Chapter Forty-Nine: The Rain Has Just Stopped

Taking advantage of the lingering darkness before dawn fully broke, Jiang Lan and Samu hurried back.

At the city gate, Jiang Lan noticed that the officials were scrutinizing those entering and leaving more strictly than ever.

“My lord, be careful,” Samu whispered. “The Astronomical Bureau wields considerable power, and many court officials are connected to them. This spectacle today must be because of last night’s events.”

Jiang Lan nodded. “Act natural. We left no trace last night. If we separate, no suspicion will fall on us. Let me handle the matter of breaking into the Astronomical Bureau again. When I’m ready, I’ll find you. Prepare the remaining items we need.”

Samu agreed.

At the gate, the two parted ways to enter the city separately.

For Jiang Lan, entry was easy—his title as the heir of the Duke of Wei’s household was enough; no one dared give him trouble.

Samu, however, was less fortunate. Though they’d changed outfits before approaching the city, Jiang Lan had bought the most expensive silk for himself to avoid suspicion, while Samu’s patched Daoist robe remained humble.

The Astronomical Bureau’s order meant Daoists moving in and out of the capital were under particular scrutiny.

Samu naturally became a focus.

“What business brings you to the city?” the gate official asked.

“I’m returning home,” Samu replied.

“Where do you live?” the official continued.

Samu rolled his eyes inwardly, smoothing his whiskers. “The house hung with red lanterns on Xishui Street, north of the city.”

“And what took you out of the city?” the official pressed.

“I was invited to perform a geomantic reading,” Samu answered.

The official nodded, about to continue, when Samu fixed him with a mysterious gaze, brow furrowed with concern.

“I just cast a divination for you, officer. I saw darkness cloud your brow. If you’re not careful, calamity will befall you before noon.”

“Nonsense! What a load of rubbish—move along!” the official snapped.

“I could offer you a reading, if you’d like,” Samu persisted.

“Get out of here!”

Samu’s brows arched mischievously. As the guardsman pushed him along, Samu slyly stuck a peach-wood curse talisman on his back—a spell from the art of Peach Figures, used to turn people into puppets and bring misfortune.

Jiang Lan, who had already entered the city, saw this and pressed his lips into a thin line.

Once inside, Samu grew thirsty and found a teahouse near the gate. Sitting with a view of the entrance, he watched the guardsman, now stricken with urgent and repeated trips to relieve himself, with amusement.

Just as Samu laughed heartily at the scene, a hand gripped his shoulder.

Samu’s face froze. He was about to reach for a talisman in his white cloth bag when a familiar voice stopped him.

“Don’t overdo it.”

Samu smiled and ordered a bowl of tea for Jiang Lan as well.

“It’s nothing. The spell only gives him a bout of the runs—nothing serious.”

Jiang Lan nodded and took the tea handed over by the waiter. A group of officials passed by outside, likely on patrol, while the afflicted guardsman was loudly berated.

“Let’s go,” Jiang Lan said, tossing a few copper coins on the table.

Samu downed his tea and followed.

“In a few days, I’ll be off to the Imperial Academy. I won’t be able to leave freely then, so the matter with Wei Li from the Astronomical Bureau must be settled beforehand.”

Samu pressed his palms together. “I’ll make the arrangements, my lord. Rest assured.”

Jiang Lan nodded and disappeared into the crowd, gold fan in hand.

Instead of returning home, Jiang Lan headed to the theater to listen to storytellers.

The air was thick with gossip, but Jiang Lan did not sit. Instead, he wandered, listening.

“Did you hear? Since the eldest son of the Liu family was imprisoned, victims of his cruelty have emerged from everywhere, gathering at the Capital Magistrate’s office to file complaints.”

“Looks like Young Master Liu won’t escape this time.”

“How could so many appear at once? It’s almost as if someone orchestrated it.”

“Exactly! Liu has always been ruthless, never leaving witnesses. He must have crossed a formidable foe for so many to come forward now!”

“Right, rumor has it he’s doomed.”

“I wonder who he offended. Whoever managed this must be a dangerous character. We may not break the law, but it’s wise to keep our heads down and avoid the powerful, or we might die without knowing why.”

“Anyone capable of taking down Liu isn’t necessarily good, but they’re certainly skilled. Caution is wise.”

“Hey, did you hear about the Fang family incident?”

“Who in Jiankang doesn’t? It’s infamous.”

“Did you also hear the Empress Dowager issued a decree, punishing the heir of the Jiang family by sending him to the Imperial Academy to recuperate and study?”

“Of course! That sickly heir is truly favored. On the surface, it’s a punishment, but in truth, the Empress Dowager is gilding the titleless heir. I wonder what he’s like—whether he’s easy to get along with. We might meet him in the Academy!”

“I heard that heir…”

Jiang Lan drew closer, only to hear someone shout, “Cut sleeve!” His face darkened instantly.

He clenched his fist, thinking, “This damned reputation!”

Everyone turned at those words, their eyes curious and knowing.

The two gossipers hurriedly separated, suddenly awkward and self-conscious.

Jiang Lan swept his sleeve and left the theater, heading to a noodle shop across from the Capital Magistrate’s office.

“Boss, a bowl of noodle soup, please.”

The shopkeeper lifted the wooden lid from the pot. “Right away, young master!”

Just as Jiang Lan began to eat, someone sat across from him.

“Lord Qin, you haven’t had breakfast yet?”

Seeing Qin Shu with dark circles under his eyes and a haggard face, Jiang Lan knew he hadn’t slept well. He called the shopkeeper for another bowl.

“Don’t stand on ceremony, Lord Qin. You need to take care of yourself, especially with the case at hand.”

Qin Shu sighed, “Thank you for your concern, my lord. Lately I feel like a rat caught in a bellows, squeezed from both sides.”

Jiang Lan glanced at him and thought, “It’s clear enough.”

“Oh? Is it still because of the Liu family’s young master?”

Qin Shu looked dispirited. In recent days, pressure from above and the commoners’ protests at the county office left him exhausted. If this wasn’t settled soon, the censors’ criticisms would drown him.

The shopkeeper worked quickly.

“Lord Qin, put your worries aside for a moment. The noodle soup here is famous. I came for it myself.”

“Then I won’t refuse. Since the heir is treating, I’ll indulge.”

A trace of a smile appeared on Qin Shu’s face.

“It’s hardly anything—just a few coins. Surely you won’t bankrupt me, Lord Qin?”

“Perish the thought…”

Jiang Lan listened to Qin Shu’s complaints, already piecing together the situation.

The Capital Magistrate’s office answered to both the Ministry of Justice and the Supreme Court, leaving Qin Shu caught in the middle.

His aunt from the Earl of Yong’an’s household was relentless, using every connection to see Liu Heng brought to justice. When her own title was insufficient, she relied on her natal family, the Duke of England’s household, to exert further pressure.

Xue Er, poor fellow, was just as harried, accompanying the Countess everywhere to curry favor and plead their case.

Poor Xue Er—his days were surely no easier than Qin Shu’s.

After finishing his noodles, Jiang Lan took his leave from Qin Shu and strolled leisurely home.

But halfway there, a sudden storm broke. The once-clear sky erupted in thunder and rain.

Jiang Lan hurried under the eaves of a nearby shop, watching as street vendors quickly packed up their goods.

The shopkeeper, a kind soul, invited those sheltering from the rain inside.

Jiang Lan politely declined, remaining under the eaves to observe the passersby and the rain.

The downpour was fierce, soon leaving a thin layer of water on the street. Jiang Lan watched the water swirl into the drains below the steps, ants scrambling to escape.

Suddenly, a pair of silk boots appeared before him. Above them, a teal robe embroidered with pear blossoms. Jiang Lan looked up into a pair of deep, serene eyes.

The figure stood there beneath an oil-paper umbrella, jet-black hair tied with a white jade hairpin.

“Master Gu?”

The man’s lips curled faintly, and for a moment the rain seemed to quiet all around.

“My lord, if you don’t mind, allow me to escort you home.”

Jiang Lan instinctively wanted to step back and widen the distance, but those eyes, shimmering as if reflecting water, rendered him speechless.

The carriage was just as he’d seen before—comfortable fox pelts, a faint scent of bamboo leaves drifting from a bronze censer, soothing the senses.

On one side of the carriage, tea was kept warm. Pale hands, like white porcelain, offered a cup. “Please try it, my lord.”

Jiang Lan accepted. The cup was just warm enough in his palm.

A sudden cough drew Jiang Lan’s gaze up from his cup. The man’s porcelain-pale face was tinged with red from exertion.

Just as Yu Yuan had described—it was the mark of a chronic ailment, a frail constitution.

The carriage stopped abruptly. Outside, Li Ming announced, “Young master, we’ve arrived at the Duke of Wei’s residence.”

Gu Ruo alighted first, holding the oil-paper umbrella as he waited. When Jiang Lan stepped out, he noticed Gu Ruo’s clothes were soaked, and felt a pang of concern.

“Thank you for today, Master Gu. You should return home quickly, lest you catch a chill.”

Gu Ruo nodded, but insisted on escorting Jiang Lan up the steps.

The umbrella was small, just enough for one, two if they stood close. Yet Gu Ruo kept a deliberate distance, his right sleeve soaked through, while Jiang Lan remained perfectly dry.

“Thank you, Master Gu,” Jiang Lan said. Because Gu Ruo so closely resembled the figure from his dreams, he wished to avoid further entanglement. With a word of thanks, he turned and entered the residence.

Only after Jiang Lan’s figure vanished did Gu Ruo return to the carriage. Outside, Li Ming turned the carriage around, pondering inwardly.

Why did it seem his young master treated the heir to the imperial family so differently? What was odd about it, Li Ming couldn’t say.

Hearing the frequent coughs from inside, Li Ming called, “Young master, let’s return home. I’ll handle the Liu Heng matter—you needn’t trouble yourself.”

Gu Ruo coughed again. “No, first to Qin Shu’s.”

Knowing his master’s nature, Li Ming drove on to the Capital Magistrate’s office.

When Jiang Lan returned home, Xi Chi reported that Jiang Cheng was requesting an audience.

“Have him come to the study,” Jiang Lan said.