"HENGBO!" Xiahou Lian roared. "You found Hengbo in Taizhou! I left it there!"
Shen Jue finally stopped. He turned to look back at Xiahou Lian, his gaze icy.
At his side, Situ Jin spoke up. "The man is full of lies. Don't take him at his word."
The agents pressed Xiahou Lian's head down, flattening his cheek against the cold floor tiles. Gasping, he continued, "I really was the one who left Hengbo there! Shao—"
Before he could finish, Shen Jue had yanked him up and slammed him against the wall. Their faces were inches apart. Shen Jue's grip on Xiahou Lian's neck was freezing, as if frost were spreading from his fingers and threatening to turn Xiahou Lian to ice.
Shen Jue's voice was low and venomous, each word chilling. "Don't think that I know nothing about Qiye Garden. Xiahou Lian was poisoned with Seven Fifteen—how could he have survived? Listen well. From this point forward, if you speak a single lie, I'll ensure that you suffer like Su Yu, unable to beg for life or death. Who are you? How much do you know?"
How was he supposed to answer? Shen Jue was convinced that Xiahou Lian was dead. If he insisted that he was Xiahou Lian, he'd dig his own grave. He met Shen Jue's gaze, cold as a lonely handful of lonely snow.
Stay calm. Think.
Steadying himself, Xiahou Lian quickly weighed his options. If someone impersonating Xiahou Lian warranted eye-gouging, then wouldn't the real Xiahou Lian be fully flayed and disemboweled? At this critical juncture, persisting with the deception was the only path he could take.
Xiahou Lian took a breath.
"I was Xiahou Lian's sworn brother," he said. "I accompanied him on most of his kills. Disguising myself, changing my voice—he taught me all of that. I know everything about the Garden. And about him."
"Proof," Shen Jue demanded.
Xiahou Lian hesitated, then quietly asked, "Is Jingtie still in your possession…?"
Shen Jue froze. For a long moment, he didn't move. Xiahou Lian stayed still too, leaning against the wall. Slowly, Shen Jue loosened his icy grip on Xiahou Lia's neck, then stood and turned away.
By the walkway, a leafy potted banana tree had been trembling in the rain; the downpour had dulled its emerald-green leaves. Shen Jue looked at them silently, then said, "Everyone go."
Soon, he and Xiahou Lian were alone in the small courtyard. The night wind was damp and cold from the rain. Shen Jue stood silent, his hands behind his back. Rainwater dripped from the eaves, the rhythm growing slower and slower. Drip drop. Drip…drop.
"You resemble him," Shen Jue said suddenly. "Not just your eyes. Xiahou Lian was like a plague—anyone who got close to him was infected. Myself included, years ago."
Xiahou Lian rubbed his throat but said nothing.
"How did he die?" Shen Jue asked after a pause.
Taking a moment to process the question, Xiahou Lian replied, "He dueled the Garden's abbot to the death and bled out from his wounds."
"Did you bury him?"
"…No."
"Why not?! You were his sworn brother!" Shen Jue's voice was furious.
Xiahou Lian's hand, which had still been rubbing his throat, fell still. "In our line of work, death constantly hangs over us," he said slowly. "Often, we die out in the wastes. Xiahou Lian never cared about it himself." He frowned. "What would you do if he did have a grave—dig him up?"
Shen Jue didn't answer, but after a long silence, he asked, "What did he say about me?" His voice was hoarse and barely audible.
Xiahou Lian didn't understand why Shen Jue would want that question answered. After years spent hunting Xiahou Lian down, did he want to reminisce now that Xiahou Lian was "dead"? Despite his bemusement, he feigned recollection. "Not much. Just that you were old friends. You served the court, and he was an outlaw. It made sense for you to hunt him down—for praise or for the sake of rising through the ranks." He smiled faintly, adding, "He understood."
Shen Jue let out a hollow laugh—mocking, desolate. He'd never imagined, never dreamed that such a profound, absurd misunderstanding would separate him from Xiahou Lian. That idiot. To think he'd believed until the end that Shen Jue wanted him dead!
Nameless sorrow welled in Shen Jue. He clenched his jaw. "You're right. I will find his grave. Even if his body has been eaten to bones, I'll dig him out of the ground."
Looking down at his rough hands, Xiahou Lian smiled. "Kill me instead. I look like him. Consider it vengeance." He paused. "I stole this life anyway, so dying doesn't matter to me. But do me a favor—bury me with Hengbo. You have it, don't you? Xiahou Lian entrusted it to me before he died. I don't want it to be lost."
"He gave you Hengbo?" Shen Jue turned sharply.
Xiahou Lian nodded. "A year ago, I was fighting pirates in Taizhou, and someone knocked it from my hand. Later, I saw it at an auction, but your agents bought it first. It must be with you now, right?"
Shen Jue's chest tightened. Could this have been Xiahou Lian's most trusted companion? Could Xiahou Lian have trusted him enough to give him Hengbo? Fury and grief twisted inside Shen Jue, and he had the urge to kill the wretched man on the spot.
He glared. "You think you deserve Hengbo? I'll keep it. There's no need for you to worry about it. Now get out! I don't want to see you."
So it hadn't worked. Xiahou Lian sighed, gazing after Shen Jue's retreating figure as he walked away, his black robes and dark-gold embroidery nearly merging with the darkness. Xiahou Lian watched the other man's back until he'd crossed the walkway and was on the verge of vanishing past the turn. Suddenly, Xiahou Lian called out.
"Superintendent Xie!"
At the end of the walkway, Shen Jue stopped. Xiahou Lian stepped forward, facing him across the distance.
"Why do you despise Xiahou Lian so much?" Xiahou Lian asked. "Just because he was a jianghu outlaw so you were natural enemies? Or was it…something else?"
"Despise?" Shen Jue said. "I've never despised him."
"Then why hunt him so relentlessly? Why were you so eager to kill him?"
The dim lantern light cast a pale glow on Shen Jue's face, but it didn't soften him. He looked beyond the walkway and away, the wind in his face carrying the slight scent of salt. "I just hated him. I hated that he lied, that he broke his promises. Every word he said, every vow he made, was fake." He turned back, his voice biting. "Doesn't a man like that deserve to die?"
He resumed walking away; as he disappeared around the corner, the hem of his robe flashed once, then vanished.
Shen Jue didn't kill Xiahou Lian, nor Zhu Shunzi, but he kept them under constant watch. He confiscated their goose-quill sabers, reducing them to prisoners—even their trips to the latrine were monitored. Xiahou Lian didn't dare provoke Shen Jue again. The man was more unpredictable and volatile than ever, and talking to him was like gambling with death.
Three days later, the group reached Hejian Prefecture, where the prince of Fu waited at a suburban estate. Shen Jue led his men in, leaving Situ Jin with a group stationed on the rear hills as backup and insurance. Their vantage point was perfect; the estate below looked like a tiny game board placed in the grass, every figure crystal clear.
Xiahou Lian and Zhu Shunzi were among the troops left behind on guard duty. Foxtail grass covered the hillside, the fuzzy fronds such a lush green that they seemed to drip the color as they swayed in the breeze. Crouched in the grass alongside the agents, Xiahou Lian and Zhu Shunzi wore woven grass wreaths as camouflage, their unblinking eyes fixed intently on the estate below the mountain.
"So this is Shen Jue's plan," Zhu Shunzi whispered. "He wants to turn the prince of Fu against Wei De. If he succeeds, Wei De is finished. But will it work? Wei De holds all the power in the palace, while Shen Jue skulks in the mountains like a bandit. Any sane man would align himself with Wei De."
"Not necessarily," Xiahou Lian said.
"Why not? And how do you know?"
Xiahou Lian shook his head. He didn't know. He just didn't believe that a man like Shen Jue would fall easily.
In truth, Shen Jue was less confident than he appeared. This was only the second all-or-nothing gamble he'd made in his life. The first had been at Dong'an Gate, when he'd entered the palace alone. That day had been much like this one, he recalled; its flawless azure sky had stretched endlessly above, dotted with wispy clouds like scattered goose feathers, their edges dissolving into the blueness. But what did it matter now? The only person he'd ever really valued was gone. However meticulous his future schemes, he'd become no more than the graveyard's most powerful corpse. Still, having nothing left made him fearless. He adjusted his expression, curving his lips into his perfectly calibrated smile—as exquisite as the gold embroidery on his robes, as precisely crafted as lacquerware inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
He walked down twisting walkways and through bamboo groves until the pavilion came into view. There, a rotund figure in crimson robes sat, his girth wrapped in layers of fabric that resembled a winding scarlet serpent. As the man turned his pale, moonlike face, Shen Jue ascended the steps and bowed deeply.
"Shen-gonggong! What an unexpected pleasure!" the prince of Fu's jovial laugh rolled across the water. "Still the Forbidden City's handsomest man, I see. No one can rival your elegance."
The prince had grown even heavier in recent years. Since damaging his leg, he'd embraced life's fleeting pleasures with increasing abandon, treating himself to all sorts of indulgences. His unchecked authority within this fiefdom had only exacerbated that tendency.
"Your Highness flatters me," Shen Jue replied. "But a handsome face doesn't fill one's stomach. As for the reason for my visit, I'm sure Your Highness—"
"Ah-ah! No unpleasant business before you've had some tea!" The prince wagged his plump finger. "This rare blend came from a Western trader; it's quite unlike our Great Qi varieties. You must try it."
Shen Jue smiled faintly. Playing dumb and speaking in circles—this was the game officials loved to play as they jockeyed for political power. The goal was always to stall, to make the opponent impatient. Those who couldn't hold their ground would inevitably retreat, conceding leverage. The prince of Fu was the master here; Shen Jue and Wei De were both obliged to serve him. So naturally, he remained perfectly composed, waiting for Shen Jue to lose his cool and tip his hand.
Instead of responding to the prince's words, Shen Jue just lowered his head and reached into his wide sleeve, producing a bright yellow scroll. The prince's eyes locked on to it instantly. "Wh-what is that?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"A decree from His Majesty," Shen Jue replied crisply. Then he smiled and continued, "But shall we proceed with the tea first, Your Highness?"