Once the crowd dispersed, Qin Zijin walked slowly toward the two women, his voice dropping an octave. “You two will come with me to see the interpreter. He is easier to talk to than Wu Wei. You only need to keep him happy…”
The two women exchanged a look and gave a forced nod. A man as boorish as Wu Wei—who spoke no Great Chen dialect and possessed a violent temperament—was impossible to negotiate with. The interpreter, however, not only spoke fluent Han Chinese but also possessed the refined air of a scholar. He was someone who could be reasoned with.
Inside the interpreter’s guest room, the candlelight flickered.
When Qin Zijin led the women inside, the interpreter was reclining on a soft divan, toyed with a silver wine cup. His eyes lit up at their entrance, his gaze wandering shamelessly over the two women.
“Lord Qin, these are…?” The interpreter’s gaze was glued to the women as he sat up.
Qin Zijin sized him up. Compared to the bear-like Wu Wei, the interpreter didn’t look like a brute raised on the grasslands; he looked more like a dissipated, noble young master of the Han people. This allowed Qin to relax slightly. Dealing with someone who understood social graces was always better than playing the lute to a cow.
“The envoys have come from a great distance. I have specifically arranged for these two ladies to help you pass the time.”
The interpreter beckoned the women over, spreading his arms to pull them both into a comfortable embrace. “Lord Qin certainly understands me!”
Qin Zijin took the opportunity to sit down, engaging in seemingly casual conversation. “I have yet to ask for your name, sir?”
The interpreter teased the women in his arms, answering nonchalantly, “Yelü.”
Qin Zijin felt a jolt in his heart. Yelü was the royal surname of the Eastern Liao nobility. He kept his face neutral, offering a word of praise. “So it is Lord Yelü. No wonder you possess such an extraordinary aura.”
Yelü gave a mocking snort, his finger tilting up a woman’s chin. His tone was flippant. “Lord this, Lord that… my father died early, and I have no kin to rely on. I’ve simply clawed my way up on my own.”
Qin Zijin feigned surprise, followed by a look of admiration. “For Lord Yelü to achieve such a status at such a young age is truly impressive.”
Yelü seemed to be in a good mood from the flattery. He downed a cup of wine and looked at Qin with a half-smile. “I heard your Chancellor Gu was assassinated recently? He didn’t die?”
Qin Zijin didn’t bat an eye, taking a small sip of tea. “The Lord Chancellor is fine. Thank you for your concern.”
“Oh? And the assassin?”
“I wouldn’t know. The Lord Chancellor’s actions are… unique. There are countless people in the court who hate him to the bone.”
Yelü suddenly became interested, letting go of the women. “Isn’t it just embezzlement and power-grabbing? Don’t all your Great Chen officials do that? What’s so special about him?”
Qin Zijin’s expression shifted slightly, but he suppressed his anger. “If it were just corruption, that would be ordinary. But the reason the Lord Chancellor has offended so many is not because of greed.”
Yelü raised an eyebrow. “Then why?”
“A few days ago, the Lord Chancellor issued the Decree for Military Participation in Governance. He broke a century of ancestral tradition, allowing military officers of the fifth rank and above to participate in government affairs, granting them the same salary and etiquette as civil officials.”
The wine cup in Yelü’s hand froze. “Now that… is rare.”
Yelü narrowed his eyes, as if pondering an interesting riddle. “Your Chancellor Gu… has he perhaps lost his mind?”
Qin Zijin asked, “Why do you say that?”
Yelü suddenly leaned forward, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Your Great Chen rules the world through scholars. To offend the civil officials, to lose the heart of the literati, and to be hated by every scholar in the land—all to gain the gratitude of a few brutes? That’s a losing bargain even a shepherd boy on the plains could calculate.”
Qin Zijin thought exactly the same thing, but he couldn’t say that to an Eastern Liao man. He simply smiled without speaking, gesturing for the women to refill the cup.
Yelü tilted his head back and drained the wine. Suddenly, he seemed to remember something. “Today at the city gate, I saw an interesting man… surnamed Pei…”
“Pei Jingyi,” Qin Zijin finished for him, a meaningful smile touching the corners of his mouth.
“Yes, him.” Yelü narrowed his eyes like a wolf catching the scent of its own kind. “The famous General Pei—what business is he in these days?”
Qin Zijin slowly refilled Yelü’s wine, speaking softly. “General Pei is currently serving in the Chancellor’s Estate. His specific duty is to hold the stirrup and lead the horse for Lord Gu.”
“Pfft!“
Before Yelü’s cold laugh could even escape, his wine cup slammed onto the table. The sharp crack of silver hitting wood shattered the room’s quiet. A terrifying, sharp light flashed in the gaze he fixed on Qin Zijin.
“What did you say?”
Qin Zijin added calmly, “You didn’t mishear, my lord. The very same Pei Jingyi who settled Mount Wu with three arrows and fought bloody battles at the border—nowadays, he holds the whip and the stirrup for the Lord Chancellor every day. And he does so quite willingly.”
Yelü seemed to laugh, yet it sounded more like he was grinding his teeth. His cold chuckle was low and raspy. “Is this how your Great Chen treats its heroes and talented generals? No wonder—”
“You misunderstand, my lord,” Qin Zijin interrupted softly. “This is by General Pei’s own choice.”
“His choice?” Yelü looked as if he’d heard the world’s greatest joke, his eyes full of ridicule. “A wolf of the grasslands only bows to the strongest alpha. A fierce warrior like Pei Jingyi… how could he willingly submit to…”
“…a dying weakling?”
Qin Zijin did not have the answer, so he said nothing.
Yelü stared at him for a moment before quickly regaining his dissipated persona. He pulled the women back into his arms and laughed. “Lord Qin, a night of spring is worth a thousand gold. Surely you don’t intend to stay here and watch me enjoy myself?”
Qin Zijin took the hint immediately, rising and bowing.
The moment the door clicked shut, the flippant smile vanished from Yelü’s face. He slowly straightened his hunched back, looking like a leopard shedding its disguise. As he let go of the women, the playful glint in his eyes died, replaced by a razor-sharp edge that was bone-chillingly cold.
“Sleep in the outer room,” he said, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable command. “You leave tomorrow.”
