Futile Devices Scans

After the palace banquet dispersed, the officials returned to their respective homes. Wei Fu went to report his safety to his grandfather, only to be scolded and lectured for nearly half an hour. At last, he returned to his own courtyard. Instead of washing up and resting, he instructed his page Qing Tong to brew a pot of tea, and with leisurely composure, began leafing through a volume of Records of Longsha’s Customs under the lamplight.

Qing Tong was about to move another lamp closer. “Young Master, if you drink tea at this hour, are you planning to sleep tonight or not?”

“I’ll stay up a bit on my own to sober up. Go to bed—no need to attend me,” Wei Fu said, gesturing for him to take the lamp away. “One lamp is enough.”

Though Qing Tong was young, he carried himself with maturity beyond his years. He earnestly advised, “Reading at night can harm your eyes in dim light, Young Master. It’s better to keep things well lit.”

“Just passing the time, not truly studying by lamplight,” Wei Fu said lazily, propping his head with one hand, smiling absentmindedly. “If you’re waiting for a rabbit by the stump, dim light works better. Too bright, and you might scare off the big fish.”

In the dim yellow light, fine as drifting sand, his smile resembled that of a fox grooming its claws. Qing Tong was thoroughly confused by his mismatched metaphors and asked, baffled, “Young Master, just how much did you drink? First rabbits, then fish—did you not eat enough tonight?”

“…” Wei Fu’s smile instantly vanished. “Even a three-day-old dried mantou isn’t as choking as your words. Out, out.”

Qing Tong couldn’t be bothered to argue with a drunk. Puffing his cheeks, he carried the tray out and shut the door with a huff.

Not long after, the window suddenly creaked softly. A gust of wind stirred behind him, making the candle flame flicker.

Wei Fu had been waiting so long he was getting drowsy. Covering his mouth, he yawned. “Your Highness, you seem like a flower thief.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye moved without a sound, circling around like a shadow to stand opposite him. “Stealing whose flowers?” he asked, puzzled.

Wei Fu: “…”

He coughed lightly to gloss over the topic, then asked knowingly, “What brings Your Highness here?”

“About tonight—thank you.”

Though he still had lingering reservations, Yu Gong Zhao Ye spoke with rare sincerity. “If not for your efforts, your emperor would not have handled this so leniently, nor would the situation have passed so smoothly. On behalf of the people of Longsha, I thank you for your righteousness, Young Master Wei.”

Seeing him rise as if to perform a formal bow, Wei Fu quickly stepped forward to stop him, pressing him down and casually stuffing a teacup into his hand. “Since you’ve snuck in, don’t go making such grand gestures in someone else’s house… No need for thanks. Besides, if not for Your Highness saving my life today, I might be lying beside Lord Han right now, probably in no condition to help you.”

“When I return, I will report truthfully to His Majesty. Longsha will not forget your kindness,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye insisted on finishing his thanks. After a moment’s thought, he added, “How is Han Shao, the Supervising Secretary? He was dragged into this without fault—if there is anything we can do to help…”

Wei Fu picked up the teapot and poured himself a cup, then downed it in one gulp right in front of him. “Drink. It’s not poisoned.”

He drank with heroic bravado. Yu Gong Zhao Ye paused, then hurriedly explained, somewhat awkwardly, “I wasn’t suspecting you—it’s just habit… Isn’t it hot?”

Wei Fu locked eyes with him for a few moments before suddenly breaking into laughter, then sucking in sharp breaths. “Hot.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye couldn’t help but laugh, turning his head aside in quiet consideration to give him space to recover his composure.

“This is this year’s new tea from Xianglian City, called Fragrance Mountain Rain. Only a few taels were produced. If not for Your Highness, I would never have taken it out to serve a guest.” Wei Fu refilled his cup. “Just sitting and talking is too dry—it’s not an interrogation. Relax a little.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye seemed to realize he would never win an argument against him. Silently, he lifted the cup and took a sip. Wei Fu, as though watching a wary wild beast cautiously drink at his doorstep, seemed satisfied and returned to the topic. “Han Shao is indeed injured, but not that badly. I suspect he was frightened and doesn’t want the assignment anymore, so he’s pretending to be bedridden—gives him a legitimate excuse to bow out.”

Through the rising curls of tea steam, Yu Gong Zhao Ye glanced at him.

Wei Fu realized he truly disliked speaking—anything he could convey with a look or gesture, he wouldn’t bother putting into words. “How do I know? Naturally, I picked up some inside information from His Majesty”

He swirled his teacup, his smile elegant and unrestrained, as though it held not tea but fine wine. “Han Shao has a bit of cleverness, but when it comes to major matters, he tends to lose his head. That explosion shook the entire city—how could His Majesty not inquire about his condition? With Egret Guards secretly watching over him, what’s the point of bribing a physician? There are too many eyes on him.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye fell silent for a moment, then took a sip of tea and said quietly, “It’s only human nature.”

After all, who could have expected that merely taking on the title of envoy would bring mortal danger before even leaving? Han Shao’s retreat was understandable—he owed Longsha nothing.

On the contrary, someone like Wei Fu, who would crash into a wall and push it down, was the anomaly. His goodness was almost unsettling, even to Yu Gong Zhao Ye. “And you—are you not afraid?”

“When the Egret Guards and imperial physicians reported to His Majesty, I was standing right there listening,” Wei Fu said with a light laugh. “His Majesty did ask whether I wanted to reconsider. But could I just go along and say, ‘How frightening, I won’t go’? Where would that leave His Majesty’s dignity?”

Across court and capital, Wei Fu was known as a “close minister of the Son of Heaven”, someone deeply trusted by the emperor. If, when faced with trouble, he required Mu Heng to clean up after him, he wouldn’t hold that position for long—there were plenty willing to serve the throne. What weight did a mere Second Young Master of the Duke Zhenguo truly carry?

This was, in truth, an answer that skirted the main issue—“being afraid” and “having no choice” are two entirely different things. Yet in Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s heart, there flickered a faint, almost imperceptible hope. If Wei Fu had truly answered “I’m not afraid,” declaring himself willing to risk death for the sake of fulfilling the alliance between the two nations, Yu Gong Zhao Ye would not have known how to respond.

A person who desires something still leaves room for negotiation; it is the one who desires nothing who truly stands invincible.

“Let me tell Your Highness something you don’t know,” Wei Fu said mysteriously, lowering his voice and deliberately leaning closer toward Yu Gong Zhao Ye. “Han Shao and I are both of the fifth rank . Why do you think he is the chief envoy, while I am only the deputy envoy?”

“Why?”

Wei Fu clicked his tongue. “This is a conversation—you’re supposed to go back and forth. Your Highness should at least take a guess.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye was utterly baffled. “Didn’t you just say it’s something I don’t know?”

“…”

Wei Fu’s flirtatious glance landed on blind eyes, leaving him grinding his teeth in frustration. Yu Gong Zhao Ye sighed inwardly, summoned every bit of acting skill he possessed, and adopted a humble, inquisitive tone. “Because he’s older? More experienced? More qualified?”

“Of course not.” Wei Fu was instantly placated, replying cheerfully, “Because he has backing!”

“Who?”

“Du Run, the Left Chancellor of the Eastern Secretariat.”

At the mention of the name, Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s brows shot up. “What a coincidence.”

Wei Fu blinked. “Hm? What do you mean?”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye lowered his gaze to the rippling surface of tea in his cup. “The one who let slip the envoy list while drunk was precisely this Chancellor Du.”

“What?!”

Wei Fu had not had time to question him in detail earlier. Now, after everything that had happened, hearing this answer gave him an eerie sense of fate’s inevitable cycle. “This really is ‘heaven’s justice in rotation’… Han Shao became chief envoy because Du Run pushed him up; and after going full circle, it’s Chancellor Du who’s pushed him back down…”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye let out a low laugh, almost no more than a breath. It was a rare, unguarded smile—when he smiled, the slight fullness beneath his eyes softened his features, appearing unexpectedly gentle in the candlelight. “How so?”

“When the Secretariat discussed the envoy candidates, the Right Chancellor of the Western Secretariat, Ming Ke, acting on His Majesty’s instructions, recommended me,” Wei Fu said. “Most officials thought the mission to Longsha wasn’t dangerous—just far away. Three years of external posting, return with merit, and promotion would follow. A profitable assignment all around. But Du Run wanted to promote his wife’s relative Han Shao, so he overruled the others and pushed him to be chief envoy.”

The core of the Xiling court consisted of “One Hall, Two Secretariats, and Six Ministries”. The Western Secretariat drafted edicts, the Eastern Secretariat reviewed and vetoed them—together called the “Two Secretariats”. Their heads were the Left and Right Chancellors. Other high ministers exercising chancellor authority bore the title “Participating in Governance of the Two Secretariats, Rank Three”. The Secretariat served as the decision-making body, while the Six Ministries executed policy.

At present, there were four chancellors in the Secretariat. Though nominally equal, Du Run was foremost among them. While Wei Fu refrained from elaborating on internal disputes, Yu Gong Zhao Ye could easily guess—anyone bold enough to override the emperor’s chosen candidate must have powerful backing, and his relationship with the emperor could not possibly be harmonious.

Unfortunately, Han Shao was little more than dead weight. No matter how promising the future, one must live to claim it.

With the opponent’s piece surrendering without a fight, Wei Fu could not retreat. He had to firmly step forward—both because he had chosen this mission himself, and to reassure the emperor. Mu Heng had already given Du Run sufficient face. Han Shao wanted both merit and safety—yet there is no such thing as a sugarcane sweet at both ends.

“I have already arranged an ‘inside contact’,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye said softly. “Once you trace matters to Du Run, you will discover someone in his household secretly colluding with the Ten Aspects Sect. Follow that trail, and you should eventually converge with the Assistant Magistrate of Fuyao Prefecture investigating the Tongshi Pharmacy.”

If they were willing to dig deeply, part of the Ten Aspects Sect’s hidden network within Xiling could be uprooted entirely. These matters had originally been under Longsha’s covert investigation—now they could serve as a fitting return gift.

 “The case is under the Egret Guards, so it’s not my place to interfere. Still, I’m truly curious—who is the mastermind?” Wei Fu propped his cheek on one hand, tilting his head lazily at him. “Is it that ‘dead man’ Your Highness mentioned?”

 If only Du Run had leaked the information, then the most likely scenario was a traitor within Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s delegation. If, however, the attackers were a third party framing Longsha, then the most suspicious candidate would be the Ten Aspects Sect of Yan Yuan. After all, the thunder-fire bombs used were not something ordinary bandits could obtain—their production was monopolized by the authorities. Such compact, portable weapons designed for assassination were akin to imperial edicts themselves, implying tacit approval from a sovereign power.

Although Yu Gong Zhao Ye had hastily shifted the blame onto the Ten Aspects Sect, that explanation would not fool Wei Fu. He would have to give him an answer—but Yu Gong Zhao Ye himself had yet to piece together a clear conclusion.

“It’s a long story. Another day,” he said, hesitating briefly between “lay everything bare” and “say less, err less,” before making his decision. “It’s late—you should rest…”

“Reneging—”

Wei Fu dragged out his complaint, “Sneaking over walls in the middle of the night—taking advantage and then trying to run—”

This ancestor of his would shout without restraint if allowed. Yu Gong Zhao Ye nearly lunged forward to cover his mouth. Before he could act, a knock sounded from outside the door.

Wei Fu, whose eyelids had been drooping with sleepiness, snapped them open. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

The voice was gentle and refined, yet Yu Gong Zhao Ye could somehow detect a trace of restrained tension within it. “Shu Chen, have you gone to bed?”

“Just a moment, Brother, I’ll come at once.”

Wei Fu mouthed “my elder brother” toward Yu Gong Zhao Ye, hastily undoing his sash and removing his outer robe to feign having just risen. At the same time, he pointed toward the back window, muttering complaints under his breath. “Why is it always you who has to run? We’re clearly talking about proper matters, yet it ends up like a secret tryst.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye caught the jade belt that nearly slipped from his hands, gathered the clinking ornaments, and set them neatly on the side table, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It wasn’t improper before—but after what you just said, it truly does look questionable now.”

“Once the imperial decree is issued and everything is made public, only then can I properly be seen with Your Highness,” Wei Fu said, draping an arm over his shoulder and sighing with exaggerated maturity. “I understand. I understand everything. For the sake of my reputation, Your Highness should be careful climbing over walls later—don’t slip again like last time.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “…”

Previous

Main

Next