Chapter Eight: The Robbery

Although the dart was still an arm’s length from Yang Lian, cold sweat drenched his body. Who was lurking outside, spying on him? This person was so stealthy—if they intended to take his life, it would be as easy as turning a hand.

Yang Lian turned around and pulled the dart out. Attached to it was a slip of paper. Opening it, he recognized the handwriting immediately—it belonged to the person who had sent him clothes. The message left him momentarily stunned.

After a moment’s reflection, he decided to obey its instructions. In his mind, this was an opportunity—a rare one at that. As for the possibility of a trap, he dismissed it. If the other party wanted him dead, a single dart would have sufficed; there was no need for elaborate schemes.

Yang Lian concealed his dagger and slipped quietly outside. As he moved through the shadows, he soon spotted three men in black lurking outside a certain room, watching intently. Like the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind, these men in black had no idea that while plotting against others, someone else was lying in wait for them.

Holding his breath, Yang Lian strained his ears. He listened not only for the movements of the men in black but also for any sign from his secret benefactor.

High above, some fifty paces away atop a tower, two figures stood side by side, their gazes fixed on the Yuelaike Inn.

“I never thought he’d have the nerve to come out,” said a voice as melodious as an oriole’s song. The speaker was dressed all in white, her face veiled so that no one could tell if she was beautiful or plain.

“They say he’s cowardly and reckless, but it seems the rumors aren’t wholly reliable,” the other replied.

“That’s why I wanted to test him. But in this situation, unless you and I intervene, there’s no resolving it,” the masked woman said, her bright eyes flashing with surprise. She had reason to be astonished. She dared not defy her ancestors’ orders; though she felt disdain for Yang Lian’s usual behavior, she would carry out her mission.

“What is his background that would make you travel so far to meet him, junior sister?” the other voice asked, curiosity evident.

She shook her head. “I do not know all the details. Only that Grandfather insists on protecting him. If I can bring him back to Jinling, my task is complete.”

Her companion said nothing more, returning his attention to the scene below.

The masked woman bit her lip. She had hurried all this way, only to arrive half a step too late: the fishing village had been flooded by Lake Tai, and most of its villagers killed by pirates. Still, after many twists and turns, she managed to track down Yang Lian. From what she’d heard, he was a useless man—timid, fond of drink, always relying on his grandfather to clean up after his messes.

Her father, once the greatest archer in Southern Wu, had died young. While the Southern Wu court still stood, his widow and child had enough to eat and wear, but after Li Bian seized the throne, many old officials were implicated, her family persecuted. In anger, she’d left Jinling at thirteen, wandering the land. Her grandfather had vanished, gone for five years. Only two months ago did he send a letter, ordering her to fetch an important person.

When she saw the name “Yang Lian” in the letter, her expression remained blank. She knew the name well: the former crown prince, presumed dead for years. She doubted he still lived, so apart from fulfilling her grandfather’s wish, she felt a trace of curiosity.

But upon finally meeting Yang Lian, her curiosity vanished. The so-called Yang Lian bore no resemblance to the one in her memory—not in appearance nor in temperament. “Once he’s delivered to Jinling, his fate is no longer my concern,” she thought.

Along the way, she had heard much about him. So she set a trap to see if Yang Lian was truly as cowardly and incompetent as rumored. Yet to her surprise, the man who was supposed to be timid actually dared to come out, and seemed remarkably calm.

It was late at night, but the Yuelaike Inn was a major establishment at a crossroads, so there were still martial guards on patrol. If Yang Lian followed her instructions and shouted for help, the three men in black would almost certainly retreat. The credit would be his, and perhaps he would win the favor of the domineering young lady.

The masked woman waited, but Yang Lian made no move. He crouched in the darkness like a leopard, eyes cold and watchful.

The men in black were highly skilled, moving across the rooftops with barely a sound as they busied themselves, lifting tiles one by one for reasons unknown. After half a stick of incense, one slipped inside. Moments later, he emerged carrying someone on his back. Though it was deep night, the moonlight revealed enough: the man in black was carrying the domineering young lady.

“It’s time,” the masked woman murmured, hoping events would unfold as she had planned. But as one man in black vanished, and the other two replaced the tiles so neatly that nothing seemed amiss, they too disappeared.

Scanning the area, she saw that Yang Lian’s hiding place was now empty.

“Heh, what a hopeless case. Junior sister, you must be disappointed,” came a low voice.

She smiled bitterly and shook her head. He was a wastrel to begin with—there was never any reason to hope. Disappointment was not the word. She only lamented how hard her ancestors had fought for their land, how her father had given his life for Southern Wu, only for all to be lost, a dowry for others. Such a pity.

Without further words, the masked woman sighed and turned away.

Outside the Yuelaike Inn, only two lanterns illuminated the darkness. But some fifty paces down an alley, a simple carriage was concealed. Though plain, it was enough to hide people.

A man in black entered, carrying the still-sleeping domineering young lady. He dumped her inside without care, the carriage creaking ominously as if it might collapse.

Soon after, the other two men arrived. They leered at the sleeping girl.

“Who would have thought we’d run into the princess here?” one said with a hoarse chuckle.

The other chimed in, “Boss, I hear Princess Huairou is Li Jingsui’s favorite daughter. Catching her is a real accomplishment.”

The third man said nothing, only stared greedily at the princess’s delicate face. Though Princess Mingxing was only sixteen, she was already fully developed. Her ample bosom made his breathing quicken and his eyes shine, like a leopard eyeing its prey. He longed to strip her bare and have his way with her, to sate his burning desire.

The hoarse-voiced man slapped him: “Third brother, when will you learn to control your lust? As beautiful as she is, her status is special. She mustn’t be defiled.”

The third brother sulked, wiping drool from his mouth, reluctant to tear his eyes away from Princess Huairou.

The second narrowed his eyes, looking her up and down. “Boss, you have to admit, Princess Huairou is a real beauty—no less than Zeng Yiling in Jinling.” He spoke of Zeng Yiling, the famed courtesan of Xiangxiang Pavilion, renowned for her beauty and talents, known throughout the city. Sadly, she sold only her art, not her body; her pride made her unattainable, to the second brother’s lasting regret.

“Pretty or not, it doesn’t matter!” the boss cut him off. Princess Huairou’s beauty was nothing compared to the riches she could bring. With her in their hands, the sect leader would surely reward them, and in the ongoing struggle between Wu-Yue and Southern Tang, their side would have a better chance.

“There’s no time to lose—let’s go, quickly!” said the boss, eager to reach Suzhou and claim the credit.

The third brother finally tore his gaze away, went to the front, untied the reins, and called out, “Hyah!”

The carriage rumbled to life, picking up speed. Who knew how long they traveled before the domineering young lady slowly regained consciousness, her first sensation a splitting headache. As the carriage lurched again, she opened her eyes—and screamed.

Before her sat two strangers: burly, rough-faced men who were clearly up to no good.

“Who are you? Do you know who I am?” she demanded, trying to rise, only to find her arms twisted behind her, wrists tightly bound.

“Who are we?” the second brother mocked, licking his lips disgustingly.

She might have been domineering, but now, in a strange place among strangers, fear overtook her. “What do you want?” Her voice trembled.

“What do you want us to do?” the third brother leered.

“You… I want to go home!” For the first time, the sheltered young lady was truly frightened.

“Go home? Forget it. We’ll sell you to a brothel, get some money, and you’ll get endless pleasure. Isn’t that perfect?” The second brother’s grim face made his threat all the more chilling.

The girl burst into tears.

The boss glared at the second brother. “Watch your mouth! Enough of that!” Turning to the princess, he said, “Princess Huairou, I’ll be honest. We’re people of Wu-Yue. We came to Jinling to gather information, and on the way back, we spotted you and took you to bring to Suzhou.”

“Don’t worry, we mean you no harm. If there’s no war between Suzhou and Changzhou, you’ll be sent home safe.” The implication was clear: if war broke out, Princess Huairou would become a bargaining chip.

Princess Huairou’s father was Li Jingsui. Though not the emperor, rumor had it that the Southern Tang’s sovereign, Li Jing, intended to name him crown prince. Thus, though she was only a princess, her status was no less than that of an imperial princess. If Li Jingsui learned his beloved daughter had been captured, he would surely send envoys to Wu-Yue to negotiate. If war could be avoided, it would be a great boon for Wu-Yue.