THE ASSASSIN'S TARGET was Cui Buqu, and Qiao Xian, his protector, wasn't strong enough to stop him. By all rights, he should be dead—and would have been, if not for the sudden appearance of Feng Xiao.
Not only had Feng Xiao thwarted the assassination, it seemed likely his fight with Cui Buqu's assailant would continue till dawn. The man in white was a proud person; Feng Xiao's meddling enraged him. After a quarter-hour of fighting, Feng Xiao had finally given him an opening. The man in white transformed into an arc of light, soaring into the sky before turning sharply and diving head-first toward Feng Xiao, a curtain of bloodthirsty sword glares surging ahead of him.
It was near midnight, and dense clouds cloaked the moon. All was silent. Even if the common folk in the surrounding buildings had been startled by the noise, they wouldn't dare come out and watch; it'd be wiser to cover their eyes and pretend they hadn't noticed. As for watchmen or patrolling soldiers, if there were any, then they were far away. Other than Feng Xiao and the man in white, the street was empty but for the battered carriage, a coachman shivering beneath the eaves at a distance, and Cui Buqu and Qiao Xian watching from the sidelines. Qiao Xian had fired off a signal flare to hail the Zuoyue Bureau, but even if their people rushed to help, stopping the man in white would be a tall order.
In the moment before those swirling sword glares minced Feng Xiao's head to a paste in a shower of blood, the man in white felt his death would be rather a shame.
Feng Xiao was ostentatious and bombastic; he'd flaunted himself ever since taking the reins of the Jiejian Bureau, and no few people hated him for it. Killing him in public, before the eyes of a crowd, would have been far more satisfying. The Jiejian Bureau would become a bird with a broken wing; without the pillar of their deputy chief to support them, they would be forced to disband.
But even as the thought arose, the man in white realized his sword glare had met an invisible resistance. The brilliant light flickered out, and the thousand-strong curtain of swords became a single blade once more—a blade held firmly in Feng Xiao's grasp.
Had Feng Xiao used his profound internal strength to grab the blade bare-handed? The man in white was stunned. With no time to think, he yanked the sword back, but it was like the blade was mired in mud, or held in place by a thousand-ton weight. Not only was he unable to pull it free, he found himself being dragged down toward Feng Xiao.
In the distance, the Zuoyue guards approached led by none other than Deputy Chief Zhangsun. His martial arts weren't at Feng Xiao's level, but if they worked together, they stood a good chance at defeating this man in white.
The man in white saw that he had come tonight in vain. He abandoned his sword and withdrew, cutting his losses. He drifted backward with uncanny speed; in a flash, he was far away on a distant rooftop. A few more bounds and he'd melted into the darkness.
Feng Xiao dropped from the roof of a nearby building to Cui Buqu's side. He'd caught the assassin's sword with his bare hand. Blood dripped from his palm. He raised the bloodstained sword with his uninjured hand and studied it. Then he shook his head and tossed it to the ground. "No identifying markings. Who knows where it came from; it's probably just an ordinary sword."
"How's your hand?" asked Cui Buqu. Despite everything, Feng Xiao had saved his life tonight. He knew if he gave him an inch, Feng Xiao would take a mile demanding credit, but even so, it wasn't something he could ignore.
The dark clouds had dispersed, and scattered starlight shone down on them once more. Cui Buqu's lips were flushed redder than usual, slightly swollen, with a barely visible glimmer of wetness upon them.
Qiao Xian had no reason to examine his mouth; these details escaped her notice. It was Feng Xiao who felt the sight weighing on his conscience—not that he thought himself guilty in any way. Still, his gaze swept silently over the Cui Buqu's lips. His head drooped, and suddenly he paled. "Damn! The sword was poisoned!"
Cui Buqu's heart leapt into his throat. He caught Feng Xiao on instinct as he slumped forward and saw a rivulet of blood trickle from Feng Xiao's parted lips. "Qiao Xian, take a look at him, quickly!"
Qiao Xian rushed over and checked his pulse, her brows tightly knit. "His pulse is weak; he's genuinely been poisoned. I don't have any way of treating him here. Lord Chief, let's take him back to the Jiejian Bureau at once, lest any misunderstandings arise!"
Zhangsun Bodhi's arrival had been timely; Cui Buqu left him with instruction to remain behind and clean up the aftermath. He swiftly explained the situation to the city guards and asked them to investigate the man in white before rushing to the Jiejian Bureau with Feng Xiao and Qiao Xian.
The Jiejian Bureau lay within the capital, so it wasn't far—only a fifteen-minute ride. But as Feng Xiao lay in the carriage, his face paled alarmingly. The once-dazzling oleander spirit now more closely resembled a withered blossom. Despite the immense agony of the poison, he insisted on clutching Cui Buqu's wrist, unwilling to let go.
"Qiao Xian. Is his life in danger?" whispered Cui Buqu.
Qiao Xian was shamefaced. "This subordinate has only a basic understanding of medicine; I don't dare draw any hasty conclusions. I've heard the Jiejian Bureau has many skilled physicians, so perhaps they'll know what to do. But Deputy Chief Feng's reserves of internal energy are profound. He shouldn't be in immediate danger."
Feng Xiao's brow was deeply furrowed. Feebly he said, "Stop talking, both of you. My head hurts."
The pair of them snapped their mouths shut.
"It's so uncomfortable lying on my back like this…" murmured Feng Xiao. He struggled to prop himself up on an elbow, then laid his head on Cui Buqu's thigh. Cui Buqu had half a mind to yank his leg away and let him crash to the floor, but he recalled what Feng Xiao had done for him and managed to resist the urge.
"Cui Buqu…"
Cui Buqu hummed in response.
"You…hate me a lot, don't you?"
"No," said Cui Buqu.
"Then why…are you being so short with me?"
Cui Buqu rolled his eyes. "Didn't you just tell us not to talk because your head hurts?"
"My head only throbs…when Qiao Xian talks."
Qiao Xian shifted restlessly, longing to punch him.
"Buqu, can you…tell me…"
"I can't."
Feng Xiao looked up at Cui Buqu weakly, then pressed a hand to his chest and began to cough. When Cui Buqu's indifferent expression finally softened a little, Feng Xiao spoke up again. "I'll only ask three questions."
"One."
"Two," insisted Feng Xiao.
Cui Buqu's lips twitched. You still have the strength to negotiate?
"What's your relationship with Empress Dugu…" Feng Xiao asked quietly. "Why were the Prince of Jin and…"
"Why was Duchess Yuwen so distant and respectful? Why was Princess Leping so wary of me, and the Prince of Jin so familiar?" Cui Buqu finished the question for him.
Feng Xiao's lips curved slightly. "That's right."
"I don't want to answer that question. Ask something else."
"But I really want to know," said Feng Xiao. "Everything about you interests me…" His face went ashen, and he started to gasp for breath. His grip on Cui Buqu's wrist tightened, but his hand seemed to grow colder.
As he watched that radiantly handsome face gradually lose its glow, a trickle of emotion welled up in Cui Buqu. What surfaced in his heart was not pleasure that he'd rid himself of one of Zuoyue Bureau's competitors. It was pity.
But pity was all it was. After all, from head to toe, Feng Xiao had only one thing of value to offer: his face.
Cui Buqu spoke slowly. "Emperor Xuan of the previous dynasty was capricious and temperamental. He was always suspicious of the Yang family. But the Duke of Sui's daughter was empress; he struggled to decide whether or not to usurp the throne. The people around him had differing opinions on the matter, and so he wavered first one way and then another. It was I who came forward to offer advice, laying out the pros and cons of a coup to the future emperor and empress. That's how they came to their decision."
Feng Xiao was stunned. He'd entertained all sorts of absurd theories, even speculating that Cui Buqu was the emperor's illegitimate child or the empress's lover. Yet he hadn't anticipated anything like this. Back when the emperor had been merely the Duke of Sui, Cui Buqu had already been his strategist. His counsel had dealt the final blow, reshaping the Northern dynasty forever.
"Then why…" whispered Feng Xiao.
"Afterward, the emperor declared me a meritorious servant of the crown. Mine was deemed a first-class contribution, but to accept the honor would have meant too much pomp and circumstance. That's not what I wanted. Rather than the glorious chess piece on the front line, I much prefer to be the chess master in the shadows."
Understanding dawned on Feng Xiao. With this, everything became clear.
Cui Buqu had made an enormous contribution to the realm, yet he hadn't accepted the credit. This impressed the ruling couple, but it also left them in his debt. This was why they'd put him in charge of the Zuoyue Bureau at such a young age. They placed a high value on his counsel—particularly Empress Dugu, who viewed him as her chief strategist. In this case, it was natural that the Prince of Jin wanted to win Cui Buqu's favor. As for Princess Leping and her daughter, Cui Buqu was the voice that had cost them their status as empress dowager and princess of the Zhou dynasty. They respected, resented, and feared him at once, muddying the waters between them.
This bit of his history was the ace up Cui Buqu's sleeve, a secret he wouldn't lightly reveal.
But tonight, he'd told Feng Xiao.
Feng Xiao looked up at him and smiled. Then he finally passed out.
When the carriage arrived at the Jiejian Bureau, the members rushed out. They regarded Cui Buqu and Qiao Xian with hostility. Despite Qiao Xian doing her best to explain what had happened, it was difficult to convince them.
"We've escorted him to you, so we'll leave him in your care," Cui Buqu said, turning to leave. He was stopped by Pei Jingzhe.
"My lord was attending a banquet. How did he suffer such grave injury? Until he wakes up, I must ask Cui-xiansheng to remain."
"Let him…go," said Feng Xiao weakly. Supported by servants on either side, he opened his eyes a crack.
"My lord!" Pei Jingzhe couldn't believe his ears. Was this really Deputy Chief Feng, the man who'd never pass up cheap gains if an opportunity should arise? The man who, even if an opportunity didn't arise, would find some way to create one?
"Let them go." Feng Xiao closed his eyes, as if it had taken all his effort to speak.
Pei Jingzhe could do nothing but wave a hand, signaling the Jiejian Bureau members to back off. They reluctantly watched the carriage drive away.
The seriousness of Feng Xiao's injuries had thrown the entire Jiejian Bureau into a state of alarm. The physician was shaken awake in the middle of the night by the third bureau chief, Ming Yue; he grabbed his medicine chest and ran to attend, still rubbing his eyes. Seeing Feng Xiao half-dead at the gates had terrified Pei Jingzhe out of his wits. He stumbled back inside, his legs wobbling. What should they do if something happened to their lord?
But upon staggering into Feng Xiao's room, he found the deputy chief sitting cross-legged on the bed, arm held out obediently as the doctor bandaged a wound on his palm. His complexion was rosy, his eyes bright. There was no sign of the man who had seemed to be on the verge of death moments ago.
Pei Jingzhe stared at him in shock.