Chapter 12: Bluestone

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Among the common folk of the Great Chu, there was a saying: one might not believe the testimony of the Protectorate Office, but one could never doubt its speed.

Not long after Yan Kuang sent up the signal firework, Liu Liu arrived swiftly with a large contingent.

At this moment, Cheng Ruyi obediently hid away, unwilling to cause trouble for Yan Kuang. Yan Kuang lifted the unconscious assassin and tossed him into Liu Liu’s arms just as he hurried over.

“Boss, you’re alright…! Ah!” Liu Liu caught the heavy man rushing toward him and nearly staggered from the impact. As he fumbled to fetch the shackles to restrain the prisoner, his eyes caught the man’s face.

Liu Liu gasped, “Boss, isn’t this Qin Er… Qin Xiang?”

Seeing the man in black clearly, Liu Liu froze, instantly understanding why Yan Kuang had refrained from delivering a fatal blow and merely knocked him out.

Yan Kuang said quietly to Liu Liu, “No accomplices, just a personal vendetta. Take him back, set his bones, nurse his wounds, then release him.”

Liu Liu nodded knowingly, “Got it, Boss! Hey, what’s this pillow doing on the ground?”

“Thanks for reminding me. I just bought it,” Yan Kuang said, picking up the pillow he had dropped earlier, brushing off the dust, and placing it on his horse’s back.

Liu Liu silently withdrew the shackles, instead slinging the man’s arm over his shoulder. Because he was shorter than the man, he struggled somewhat and called for others to help carry him.

Yan Kuang looked around but could not spot Cheng Ruyi’s figure. Yet, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he had no choice but to lead the group back to the office.

Cheng Ruyi, seeing Yan Kuang turn away, thought he had found a good hiding place, one surely out of sight.

He crouched quietly among the nearby crowd, peeking out as the troops departed. Suddenly, he thought the grim-faced “Yama King” mounting his horse resembled a hero from a classic tale, one who aids the weak and rescues the oppressed.

In his heart, Cheng Ruyi mused: a man with two faces—god and ghost alike.

But though clearly human, he somehow lacked the warmth of humanity.

Just moments ago, startled pedestrians had scattered, leaving the street empty; now people returned as if nothing had happened.

Cheng Ruyi looked up—the ink-black sky vast and starry, the moon bright but sparse among the stars, yet he seemed unable to find the guiding Big Dipper.

…

On either side of the Protectorate Office’s main gate stood statues of the mythical Xiezhi beasts, symbols of impartial justice. Yet under the murky moonlight, they looked more like fierce demons.

The massive gate, over ten feet tall, slammed open with a thunderous roar. Just as Yan Kuang was about to enter, a sudden commotion arose behind him.

Liu Liu’s voice came, tinged with helplessness, “Qin Er… brother, why? It’s me, Liu Liu!”

Qin Xiang had awakened here.

Yan Kuang turned to meet those eyes filled with hatred. Liu Liu and others struggled to restrain him, but barely managed.

Qin Xiang’s voice was hoarse as he shouted, “Yan Kuang! If you want to kill me, just do it! I won’t return to the Protectorate Office…!”

Yan Kuang averted his gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes: “I won’t kill you. Set your bones and then release you.”

“Pah!” Qin Xiang spat venomously, ungrateful, then suddenly laughed bitterly.

Looking up, he said, “Yan Kuang… why don’t you die yet? Why is your reckoning so late?”

Yan Kuang’s expression faltered. His heart felt as if it was being crushed, a dull ache in his chest making him frown. Yet he gritted his teeth, forcing his face into a calm mask.

Liu Liu looked troubled, “Qin Er, don’t say such harsh things. The Boss had no choice, you shouldn’t…”

“Qin Xiang, then live. Only by living can you see my reckoning,” Yan Kuang said, closing his eyes with a sigh.

Qin Xiang shook his head, as if not hearing him, murmuring to himself, “You’re always like this—aloof, cold, merciless…”

“Yes, when you killed A Lan, that was your expression… no, no… when you killed every one, it was always that face…”

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“A Lan just wanted to bring me some clothes, but she ran into the Third Prince’s guards…”

At this point, Qin Xiang choked up. He opened his mouth wide but seemed unable to breathe. Tears finally welled in his bloodshot eyes, wetting his face twisted with hatred.

Yan Kuang clenched his fist, wanting to knock him unconscious again, but meeting those eyes, his arm suddenly froze.

He could not bring himself to strike…

Qin Xiang glared at Yan Kuang, as if wishing flames would shoot from his eyes to burn the man to ashes.

Yan Kuang hesitated a moment, then said, “Without the Emperor’s order, no outsiders may enter the Protectorate Office. You were wrong to sneak her in. Even if I don’t kill her, she…”

“Shut up!” Qin Xiang snapped, his anger flaring again. “I’ve followed you for five years! While the court was in turmoil, I was loyal to you alone! And you…?”

“You killed my wife! You had me beaten and dismissed!”

Qin Xiang shook his head and laughed bitterly, speaking each word with venom: “Your hypocritical righteousness… was just a lie to trick me into serving you! Justice, fairness—they’re all nonsense! How many innocent lives have you taken all these years? People outside are right… you’re the King of Hell! A mere lackey of power!”

“This Protectorate Office… is hell on earth!”

“Silence…” Yan Kuang tried to interrupt, but his voice lacked strength. Emotions churned deep in his eyes, but he forced them down like thin ice, hiding all changes from view.

Qin Xiang continued, “Yes… you’re right. I can’t kill you. I’m useless. I can’t avenge A Lan…”

“But your reckoning, I’m afraid you’ll never see it…”

His voice faltered, then with all his might he broke free!

“Boss, watch out!”

Liu Liu shouted. Yan Kuang instinctively raised his hand to block, but there was a muffled thud.

“Even if I die…”

“I’ll never enter this… Protectorate Office again.”

Like a moth to flame, Qin Xiang charged toward the Xiezhi stone statue by the door. After the impact, blood trickled down the dense carved strands of the beast’s stone mane.

Everything happened so fast, like wildfire, like an avalanche.

“Qin Er!” Liu Liu was the first to react, rushing forward, memories flooding back, and he couldn’t hold back his tears.

Yan Kuang tried to speak but no sound came out. He didn’t know how he had stumbled to Qin Xiang’s side, amid the noisy chaos only hearing one thing clearly—

“Yan Kuang… I’ll wait for you below.”

Qin Xiang slumped against the foot of the Xiezhi statue. Blood quickly blurred his eyes, yet he clearly saw before him this cold-blooded demon, the killer of his wife, his once life-and-death comrade…

No longer wearing that indifferent expression.

“Qin Er… Qin Er!” Liu Liu called as he checked his pulse, sobbing louder.

Yan Kuang moved his lips and forced out a voice, “Give him a proper burial.”

Then, as he turned, he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of bright red blood.

The pain he had suppressed burst like a raging tide in his chest.

Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, splattering on the vermilion threshold as he pitched forward, collapsing at the doorway.

…

Rain fell again that night, followed by a rare, thunderous lightning strike.

Cheng Ruyi crouched at the head of a bluestone bridge, umbrella in hand, trembling from the thunderclap.

He didn’t know where to go. The old mansion was inaccessible, and he couldn’t recall the secret path back to the Protectorate Office. He remembered the way to the Yuan residence, but thought better of it.

He couldn’t very well turn himself in to the Court of Justice, could he?

Thinking it over, he realized he didn’t hate Yan Kuang so much anymore. After all, Yan Kuang was the one who had saved his life—he shouldn’t wish him dead.

After much thought, Cheng Ruyi slowly made his way to the bluestone bridge.

“Brr… it’s so cold.” He huddled at the bridge’s edge, having waited a long time. Even in the bustling capital, on a rainy night the streets were desolate and cold, without a single cat or dog passing by.

Cheng Ruyi felt the chill but had no money for hot soup and dared not seek shelter elsewhere.

What if… what if Yan Kuang came?

Still injured, the cold dampness made his pain flare anew. Afraid he might collapse and fall asleep, he pulled out a thin book—“The Heartless Top Scholar’s Tale of Betrayal”—and, under the faint light of the eaves on either side of the street, began to read.

“Well written… truly heartless and unfeeling. Whoever shows me kindness will be repaid with betrayal… Maybe my ancestral tomb was disturbed, that’s why I’m so unlucky…”

Cheng Ruyi muttered softly as he turned the thin pages. Whether from dampening or blurred vision, the words grew harder to read, and the scene before his eyes warped into a glowing haze.

In a daze, he recalled the peony flower he had discarded.

He was not truly indifferent to adorning himself with flowers. As a child, he had envied the local scholars who, upon passing the exams, wore red flowers through the streets—admired and respected by all.

Later, when he became the top scholar, he remembered it was a large crimson peony, pinned in his hair by the emperor himself, as he rode a fine steed, basking in glory.

Now, all he felt was cold.

His legs gave way, his body lost balance. The paper umbrella slipped from his hand just as the rain struck his face.

But behind him was not cold, hard stone.

It felt warm, soft…?

Just as Cheng Ruyi reached out, he felt a comforting warmth and found himself lifted into the air.

“Mother… I’m so cold,” he murmured, drifting in and out of consciousness.

At his words, Yan Kuang’s hand trembled, nearly losing his grip.

…

That thunderclap had also jolted Yan Kuang awake in the Protectorate Office.

His chest no longer ached sharply. After a moment’s calm, he intended to ask Liu Liu how Qin Xiang was doing. But as he reached the door, something struck him.

He hurriedly grabbed his cloak and set off directly toward the bluestone bridge.

There, he found the shrinking figure and the trembling paper umbrella at the bridge’s head.

“Mother… mother,” Cheng Ruyi whispered again.

Yan Kuang frowned; the person in his arms was restless, calling him repeatedly “mother” and even leaning against him.

On the way back through the secret passage to the quiet chamber, Yan Kuang was called “mother” countless times.

As soon as he laid Cheng Ruyi on the bed, the young man suddenly opened his eyes.

Yan Kuang thought he had regained consciousness. “You’re awake—”

Before he could finish, Cheng Ruyi reached out and wrapped his arms tightly around Yan Kuang’s neck.

Yan Kuang stiffened; his brow furrowed slightly, his shoulders tensed. He dared not look directly at Cheng Ruyi, instead turning his head and reaching for his arm.

“It hurts…” Cheng Ruyi cried out again, for Yan Kuang had pressed on his wound, but this also made him loosen his grip.