Futile Devices Scans

After the palace banquet dispersed, the officials returned to their respective homes. Wei Fu went to let his grandfather know he was safe, only to be thoroughly scolded for the better part of an hour. By the time he finally returned to his own courtyard, he still showed no hurry to wash up and rest. Instead, he had his page Qingtong brew a pot of tea and settled beneath the lamplight with A Record of Longsha’s Customs and Scenery, leafing through it at his leisure.

Qingtong 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 sit up for a while and sober up. Go to bed—you don’t need to wait on me.” Wei Fu waved him away with the lamp. “One is enough.”

Though Qingtong was young, he was unusually mature and sensible. He earnestly advised, “Reading at night in poor light is bad for your eyes, Young Master. Better to keep the room brighter.”

“I’m only passing the time, not really burning the midnight oil.” Wei Fu lazily propped his head on one hand, smiling absently. “If you’re waiting for a rabbit by the stump, dimmer is better. Too much light might scare off the big fish.”

In the dim yellow light, fine as drifting sand, he looked like a fox spirit grooming its claws. Qingtong was thoroughly confused by his mismatched metaphors. “Young Master, exactly how much did you drink? First rabbits, now fish. Didn’t you eat enough at the banquet?”

“…” Wei Fu’s smile vanished at once. “A mantou left out to dry for three days wouldn’t choke a person as badly as your words. Out, out.”

Qingtong could not be bothered arguing with a drunk. Puffing out his cheeks, he carried the tray away and shut the door behind him in a huff.

Not long afterward, the window gave a faint creak. A gust of wind swept past Wei Fu’s back, making the candle flame tremble.

He had waited so long that he was beginning to doze and covered his mouth with a yawn. “Your Highness, you’re starting to resemble a flower thief.”

Yugong Zhaoye moved without the slightest sound, circling around like a shadow until he stood opposite him. “Whose flowers am I stealing?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Wei Fu: “…”

He covered the awkwardness with a light cough, then knowingly asked, “What brings Your Highness here?”

“About tonight—thank you.”

Though some reservations still lingered in his heart, Yugong Zhaoye spoke with unusual sincerity. “If you had not done everything you could, His Majesty of Xiling would never have let the matter pass so lightly, nor would this crisis have ended so smoothly. On behalf of the people of Longsha, I thank you for your righteousness, Young Master Wei.”

Seeing him rise as though he intended to offer a formal bow, Wei Fu hurried forward, pressed him back into his seat, and shoved a teacup into his hand. “Since you snuck in here to begin with, don’t start making such a grand production in someone else’s house… There’s no need to thank me. Besides, if Your Highness hadn’t saved 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 everything truthfully to His Majesty. Longsha will not forget your kindness.” Yugong Zhaoye stubbornly finished what he had come to say. After a moment’s thought, he added, “How badly injured is Han Shao, the Supervising Secretary? He was dragged into this through no fault of his own. If there is anything we can do to help…”

Wei Fu picked up the teapot, poured himself a cup, and drained it in one heroic gulp. “Drink. It isn’t poisoned.”

Yugong Zhaoye paused. Realizing what he meant, he hurriedly explained with rare awkwardness, “I wasn’t suspecting you. It’s simply habit… Isn’t that hot?”

Wei Fu stared at him for several breaths before suddenly bursting into laughter, only to immediately suck in a few sharp breaths. “Hot.”

Yugong Zhaoye could not help laughing as well. Considerately, he turned his head aside and gave Wei Fu time to recover what remained of his dignity.

“This is this year’s new tea from Xianglian City. It’s called Rain on Fragrant Mountain. There were only a few taels in the entire batch. If Your Highness weren’t here, I certainly wouldn’t have been willing to bring it out for a guest.” Wei Fu refilled his empty cup. “Sitting here talking with nothing to drink is too dry. It’s not as though I’m interrogating a criminal. Relax a little.”

Yugong Zhaoye had a feeling he would never win an argument with this man. Silently, he raised the cup and took a sip. Wei Fu watched him like a wary wild beast finally venturing to drink at his doorstep, then returned to the subject with satisfaction. “Han Shao was indeed injured, but nowhere near as badly as they’re making it sound. My guess is that he was frightened and no longer wants the assignment, so he’s pretending he can’t get out of bed. That gives him a perfectly legitimate reason to withdraw.”

Through the curling steam from the tea, Yugong Zhaoye raised his eyes and glanced at him.

Wei Fu was beginning to realize that the man genuinely disliked talking; anything he could convey with a look or gesture apparently was not worth opening his mouth for. “How do I know? Naturally, I picked up a little inside information from His Majesty.”

He lazily swirled the cup in his fingers, his smile elegant and carefree, as though it held fine wine rather than tea. “Han Shao has a little cleverness, but the bigger the matter, the more likely he is to lose his head. That explosion shook the whole city. How could His Majesty possibly not ask after his injuries? He has members of the Egret Guard secretly protecting him. What good would bribing a physician do with so many pairs of eyes watching?”

Yugong Zhaoye was quiet for a moment. He took another sip of tea and said softly, “It’s only human.”

Before this, who could possibly have imagined that merely accepting the title of envoy would bring mortal danger before one had even left the capital? Han Shao’s retreat was understandable. He owed Longsha nothing.

If anything, Wei Fu was the strange one—the sort who would run headfirst into the south wall and, instead of turning around, knock the wall down. He was so good that even Yugong Zhaoye found it faintly unsettling. “And you? Aren’t you afraid?”

“When the Egret Guard accompanied the Royal Physicians to report Han Shao’s condition to His Majesty, I was standing right there listening.” Wei Fu laughed lightly. “His Majesty did ask whether I wanted to change my mind. But was I supposed to seize the chance and say, ‘How terrifying, I’m not going after all’? Where would that leave His Majesty’s dignity?”

Throughout court and capital, Wei Fu was known as one of the Son of Heaven’s closest ministers, someone deeply trusted by the emperor. If Mu Heng had to step in and clean up after him the moment trouble appeared, Wei Fu would not remain in that position for long; there were plenty of people eager to serve the throne. What did one mere Second Young Master of the household of the Duke Who Stabilizes the Nation amount to?

In truth, his answer neatly avoided the point. “Being afraid” and “having no choice” were two entirely different things, yet a faint, almost imperceptible relief stirred in Yugong Zhaoye’s heart. If Wei Fu had truly answered, “I’m not afraid,” and declared himself willing to risk death to uphold the alliance between their nations, Yugong Zhaoye would have had even less idea how to deal with him.

Someone who wanted something could still bargain. Someone who wanted nothing was truly impossible to defeat.

“Let me tell Your Highness something you don’t know.” Wei Fu lowered his voice mysteriously and deliberately leaned closer. “Han Shao and I are both fifth-rank officials. Why do you think he was named chief envoy while I was only deputy envoy?”

“Why?”

Wei Fu clicked his tongue. “This is a conversation. There’s supposed to be some back-and-forth. Your Highness could at least guess.”

Yugong Zhaoye looked utterly baffled. “Didn’t you just say it was something I didn’t know?”

“…”

All Wei Fu’s coy prompting had been wasted on blind eyes. He ground his teeth in frustration. Yugong Zhaoye sighed inwardly, summoned every scrap of acting ability he possessed, and adopted an appropriately humble expression of inquiry. “Because he’s older? Has more seniority? More experience?”

“Of course not.” Wei Fu was instantly appeased and replied cheerfully, “Because he has someone above him!”

“Who?”

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

At the name, Yugong Zhaoye’s brows rose. “What a coincidence.”

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

Yugong Zhaoye lowered his eyes to the ripples spreading through the tea in his cup. “The man who drunkenly let slip the names of the envoys was none other than Chancellor Du.”

“What?!”

Wei Fu had not had time to question him properly that afternoon. After everything that had happened, hearing the answer now gave him an eerie sense that fate truly did go in circles. “Now this really is heaven’s justice coming full circle… Han Shao became chief envoy because Du Run pushed him up, and after going around in one great loop, Chancellor Du ended up pushing him right back down again…”

Yugong Zhaoye’s laugh was little more than breath, but it was one of his rare, completely unguarded smiles. When he smiled, the slight fullness beneath his eyes softened his features, making him unexpectedly gentle in the hazy candlelight. “How so?”

“When the State Affairs Hall discussed the envoy candidates, Ming Ke, Right Chancellor of the Western Secretariat, recommended me on His Majesty’s instructions,” Wei Fu explained. “The other ministers all thought the mission to Longsha was harmless enough. It was merely far away—an external posting for three years. As long as nothing went terribly wrong, one could return to court with merit and expect a promotion. A profitable assignment all around. But Du Run wanted to advance Han Shao, a member of his wife’s clan, so he overruled the others and insisted on making him chief envoy.”

The heart of Xiling’s government was known as “One Hall, Two Secretariats, Six Ministries.” The Western Secretariat drafted government orders, while the Eastern Secretariat reviewed them and could reject them; together they were known as the Two Secretariats. Their heads were the Left and Right Chancellors. Other senior ministers exercising chancellor authority received the additional title Third-Rank Participant in State Affairs of the Two Secretariats. The State Affairs Hall was where the chancellors deliberated and made decisions, while the Six Ministries carried those decisions out.

At present, four chancellors sat in the State Affairs Hall. In name, their standing was equal, but in practice Du Run ranked first among them. Wei Fu could not go into too much detail about the disputes involved, but Yugong Zhaoye hardly needed an explanation: anyone bold enough to override the emperor’s chosen candidate had to possess considerable backing, and his relationship with the emperor could hardly be harmonious.

Unfortunately, Han Shao was a hopeless case. He had thoroughly let down his uncle-in-law. However brilliant the future laid before him might have been, he first had to stay alive long enough to enjoy it.

With the opposing side’s piece surrendering without a fight, Wei Fu could not retreat. He had to step forward decisively and fight for the assignment—not only because he himself had insisted on taking the mission, but also to reassure the emperor. Mu Heng had already given Du Run more than enough face. Han Shao wanted both merit and safety, but there was no such convenient bargain in the world.

“I’ve already arranged an inside contact,” Yugong Zhaoye said softly. “Once your investigation reaches Du Run, you’ll discover that someone in his household has been secretly colluding with the Ten Aspects Sect. Follow that trail and you should eventually meet up with the Deputy Prefect of Fuyao Prefecture, who is investigating Tongshi Apothecary.”

If Xiling was willing to dig deeply enough, part of the Ten Aspects Sect’s hidden network within the country could be torn out by the roots. Longsha had originally been investigating these matters in secret; now the information could serve nicely as a return gift.

“The case belongs to the Egret Guard, so it isn’t my place to interfere. Still, I really am curious.” Wei Fu rested his cheek against one hand and tilted his head lazily. “Who is the mastermind? That ‘dead man’ Your Highness mentioned?”

If Du Run alone had leaked the information, then the likeliest explanation was that there was a traitor within Yugong Zhaoye’s own delegation. But if a third party had deliberately attacked the envoys to frame Longsha, then the Ten Aspects Sect of Yanyuan was by far the most suspicious candidate. After all, thunderfire bombs were not something ordinary bandits could obtain. Their manufacture was controlled by the state. Compact weapons made specifically for assassination were almost as revealing as an imperial edict: somewhere behind them stood the tacit approval of sovereign power.

Yugong Zhaoye had hurriedly pushed responsibility onto the Ten Aspects Sect, but that explanation would never fool Wei Fu. Eventually he would have to give him a proper answer; the trouble was that Yugong Zhaoye himself had not yet pieced together the entire truth.

“It’s a long story. Another day.” After hesitating briefly between laying everything bare and saying less so there would be less to get wrong, Yugong Zhaoye made his choice. “It’s late. You should rest…”

“Reneging on your debt—”

Wei Fu dragged out the accusation. “Sneaking over walls in the middle of the night, taking advantage of someone, then trying to run away—”

Once this man got going, he had absolutely no filter. Yugong Zhaoye nearly lunged forward to cover his mouth, but before he could, someone knocked on the door outside. Wei Fu, whose eyelids had already been drooping with sleepiness, snapped fully awake. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

The voice outside was gentle and refined, though for some reason Yugong Zhaoye could hear a trace of restrained tension in it. “Shuchen, are you asleep?”

“Just a moment, Elder Brother. I’m coming.”

Wei Fu mouthed my elder brother at Yugong Zhaoye while hurriedly undoing his sash and pulling off his outer robe to make it look as though he had just risen from bed. At the same time, he pointed toward the rear window, muttering under his breath, “Why are you always the one who has to run? We’re clearly discussing perfectly respectable business, but somehow it ends up looking like a secret tryst every time.”

Yugong Zhaoye caught the jade belt that nearly slipped from his hands, gathered up the ornaments that were about to jingle and clatter, and placed them neatly on the side table. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “It didn’t look improper before. After that performance, though, now it really does.”

“Once the imperial decree is issued and everything is out in the open, only then can I openly be with Your Highness.” Wei Fu draped an arm over his shoulder and sighed with exaggerated maturity. “I understand. I understand everything. For the sake of my spotless reputation, Your Highness should take care when climbing over the wall later. Don’t go slipping again like last time.”

Yugong Zhaoye: “…”