The moment those words fell, all four people who had been seated rose to their feet.
“You?” Zhang Ting’an was stunned. “You killed Cheng Huaili?”
“It wasn’t him.” Chen Baoxiang shook her head. “He wasn’t among the soldiers in my escort.”
“You want to take the blame for someone else?” Zhang Zhixu furrowed his brow.
Zhang Yinyue stood behind them in a daze, unable at first to grasp what he meant.
Zhang Xilai pressed his lips together, gripping the dagger as he spoke in a low voice: “When Cheng Huaili fled to Nanzhou, I happened to be there on official business, and I had accompanied the local prefectural office in going to reinforce Mokou Town. The timing lines up.”
If it had been possible, Zhang Xilai would have preferred it to be his own hands that killed Cheng Huaili.
It was a pity that he had not been given the opportunity.
“As long as the number of people who were present at the time is small, I can go and confess to this crime. The consequences will be far lighter than if General Chen confesses,” Zhang Xilai said. “At worst, I’d be demoted — it wouldn’t come to death by dismemberment.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Chen Baoxiang was shocked. “A demotion isn’t a punishment? You worked so hard to reach the position of chief officer at the Bureau of Construction — throwing that away to take the blame for me means starting all over again. Doesn’t that count as a loss?”
“There’s nothing to lose.” Zhang Xilai looked down. “I owe a debt to the Zhang family to begin with.”
It was because of the Zhang family’s shelter that he had the opportunity to study, the opportunity to take the imperial examinations, the opportunity to become an official. Even if he gave all of it back to the Zhang family, it still couldn’t repay the debt of upbringing.
—That was how Zhang Xilai had always seen it. So beyond bare survival, he had never dared covet a single thing.
And now, Chen Baoxiang gave him a firm smack on the back and glared at him with wide eyes: “You’re a child the Zhang family raised — not a dog they trained. Since when do we shove you out front whenever something goes wrong? Our eldest brother isn’t that kind of person.”
Zhang Zhixu cast a sideways glance at his elder brother: “I’ve always said you shouldn’t be too harsh on the child. Look what you’ve done to him.”
Zhang Ting’an was both vexed and amused: “I may have been a bit strict on ordinary days, but when did I ever… hey, you — when did I ever say you absolutely had to repay me?”
Zhang Xilai looked up, startled.
Before his eyes, the three of them had already launched into a serious discussion on proper methods of guiding the younger generation. No one accepted the dagger he had held out, and no one actually followed the thread of his words to give it a moment’s consideration.
He was somewhat at a loss: “If I cannot repay the Zhang family’s kindness, then — then everything the Zhang family gave me—”
Zhang Ting’an clicked his tongue: “I picked you up because I felt sorry for you. I raised you as my adopted son because I had no children and wanted to try what it felt like to be a father. That’s all I was after — and I’ve already gotten it. What else could you possibly repay me for?”
…So that was how Father had always thought of it.
The realization struck Zhang Xilai in the chest. His throat tightened, and he was momentarily at a loss.
Chen Baoxiang caught him in the corner of her eye and rose to her feet at the right moment: “It’s getting late. I’ll head over to the Court of Judicial Review first.”
Zhang Zhixu nodded and looked toward Zhang Ting’an: “Elder Brother, aren’t you going to the palace today?”
“You had to bring up the one thing I didn’t want to think about — fine, that’s enough.” Zhang Ting’an swept his robes and rose, then looked toward Zhang Xilai. “Go and do your work. Stop dwelling on these senseless thoughts — if word got out, people would think I mistreated my adopted son.”
The three of them exchanged a few more words and then went their separate ways out the door.
In the blink of an eye, only Zhang Yinyue and Zhang Xilai remained in the main hall.
Zhang Xilai looked down and clasped his hands: “Your nephew will go back to practicing calligraphy, then.”
“Stop right there.” Yinyue’s voice snapped out.
His legs froze where they stood.
She walked around to face him, reverting to her usual imperious manner: “Tell me — you’re a civil official at the Bureau of Construction. Why would you go to Nanzhou to assist in military affairs?”
Zhang Xilai stepped back half a pace, his eyes lowered: “It happened that the prefectural office was short of people.”
“What prefectural office could be so short of people that they’d need a chief officer from the capital to charge into battle?” She planted both hands on her hips. “Give me the name of whoever issued that order — I’ll go ask him myself!”
“…”
He pressed his lips together, looking rather mortified. “What is there to ask? Cheng Huaili was the kind of man anyone would have the right to kill.”
“Even if he deserved to be killed, it wasn’t your place to do it. There was Sister Baoxiang out there, and Zhao Huaizhu, and Wang Wu.” Zhang Yinyue stepped closer. “What did it have to do with you?”
“They all went for the sake of their own kin. Aunt, you’re my kin too.”
“Kin?” Zhang Yinyue raised an eyebrow. “If I were just kin to you, you wouldn’t be unhappy about me spending time with other lords. If I were just kin to you, you wouldn’t keep that old stone I gave you as a child pressed close to you all this time.”
“I… I don’t.”
“You don’t?” Her fingertip flicked out and she snatched away his pouch.
Zhang Xilai reached for it — and in doing so, nearly wrapped his arms around her.
He drew back at once, flustered and helpless: “Aunt.”
“Call me that one more time, and I’ll open this pouch and see what’s inside it besides that stone.” She toyed with the cord on the pouch with an impish air.
Zhang Xilai’s spine went rigid, and his face went pale for a moment.
What was inside — naturally, there was also the peach pit she had casually spat into his palm, the handkerchief she had thrown away because she found the embroidery poor, a broken strand of her dark hair, and even one of her baby teeth that had ached for half a month before finally falling out.
He had kept every single one.
But laid out together like this, it made him look all the more sordid and beyond saving.
Zhang Xilai reached out to snatch the pouch back.
Zhang Yinyue held it behind her back and tilted her head to look at him: “Address me properly.”
“I won’t—”
“Then I’ll open it.”
“Yinyue.” The words came out in a rush. “Don’t open it. Yinyue.”
The soft sound of those two syllables settled in the air, and both people in the room flushed red at the ears at the same moment.
Yinyue gave a light cough and returned the pouch to him, then said: “Elder Brother said we can’t let people think the Zhang family mistreats you. Tomorrow, you’ll accompany me to the market.”
“Tomorrow I have to go to the Bureau of Construction…”
“The Bureau opens at the first morning watch and closes at the afternoon watch. I know.” She smiled. “I’ll come pick you up when you finish.”
Zhang Xilai: “…”
A shameless voice in his heart clamored for him to say yes. Since he had started addressing her as Aunt, the two of them had not gone to the market together in a very, very long time.
But another voice lurking in the darker corners said: don’t go. Even if the Zhang family doesn’t ask for repayment, you can’t push your luck.
The two sides clashed, with no clear victor.
“That’s settled, then.” Yinyue paid no attention to his answer and waved her hand as she left. “See you tomorrow.”
She had nearly given up, truth be told. Zhang Xilai was like a bottomless abyss — no matter what she threw into it, nothing ever came back.
Exhausting beyond measure, with no hope in sight. It would be better to concentrate on making medicine at the Pharmaceutical Bureau.
But now, Zhang Yinyue suddenly discovered that the abyss was not so deep after all. On the cliff walls, there were even soft and yielding branches — they had quietly gathered in everything she had ever thrown down, and kept it safe.
It seemed he was simply afraid of startling her.