Bao Zhu didn’t want to see the corpse, so she left the courtyard and hid on the street. Before long, she heard the yamen runners crying out in shock as they unearthed the body of a woman. With such ironclad evidence, she had originally acted out of compassion, wanting to help the wronged party, but who could have known that a beating would directly turn into a death sentence—fate truly was unpredictable.
Even such a foolish country bumpkin who couldn’t even fabricate a proper lie knew to use the chaos to frame the man in the blue shirt for his crime of murdering his wife, showing just how treacherous human hearts could be. Now in this Xiagui City, if even a sheep or chicken went missing, it would probably be blamed on Wei Xun.
Bao Zhu noticed a fine fragrance and medicine shop by the street, so she walked in to take a look. Though the shop’s sign proclaimed “fine quality,” there weren’t really any truly superior goods. The shop owner saw that Bao Zhu’s dress and bearing were both very expensive, and immediately attended to her with great enthusiasm: “What kind of fragrance would the young lady like to buy? The shop has excellent sandalwood, frankincense, and musk, or do you need some medicinal drugs to take?”
Bao Zhu asked: “Do you have black pepper?”
Ever since Zhang Qian’s western expedition opened the trade routes, foreign merchants traveled ten thousand li for enormous profits, importing many exotic specialties. This particular spice got its name “pepper” because it resembled the Sichuan peppercorns produced in Shu, and was specifically called “hu” (foreign) because it wasn’t produced domestically.
These small black granules from India served as spice, medicine, and top-tier luxury goods. Following the reverse path of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage, they endured countless hardships to reach the Central Plains, truly worth their weight in gold. Even in the capital, only the extremely wealthy would bring them out to show off when entertaining distinguished guests—ordinary families never dared to dream of them.
From the Kaiyuan era until now, black pepper had gradually become a popular bribery item due to its light weight, high value, and portability, much beloved by the powerful and noble. For a time in Chang’an, producing black pepper was equivalent to presenting precious goods worth their weight in gold, directly usable for trade, paying taxes, and other purposes. When people described something as expensive, they would say “more precious than black pepper.”
The shop owner was surprised by her discerning taste and quickly said: “No one in Xiagui County can afford such things, so our small shop doesn’t dare stock them. But I know a spice merchant who was heading to Chang’an and is now trapped here due to the city lockdown—he might have black pepper in his possession.”
Bao Zhu said: “Have him bring his goods. I want to buy some.”
The shop owner agreed repeatedly and immediately sent a servant to fetch the man. After the city lockdown, all businesses had ceased, so even earning a commission as a middleman would count as opening for business. Moments later, the spice merchant hurried over, indeed carrying a small box of black pepper. Bao Zhu pinched a grain to examine its quality and aroma, then took out her money pouch and poured out a handful of gold beans to pay.
Bao Lang had somehow followed her there as well, standing at the doorway with his arms crossed, watching her. He said: “I thought you were going to buy perfume, but it turns out you’re buying this.”
Bao Zhu said displeasedly: “I just love this particular flavor. Wu Zhiyuan can’t afford to provide it, so I can only buy it myself.”
After the silver and goods were exchanged, Bao Zhu put away the black pepper and stood up to leave, but Bao Lang leaned against the doorframe without moving. He was tall and powerfully built—to pass through, she would have to brush against his body.
Bao Zhu didn’t understand his intentions and glared at him without speaking.
Bao Lang asked thoughtfully: “This subordinate is a crude military man who can’t distinguish fragrances. I’ve always been curious and wanted to ask what kind of perfume Lady Fangxie uses on her body?”
Upon hearing this, Bao Zhu became extremely angry. His words were almost equivalent to asking directly what color her undergarments were—already quite presumptuous—and his posture was forcing her to answer.
“I also have a question I’ve always been curious about and wanted to ask Special Envoy Bao Lang,” she said coldly. “What rank is a Military Commissioner?”
As her words fell, without waiting for his answer, Bao Zhu drew out her riding whip and used one end to push against Bao Lang, forcibly moving him from the doorway to clear a path. Then, looking straight ahead without glancing sideways, she gracefully walked out.
Although regional military governors wielded great power, they had no authority to grant official ranks to their subordinates. Bao Lang held a position of high authority in Xuzhou, but in Chang’an he would be nothing more than an unranked military officer without official grade. Bao Zhu’s contempt and disdain were written all over her face. Bao Lang, pushed aside by the riding whip, could only let her leave, but his curiosity about the young woman had reached its peak.
The wife-murder and burial case in the back courtyard was certainly a sensational crime, but it had no connection to the pearl theft and murder case. Bao Lang left a few yamen runners to handle it and paid it no further attention.
The group mounted their horses and returned to the county yamen again, where they saw thirty or forty people kneeling in the courtyard outside the main hall. County Magistrate Wu Zhiyuan and County Deputy Wang Yue were also there, both looking somewhat helpless. These people were dressed simply and appeared to be commoners, led by a lame man leaning on a crutch.
Bao Lang frowned and asked: “What is this about?”
Wu Zhiyuan came forward to answer: “These are Changzhou craftsmen who came to Xiagui County with the special envoy. They’re requesting that I open the city gates to let them go to Chang’an first.” He then pointed to the lame leader, asking him to come forward and explain.
The man was about the same age as Yang Xingjian, but his hair was already graying, his face weathered by hardship, wearing a bitter expression. His left leg was withered and shrunken from the knee down, with flesh as dry as bone—not only lame but disabled.
He tried his best to straighten his back and declared loudly: “We Changzhou craftsmen have received imperial summons to go to Chang’an to work on Princess Wanshou’s mausoleum and serve our corvée duty. If we’re late, we’ll face severe punishment from the court. Please let us pass, honored officials.”
Bao Lang sneered: “If we let you go first, then every Tom, Dick, and Harry, every ghost and demon will come begging to open the gates. How would we catch the thief then? Princess Wanshou has already ascended to heaven—she’s not in a hurry and can wait.” He then waved his hand, commanding his personal guards to disperse these people.
Bao Zhu never expected to hear her former title again in this Xiagui County, and that these people were actually rushing to Chang’an to build her tomb. For a moment, her emotions were extremely complex.
According to current dynasty laws, missing the work schedule for corvée service would result in beatings with bamboo rods. Bao Lang’s personal guards roughly pushed the lame man, while the other craftsmen hurried to support him. The lame man looked up and glared hatefully at Bao Lang, but was helpless and could only limp away with the other craftsmen, leaving the county yamen.
Bao Zhu had endured enough of Bao Lang’s aggressive attitude for one day and no longer wanted to see his arrogant, conceited face. She dismounted without even exchanging pleasantries, directly threw the reins to him, held her head high, and turned to return to the inner residence.
Bao Lang stared at her proud, graceful silhouette until it disappeared through the inner residence gate, smiled, then turned back to mount his own horse. The Teller returned to its original master’s side, pacing restlessly. It had spent the entire day with Lady Yang, and Bao Lang caught the scent of her fragrance that had clung to the saddle blanket.
At such close distance and so fresh, in this instant, Bao Lang keenly caught that faint, drifting ethereal fragrance, as if grasping the young woman’s secret. He froze, finally recalling the extraordinary origin of this scent.
Borneol camphor.
That was the fragrance of borneol camphor.
Back when he had just emerged by presenting the precious pearl to the military governor, having been promoted from an ordinary first-rank warrior to Cui Keyu’s personal guard due to his excellent swordsmanship, he attended his first gathering of the powerful elite—entertaining envoys sent by the King of Jiaozhi to pay tribute in Chang’an.
The envoys carried the specialty fragrance of Jiaozhi—borneol camphor. This was tribute to be presented to the Great Tang Emperor, a top-grade rare fragrance from a foreign land. Even as a state gift, there were only ten pieces in total. Cui Keyu naturally didn’t dare intercept it privately, but under the pretext of hosting a banquet, he asked the envoys to open the golden box and let everyone appreciate it.
Bao Lang saw the pieces of borneol camphor in the golden box, each shaped like a silkworm cocoon, white as jade and snow, and smelled that extraordinary, otherworldly fragrance, but didn’t understand what made it so precious.
The drunken Cui Keyu, holding a courtesan in his arms, laughingly told him: “This is a fragrance only the Supreme One’s women can use. In the deep palaces of Chang’an, the most noble and most beautiful women in the world—women you can never imagine or possess in your lifetime—now you can smell the scent from their bodies. Have yourself a good spring dream tonight.”
Was she a woman he could never possess? Could it be that she wasn’t merely from a prestigious official family, but had an even more noble identity?
Though beauty was rare, many lowly courtesans also possessed it, but the feeling of wielding great power was even more intoxicating. Could it be that the skilled man in blue shirt who wandered the city without leaving was also coveting her and therefore unwilling to flee?
Bao Lang stood frozen beside the Teller, motionless. He immersed himself in the fragrance of borneol camphor, in the dreamlike memory of that night’s banquet, feeling his whole body burning with heat. He thirsted to possess her, just as he desired the supreme power she represented. The flames of ambition burned fiercely, making him shudder with excitement again and again.
If he couldn’t court her through proper means, what would happen if he abducted and forcibly claimed her? Just as he had slain that red-eyed, white-scaled serpent demon and seized the precious pearl that made him rise to prominence. Did she belong to the Emperor? Or to a prince? He didn’t care at all about virginity—stolen things, other people’s possessions, were what excited him most.