Futile Devices Scans

“This subject, Yugong Zhaoye, greets Your Majesty. May Your Majesty be in good health.”

“Prince Yugong has arrived.”

Mu Heng raised a hand for him to rise. Without wasting time on pleasantries, he went straight to the point. “I summoned you alone today to discuss the case involving the Ten Aspects Sect rebels from the other day. There are no outsiders here today—only trusted confidants who already know the full story. There is no need for any of you to stand on ceremony.”

The last time Mu Heng received the Longsha delegation had been in Fengchen Hall in the central court. This meeting, however, was being held in Xianxiang Palace in the Western Gardens of the inner palace.

The deeper one went into the inner court, the tighter the security became, demonstrating how highly trusted the summoned ministers were. Yugong Zhaoye swept his gaze across the two officials seated below the emperor. On the right sat Wei Fu in scarlet official robes. On the left was an unfamiliar man, upright and striking, dressed in a dark blue martial robe embroidered across the shoulders with white egret patterns. A black iron ring encircled the index finger of his left hand.

Wei Fu took the initiative to introduce him. “Allow me to introduce him to Your Highness. This is Zhong Yi, Commander of the Egret Guard, courtesy name Chuiyun.”

Yugong Zhaoye inclined his head. “Commander Zhong.”

Zhong Yi needed no one to introduce Yugong Zhaoye. He had been observing him since the instant he entered. Returning the greeting, he said, “Prince Yugong.”

When martial artists shared a room, they instinctively observed and tested one another’s presence. Their gazes met briefly before both lowered their eyes in acknowledgment.

Before coming, Yugong Zhaoye had already known whom he was going to meet today and what they would be discussing. When Wei Fu had visited the Duke Who Stabilizes the Nation’s residence two nights earlier, he had already warned him in advance.

This Commander Zhong was the son of Mu Heng’s wet nurse. He had been brought into the palace as a small child and raised alongside Mu Heng. From the time they were barely old enough to speak, he had accompanied Mu Heng everywhere, eating and sleeping beside him, scarcely ever apart—closer than true brothers. After reaching adulthood, he assumed command of the Egret Guard, the emperor’s most important personal troops, and became in truth the foremost among Mu Heng’s ministers.

While eating the oranges Yugong Zhaoye had brought, Wei Fu had vividly recounted their childhood stories. “Chuiyun looks a little cold, but he’s actually very approachable. Back when His Majesty stayed temporarily at our estate, Chuiyun was the one who first greeted me during morning practice. He even taught me how to mount and dismount a horse more stylishly. But His Majesty was terribly petty. He thought he and Chuiyun were the closest people in the world and wouldn’t allow anyone else to come between them.”

“He was also terrified the two of us would leave him out. When we first met, His Majesty forced himself to wake early for an entire month. Every morning he sat there like the Queen Mother of the West, staring at us while we trained. Of course, he still couldn’t keep it up in the end, and eventually it became the two of us finishing practice before going to wake him for breakfast.”

“Chuiyun? Half the reason His Majesty became so domineering is his fault.” Wei Fu muttered complaints under his breath. “One summer the palace bestowed lychees. Following a fragrance recipe in a book, I blended incense from the leftover lychee shells. Altogether I made less than two taels. His Majesty liked it and took more than half, then burned through it in only a few uses. Who would have thought that Chuiyun would still remember it the following year? Somehow he acquired an entire cartload of lychee shells and worked me like a donkey, making me blend more than ten jin of incense cakes for him just so he could curry favor with His Majesty. I suspect there are still some sitting around unburned even now…”

Yugong Zhaoye laughed softly and pushed the osmanthus fermented rice wine toward him. “Drink something sweet. You’ve eaten too many oranges. Even your words are turning sour.”

Wei Fu immediately denied it. “That was all when we were children. I’m not jealous. I’m only helping Your Highness understand the relationship between His Majesty and Chuiyun.”

A faint smile lingered at the corners of Yugong Zhaoye’s lips. “Fine. You’re not.”

As though afraid he would not believe him, Wei Fu emphasized once again, “I truly am not jealous. Even if I couldn’t become sworn brothers with the Son of Heaven, the three of us are practically siblings. They have both always treated me very well.”

“Speaking of that, after the eldest young master of your household did something like that, how was he still able to remain in official service?”

When Yugong Zhaoye arrived earlier, he had happened to glimpse Wei Xiu returning from the yamen. Judging from his robes, he held a sixth-rank post. Although his present circumstances were certainly inferior to Wei Fu’s, Yugong Zhaoye still felt it unfair whenever he remembered Kui Yue describing how Wei Xiu had deliberately delayed the rescue and attempted to leave Wei Fu to fend for himself.

“Since Your Highness has already investigated the whole story, you must know what methods he used to delay things at the time. Honestly, regardless of his motives, judged purely by his actions, he truly was following procedure. There was no obvious fault anyone could seize upon.” Wei Fu drew out a silk handkerchief and slowly wiped the orange juice from his fingers. “Besides, everyone believed I was already dead. So even if my elder brother failed to send rescuers in time, what of it? Were they supposed to punish the legitimate eldest grandson of the Duke Who Stabilizes the Nation’s household to pay for the life of a mute?”

“And the emperor tolerated that?”

“We’re talking about years ago. His Majesty was still only a prince then and had not yet spread his wings. The late emperor had always wanted him to maintain good relations with the Duke Who Stabilizes the Nation’s household. So no matter how much His Majesty disliked Wei Xiu, he couldn’t openly tear relations apart with the entire family. With everyone tacitly agreeing not to pursue it, the matter simply passed.” Wei Fu smiled faintly. “The dead were already dead. It was enough to fool the ghosts.”

There was no obvious sadness in his voice when he spoke of these things, only a faint trace of mockery—not directed at anyone in particular, more like the alcohol hidden in osmanthus fermented rice wine: undeniably present, yet nowhere near enough to make anyone drunk. “After I returned to Fengdu, both the palace and the household compensated me generously. Naturally I couldn’t be too inconsiderate and insist on ruining such a harmonious atmosphere.”

Silence could itself be a form of indulgence. Sometimes a matter passed on the surface while never passing at all inside one’s heart. Yugong Zhaoye asked, “Have you forgiven him?”

“It doesn’t really count as forgiveness… but it’s not as though I have to take revenge or watch him fall into ruin before I can feel satisfied.” Resting his chin on his hand, Wei Fu spoke seriously. “After all, he wasn’t the mastermind behind the assassination. He was only some insignificant bystander on the edge of things. Besides, if not for that streak of terrible luck, I would never have met Your Highness. I even cured my muteness because of it. Looking at things that way, it was rather worth it.”

Yugong Zhaoye shot him a reproachful look that plainly meant, How can a matter of life and death be calculated that way? Before he could say anything, Wei Fu smiled and rushed ahead. “Besides, true feeling still exists in this world. Chuiyun went to avenge me before his wounds had even healed properly. He threw a sack over Wei Xiu and beat him up. Chuiyun enjoys enormous favor from His Majesty and normally never uses his position to bully anyone outside official duties. Yet after beating him, he voluntarily went to plead guilty before His Majesty. Honestly, there’s nothing left for me to feel resentful about. Hahaha…”

His eyes curved with laughter, filled with candlelight and even carrying something unexpectedly innocent and carefree. The sight softened Yugong Zhaoye’s expression. “Does the emperor usually govern his subordinates very strictly?” Yugong Zhaoye asked. “From my perspective as an outsider, you and Zhong Yi are his closest confidants and hold tremendous power, yet both of you are remarkably restrained and disciplined.”

“His Majesty was born to be a ruler. He uses affection the way one uses troops. He always knows when to trust and when to pull back, and he never crosses the boundary in his own mind.” Wei Fu answered leisurely. “Chuiyun has risked life and death for His Majesty countless times, yet he has never believed himself irreplaceable or unshakable in His Majesty’s heart. Compared with him, what do the rest of us amount to? What right would we have to cause trouble simply because His Majesty favors us?”

One of Yugong Zhaoye’s brows lifted. Wei Fu saw what he was wondering about and smiled. “Chuiyun stays vigilant even in peaceful times and always places himself on the edge of a cliff. As for His Majesty… the imperial heart is impossible to fathom. I don’t dare make reckless judgments. But I’m certain Chuiyun matters far more to him than Chuiyun himself believes.”

“And you?”

“Me what?”

“What weight do you hold in your emperor’s heart?”

“Me?” Wei Fu thought about it, then smiled easily. “I merely benefited from meeting him when we were young and sharing some old affection. In His Majesty’s heart, I’m probably about equal to the Duke Who Stabilizes the Nation’s household—good to have, certainly, but if it disappeared, he might feel a little uncomfortable at first. Eventually, though, he would adjust.”

Yugong Zhaoye fell silent in thought. Seeing him say nothing, Wei Fu leaned closer suspiciously. “Your Highness isn’t secretly calculating accounts in your head, are you? Don’t tell me you think making me Minister-Regent was a bad bargain.”

That ever-present gentian fragrance drifted faintly around Yugong Zhaoye as Wei Fu moved.

If one spoke of surviving life and death together or bonds forged in youth, Wei Fu had no less of either than Zhong Yi. Judging by Mu Heng’s attitude toward him, he was clearly far more than some dispensable minister. There was absolutely no reason for him to speak about himself as though he weighed nothing.

He had possessed this habit even back when he was mute, and it had never entirely healed—perhaps no one had ever even noticed it. Wei Fu was accustomed to putting himself second. In the emperor’s eyes, that was being sensible and tactful. Within the Duke Who Stabilizes the Nation’s household, it became brotherly harmony and respect. To outsiders, it became the modest restraint of a gentleman. Whenever a difficult choice arose, Wei Fu was always the first person to compromise himself. As long as people compensated him afterward and explained the greater good, their difficulties, and why nothing else could have been done, he could persuade himself into accepting it.

But he was no saintly bodhisattva without desires. How could there truly be no grievance at all?

According to the principle Yugong Zhaoye had recently summarized—the more someone lacks something, the more tightly they grasp for it—Wei Fu’s repeated emphasis on Zhong Yi’s importance in the emperor’s heart probably arose from some hidden, unconscious urge to vie for affection. He wanted more attention from an elder brother or friend. At the very least, perhaps he wanted to be firmly chosen once.

So Yugong Zhaoye tapped Wei Fu gently between the brows and pushed him back into his seat with one finger. “You come first with me. Satisfied? In the future, there’s no need to envy anyone else or speak so belittlingly about yourself.”

Wei Fu: “…”

Clutching his bowl of sweet fermented rice wine, he silently curled in on himself. Yugong Zhaoye saw the tips of his ears turn red as fire and thought that this time, he had probably guessed correctly.

After everyone exchanged greetings, Mu Heng casually said, “Sit.” Yet neither man moved. The air instantly fell into a subtle silence.

Wei Fu hesitated and froze where he stood.

Zhong Yi’s gaze was restrained and calm. Even while studying someone, he remained exceptionally controlled, without the blunt aggression most people displayed. Yet precisely because everything was held back rather than openly revealed, the pressure felt even stronger.

Yugong Zhaoye could not discern Zhong Yi’s intentions, but he could feel that silent scrutiny. For assassins and killers, being watched like this was generally a sign that someone was about to make a move. He knew there was no concealing his true identity from anyone present anyway, and he could not be bothered to keep pretending. Calmly, he raised his eyes and met Zhong Yi’s gaze head-on. The two entered a brief standoff.

A bad feeling suddenly rose in Mu Heng’s heart. Something troublesome was about to happen. “What is it?”

The corner of Zhong Yi’s mouth lifted into an eager smile.

When expressionless, he looked composed and steady enough to fool anyone. The moment he smiled, however, a spirited youthful vigor broke through. “I have long admired Prince Yugong’s great reputation. Today, having the good fortune to meet you in person, may I ask Your Highness for a few pointers?”

Mu Heng: “?”

“I dare not claim such honor.” Yugong Zhaoye answered readily. “This foreign minister has likewise long admired the martial arts of the Central Plains. My own skills are rough and crude. I ask Commander Zhong for guidance.”

Wei Fu: “Eh?”

Mu Heng was terrified the two of them would demolish the palace. “If you’re going to fight, take it outside!”

Zhong Yi immediately seized the opportunity and raised a hand toward the doors. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for granting permission. Your Highness, please.”

Yugong Zhaoye said, “Please.”

Wei Fu: “…Have someone bring out some melon seeds too. Thank you, Your Majesty.”