Three Steps: From Assassin to Empress - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: A Sword’s Gleam

The candlelight flickers, casting thin shadows across the room. Ying Xiu struggles to open his watery eyes. His vision is blurry, but he can vaguely hear someone talking. Just as he tries to listen more closely, the voices outside the curtains abruptly stop.

A slight pain comes from his wrist, as if something is constricting it. Ying Xiu raises his hand and looks down. A red string is tied tightly around his slender wrist, pressing down on a purplish vein. The nearly transparent white skin shows a faint, reddish mark.

As he lifts his hand, the string tugs, and a crisp, clear bell sound rings out. Ying Xiu is startled. He instinctively sits up, trying to untie the string. The quilt slides off, and his dark hair spills over his body.

Only now does Ying Xiu realize that he is no longer wearing his golden robe but a thin, snow-white undergarment. The ties are not fastened properly, and the long, thin ribbons hang down in front, causing the thin garment to part in two. Remembering the last thing he saw before he fainted, Ying Xiu stiffens. Could it be… that Xie Zhou carried him to bed and even helped him undress?

Xie Zhou… did he see the scars on my body? Will he be disgusted?

Ying Xiu’s cheeks flush. He quickly burrows his head into the quilt, pretending to be dead, hoping Xie Zhou won’t see him.

Dingling.

The clear bell rings again.

A strong tug pulls at the red string, dragging Ying Xiu’s hand and pulling him out from under the quilt. The bell jangles loudly as the person holding the string seizes Ying Xiu’s hand. He looks at Ying Xiu’s face, which is flushed from being buried in the quilt.

“Why were you calling that person’s name?” the client asks, his voice low. His tone is calm, but it makes the assassin feel a strange, inexplicable sense of danger. As a result, Ying Xiu doesn’t question the red string on his hand and simply responds, “What person?”

The client’s gaze is scrutinizing, as if he is trying to confirm if Ying Xiu remembers. “…Xi An.”

The mention of Xi An makes Ying Xiu angry. “He told me one cup would end our feud, and I drank it… He actually put that kind of drug in the wine.” The youth’s eyelids are flushed. His eyes are clear like washed water, and the anger in them is unconcealed, a few sparks visible in their depths.

So, he was calling Xi An’s name in his sleep because he was so angry?

The client slowly releases his grip. He leans down and unties the red string from Ying Xiu’s wrist. He explains softly, “The physician used a thread to diagnose you, so he tied a red string to your hand.”

Ying Xiu doesn’t doubt him and nods obediently. He sits cross-legged in the crumpled quilt, wearing only a thin undergarment with his hair flowing freely, letting the other man untie the string. He is slow to understand certain things. He doesn’t understand why Xi An drugged him or how Xie Zhou managed to counteract the drug.

The client leans down, his hair tied with a silk ribbon falling over his shoulder. He is very close, his gaze focused on untying the red string on Ying Xiu’s wrist. Looking at the client’s cold, handsome face from this close, Ying Xiu suddenly has a wicked thought. He leans down and lightly pecks the back of the other man’s hand. The youth quickly looks up, pretending nothing happened, his eyes darting around the quiet room.

The client’s hand suddenly freezes. His fingers are still holding the red string. After a moment’s pause, he calmly continues to untie it. Ying Xiu is a little disappointed, but his eyes unintentionally fall on the client’s ear. It’s faintly red. The youth immediately smiles, his eyes crinkling with a mischievous glint.

Ying Xiu’s unconcealed amusement makes Xie Zhou’s fingers pause again. He gently unties the last knot. The red string falls and lies on the soft floor mat. Without the red string covering it, the red mark on Ying Xiu’s wrist is even more obvious. The two red marks bite into his pale skin, bright and eye-catching, with a hint of something suggestive.

Although Ying Xiu is an assassin, he can’t stand pain. His skin turns red at the slightest touch. He lowers his head, trying to rub away the mark. A cascade of ink-black hair falls over his arm, covering his partially open undergarment. The messy hair loosely conceals a patch of white skin.

Xie Zhou watches silently, his gaze extremely calm, with a hint of suppressed emotion. The atmosphere suddenly becomes thick and heavy.

Ying Xiu suddenly speaks. “When I see Xi An, I’m going to teach him a lesson.” The youth’s voice is low, and the anger in his eyes is shallow. It’s clear he doesn’t actually intend to teach Xi An a lesson; he’s just trying to break the awkward silence.

“You don’t have to,” Xie Zhou says softly.

The atmosphere becomes even stranger. Ying Xiu feels that there is a hidden meaning in Xie Zhou’s words. He looks at Xie Zhou suspiciously, but he can’t see anything on his calm, indifferent face.

Xie Zhou says softly, “From now on, come back before a quarter past nine in the evening. Don’t make me worry.” A quarter past nine isn’t very early, so Ying Xiu nods and agrees. Even if he misses the time, with Xie Zhou’s good temper, he probably won’t say anything.

At the same time, at the Xi clan’s private residence, everything is deathly silent. The private soldiers of the entire compound kneel on the ground, their heads bowed. No one dares to say a word to the intruder. In the main hall, a red-robed figure kneels with his hands tied behind his back. It is the reckless young master of the Xi clan of Gaoping, his face pale and his head bowed.

Shang Weijun, wearing a dark official robe, sits casually in the main seat, his legs crossed. A smile is on his face. “Which hand did you touch Ying Xiu with?”

Even someone as arrogant as Xi An knows that this person is far from a simple driver. The youth who never showed his face in the carriage is even more unfathomable. He hurriedly explains, “I didn’t touch him at all! I’m the direct descendant of the Xi clan of Gaoping, the only grandson of Grand Minister Xi! You can’t hurt me! Otherwise, my grandfather will tear you to shreds!”

The man sitting high in the main seat ignores him. He props his head on his hand, smiling as he looks at Xi An’s pathetic state. “I heard that in the tenth year of Yongning, you personally whipped Ying Xiu, didn’t you?”

That’s a long-gone story. Besides the Wang clan and Ying Xiu, who else would know?

“So what?” Xi An is not afraid. He is sure that no matter how audacious these people are, they would never dare to kill him. When he returns to Ningzhou, he will ask his grandfather to deal with all of them.

Shang Weijun smiles softly and sighs. “The only grandson of Grand Minister Xi is a worthless piece of trash. How sad.” He lowers his eyes, no longer looking at the red-robed youth. “Cut off his hands and feet. Send his body back to Ningzhou. It will be a token of the emperor’s friendship with Grand Minister Xi.”

Xi An’s eyes widen. What emperor? What is this driver talking about? I don’t understand. Just because he whipped Ying Xiu once, these people are going to kill him? And make him die a miserable death!

A cold winter wind howls, drowning out the horrific screams. The private soldiers kneel on the cold ground, their heads buried low. No one dares to beg for Xi An, for fear of angering the handsome, smiling tiger sitting in the main seat.

Xi An is dead.

Ying Xiu is surprised when he hears the news from Wang Shouzheng. It is said that Xi An fell into the river and drowned. However, Xi An was lame and always traveled in a palanquin. Unless the four bearers all fell into the river at the same time, it would have been impossible for him to drown. The matter seems too strange. The person behind it didn’t even bother to hide it. What is even more surprising is that the news must have reached Ningzhou, but Ningzhou is silent. There is no news about Xi An. Even the Xi clan of Gaoping, who adored him, has not made a sound.

Although Xi An’s death is strange, with him gone, no one will come to bother Ying Xiu anymore, and no one will hinder the Wang clan from taking over the waterway in Jiangzhou. In other words, this is a good thing.

Inexplicably, Ying Xiu feels a bit heavy. The person he saw yesterday is dead today. Even someone as noble as Xi An’s life is as fleeting as a mayfly.

Wang Shouzheng, sensing his bad mood, tries to cheer him up. “Thirty-six sluice gates, and I now have ten. The remaining twenty-six, those powerful families refuse to let go. They even went to see the Governor of Jiangzhou.”

“The Governor has been feigning illness for a long time and has not seen them. He has been an official in Jiangzhou for thirty years, reaching the second rank. He must not be an ordinary person.”

Outside, a servant knocks carefully on the door. “Eldest son, something has happened at the sluice gate we control.”

Wang Shouzheng and Ying Xiu both look toward the door. The servant hurries into the study and explains the situation. The river channels in Jiangzhou are uneven. The sluice gates are meant to balance the water level for safe travel. However, one of the ten gates controlled by Wang Yu had a problem. After a few ships entered the chamber, instead of filling it with water to equalize the level, the gates opened prematurely. The four or five ships in the chamber were nearly capsized by the oncoming waves. They barely avoided sinking and losing all hands.

The sluice master in charge that day is missing. The people on the ships are demanding an explanation. If they were just ordinary people, it would be no problem. But the problem is, it’s the Imperial Maritime Commission. Wang Shouzheng’s face changes. The local gentry had tried to flood the dam to drown the people before, but he never thought they would be so bold as to target the Maritime Commission!

“…And eldest son, the Maritime Commissioner was also on one of those ships,” the servant says cautiously.

The Maritime Commissioner is in charge of domestic and foreign trade and is appointed by the emperor himself. Wang Shouzheng has to admit that the plan is risky, but for the remaining gentry of Jiangzhou, the odds of success are high.

“Bring my horse. I will personally go and pay my respects to the Maritime Commissioner.” Wang Shouzheng stands up and heads for the door.

Ying Xiu gets up, too. “This fighting back and forth is not good for either the northern or southern gentry, and the people suffer even more. It would be better to find a way to reconcile.”

Wang Shouzheng looks back at him, his face obscured by the light. “How can we reconcile?”

“Find someone to mediate and persuade the southern gentry to share the control of the waterway with us,” Ying Xiu says.

“You don’t understand. We only have the right to talk about peace after we win,” Wang Shouzheng says. “Besides, there is no feud between the northern and southern gentry. How can there be a peace treaty?”

In the eyes of a politician, there are no feuds, only interests. The southern gentry resent the northern gentry only because they have taken their land and power.

“Also, I need you to do something for me,” Wang Shouzheng adds.

Ying Xiu listens quietly and nods. It is not a difficult task, very easy for an assassin. He might just have to come home a little late. But… he thinks Xie Zhou won’t mind.

There is no time to waste. Ying Xiu changes into his black assassin’s clothing, puts on his disguise, and then wears his silver-white mask. He then pulls his bamboo hat low.

…

At dusk, a faint crescent moon rises over the stronghold. The mansion is dark and quiet. The gentry, drunk from dinner, stumble toward their rooms. They open their doors and sit in the darkness, ready to sleep, but they suddenly feel something is wrong. Just as they are about to call for a lamp, a cold, bright light appears before their eyes. The gentry shiver.

This… this is not moonlight. It’s the gleam of a sword!