Chapter Nineteen: Light at the End of the Tunnel

Yang Lian was lost in thought, still unclear as to why the old man had seized him, and the words spoken were obscure and bewildering. What sort of person could be called godlike? It all sounded too fantastical. Yang Lian did not believe in gods; to him, such things simply did not exist. He placed his faith only in his own fists.

Looking at the old man’s self-satisfied expression, Yang Lian could barely restrain himself from spitting in his face to jar him back to his senses. The salty taste at the corner of his mouth lingered—this old fellow still had some strength left. Yang Lian cursed him inwardly, shooting Li Xiongxin a vicious glare.

“Oh-ho, you dare glare at me?” Li Xiongxin was incensed. He took two steps forward, coming right up to Yang Lian, and snapped, “You must have a death wish! I’ll have you know, once you reach the Prince of Qi’s estate, even if you were a dragon, you’d have to coil up and submit!”

Yang Lian was taken aback. Was this man sending him to the Prince of Qi’s residence? The Prince of Qi was none other than Li Bian’s third son, Li Jingsui, the emperor’s own brother. Was he the one seeking Yang Lian? At once, Yang Lian’s mind began to race. Li Jingsui was known for his timidity—a far cry from Li Hongji. But what could he want with Yang Lian?

Could it be because of her? Yang Lian wondered. By now, if she were to return to Jinling, the time should be about right; she should have arrived.

As he was pondering this, Li Xiongxin let out a sly chuckle. “What, scared now?” he mocked, and landed another slap across Yang Lian’s face, leaving a red mark and fresh blood oozing from his lips.

“Runaway slaves like you deserve to die most!” Li Xiongxin barked, his wizened face flushed with anger, as though he himself were the master.

“Bah!” Yang Lian spat a mouthful of bloody saliva at Li Xiongxin’s face and cursed, “Old wretch, you’re the slave—your whole family are slaves!”

Li Xiongxin was enraged. Wiping the blood from his face, he raised his fist to strike again. At that moment, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Li Xiongxin, caught off guard, stumbled into the carriage wall, knocking out a tooth, and howled in pain. “Xiao Erhei, what sort of driving is this?”

He poked his head out to see Xiao Erhei, usually known for his dark complexion, now ashen with fear as he looked back.

“M-master, there are soldiers ahead.” Xiao Erhei, renowned for his dusky face, was now so frightened he’d turned pale—a testament to his terror.

Looking ahead, Li Xiongxin finally saw they had arrived at the gates of the Prince of Qi’s estate, where several guards had blocked the way. Xiao Erhei, startled, had stopped the carriage abruptly, inadvertently causing his master to lose a tooth and panic further. Ignoring his throbbing pain, Li Xiongxin climbed out hurriedly, clasped his hands in greeting, and said, “Honorable sirs, I am Li Xiongxin. I have captured a runaway slave from the Prince of Qi’s household!”

One soldier sneered warily. “There’s been no such runaway from the Prince of Qi’s estate. You must be mistaken.”

“How could that be?” Li Xiongxin was alarmed and quickly barked, “Bring him out!”

Yang Lian, escorted by two burly men, strolled out slowly, his spine straight and proud, blood still trailing from his mouth, his bearing unyielding and untouchable.

“Today, nobles from the Prince of Qi’s estate came to my inn asking that if anyone saw this man, they should report to the estate to claim a hundred taels reward. Though unworthy, I was blessed by the Prince and managed to capture him. I now bring him here.” Li Xiongxin hurried to explain. For all his earlier bluster, he was now the picture of deference, with a forced smile—marred by the gap in his teeth.

The guard gave Li Xiongxin a searching look. He didn’t seem to be lying, but the situation was unclear, so the guard barked, “Wait here and don’t move. I’ll go report this.”

Li Xiongxin quickly bowed. “Thank you, officer.”

Inside the Prince of Qi’s estate, Li Jingsui seemed anxious and distracted. Of late, his days had been troubled. Years ago, when the emperor had stood before the late emperor’s coffin and decreed the throne would pass among brothers, any ambitious prince would have welcomed such a prospect. But Li Jingsui was timid by nature, utterly lacking any desire to rule, wishing only for a quiet life. Recently, the emperor had more than once proposed in court to make him Crown Prince, which filled Li Jingsui with dread.

These days, he was plagued by nightmares—visions of calamity befalling his household, of a great fire reducing the Prince of Qi’s estate to ashes, leaving him in constant fear. On top of his sleepless nights and troubled meals, his beloved daughter had recently vanished, only to be returned with injuries. Li Jingsui felt that everything in his life was going awry.

Nor were his troubles confined to family affairs—the affairs of state were equally vexing. Li Jingsui was on good terms with Chancellor Feng Yansi and Chief Minister Chen Jue. It was these men who insisted he become Crown Prince. Yet not long ago, Chen Jue had, without imperial sanction, dispatched troops from several prefectures to attack Fuzhou, inciting a major war and even drawing the attention of the Wuyue Kingdom, which was now mobilizing its own armies.

The court was in uproar, debating whether to support Chen Jue’s campaign against Fuzhou. If they supported him, what measures would Jinling need to take to ensure victory? Reason dictated that Li Jingsui, being close to Chen Jue, should lend his support. But if Chen Jue’s unauthorized campaign succeeded, it would be a great achievement; if he failed, the court’s schemers would surely seize the chance to denounce Chen Jue for acting without orders.

Li Jingsui’s head ached. His alliance with Chen Jue and Feng Yansi made them a single faction, mutually dependent. If Chen Jue fell from favor, Li Jingsui would suffer as well—a prospect he dreaded. Should that happen, Li Hongji’s influence would inevitably surge. Knowing his poor relationship with Li Hongji, Li Jingsui knew that if the latter became Crown Prince, his own days would become unbearable.

The situation was a mess, yet life had to go on. At least his daughter had returned, which brought him some small comfort.

Just then, footsteps sounded from outside. A guard approached and reported, “Your Highness, there is someone at the gate requesting an audience. He claims to have captured a runaway slave.”

Li Jingsui waved his hand dismissively. “It’s only a slave—hardly worth my attention. Deal with him as you see fit.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard withdrew.

At the gates, Yang Lian glanced at the doors from time to time, having already guessed much of what was happening. He couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Li Xiongxin spat to one side. “You wretched slave, still so smug? Soon you’ll be thrown in a cell to suffer!” Now that they were at the Prince’s estate, he dared not act rashly.

Yang Lian shot him a glare. “Old man, if I survive this, you’ll pay for it sooner or later.” Having been inexplicably captured and slapped around by Li Xiongxin, Yang Lian could not swallow the insult and spoke with bitter sarcasm.

Li Xiongxin gave a cold laugh, sauntered over, and looked Yang Lian up and down. “Enough. You’re as good as dead. Why should I bother with you?”

“You may not care, but I do,” Yang Lian replied, struggling to his feet, his hands still bound but his pride undiminished. “I may not be a villain, but today’s humiliation—I swear I’ll repay it.”

Li Xiongxin burst out laughing. “A runaway slave like you? And how do you propose to do that?” He wasn’t worried; the Prince of Qi’s household was strict, and runaways often met their deaths.

“I’ll see to it that you can’t set foot in Jinling again. If I ever see you, I’ll beat you every time,” Yang Lian replied coolly, blood still glistening at the corner of his mouth.

“Damn you, watch your tongue.” One of the burly men stepped forward and struck Yang Lian hard in the chest.

Yang Lian coughed, glaring back in fury.

“Heh, still glaring?” The man raised his hand again.

“Stop!” A clear, crisp voice rang out. Yang Lian looked up and couldn’t help but smile.

“Your Grace!” The nearby guards saluted immediately.

It was none other than Princess Huairou. She had returned to Jinling the previous day, and immediately enlisted the estate guards to help her search for someone. Skilled in both music and painting, she had stayed up that night to paint a portrait of Yang Lian herself, and at dawn dispatched the guards to every inn in the city, convinced Yang Lian was somewhere in Jinling.

She had spent the morning distributing dozens of portraits. By noon, her confidence remained high that she would find Yang Lian. When she hurried to the estate gates and saw his familiar face, joy lit her features—only for anger to swiftly follow when she saw what happened next. Someone dared to strike him? And struck him so hard he was coughing?

Princess Huairou was instantly furious. She snatched the riding whip from her retinue and brought it down on the burly man’s head and shoulders.

The whip cracked sharply. The man staggered back, his face marked with welts, utterly bewildered as to why the princess had suddenly attacked him. He dared not resist—not only was she the princess, but several guards stood nearby—so he could only shield his face and endure the blows.

“Ah, Your Grace, you’ve got the wrong person, the wrong person!” Li Xiongxin cried as he saw his hired ruffian being beaten.

Princess Huairou sneered. “Wasn’t it he who struck him just now?” she demanded, pointing at Yang Lian.

“Yes, it was him, and I hit him too,” Li Xiongxin blurted, thinking nothing of it—after all, it was just a dying slave—but he had no idea what the princess truly thought.

“You hit him as well?” Princess Huairou’s tone grew menacing as she glanced at Yang Lian and saw the blood at his lip.

Li Xiongxin, now thoroughly alarmed, stammered, “I did, I did.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Princess Huairou turned the whip on him, lashing his face until it was streaked with blood. Li Xiongxin dared not resist and flung himself to the ground, crying, “Spare me, Your Grace, spare me!”

“How dare you mistreat one of my own?” Princess Huairou lashed him again, making him writhe in the dust.

Yang Lian rolled his eyes. “Your Grace, since when am I one of your people?”

Princess Huairou only stopped after a few more lashes, breathless with anger. “What, do you object?” she demanded.

Yang Lian chuckled. “Though I once saved Your Grace’s life, that hardly makes me yours.”

Li Xiongxin nearly fainted at this revelation. This man was the princess’s savior? What a blunder, what a catastrophic blunder! He was filled with regret; the estate’s guards had not revealed the man’s identity, and he had simply assumed Yang Lian was a runaway slave, binding and beating him—only for the princess to witness it herself. Had he not been blinded by greed?

Princess Huairou merely smiled, and the world seemed to pale beside her radiance; even the guards were momentarily entranced.

Suddenly, her maid, Lushang, cried out, “Your Grace, they’ve tied up Young Master Yang!”

Princess Huairou started and barked, “Untie him at once!”

A guard stepped forward, drew his dagger, and cut the cords binding Yang Lian’s wrists. Yang Lian rubbed his wrists, turned to Li Xiongxin with a smile, and said, “Old man, would you prefer bamboo shoots with pork, or wontons?”

Li Xiongxin glanced at the guards surrounding him and felt his knees go weak. At Yang Lian’s words, his legs buckled and he fell to his knees with a thud. “Young master, I was blind in the moment and wronged you. Please, forgive me!”

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