In the small courtyard, the four of them sat around a stone table.
A few cups of wine later, it was as if Zheng Hui had returned to his days at the Street Patrol Room. He opened up his chatterbox and launched into his usual three-part spiel.
First, he talked about how hard he’d worked in his youth. Then, pointing to his many scars, he’d recount all the dangers he’d faced. Finally, he’d share stories and jokes about the Night Guard.
Just like in the old days, the three of them still called him Captain Zheng.
Han Anbo didn’t touch a drop of wine. No matter how much Zheng Hui goaded him, he wouldn’t take a single sip, simply smiling through all of Zheng Hui’s jabs.
Li Qingxian had planned to head home at a reasonable hour, but Zheng Hui, caught up in the drinking, absolutely refused to let him leave. They ended up drinking late into the night.
Although Zheng Hui’s Dantian had been destroyed, his underlying constitution was still strong. Fueled by excitement, he stayed half-drunk from noon till night, squinting his eyes but stubbornly refusing to pass out.
When he finally couldn’t drink another drop, he began his drunken three-part rant.
First, he lamented the suffering of the common people. Then, he cursed the Imperial Court for being full of treacherous officials. Finally, he praised the Emperor as the most enlightened ruler in history, hailing His Majesty’s wisdom.
Once Zheng Hui was too drunk to even speak coherently, Li Qingxian carried him to bed and helped him settle in for the night.
As Li Qingxian stepped out of the room, he heard Zheng Hui mumbling through a haze of alcohol, "His Majesty is wise, His Majesty is wise..."
Passing the stove in the main hall, a tipsy Li Qingxian took out silver notes worth five hundred taels, placed them under an overturned bowl, and then left the Zheng home with Han Anbo and Yur Ping.
The three sat in the swaying carriage, Li Qingxian and Yur Ping both feeling fuzzy-headed.
Li Qingxian lifted the window curtain to breathe in the fresh air. He looked up and saw a river of stars stretching across the sky, their brilliant light illuminating the Divine Capital.
The evening breeze on his face sobered Li Qingxian up slightly.
"Captain Zheng’s Essence, Qi, and Spirit are still intact. That’s a relief," Li Qingxian said, gazing out the window.
Han Anbo, looking at Li Qingxian’s face faintly gleaming in the moonlight, said, "Brother Zheng is naturally resilient, so you don’t need to worry. Your visit is sure to help him get back on his feet. I’ll find a job for him. Once he’s busy, he’ll be fine."
"Yes, being busy will help. A man needs something to strive for."
"Exactly. Everyone needs something to strive for."
"It seems my only thing to strive for is being a Fate Master," Li Qingxian said, staring blankly at the starry river outside.
"I’ve got something to strive for! Eating well for the rest of my life, that’s my goal, heh heh..." Yur Ping chimed in, his face flushed red as he grinned.
"Brother Han, what’s your thing to strive for?" Li Qingxian asked.
"Me? To live a good, long life. To get through it all peacefully and safely." Han Anbo smiled.
A wave of intoxication washed over Li Qingxian. "I’ve just realized something," he said. "What’s the difference between living like this and being back in Deceit Village? There is no difference."
Han Anbo stared at Li Qingxian and said slowly, "Survive. As long as you survive, there’s always a chance. You have to survive first. Only then can you talk about anything else."
"Yeah... first, you have to survive. If you survive, maybe you’ll find something to strive for..." Li Qingxian murmured.
The carriage fell silent.
Back at the Street Patrol Room, the three of them collapsed into bed and were out like a light.
The sun was high in the sky before Li Qingxian and Yur Ping groggily woke up. Han Anbo had already prepared a sobering soup and made them drink it.
Li Qingxian splashed some water on his face. Han Anbo leaned in and whispered, "Tang Enxuan has sent someone to the side gate. They’re waiting for you."
"Oh?"
"He’s disguised as a commoner," Han Anbo said.
Li Qingxian nodded. "Let’s go. We’ll see what he’s up to."
Li Qingxian got dressed and started walking slowly toward the gate, his mind at work. A plan he had conceived back when he was opening the distillery was becoming clearer and clearer.
"Brother Han, are you certain they’ll make their move while Uncle Zhou is away?" Li Qingxian asked.
"I can’t say for certain, but it’s a nine-in-ten chance."
"Good. Then I’ll be the one to make it ten."
Han Anbo was shocked. "What are you going to do?"
"I can’t just keep taking punches. When it’s time to hit back, I’ll do it without hesitation!"
"But..." Han Anbo stared at Li Qingxian.
"The worst that can happen is I have to flee the Divine Capital. But I can’t accept not even putting up a fight," Li Qingxian said.
Han Anbo sighed in resignation. "As long as you know what you’re doing. You have Lord Zhou looking out for you, so worst-case scenario, you just flee to some distant land. Once you’re out of the Divine Capital, Tang Enxuan won’t be able to touch you."
Outside the Night Guard’s side gate, a grey carriage was parked. An old man in a blue-green brocade robe embroidered with a pine and crane motif stood beside it. His posture was ramrod straight, and he looked vigorous. He glanced at Han Anbo before his gaze quickly landed on Li Qingxian.
The old man sized him up, then strode forward. With a slight bow and his hands clasped, he said, "I am Yue Feng, a steward from Prince Yuann’s Mansion. Might you be the esteemed Lord Li Qingxian?"
Li Qingxian’s eyes swept over the man. ’His gaze is sharp, his steps are steady, and his hands are rough with calluses. He’s clearly a trained fighter,’ he thought. ’To be a steward in a Royal Mansion, he must be at least a Seventh-Grade Martial Cultivator.’
"You’re too kind, Steward Yue. I am Li Qingxian. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Li Qingxian replied with a smile.
Yue Feng produced a red-paper invitation with a wood-grain backing from his sleeve. Bending slightly, he offered it with both hands. "This is a handwritten invitation from our Crown Prince," he said with a smile. "He invites you to Changhui Pavilion this evening for a talk."
Li Qingxian took it with a smile. "Do you have a Royal Mansion Waist Token? Let me have a look."
Yue Feng immediately unfastened the token from his waist and presented it with both hands. On one side of the wooden token was the character for "Order," and on the other, the character "Yuan."
Li Qingxian took it and examined it for a moment. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the waist token vanished into his Qiankun Bracelet.
Yue Feng’s face was a mask of confusion.
Li Qingxian announced in a loud voice, "Trying to pull a scam right in front of the Night Guard Office? Do you think we’re all blind? Yur Ping, blow the whistle! Arrest this swindler!"
Without a moment’s hesitation, Yur Ping snatched up his whistle and blew.
TWEET! TWEET!
Yue Feng’s face darkened. He took half a step back, and two burly men from behind the carriage quickly moved to stand behind him.
The Night Guards on duty at the gate came running. Li Qingxian pointed at Yue Feng and declared, "This man is impersonating a steward from Prince Yuann’s Mansion! He has the gall to run his scams right at the Night Guard Office’s front door! I’m asking you, my Night Guard brothers, to arrest him and throw him in the Imperial Prison for a thorough interrogation."
"You..." Yue Feng shot a look at the Night Guards and froze, not daring to move a muscle.
"Sir, perhaps we should make some more inquiries first," one of the gate guards said, sensing there was more to the situation.
Li Qingxian waved him off. "Then I won’t trouble you, brother. Mr. Yue, you’d best come with us. You know the consequences for resisting arrest on Night Guard Street."
Yue Feng glanced at the black walls of the Night Guard Office and snorted. "Lord Li, you’d better understand what you are doing!"
"What am I doing? Prince Yuann’s Mansion doesn’t have a Crown Prince. It only has an Assistant General who was beaten to a pulp. If you’re not a swindler, then what are you? Now, let’s go. Don’t make me draw my sword."
"Very good! Once this old man enters the Imperial Prison, it’ll be very difficult to get me to leave!" Yue Feng locked eyes with Li Qingxian.
"Then you can stay a few extra days. Drop your weapons, or be killed on the spot!" Li Qingxian ordered coldly.
With a dark expression, Yue Feng pulled daggers from his belt and boot and tossed them to the ground. His two bodyguards threw down their swords as well, their cold gazes fixed on Li Qingxian.
Yur Ping stepped forward to collect the weapons.
Li Qingxian smiled. "The three of you are very cooperative. In that case, I won’t bother with shackles. Follow me to the Imperial Prison."
Li Qingxian set off toward the Imperial Prison. The three from Prince Yuann’s Mansion followed, with Han Anbo and Yur Ping drawing their swords and falling in behind them as an escort.
Upon reaching the Imperial Prison, Li Qingxian found Fann Xing, had the three men’s Dantians sealed, and then had them locked in separate cells.
As Li Qingxian turned to leave Yue Feng’s cell, the old steward’s cold voice followed him. "You’re just from the Street Patrol Room. Your authority ends with the arrest; detention and interrogation are not your concern. Even if you’ve caught us, it’s completely useless. Young man, let me offer you a piece of advice: know your place and see the bigger picture. Unless, of course, you no longer wish to make a living Under the Emperor’s Feet."