Lian Gongming glanced at Yao Wuhen, paused in thought for a moment, then said: “As for who dies first, wait for word from me—I’ll let you know.”

He wasn’t certain of Prince Wu’s true intentions, and without certainty, he naturally wouldn’t confront a prince who commanded heavy troops and could even discipline the Emperor—not even with Liu Chongxin as his backer.

First, one thing had to be established—something no one could deny: why was it that Liu Chongxin held such immense power, enough to cover the sky with one hand?

It was because the Emperor had given him that power. But Prince Wu held the Imperial Disciplinary Whip and could strike even the Emperor himself. The only person in this entire realm bold enough to directly kill Liu Chongxin was Prince Wu. So would Liu Chongxin go out of his way to antagonize Prince Wu?

It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to eliminate Prince Wu before. If Prince Wu died, then truly nothing would restrain him—but he simply couldn’t do it.

That was precisely why he had persuaded the Emperor to transfer Prince Wu to the Jizhou region. If he weren’t afraid, would he have wanted to avoid a direct confrontation?

Even as a eunuch, Liu Chongxin wanted the whole world to know—he was the toughest eunuch there was.

So now Lian Gongming already had a premonition that disaster was coming for him. Whether it would mean losing his wealth or losing his life, he couldn’t be certain. If it was just wealth, he could temporarily avoid the edge of the blade—after all, this was Prince Wu, and it depended on how large the man’s appetite was. If it was too large, there was nothing to discuss.

If it meant his life, and even Liu Chongxin couldn’t protect him, then it was better to go down fighting.

So the question of who to kill first was a highly technical choice. Lian Gongming hadn’t yet decided—the first target had to be someone capable of making a big enough impact, making Prince Wu understand clearly: *make another move and I’ll fight to the death.*

So this person couldn’t be of too little standing, but couldn’t be too important either.

Yao Wuhen said: “I’ve taken your silver, so I’ll first finish the matter you originally entrusted to me. That old Daoist has left Prince Yu’s residence—I’ll go eliminate him first.”

“Him?”

Lian Gongming shook his head. “Forget it for now. That person isn’t important—a nobody not worth mentioning. Consider the silver I gave you a meeting gift. Keep it for yourself; no need to return it.”

Yao Wuhen rose to his feet. “That’s not how I operate.”

As he walked toward the door he said: “I am a man who intends to make the name Yao Wuhen the gold standard of the assassin’s trade. Any job I’ve accepted must be done—no matter how large or how small.”

Lian Gongming said: “Don’t act rashly for now. This person currently enters and exits Prince Yu’s residence every day. If you make a move, won’t you implicate me?”

Yao Wuhen turned to look at him. “Then I wait for your word, my lord?”

“Good.”

Lian Gongming said: “You only need to remember one thing. If the day comes when I tell you to kill without restraint, my silver will be enough to fund the slaughter of an entire city.”

The corner of Yao Wuhen’s mouth curved upward. “That would be a deed that would make one famous throughout the land. Since entering this trade, I have always been waiting for such an opportunity—the chance to do something great. Something that, once done, would make every person under heaven know my name.”

He raised his hand and pointed his thumb at his own forehead. “Honest with young and old alike—Yao Wuhen.”

Lian Gongming, however, couldn’t feel the ambition behind Yao Wuhen’s words. If he didn’t have needs of his own, would a man of Lian Gongming’s standing personally receive an assassin?

After Yao Wuhen left, Lian Gongming sat down in his study, his face dark, and thought for a very long time. The more he thought, the more he felt the situation had reached a matter of life and death.

Fifty thousand bushels of grain…

This was a double-edged sword.

What occupied Lian Gongming’s mind was that just before Yao Wuhen arrived, his advisor Fan Li had told him that handing over the grain was wrong, but so was refusing.

Fan Li escorted Yao Wuhen to the door, then glanced at Lian Gongming’s expression and lowered his voice. “Your subordinate still wishes to urge you to leave Jizhou as soon as possible. As I said before, you really should have left when the Military Governor first took his post. With your abilities, if you sent generous gifts to the Chief Supervisor, he might well arrange for you to serve as Military Governor somewhere else.”

Lian Gongming waved a hand. “What good does it do to say all this now? Jizhou is my home. If I wanted to leave, I would have left long ago—I simply don’t want to go…”

He looked at Fan Li and asked: “You were only halfway through what you were saying when Yao Wuhen arrived. You didn’t finish. Continue now.”

Fan Li said: “My lord just said that if it came to it, you could move grain from our private stores. The existence of those stores isn’t known to many, but the grain in them—it was all transferred from the official granaries by you during the years before Military Governor Zeng Ling arrived.”

“Handing over fifty thousand bushels is no problem; our private stores are sufficient. However, once handed over, the consequences may be more severe than not handing it over at all.”

Fan Li looked at Lian Gongming and said: “If you don’t hand it over, it’s because you couldn’t gather the grain. Prince Wu in his fury will kill you, saying you delayed military operations. If you do hand it over, Prince Wu will ask where the grain came from.”

“The moment he discovers our grain was transferred from the national treasury granaries, you will still face a death sentence. The death sentence for not handing it over falls on you alone. The death sentence after handing it over could mean the extermination of your entire clan.”

Lian Gongming’s brow furrowed. After a moment of silence he asked: “Am I certain to die?”

“No.”

Fan Li bowed his head. “I have advised you before—right now there are three paths before you. Two of them are paths to survival. However, my lord…”

Lian Gongming looked at him. “Continue.”

Fan Li said: “First: leave immediately. Whatever you can’t take, abandon. Of what you can take, offer half as tribute to the Chief Supervisor—he will arrange another post for you, and may even promote you.”

“Second: offer seven or eight tenths of your assets in Jizhou City to Prince Wu as an apology for previously offending Prince Yu. Prince Wu is standing up for his younger brother… Compared to taking your life, seven or eight tenths of your wealth should be enough to move them.”

“Third… you don’t leave, and you’re unwilling to sacrifice wealth to avert disaster. In that case, there is only… a dead end.”

Lian Gongming rose and paced back and forth across the room. Fan Li watched his expression gradually soften and let out a breath of relief, thinking his lord was about to heed his advice.

But then Lian Gongming turned around and said: “I simply refuse to leave. After so many years in Jizhou, with such vast holdings—why should I make way for anyone? And I’m not willing to humble myself and go begging for peace either. If I fight to the death, do they think they’re not afraid to die?”

He walked over to Fan Li’s side. “This is what we’ll do—play both sides. Have someone go to the capital quickly to seek an audience with the Chief Supervisor. Have him intervene on my behalf. As long as the Chief Supervisor applies pressure through the Ministry of War and Ministry of Finance grain matters, Prince Wu will back down.”

Fan Li shook his head. “Why would Prince Wu worry about grain provisions?”

Lian Gongming’s eyes suddenly flew wide open, and he spoke in something close to a roar: “I simply don’t want to leave! After all these years in Jizhou, no one can force me out!”

Fan Li was silent for a moment, then bowed. “Your subordinate understands. I will arrange for someone to go to the capital.”

Lian Gongming gave a sound of assent, then after a moment said: “Go make contact with someone inside Prince Yu’s residence—feel out the situation. I asked you earlier to arrange for people to get close to Ye Zhangzhu. Did you do that?”

Fan Li said: “A few were arranged. I’ll instruct them to sound things out now.”

“Go.”

Lian Gongming waved him off and sat down in his chair, eyes closed, speaking as if to himself: “Before Zeng Ling came to this Jizhou City, every inch of this land was mine. Every person was mine. Every copper coin was mine. After Zeng Ling arrived and wanted a share, I already took a step back…”

He let out a long breath and said: “Take another step back, and they’ll only push further.”

Fan Li said nothing more. He only thought to himself: it was time to consider his own position. Lord Lian… was finished.

—

The next day. The Academy of Four Pages.

Li Diudiu deliberately arrived at the dining hall even earlier than usual. He thought he could finish eating and leave sooner—but he hadn’t expected those fellows to come so early as well, and he couldn’t understand what was so addictive about watching other people eat.

Auntie Wu looked at him with a helpless expression—the kind that said there was nothing to be done.

Li Diudiu didn’t mind at all. He greeted Auntie Wu with a bright sunny smile. He was the sort of person who couldn’t help but smile when he saw someone he liked—as Xiahou Zuo put it, he was like a little puppy, wagging his tail and trotting over whenever he saw a familiar face.

Xiahou Zuo didn’t mean any disrespect by saying that.

Although Auntie Wu sometimes quietly took leftover food from the dining hall home for her family, compared to this room full of young gentlemen in fine clothes, she was ten thousand times more honorable than any of them.

Besides, Li Diudiu liked Auntie Wu’s character—she was a truly genuine, real-to-life mother.

Li Diudiu had always been very curious about what it felt like to have a mother.

He had once asked Changmei the Daoist. He had asked: “Master, is there something different about children who have mothers?”

Changmei had immediately clutched his chest and said: “You chewed on me plenty when you were little. You’re a big kid now—time to wean yourself off.”

Changmei always said that the infant Li Diudiu used to chomp on him until he yelped—real biting.

Li Diudiu thought to himself, asking his master probably wouldn’t get him an answer either, because his master was a man who had never had a woman in his life—what would he know about it?

And besides—his master’s chest. Had he really chewed on it as a baby?

What was the point of that?

But whenever he saw Auntie Wu, Li Diudiu thought: *that* must be what an ordinary mother in an ordinary household looked like.

Just as Li Diudiu was about to say what he wanted to eat, someone spoke behind him.

“Li Chi—did you cheat?”

Li Diudiu turned around, though he already knew who was speaking before he turned.

Xu Qinglin stood behind Li Chi, carrying an air of superiority, hands clasped behind his back, his tone saturated with the flavor of a god passing judgment on a common mortal.

Li Diudiu glanced at him and couldn’t even be bothered to speak.

His silence, in Xu Qinglin’s eyes, meant he was afraid.

Xu Qinglin stepped forward, apparently believing this would pressure Li Diudiu.

“With your aptitude, your character, your background, your learning—how could you possibly rank first in the Class A hall unless you cheated?”

Li Diudiu still paid no attention. He raised his hand and gestured to Auntie Wu: “Five flatbread sandwiches, one bowl of silken tofu, one bowl of millet porridge.”

Auntie Wu looked at Li Diudiu with some worry, but Li Diudiu’s smile remained easy and relaxed, as if reassuring her not to be afraid.

Xu Qinglin stepped forward again, glaring furiously at Li Diudiu. “You don’t dare speak to me?”

Everyone had come expecting their usual entertainment of watching Li Diudiu eat, not anticipating such drama. Every eye went wide.

A penniless boy with no connections or backing on one side; a young master of the Xu family on the other. The gap between them was considerable.

Yet Li Diudiu, from beginning to end, didn’t say a single word—hadn’t even looked at Xu Qinglin once.

At that moment, a scraggly stray dog—somewhere around four or five months old and of unknown origin—came trotting over in its endearing, milk-fed way and squatted down beside Li Diudiu. It had already grown accustomed to Li Diudiu feeding it scraps.

It was a shiba, a guard dog of the traditional sort.

Xu Qinglin looked from Li Diudiu to the little dog, then suddenly laughed. He turned to leave, his contempt palpable as he said: “A perfect match.”

Li Diudiu bent down and scooped the puppy into his arms. He flicked it on the forehead. The puppy lifted its muzzle and gently, very gently, nibbled Li Diudiu’s finger—just a brush of teeth, releasing immediately.

Li Diudiu laughed. “Keep biting and I’ll knock your teeth out, see if I don’t.”

Xu Qinglin turned back with a cold laugh. “You won’t say a word to me, but you’ll chat with a dog. You really are…”

He got no further before his expression changed sharply.

Li Diudiu was still playing with the little dog.

—