playful nod to the Japanese manga magazine Weekly Young Jump; the raw itself writes “JUMP” in English, so the title keeps that wink intact.