Three Steps: From Assassin to Empress - Chapter 4
Chapter 4: Dammit, the Tyrant is Here!
Back in his room in the small tavern on the Xiao Qinhuai, Ying Xiu lay awake, unable to sleep. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the pristine white deer and the white-robed retainer holding hay in front of the bamboo forest. The scenes flashed through his mind one after another. It felt like a spark was burning in his heart, leaving him restless.
Crack…
A dark shadow flew in from outside. It was a black owl, which landed on the window sill after flapping its wings. Ying Xiu pushed open the window frame, let it in, untied the small tube on its leg, and unrolled the note inside.
“Repairing the river weir in Jiangzhou, with someone overseeing the project, arriving soon. Asking if you are safe. Jianxin, in my own hand.”
Wang Shouzhen, the eldest son of the Wang clan of Langya, whose courtesy name was Jianxin. In the eyes of the Wang clan, he was the master Ying Xiu was destined to serve for a lifetime. But to Ying Xiu, Jianxin was his best friend. They had become friends as teenagers, sharing the same ideals. When Jianxin became a master, he would become the best general by his side, and together they would right the wrongs of the world.
Ying Xiu read the note over and over in the candlelight. Only after the owl hooted twice did he finally take off the lampshade and throw the note into the flame.
Tap, tap, tap…
As the note curled into ashes in the candlelight, a familiar knocking sound suddenly came from the door. It was followed by the voice of Xue Hao, a scholar also staying at the tavern. He was calling Ying Xiu’s name carefully. “Hey, we’re having a discussion on the Xiao Qinhuai. Do you want to join us?”
Ying Xiu’s current identity was that of a commoner-born scholar, living in the small tavern and studying hard. Since the Northern gentry migrated south, they and the imperial family had been ruling the world together. For decades, the imperial examination system was a mere formality; officials were selected through recommendations. The saying went, “No noble families at the top, no poor families at the bottom.”
There were countless scholars who had studied for decades but could not get an official position due to their background. They were more numerous than the fish in the Yuan River at high tide. Therefore, when Ying Xiu was ordered to come to Jiangzhou, he chose this identity.
An assassin should not have friends, so as not to involve others.
Ying Xiu was about to refuse Xue Hao when he heard Xue Hao say mysteriously, “This discussion on the Yuan River is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The Lord of Jiangzhou is dead, and Jiangzhou is about to change. It’s said that ‘one emperor, one set of ministers,’ so our chance to become officials has come.”
Seeing that Ying Xiu didn’t respond for a long time, Xue Hao mumbled, “If I hadn’t paid for your drinks before, I wouldn’t have brought you along.”
Hearing this, Ying Xiu seemed to remember. Not long ago, a scholar owed the tavern money and was thrown out by his superior, the tavern owner. He happened to pass by and heard that the scholar had no money for ink and used the cheapest wine to write. Finding it a bit novel, he had paid for him on a whim.
“If you don’t want to go, then forget it. You might offend a noble. We can’t afford to offend the servants and retainers of those prestigious families.”
Xue Hao turned to leave, but the door behind him suddenly swung open. He turned back and saw the young man, wrapped in his robe, holding a lantern by the door. “I’ll go with you.”
Jianxin was arriving in Jiangzhou soon, and perhaps he could scout out the political situation for him. If there were any corrupt officials, he could add a few names to his assassination list.
The part of the Yuan River in Jiangzhou was called the Xiao Qinhuai, an imitation of the Qinhuai River in Jiankang. Every night, the river was brightly lit, and the sounds of music filled the air. Pavilions stood along the water. Ying Xiu followed Xue Hao and a group of scholars into a building, to a small room where several sets of wide-sleeved robes and masks were laid out.
“Change your clothes,” Xue Hao whispered to Ying Xiu.
Ying Xiu didn’t move and looked at him with a questioning gaze.
Xue Hao gave a bitter smile. “Otherwise, how do you think we get in? We’re just here to perform for entertainment. It’s fine. If the Xiangli clan hadn’t been wiped out, it wouldn’t be our turn to attend this gathering where the nobles are welcoming new people.” He said in a feigned lighthearted tone, “Maybe a noble will take a liking to you, and you’ll become a protected household and soar to the heavens in one step.”
“I don’t know how to dance,” Ying Xiu said.
“Who here knows how to dance?” Xue Hao whispered. “When you get on stage, just find a noble, rush up, and show him your poems. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a recommendation. If you’re not, you’ll just be thrown out.”
“…I don’t know how to write poems or essays either,” Ying Xiu said, a little hesitantly. He was just an assassin in disguise who knew nothing but how to kill. And his intuition told him something was strange. He was about to ask Xue Hao whose idea this was, but Xue Hao interrupted him.
“You don’t?” Xue Hao looked at him suspiciously and shoved a robe into his arms. “Then what do you do in your room all day? Don’t tell me you sleep for twelve hours a day.”
With the wide-sleeved robe in his left hand and a beautifully patterned mask in his right, Ying Xiu began to regret it. Seriously, I’m just an assassin.
Well, since I’m already here, maybe I can kill a few people before I leave.
With this thought, Ying Xiu resignedly changed into the wide-sleeved robe and put on the mask. When he looked up, he saw Xue Hao staring at him with a look of surprise. “You know, you look pretty good.” The young man had a special temperament, a mixture of elegance and murderous intent. With the mask on, his eyes looked a bit unpredictable and even more mysterious.
A group of scholars changed into their outfits and went up to the stage. The atmosphere was completely different from what they had imagined. There was no music or drinking. The nobles sat stiffly, as if they were afraid of something.
The arrow was on the string and had to be shot. The scholars nervously started to dance in circles. Ying Xiu blended in, observing the situation at the gathering while he moved.
On the second floor, a huge crimson curtain hung down from the platform. Soldiers stood on both sides, their murderous aura immense. The glass lanterns reflected the candlelight, casting a red glow on the crimson fabric, a color so deep it looked like it was flowing and changing. Behind the curtain, the elderly governor of Jiangzhou knelt on the floor, trembling, not daring to look up at the person sitting on the platform.
Dammit, why is the tyrant here?!
He feared there wouldn’t be enough officials in Jiangzhou to be killed.
“Who is dancing outside?” The silent Emperor Zhaosu finally spoke his first words.
Sweat dripped down the governor’s temples, but he didn’t dare to wipe it away. Hearing Emperor Zhaosu speak was like receiving a great pardon. He quickly said, “They are a group of scholars who have not yet entered officialdom.”
The music outside hadn’t stopped yet when the scholars on the stage suddenly scattered, rushing toward the gentry and officials on the mats.
Among the chaotic voices, one was particularly clear: “…Do not listen, or the great decree will fall.”
This poem talked about an incompetent ruler who didn’t listen to advice, causing the court to be overturned. When these words were uttered, the music stopped, and a deathly silence fell over the room.
Candlelight flickered, and a sense of panic spread. The scholars at the gathering looked at each other in dismay. Who didn’t know that the current emperor was tyrannical and cruel, with tens of thousands of scouts lurking among the people, intending to kill anyone who spoke ill of him? Although this was Jiangzhou, far from the capital, who would be so audacious as to openly speak ill of Emperor Zhaosu at a banquet?
The person who spoke was a masked scholar. He knelt on the ground, his voice in a pure southern accent: “The current emperor is tyrannical and cruel. At twelve, he took a sword to kill sorcerers, eunuchs, and officials, leaving a river of bl00d…” He said it in a powerful tone. “The lesson is not far away. It is in the era of the Xia Dynasty!”
The governor of Jiangzhou, gathering his courage, timidly looked up. His gaze met Emperor Zhaosu’s half-smiling eyes. His heart sank, and he quickly lowered his head.
The room became silent and oppressive. Xue Hao pulled on Ying Xiu’s hand. Ying Xiu, being pulled, knelt down with him, playing dead.
“Hurry up and drag him out! Take him to the Court of Imperial Justices!” A stern voice came from behind the curtain.
“Wait,” a gentle, youthful voice with a hint of a smile followed from behind the curtain, speaking slowly. “Drag him down and kill him.”
The entire room was shocked. The governor, who had the final say, had already spoken, yet someone dared to contradict him and wanted to sentence the scholar to death.
Who was that speaking?
Only the governor, who didn’t even dare to breathe, knew that the person who spoke was the Central Leader of the Imperial Guards, General Shang Weijun, who was by Emperor Zhaosu’s side.
The scholar’s body trembled. He held his head high, his eyes fixed on the thick, solemn crimson, standing perfectly still. “Do you know him?” Ying Xiu whispered to Xue Hao. Xue Hao cautiously turned his head, quickly glanced at the scholar, and whispered, “Strange, he doesn’t seem to be one of us. I’ve never seen him before.”
In the world of officialdom, sizing up the situation was the most important thing. That scholar knew that everyone present was a noble or a dignitary, yet he dared to mock the greatest of them all—the emperor. He was too foolish to deserve to live.
In his years as an assassin, Ying Xiu had seen many kinds of deaths, but this was the first time he had seen someone die just for saying a few words. It was a careless and easy death. Their life and death depended on a single sentence from the person on the high platform, as if they were just an ant being crushed by a wheel. It was even easier than being killed by a sword through the throat.
“Wait,” the masked scholar stood up, his voice not loud but every word clear. “The emperor is a benevolent and sagacious ruler. Why would he kill someone over one or two critical words? You, who use His Majesty’s name to take lives indiscriminately, are the ones truly slandering His Majesty’s reputation.”
The moment he said this, silence fell again.
…The emperor is a benevolent and sagacious ruler?
Are you listening to what you’re saying?
Xue Hao was both shocked and scared. He didn’t dare to raise his head and reached for Ying Xiu’s robe, trying to pull his straight body down. When he realized he couldn’t, he quietly moved to the side. Are you crazy?! If you don’t want to live, I do!
The governor of Jiangzhou clutched his heart, nearly forgetting to breathe.
Who invited this lunatic? Are they trying to scare me to death?
Shang Weijun cautiously looked at Emperor Zhaosu, who had been absent-minded but now had his eyes open. He was looking outside, seemingly searching for the assassin who had spoken. The emperor was rarely interested in anything. If he was interested in something, it would soon be destroyed in his hands, which was also called “eternity.” Only destruction would not lead to betrayal. He wondered how long this Ying Xiu would last.
After a long pause, the gentle, smiling male voice from the second floor spoke again: “Let him go.”
Xue Hao let out a sigh of relief and quietly moved back. Ying Xiu noticed his movement but said nothing.
The governor of Jiangzhou finally couldn’t help but wipe his sweat. Would His Majesty really spare those two scholars because of one phrase like “benevolent and sagacious ruler”? How did Emperor Zhaosu become so easy to talk to?
After the brief interlude, the group of scholars were invited to the seats. Ying Xiu was arranged at a seat in the center. The scholars, young and old, looked at him with admiration, fighting to toast him. Only the scholar who had mocked the emperor sat still like a clay figure, showing no gratitude.
Ying Xiu didn’t care. He took off his mask, toasted with the scholars, and scanned the seats. At this gathering on the Yuan River, he wondered if the retainers of the Xie clan of Jianzhang were here. The Xie clan was an ancient and powerful family and the model of the gentry. They probably wouldn’t attend such an ordinary gathering.
Until his gaze fell on the second floor, and Ying Xiu suddenly stopped. The same young servant who had guided him to find Xie Zhou that day was standing behind the railing, nodding at him. Xie Zhou was on the second floor and wanted him to come up.
A thought crossed his mind. Ying Xiu remembered the gentle and smiling voice, arrogant and cold, holding the power of life and death. How could Xie Zhou be with someone like that? Or was that person actually Xie Zhou’s master?
Xie Zhou’s master’s actions are truly cruel.