When the great army began celebrating victory and the entire military camp boiled with voices, heart-wrenching screams came from the rear camp. Zhang Baoxiang hurriedly found Yun Ye, who was mixed among the soldiers eating meat with gusto.
Being pulled from a joyful group naturally wouldn’t make one happy. Glancing at the flustered Zhang Baoxiang, Yun Ye said: “Old Zhang, you always spoil people’s fun. Today is precisely when the entire army celebrates. Why did you pull me out?”
“Marquis Yun, this is terrible! That Xie Li suddenly feels his wounded hands and feet burning like fire, piercing like needles. He’s now rolling on the ground—his life won’t last much longer.” All his wealth and status depended on Xie Li. If something happened to Xie Li at this time, it was more terrifying than something happening to himself.
“Just a prisoner—is he worth such alarm? Didn’t I already examine him? This fellow has a decent constitution and won’t die. This is a normal medicinal reaction, no problem. If you think his wailing sounds unpleasant, just stuff his mouth with cloth. Done.” Hearing it was this matter, Yun Ye bit into the lamb leg in his hand, completely unconcerned.
Zhang Baoxiang wrung his hands, anxiously pacing in circles with no solution. Had he known Yun Ye harbored ill will toward Xie Li, he wouldn’t have let Yun Ye treat the prisoner that afternoon. Now the old injuries weren’t cured and new ailments were added. He didn’t care about Xie Li’s fate after returning to the capital—he only cared how much benefit Xie Li could bring him. A dead Xie Li was nowhere near as valuable as a living one.
Yun Ye wanted to see what state Xie Li was in. Half-pushed, half-pulled, he was dragged to the tent. Xie Li had long since torn off the hemp cloth wrapped around his hands and feet and was rinsing the wounded areas with clean water. How could chili oil be washed off so easily? It stuck there like a bone-deep infection.
Blood flowed from his hands and feet, which he didn’t care about—he only hoped more would flow. Only with continuous bleeding did he feel somewhat better. When people are in extreme pain, they always do inexplicable things. For instance, Xie Li was now scrubbing his hands and feet in the sandy ground. If there truly were regret medicine in this world, Xie Li desperately wanted some now. Giving himself a quick knife stroke would be far better than suffering here.
Seeing Yun Ye squatting at his head watching him, he roared and tried to grab Yun Ye. Yun Ye, holding his lamb leg, stepped back. The iron chain around Xie Li’s neck went taut. Zhang Baoxiang flashed inside, separating the two, and said to Yun Ye: “My Lord, this won’t work. Xie Li needs to return alive to Chang’an. Only a living Xie Li can make the four barbarian tribes submit and fear. Spare him for now. Once you reach Chang’an, even if you want to tear him apart with five horses, it will be up to you.”
Sun Simiao had somehow entered, carrying a basin of soapberry water. Coming before Xie Li, he pressed both hands into the basin. A layer of bloody oil floated up. He wiped Xie Li with cloth. The continuously screaming Xie Li finally quieted down.
“Making you suffer was this old Daoist’s idea. The reason for sparing you this time is because you’re still useful. No matter how unlucky heroes become, others cannot humiliate them. Only people like you are the best example—an example to show other barbarian tribes.”
Yun Ye glanced at the old Daoist’s expressionless face, smiled, and prepared to return to the fire to continue roasting his now-cold lamb leg. Sun Simiao had already shouldered this matter—Yun Ye had no need to admit anything.
Tormenting people wasn’t Yun Ye’s forte either. An emperor covered in dust really wasn’t anything worth seeing—he’d seen it plenty in later generations.
Yun Ye never wanted to be a good person. Good people suffered too much loss. Throughout the world, bandits and killers lived vigorously, enjoying delicacies and fine silks without restraint, while good people could only hide in corner crevices gnawing steamed buns, wearing tattered clothes. Yun Ye had verified this in Chang’an—he didn’t want to walk the old path now.
There were those who walked the old path. Na Rimu only wanted to herd sheep. She led over a dozen half-grown children, going out early and returning late every day. They had twenty cattle and fewer than a hundred sheep—all things she’d collected, including those children. Holding forks, they lifted large chunks of snow and shook them loose. The cattle and sheep behind easily pushed aside the snow to eat the grass roots underneath. These past few days, she no longer came pestering Yun Ye. It seemed her love had gone far away.
Yun Ye told this matter as a joke to Huan Niang. Who knew Huan Niang didn’t laugh at all. After Yun Ye finished laughing, she said: “My Lord, grassland women are like this. Survival is always more important than sweet love. A herder without cattle or sheep isn’t called a herder but a kak—what the Han people call a vagrant. They’re the most despised among herders, only able to herd for others to earn a mouthful of food. If the year is bad, these people will be killed first. They have no cattle or sheep and can only eat others’ food. On the grassland, food decreases with each bite eaten. Food must go to the strongest warriors and the most fertile women. This grassland war will certainly create many kaks. Na Rimu doesn’t want to become a kak, so such behavior isn’t strange. Besides, winter is about to pass. Na Rimu won’t look for her lover to make children at this time. That way her child would be born in the coldest winter and couldn’t survive.”
Reality taught Yun Ye another lesson. His thought from days ago that he was a hot commodity made his face flush red. Huan Niang covered her mouth in light laughter, the wrinkles at her eye corners becoming denser. The blushing Yun Ye looked quite foolish. That young person’s strange notion of wishing all women in the world would only like him alone made her feel very warm and familiar.
Yun Ye only had a trace of favorable impression toward Na Rimu, nothing approaching emotional attachment. Now suddenly knowing Na Rimu also didn’t take him seriously—she was merely like a ewe in mating season naturally drawing close to a ram—he had unfortunately become the ram Na Rimu fancied. Winter was the mating season for grassland people. Only children conceived at this time could be born in autumn when food was most abundant, with much greater chances of survival.
Except for those noble lords, ordinary herders wouldn’t choose to conceive in spring. For their offspring’s health, they made the same choice as wild beasts.
What else could Yun Ye do? He could only shrug his shoulders, purse his lips, mock himself, and go find Tang Jian to discuss when to return to the capital. Watching his back disappear, Huan Niang was very pleased. She felt fortunate that in her later years, she had finally met a truly good person who understood when to let go. This was the emotion a real person possessed—ten thousand times better than those beasts who pounced on any woman they saw.
He Shao’s warehouse was piled with all sorts of strange things—half sections of curved blades and stringless wooden bows. Tang Jian was continuously rummaging through the warehouse, accompanied by Xu Jingzong. Tang Jian had found a complete set of celadon drinking vessels—an octagonal celadon wine bottle with a long spout topped by a flying eagle that served as the lid, matched with eight identical octagonal wine cups. It looked very elegant.
Tang Jian and Xu Jingzong were studying the patterns on the wine bottle. One said these items should be former Sui royal articles; the other said they were earlier than the Sui, because the flying eagle on the spout was clearly not Central Plains style. It could only be from the former Yan state or Northern Wei—most likely items from when Northern Wei Emperor Xiaowen migrated south.
He Shao stood smiling on the side listening. After hearing everything, he carefully had auxiliary soldiers wrap these drinking vessels and put them back in the wooden box. Cupping his hands toward Tang Jian, he said: “Thanks to Director Tang and Master Xu for the reminder. This old He nearly missed these good items.”
Tang Jian frowned. Seeing Xu Jingzong remain silent, he said to He Shao: “I wasn’t picking things out for you—I was picking for myself. Why are you putting these things in boxes? This old man isn’t returning to the capital yet. I still need to enjoy them these days.”
Before He Shao could speak, Xu Jingzong waved at Tang Jian: “Old Tang, you underestimate the thickness of Shopkeeper He’s face. Do you expect to retrieve something from a pixiu’s mouth? I have no such thoughts and won’t get angry over these trifles. Otherwise I’d have no life to return to Chang’an—I’d have died of anger long ago.”
He Shao put on a disgusting expression of “Xu Jingzong truly knows me,” and brazenly said to Tang Jian: “Your eye is first-rate. I’ll immediately find someone to write authentication documents for this drinking set, saying it was identified by Director Tang’s discerning eye as a good item passed down from the Northern Wei palace.”
Tang Jian was also famous in Great Tang for shamelessness and eloquence, yet he was choked speechless by He Shao’s words.
The anger hadn’t yet risen to his face when it transformed into a smiling expression. Cupping his hands, he said: “I truly like this drinking set. How about I purchase it?”
Xu Jingzong covered his face with his hand, unable to bear watching anymore.
He Shao smiled like a Maitreya Buddha, his mouth split wide. Grasping Tang Jian’s hand, he said: “Your liking it is best. Good items should remain in the hands of those who appreciate them. This drinking set for entertaining guests is most elegant. Since we’re all old acquaintances, two hundred strings is cheap for you. I’ll have it sent to your tent right away.”
“How much did you say? I didn’t hear clearly just now.” Tang Jian dug at his ear and asked He Shao.
“Two hundred strings! For you it’s small money. On this return to the capital, you’ll inevitably receive promotions and ennoblement. What’s improper about spending two hundred strings on a drinking set you like?”
“I remember just now you spent a total of two hundred copper coins on these things. Why does it become two hundred strings when it comes to me?” Tang Jian jumped up and down in fury, pointing at He Shao’s nose and cursing.
He Shao had long possessed the ability to let spit dry on his face. Smiling, he didn’t talk back, leaving Tang Jian’s strength with nowhere to use.
When Yun Ye arrived, Great Tang’s greatest diplomat was fuming from all seven orifices from He Shao’s provocation. The items weren’t his own. No matter how he talked himself hoarse, He Shao treated it as wind past his ears, happily lowering the price from two hundred strings to one hundred eighty strings, then refusing to budge further.
“Old He, this isn’t right. We’re all colleagues—how can you disregard decorum and argue here with Old Tang over a few coins until your faces turn red? Aren’t you afraid the soldiers will laugh?”
Xu Jingzong said to Yun Ye: “I’ve also taken a fancy to a set of ‘Bamboo Grove Historical Tales.’ Let’s be clear first—I don’t have a single coin on me, but I want the books. You handle it.”
He Shao nervously looked at Yun Ye with pleading eyes. He feared this famous spendthrift would, with upper and lower lips touching, cause several hundred strings of copper coins to vanish into thin air.