THE ATTENDANT had merely been sent to deliver a message; he hadn't expected to stumble upon such a scene. He remained rooted to the spot, staring blankly. It wasn't until Cui Buqu shouted that he came to his senses. "Prin-Prince Yixun ordered me to bring you this fruit," he stammered. "Do the two honored guests require anything?"
Feng Xiao didn't look up; he waved him off the way one might swat a fly. "No. Leave it and go." He grabbed Cui Buqu's clothes, a ferocious smile spreading across his face. "I've been denying myself the entire journey. You won't get away today!"
Cui Buqu suspected Feng Xiao was using this farce to exact his revenge. While he didn't seem to be using much strength, Cui Buqu's arms were so sore where Feng Xiao held them they seemed about to fall off.
He gritted his teeth and whispered, "He doesn't understand Chinese!"
"Oh?" said Feng Xiao. "Then hurry up and say, 'no, no' in Turkic!"
Cui Buqu was speechless. He tried to kick Feng Xiao in the groin, but Feng Xiao caught his legs easily, holding them down and spreading them as he pressed their bodies together suggestively.
Feng Xiao blinked down at him. "How's this? Realistic enough for you?"
This was going above and beyond, transforming pretense into reality. Cui Buqu held his breath, bringing a flush to his wan and sickly face. In a voice that quavered slightly, he said in Turkic, "Please…please return to your prince and tell him I will personally bring him my thanks later tonight."
Perhaps the attendant understood or perhaps he didn't. Either way, he stammered a few disoriented words of assent before taking to his heels.
The instant he was gone, Cui Buqu shoved Feng Xiao off. "That will do."
"You got it the wrong way around," said Feng Xiao.
Cui Buqu quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Compare our appearances and abilities. If I wished to force you, I have hundreds of ways to render you motionless in an instant; I'd have no trouble taking what I wanted. Such a dramatic, prolonged scene would only be possible in one instance: if you were the one molesting me, and I was the one feigning reluctance. Next time, you should be the one holding me down, and I'll be the one who shouts no."
Face devoid of expression, Cui Buqu said, "There will be no next time. The attendant will undoubtedly report what he saw to the first prince."
"You want him to mistake us for cut-sleeves. Why?"
Cui Buqu spoke each word deliberately: "Because the first prince is a cut-sleeve himself."
"Oh?" Feng Xiao's brows rose in surprise.
The khagan's yurt had been crowded, and Feng Xiao's attention had been on Fo'er and the other threats present. He'd pegged at least two besides Fo'er as first-tier martial artists. But Cui Buqu's focus had been elsewhere—he'd watched everyone's faces for the most minute reactions. Thanks to his eidetic memory, he could recall subtle movements even the person themselves might miss.
"From the moment we arrived, the first prince was completely taken by your looks. His eyes were glued to you the entire time, but the attendant behind him—the same one who just entered—kept looking between you and the first prince. I'd say he looked resentful."
The attendant was a Göktürk as well, a young and handsome one at that. By contrast, the first prince was in his thirties, with fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and hair and a beard that aged him further. His face had a look of deep unhappiness and early decline.
Not a man and a woman, but two men far apart in age. Had Cui Buqu not pointed it out, Feng Xiao would never have considered the possibility.
Still, it wasn't so strange if one gave it a moment's thought. Lechers had always existed. If some of them loved women, it stood to reason that others loved men. And there were certainly nobles and dignitaries all over the Central Plains, north and south, who didn't discriminate. The Göktürks were only human; it wasn't odd to find a cut-sleeve first prince.
"When the meeting adjourned, that attendant followed right behind the first prince. I'd noticed something between them earlier, so I was watching closely. When the attendant thought no one was looking, he secretly reached for the first prince's hand. The prince didn't shake him off either. After that, I was certain."
"Cut-sleeves aren't unusual, but in the land of the Göktürks, they value martial strength—not scholars with literary talent. The first prince is introverted and melancholic; he has no skill in governance, and his brother bests him in martial arts. If it gets out that he likes men as well, it's likely to be the end of him."
"Correct," said Cui Buqu. "In fact, perhaps this is the very reason Apa Khagan disdains his son."
Feng Xiao understood. "So you're saying the attendant will report us to the prince, and this will increase his goodwill toward us."
"It's true he's a Göktürk, and second only to the khagan in terms of position. But because of his proclivities, he's forced to hide; he can't commiserate with his equals. He's like a foreign species amid a pack of wolves; a life like this is hard on the heart. If he sees there are others like him—two of them, in fact—how do you imagine he'll feel?"
Feng Xiao smiled. "He'll be overjoyed and fancy us kindred spirits."
Cui Buqu's lips curled in a smile. "Now it'll be easier to approach the first prince. Later tonight, I'll find an opportunity to meet with him alone and tell him a few tales to win his trust. Maybe Yixun can't help us directly, but he can still provide us with many benefits. It's better to have as few enemies as possible."
Qiao Xian had earlier been sent to inquire for news. Soon enough, she returned with one of Jinlian's maids.
Jinlian's standing within the court was on shaky ground. She couldn't afford to draw any more suspicion by personally meeting with them and had therefore sent her trusted maid, an ordinary Göktürk woman with a tanned complexion named Muge.
Unfortunately, Muge's message was discouraging: the Black Moon Shaman was currently in seclusion. No one knew when he'd emerge.
The shaman was responsible for communing with the gods and entered seclusion whenever he received a divine edict. At that point, he'd meditate until he received enlightenment. Jinlian had no chance of seeing him until then.
But she had also learned of another matter: after Jinlian's guard's assassination attempt, Apa Khagan had fallen gravely ill, and the Black Moon Shaman had asked that the khagan be brought to him for treatment. The shaman had healed Apa Khagan, only to then fall ill himself. He'd announced to the public that he'd enter seclusion to recuperate. No one knew when he'd be well enough to return.
In antiquity, shamanism and medicine had been one and the same. Later, as the study of medicine flourished in the Central Plains, producing countless generations of renowned doctors, the two practices had diverged. The Hans came to view shamanistic techniques as witchcraft used to harm others. But in the Khaganate, a shaman with knowledge of medicine would double as both the tribe's religious leader and most qualified physician.
Feng Xiao sneered. "What luck we're having."
Jinlian had tumbled from power overnight, while Apa Khagan's attitude had flipped completely. Now they couldn't even visit the one person they wished to see. It seemed heaven itself was standing against the Sui dynasty, placing obstacles in their path over and over again.
"Tell her to draw me a map of the route between here and the house of the Black Moon Shaman," Feng Xiao said to Cui Buqu.
Cui Buqu hesitated. "You don't speak a word of Turkic. Even if you go, you'll have no way to communicate with him. You'll only alert our enemies of our plans."
"I just want to see if he's really recuperating in seclusion, or if he's only pretending. If he really wishes to oppose us, we should kill him and be done with it."
Feng Xiao, it seemed, had his own plans. Cui Buqu nodded and didn't interfere further. His throat had become dry, so he picked up a slice of the honey melon the first prince had sent.
A melon like honey, a hand like jade.
Everyone appreciated beauty. Even Feng Xiao, who proclaimed himself the most radiant in all the land, found his eyes lingering on Cui Buqu's hand. Before Cui Buqu could notice, Feng Xiao shifted his gaze to Muge and said carelessly, "Shall we playact in front of her too? That way, our relationship will be more convincing."
Cui Buqu glanced at him, baffled. "What do we gain from that? Jinlian isn't a cut-sleeve."
Feng Xiao smiled and fluttered his fan. "Then I'm relieved. Else I'd think Daoist Master Cui is truly yearning for me, ready to try his luck again the moment I drop my guard."
Cui Buqu blinked back at him.
Qiao Xian had no idea what they meant by this but jumped at once to the conclusion that Feng Xiao was harassing Cui Buqu again. Upon closer look, Cui Buqu's clothes and hair were mussed, and there were suspicious marks dotting his neck. She was immediately furious. "Lord Chief! Did this bastard lay his hands on you again?"
Feng Xiao laughed. "Did I lay hands on him? Your lord chief was the one who laid his hands on me!"
"The lord chief is a transcendent existence, without peer in the world," Qiao Xian said with disdain. "He might reject others, but he'd never be the one rejected… Why are you looking at me like that?"
Feng Xiao looked her up and down, then said curiously, "My good woman, you have eyes, so how are you so blind? Why do you think I was the one who harassed him? He's obviously the one with ulterior motives who tried to force me. Why else would he be in that state?"
Qiao Xian laughed coldly, ready to argue once more, when Cui Buqu interrupted them. "Someone's coming."
It was one of Apa Khagan's men, sent to invite Cui Buqu to the banquet that was about to begin.
Qiao Xian's knowledge wasn't only in medicine; she was also adept at testing for poison. Fo'er wouldn't attack Cui Buqu in the open, and with her at his side, he was safe from any other underhanded tactics. The two of them set off for the banquet, hoping to use the chance to approach the first prince.
As for Feng Xiao, he went alone to the Black Moon Shaman's residence under cover of night.
The bright moon hung in the brilliant starry sky. Distant mountains rose and fell, and the withered grass stretched endlessly toward the horizon. Up on the hillside, above shimmering water lapping at the riverbank, stood a lonely stone house. Swathed in the moonlight's gentle glow, it looked particularly desolate.
The Black Moon Shaman was revered among the Western Göktürks, and his residence overlooked the entire tribe, situated above even Apa Khagan's abode. The closer to the heavens, the better to communicate with the gods.
Feng Xiao left behind the joyous shouts and firelight of the banquet. In a few effortless bounds, he landed on the hillside near the stone house, where he stopped to observe.
The yurts of the capital clustered close to the river. This place was unlike the boundless yellow sands beyond the pass; it was lush with vegetation, a Jiangnan beyond the Great Wall and a paradise on earth. The Göktürks didn't build pavilions and towers like the people of the Central Plains. But the fragrant grasses and the trees bathed in warm sunlight, together with the mountains, the river, and the colorful yurts, provided a raw beauty all their own.
Feng Xiao was in no hurry.
He stood in place for a long while, sensing for danger. Once he was certain he was alone, he crept up to the stone house.
The Black Moon Shaman lived by himself, his dwelling set apart from the tribe. They'd heard he had two attendants, but Feng Xiao saw neither hide nor hair of them. Perhaps they'd taken advantage of the shaman's seclusion to slack off. Or perhaps they'd slipped down to the banquet, hoping to partake in the excitement. Apparently, both were still young.
Whatever the reason, they had left the Black Moon Shaman alone in that house.
Feng Xiao took his time, alert to any change in his surroundings. Martial experts of his caliber were sensitive to danger. If another elite martial artist lurked in the house, Feng Xiao would sense it. He'd much rather wait for his enemy to come out on their own.
But the stone house was tranquil. He could even hear the faint sound of snoring from within. It came in stops and starts as he listened, a sign that an elderly person in poor health lay sleeping within.
Feng Xiao gave the wooden door a gentle push. It swung inward, revealing a pitch-black interior. Moonlight spilled around Feng Xiao's figure in the doorway and illuminated all sorts of bottles and pots. A long curtain hung further in, where the moon couldn't reach. The sounds of snoring came from behind it.
A faint aroma wafted over; Feng Xiao took a sniff. He smelled medicine—lovage, musk, and ginger. It wasn't poison. If the shaman was ill, as he claimed, this made sense. Yet Feng Xiao felt that something was wrong.
The sound!
He realized: moments ago, outside the house, he'd been able to hear the sound of singing and dancing from the banquet in the distance. Now he couldn't hear a single thing.
A low laugh sounded at his side.
"You…finally came!"
The voice echoed in his ears; seemingly inches away yet drifting in from the distant horizon. Every word came from a different direction. In front, behind, to the left, to the right. It was everywhere—completely surrounding Feng Xiao.