Destined Hearts of Mu and Yu (GL) - Chapter 11

The rooster had scarcely crowed when Qin Lao’er was roused by Qin Mu’s call. He stumbled out of the clay-tiled house and found Qin Laosan already awake, practicing his forms in the wide, barren fields beyond their lodging.

“Second Brother, Third Brother—good morning!” Laosan greeted them, flashing a grin of white teeth.

“Early indeed,” Lao’er muttered around a yawn. He soon caught the aroma of food—Qiu Chan had already prepared breakfast. The four of them sat together to eat.

“Eat faster, Second Brother,” Laosan urged, already standing by the carriage he had readied. Lao’er dawdled until, turning, he saw Qin Mu seated inside with a scroll in hand. Curious, he asked,

“Third Brother, where are you headed?”

“Into the city with you both,” Qin Mu replied, lowering the scroll and casting him a glance. “I’ll pay a visit to the Scholar’s Pavilion, to see how those who’ve come to sit the examinations measure up.”

“No one compares to our chief’s learning!” Lao’er boasted proudly. “Those scholars are all empty talk. Our chief has led men in battle, arrayed troops, commanded strategy—a genius of war!”

Qin Mu chuckled. “The civil examinations do not test the art of war.”

Lao’er’s face fell. Realizing his blunder, he clambered into the carriage. The wheels lurched and rattled as they rolled toward the capital. Qin Mu returned to her book, speaking as if to herself.

“I’ve calculated that in three months I must commit fifty volumes to memory—the Four Books and Five Classics as the foundation, Confucius’ Spring and Autumn Annals, Mencius’ Book of Changes, Zhuangzi’s Free and Easy Wandering, the Strategies of the Warring States, and The Art of War.”

Her brothers could only stare, dumbstruck, while she recited the daunting list as calmly as if she spoke of meals to be taken.

“My collection is still incomplete,” she added lightly. “That is why I’ll visit the Pavilion—to see if there are booksellers nearby, and bring more back.”

“Third Brother, you’ll wear yourself to death,” Lao’er said, heart aching. “Your lamp burned past midnight, and now you rise before dawn. No man’s body can endure this. Why throw away the comfort of being a mountain chief to pursue an official’s path? Court politics are not so simple. Every official shields his own. With no bribes or connections, relying only on your own ability—it will be near impossible to win a place. Still…” He gritted his teeth. “Since I’ve followed you to the capital, I’ll stand with you to the end.”

When they reached the city, they tethered the carriage at an inn, agreed on a time to return, and went their separate ways.

For Qin Mu, this was the first time she had properly walked the streets of the capital. The city was just as her brothers had described—splendid and bustling. Yet the people were nothing like the warm folk of Huangming Mountain. Here, faces were cold, hurrying past without so much as a glance.

She had barely gone two steps when a porter’s yoke struck her shoulder, scattering his oranges across the ground. Qin Mu bent to help gather them, but the man snatched up his load without a word of thanks and strode away. She brushed it off and continued on, taking in the unfamiliar yet fascinating sights: a drummer performing acrobatics, a woman selling candied hawthorn, courtesans painted thick with rouge, children laughing with satchels on their backs as they hurried toward the academies.

The capital was vast. She searched for the Scholar’s Pavilion, spotting a matron at her stall who looked approachable. Surely she would know.

“Auntie, might I trouble you for directions to the Scholar’s Pavilion?” Qin Mu asked politely.

The woman lifted the lid of her steamer. “Buying buns?”

“No, madam. Only directions—”

“Don’t know.” With a cold glance, the woman snapped the lid shut, then turned with a bright smile to call out to another passerby.

Qin Mu could only shake her head and move on.

A sudden clap landed on her shoulder. She turned to find a ragged child, head wrapped in a cloth, a half-eaten pear in hand, black eyes glinting with mischief.

“Young brother,” the beggar grinned, raising his brows. “First time in the capital, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Qin Mu said, bowing with courtesy.

The beggar laughed, eyes darting playfully. “Looking for the Scholar’s Pavilion? I’ll take you.”

“Excellent.” Qin Mu smiled inwardly. At last, someone not so cold-hearted in this city.

“Come, I’ll lead you.” The beggar reached for her hand. The moment their fingers touched, Qin Mu knew—this was no boy. The hand was soft, delicate. She quickly withdrew, smiling faintly.

“Men and women should keep their distance. If you lead, I’ll follow.”

Wei Yue’er blinked, startled, then smirked. “I never minded. But you’re the one fretting.”

“For the lady’s sake,” Qin Mu replied gently.

Yue’er chuckled and pulled her along. But then a wave of murderous intent swept over them. Qin Mu’s brows drew tight. Instinctively, she stepped forward, shielding Yue’er.

“There! That’s the thief who robbed my master! Seize her!” Several men shouted, pointing at Yue’er.

Yue’er only stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes. The men cursed and charged. She seized Qin Mu’s hand. “Come on, this way!”

Together they darted through alleys until, breathless beneath an old tree, Qin Mu asked, “Young lady, why provoke the Green Lord?”

“You’re sharper than you look,” Yue’er laughed. “First you saw through me as a girl, now you knew those men served him. Yes—Green Lord, the city’s bully, fattened on his father’s estates, living off rents like a tyrant.”

“I saw the tiger seal tattoo on his arm,” Qin Mu said. “That mark is his men’s sign.” She knew Qing Yunlong well—an oppressor she longed to strike down, though he never left the city without twenty skilled guards at his side. That this ragged girl had stolen from him was no small feat.

“Qing Yunlong? I’d never fear him. Do you know who I am?” Yue’er puffed up proudly. “Say it aloud and you might faint.”

Qin Mu’s lips curved faintly, unimpressed.

Leaning close, Yue’er whispered, “I am from Huangming Mountain.”

“Oh?” Qin Mu raised a brow, feigning surprise.

“Our great chief sent me on a secret mission,” Yue’er added smugly, arms crossed. Qin Mu’s laughter slipped out. Flustered, Yue’er pulled a ring of keys from her sleeve.

“Don’t believe me? Look—I stole Qing Yunlong’s keys!”

“Impressive,” Qin Mu said mildly. Yet at a glance she knew them false. She had sent her own men to attempt such a theft once, only to discover the trap. She let the matter drop. “Perhaps you might still show me the Pavilion.”

“Across that bridge, see? By the lake.” Yue’er pointed proudly.

“My thanks, lady. Should fate allow, I’ll repay this favor another day.” Qin Mu bowed to depart, but Yue’er seized her arm.

“No need to wait. Repay me today.”

“Today is not possible.” Qin Mu frowned, troubled.

“Cold as the rest,” Yue’er muttered. “How I miss the brothers of Huangming Mountain.”

Her words struck Qin Mu like an arrow. Though she knew no such girl existed among her men, Yue’er’s familiarity tugged at her heart. She sighed. “If there is something I can do, I will try.”

“Tonight, at midnight, I’ll slip into Qing Yunlong’s mansion. I need someone to keep watch.” Yue’er’s smile was triumphant.

Qin Mu frowned. The keys were false; it was a trap. “I was born with a weak heart—I cannot endure fright.”

“Coward,” Yue’er scoffed. “Then I’ll go alone. Tonight I’ll steal his ledgers and deliver them to my chief.”

“You’d be walking into the tiger’s jaws.”

“You’ve not seen my skills.” With a spring, Yue’er leapt onto a nearby locust tree, then dropped lightly to the ground.

“Fine display,” Qin Mu said, clapping politely. Yet her eyes betrayed her doubt. Yue’er’s lightness was but the surface of martial skill; Qing Yunlong’s manor was a den of experts.

Still… if Yue’er truly risked her life for her sake, how could she stand aside? Qin Mu resolved to face the dragon’s lair at the girl’s side.

Night’s darkness cloaked the vast palace, yet the Jade Moon Pavilion still shone with light. Wei Hanyu sat in a robe of pale blue silk, a white gauze shawl slipping from her shoulders, revealing the graceful line of her neck and collarbones. Her eyes, limpid as spring water, held a quiet sorrow.

Suddenly, Qingfeng, her bodyguard, burst in, sword in hand, and dropped to his knees.

“Have you found Yue’er?” Hanyu’s gaze was cool, sharp as ice.

“Your Highness, the scouts report that at noon the Ninth Princess was pursued by Qing Yunlong’s men. Since then, her whereabouts are unknown.”

“This child,” Hanyu muttered, her eyes hardening. Trouble, always trouble. She sensed conspiracy.

“Ready my carriage. We leave at once.” She rose with languid grace, every movement regal, her bearing radiant with imperial authority.

“Yes, Princess. How many guards shall I bring?”

“Only four—the most trusted.”

“Princess, Qing Yunlong is no common foe,” Qingfeng said, frowning. He feared not for his own life, but for hers.

“If the matter reaches Father’s ears, Yue’er will never again step outside the palace gates,” Hanyu sighed. Her younger brother and sister were constant burdens, but as the eldest daughter she bore their troubles as her own.

“Your Highness spares no effort for the Ninth Princess,” Qingfeng murmured in admiration.

When the carriage arrived, Wei Hanyu gathered her cloak. With only a handful of trusted men, she set out into the night—straight toward Qing Yunlong’s lair.