Three Steps: From Assassin to Empress - Chapter 26

Chapter 26: The Assassin’s Patience

In a flash, October arrived. In a few days, it would be the day for the sacrificial ceremony on the Yuan River to worship the River God.

Ying Xiu used to live in Qionghuatai, Guangling, Xuzhou. Later, as an assassin, he was always on the move, rarely staying in one place.

This was the first time he had heard of the sacrificial ceremony for the River God in Jiangzhou.

Although he had never seen a sacrificial ceremony before, Ying Xiu could vaguely feel that the entire Jiangzhou was different from before. The atmosphere was solemn and heavy, and one could occasionally see Taoist priests in rough brown clothes riding in carriages through the market.

During the Jianyuan era, Emperor Yuanxi practiced the Taoist philosophy of Huang-Lao. He considered himself to have a transcendent demeanor, secluded himself from politics, indulged in philosophical discussions, and often asked spirits and gods questions in the middle of the night.

At that time, Taoist priests were among the highest-ranking people in the Southern Dynasty. Dressed in feathered robes, they wore loose, flowing clothes, and even princes and aristocratic families had to give way to them.

This continued until the thirteenth year of Jianyuan, when Emperor Zhaosu ascended the throne and changed the reign title to Yongning. Within three months of his enthronement, he had all the Taoist priests inside and outside the capital killed.

From then on, all the Taoist priests in Jiangzuo changed into rough brown clothes, held a whisk, and drove their own carriages, no different from ordinary people.

Ying Xiu was worried that the fifteen scholars would have no money and would be unable to live. He intended to give them his personal savings that he had hidden in the loft of the tavern.

When he arrived at the tavern, he happened to see a group of scholars sitting around a table. On the table were more than ten neatly stacked cotton-padded clothes. They were calculating with an abacus.

“Clatter, clatter…”

The beads on the abacus rolled on the wooden frame, making a series of soft sounds.

Upon seeing Ying Xiu, the scholars waved at him, subtly blocking the cotton-padded clothes on the table. They pretended to be relaxed and teased him: “What, your couple isn’t with you?”

“Are you going to pawn your cotton-padded clothes?” Ignoring their teasing, Ying Xiu asked directly.

It was already October, and early winter had arrived. Although Jiangzuo was south of the Yangtze River and not as cold as the central plains in winter, it was still cold. When it snowed during the three coldest periods of winter, the cold would be bone-chilling.

At this time, they were going to pawn their cotton-padded clothes.

Xue Hao, who had the best relationship with him and cared least about appearances, casually explained: “For the sacrificial ceremony for the River God on the Yuan River, the government office wants us common people to offer sacrifices. The River God can’t wear cotton-padded clothes, so we’re going to pawn them and give the silver to the government.”

“Why do you have to give it?” Ying Xiu was stunned and asked.

Xue Hao looked at him with a strange expression. He couldn’t believe Ying Xiu was so naive. “If we don’t, if something happens to the canal in the future, the nobles will blame us for not being sincere.”

Where in the world was there such an absurd reason?

Ying Xiu found it ridiculous. To make things easier for them, he took out the silver from under the floorboards in the loft. In the first few years after he came down from the mountain, he didn’t know what silver was. He only knew that every time he was seriously injured during an assassination, the people from the Langya Wang family would give him some silver.

With what the eldest son had given him, he had saved a lot of silver over the past two years. He had spent most of it on renovating the Sixteen Crossings, and now he only had a little left.

However, it should be enough to split among the fifteen people to give to the government.

Ying Xiu held the bundle, poured out the shiny five-zhu coins inside, and handed them to the fifteen scholars: “Take as much as you need. I have a lot more.”

He didn’t have any more. If he gave it to them, he wouldn’t have any silver left.

Xue Hao looked at him with suspicion and was the first to pick up a five-zhu coin. It was brand new and clean, looking like it had been treasured for many years.

“Isn’t this your last bit of savings? Do you have any left after giving it to us?”

Facing the fifteen pairs of bright eyes, the young man in the golden robe lowered his head, casually fiddling with the jade ornaments on his clothes. His tone was light: “Do I look like I don’t have any silver?”

In reality, he couldn’t even produce a single silver ingot. All of his clothes were prepared by Xie Zhou.

The scholars examined him carefully.

He was dressed in fine silk and brocade, radiant and beautiful. He certainly didn’t look like he came from a poor background.

“Even so, we can’t take yours. A gentleman loves money, but he gets it in a proper way. How can we take charity?” an elderly scholar said in a knowing manner.

These scholars were gaunt and thin, each as skinny as a stick. Their stomachs were not filled with food, but with ink. When they spoke, they could make Ying Xiu dizzy. Fortunately, he had read a lot of books in the Sea Chest Pavilion recently and was barely able to put up a fight.

“I read a saying in a book that ‘like-minded friends help each other.’ When you are in need, I help within my means. Friends helping each other, how can that be called charity?”

Ying Xiu shook his head as he spoke, looking extremely disappointed.

He turned to leave. The fifteen scholars looked at each other and quickly called out to him: “Ying Xiu! It’s our fault. We will definitely return the silver to you another day.”

The implication was that they agreed to accept Ying Xiu’s silver.

Ying Xiu stopped in his tracks and didn’t turn around immediately. A slight curve formed on his lips.

At least, his friends would have cotton-padded clothes to wear this winter.

Beside him, the superior who was dozing in a rattan chair squinted his eyes, taking everything in.

As soon as Ying Xiu stepped out of the tavern, he suddenly thought of a very important matter. If the government office was collecting silver for the Yuan River sacrifice from the scholars, who’s to say they wouldn’t collect it from the people of Jiànpōofāng?

If they did, how much would they collect?

Ying Xiu felt an inexplicable sense of unease.

Fortunately, the small Qinhuai River district was not far from Jiànpōofāng. It only took half an hour by boat.

The atmosphere here was no longer as prosperous as it was on the day the Sixteen Crossings were completed. It was obviously a little more somber. When the common people saw Ying Xiu, a smile appeared on their faces. They waved at him and slowly gathered around him.

After declining the gifts from the common people one by one, Ying Xiu finally asked: “Has the government office asked you for silver for the River God sacrifice?”

“The completion of the Yuan River Canal, it’s only right to make a sacrifice to the God.”

The common people’s expressions were calm, as if they were already accustomed to this. It was like this every year. When the weather was good, they had to sacrifice to the gods. When there were natural disasters, they had to sacrifice even more. Every time they sacrificed, they had to pay silver.

In the past, they were servants in the fortresses of powerful families. When their masters’ silver was deducted, they also suffered. In those years, there were even human sacrifices from time to time…

Their lives were already much better now.

Just then, the official who had come to collect the money was not far away. Seeing them all gathered together, he snapped his horse whip against the horse’s backside and rode his tall horse toward them.

“What are you doing? Have you prepared the two shí of rice and flour that the government wants?!”

Hearing the galloping hooves, Ying Xiu’s mind suddenly went blank. His body moved faster than his mind. He quickly pushed the nearby people away, pushing them to a safe distance. Only then did he look up at the official on horseback.

The common people stumbled. They seemed to not have expected Ying Xiu to react so strongly to the horse and were all stunned.

Whether it was an illusion or not, the young benefactor seemed to have a fear of fast horses.

“Who are you?” The official looked down at Ying Xiu, noticing that he was wearing fine silk and brocade. His attitude suddenly softened: “Young master, you can continue chatting. I won’t disturb you.”

The official then rode away. From not far away, his angry shouts to other common people were heard: “If you can’t hand over two shí of rice and flour within three days, I’ll have you sent to the Detention Prison!”

First arrogant, then respectful, two-faced. Ying Xiu had never dealt with people like this and couldn’t help but frown slightly. The common people beside him were used to it.

“Young benefactor, these small officials are protected by powerful families. You must be careful and not get into trouble with them,” a woman whispered, reminding Ying Xiu.

In the market, these people were the most difficult to deal with.

The aristocratic families still cared about their reputation, but the lackeys they raised did not. They acted recklessly. Once they latched on to someone, they were like maggots on a bone, giving no peace.

How could Ying Xiu have ever seen a situation like this? In his eyes, there was no mess, only a bright white blade. Either nothing happened and the blade stayed quietly in its sheath, or it came out and cut everything off with one strike, leaving no worries.

Who would have thought that most people’s lives were spent in a mess, a mess that couldn’t be cut or untangled? When one string was untangled, there was a second one.

Ying Xiu stood there, watching the common people hand over their white rice to the official one by one. In the wooden box in the carriage, what was contained was not snow-white, smooth rice, but a mixture of different kinds of rice.

Patience. For the first time, the assassin who was used to settling scores quickly learned patience.

His proud sword moves could not cut off suffering. They would only bring endless trouble to the common people. So he had to be patient and bide his time.

He was a top assassin. One sword could kill one person, but life was a long process of biding one’s time. What was needed was the light of a complete sky, not a fleeting flash of a sword.

Ying Xiu stood there for a long time. Dressed in fine silk, with fair skin, he looked like a young master from an aristocratic family. No official dared to come forward and urge him to hand over silver.

The twenty-first of October, the sacrificial ceremony on the Yuan River.

The river on both banks flowed continuously day and night. The dike was lined with soldiers, standing in rows.

In front of them were the aristocratic families and powerful gentry of Jiangzhou. They were all wearing snow-white, wide robes, with their faces powdered, and fanning themselves with feather fans, looking like immortals.

Standing in the middle were the deputies of the Commandant and the County Supervisor. The Prefect of Jiangzhou, who should have been in charge of the situation, had been “ill” for a long time. The Commandant and the County Supervisor were also “ill” at home. Only their deputies could go to the Yuan River and preside over the sacrificial ceremony.

The two deputies looked at each other, fanning themselves with their feather fans, with a sense of unease.

These three superiors were the best at reading the wind and trimming their sails. The reason they had been “ill” so often recently was probably because they had foreseen something and were pretending to be ill to avoid it.

Carriages transported wooden boxes filled with rice and flour collected from the common people’s homes. They were to be poured into the Yuan River to sacrifice to the River God.

The Taoist priests who were originally in rough brown clothes had now changed into snow-white, wide-sleeved robes and yellow hats. They were chanting prayers to the river.

Finally, the last word of the prayer was chanted.

“Pour—”

Barrels of rice, like a mixture of snowflakes, were submerged in the river. They flowed east with the Yuan River, never to return.

The common people, who were blocked by the soldiers, disregarded them and ran past them, crying out to the group of white-robed, powdered aristocrats:

“Give it back to us! That’s our rice!”