Volume One: The King’s Decree Chapter Seventeen: Horses Grow Fat on Night Grass

Half an hour earlier, Wang Fucai had returned to his courtyard, cheerfully carrying a basket of wine and dishes. The gatekeeper, seeing the master in high spirits, took the chance to ask for leave and slipped out to listen to a storytelling performance.

The courtyard itself was modest, yet fully equipped with artificial hills and flowing streams. On ordinary days, apart from Wang Fucai, only a gatekeeper and a cook resided within.

Wang lightly closed the gate himself, entered the house, and, humming a tune, opened the meal box. He laid out steaming dishes, filled his cup with wine, nipped at his chopsticks, and began to eat and drink.

Barely had the first mouthful of wine gone down his throat when the courtyard gate creaked open. Wang Fucai wondered if the gatekeeper had forgotten something and come back.

“Steward Wang, what refined taste you have, drinking alone by the lamp. May I join you for a cup?” came a familiar voice from the courtyard. As Wang mused, a neatly dressed young gentleman, in his early twenties and impressively handsome, drew open the door and stepped inside.

“Master Chu, what an honor! Why did you not send word ahead? I fear these humble dishes and cheap wine are not worthy of your discerning palate.” Wang Fucai knew this man from a few previous dealings.

“I came in haste—arrived at Changle City just this afternoon. The Crown Prince was most urgent.” Chu Chunqiu picked up a wine cup, swirling it under the lamp so the golden liquor shimmered. “Excellent wine, truly excellent.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, cold sweat broke out on Wang Fucai’s brow. Recently, Zhongzhou had been anything but peaceful. The last Royal Edict had surfaced, the old emperor had fallen ill in a fit of rage, and the feud between the Fourth Prince and the Crown Prince had come to a head.

The matter of the Shenzhao Flying Horse Statue in the Shen family had been arranged by Wang Fucai himself. He had chanced upon the statue in a mountain town restaurant in Nanhuang. The locals had no inkling of its value; it was merely a fine ornament, left on display for years, unnoticed.

To Wang’s knowledge, only Shen Desan, the Shen family patriarch, was aware of the statue’s significance, and their communication was always discreet.

The news of the statue’s sale had been exchanged for a few ounces of fine tea and a piece of venison jerky.

“What brings you here, sir? I doubt there’s anyone in Changle City for you to be concerned about.”

“You’re well-informed indeed. The arm of Banner Mountain stretches far—aren’t you afraid the higher-ups will hold it against you?”

After downing another cup, Wang’s throat burned with anxiety. He tried to stand and open the door but was blocked by a guard outside.

“Look how frightened you are. The target tonight is the Shen family, not you.”

Chu Chunqiu had brought the Crown Prince’s Blue Plume Guard, entering the city in batches as dusk fell. In Wang Fucai’s courtyard alone, there were no fewer than twenty.

The Blue Plume Guard were the Crown Prince’s handpicked elite, loyal only to him. Since the old emperor’s illness, their presence had become common throughout Zhongzhou.

Blocked by the guard and seeing the blue sash at the man’s waist, Wang Fucai knew trouble had come. He attempted a nervous smile. “I have never done anything to wrong the Crown Prince. Please, sir, judge justly!”

The man was the military advisor at the Crown Prince’s side—his presence meant that events in Chang'an were far from ordinary.

“In July, you entered the Shen residence. Then, on the third of August, the Shenzhao Flying Horse Statue was purchased by the Fourth Prince. Yet Prince Qin possesses a matching statue—a pair with the one just sold!”

As the voice rose, Wang Fucai’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees, babbling, “I was wrong, I was wrong! I didn’t know about the connection between the Shen family and the Fourth Prince, I swear I didn’t!”

Never had Wang Fucai been so terrified; tears and snot streamed down his face, his legs shook so violently he wet his trousers.

Chu Chunqiu rose and walked past him. On either side, guards raised their blades, advancing menacingly toward Wang Fucai.

Meanwhile, fires broke out in multiple locations across Changle City. From the watchtower in the city lord’s mansion, Song Shuzai gazed out, grinding his teeth in frustration.

At midday, he had received a message by carrier pigeon: upheaval in the capital, the Crown Prince making his move, purging all associated with the Fourth Prince.

By afternoon, an envoy arrived, bearing the Crown Prince’s command: “Prefect Song Shuzai of Changle City is forbidden from interfering in city affairs for twelve hours. All matters are to be handled by the Blue Plume Guard!”

Song was a scholar at heart, having come to Changle City for peace and quiet. Yet, despite all his efforts to avoid political strife, he could not escape it.

From south to north, over a dozen fires burned; every hidden supporter of the Fourth Prince was slaughtered, while Song’s city guards dared not venture a step from the Arsenal Tower.

“Alas, fifty thousand ironclad troops—yet not one dares move. In the end, all my learning is for naught, tarnished by a stain of infamy!”

Seeing no point in watching further, Song Shuzai drifted from the watchtower like a lost soul, swaying as he made his way to his chambers. The black official hat on his head, under the waning moon, cast a long shadow behind him.

In the sprawling Shen family compound, as dusk fell, every lamp was lit. Shen Desan sat at the center of the main hall, his right leg bouncing impatiently.

He gripped a crumpled letter in his hand; the Fourth Prince’s men would arrive at midnight to take the Shenzhao Flying Horse Statue.

“Steward, where are Xue and Zhong?”

“Master, the young lady is in the rear courtyard. The young master was taken out for a meal this afternoon by some guests and has not yet returned.”

Shen Desan’s face was ashen. Having fathered a son late in life, he placed all his hopes for the family’s future on Shen Zhong.

“Master Shen, the escort agency wants no part in this affair—it’s just me, I’m sorry.” Zhongli sat to the left, a sign of his status in the Shen household.

Lion-Tiger Escort Agency was owned by Changpeng’s elder brother, Changkun, Minister of War. Unaligned with any faction, he would not get involved. The strife between the Crown Prince and the Fourth Prince was none of his concern.

“Master Zhong, you needn’t have come. I doubt the Crown Prince would dare go too far!” Shen Desan slapped the table and stood up. Suddenly, a blue-plumed arrow shot in from outside, which he caught three inches from his face.

A deafening crash sounded from the rafters—six assassins in blue surged into the hall. All twelve of those present, including Zhongli, drew their weapons and engaged the attackers.

Looking closely, it was clear the supposed stewards of the Shen family were nothing of the sort. Ripping off their masks, they revealed themselves as highly paid martial experts.

Shen Desan was no weakling; three of them beset one blue-clad assassin, catching the intruders off guard.

The battle was swift and brutal. All the blue-clad men were slain, though three defenders were wounded. Yet none dared relax—they quickly spread out to defend the courtyard.

Across the three layers of the compound, at least a hundred black-clad assassins rampaged, killing all they encountered.

The Shenzhao Flying Horse Statue was locked in a secret chamber in the rear courtyard, where Shen Xue sat beside it, clutching a dagger. The flickering candlelight illuminated her tense features.

In the trade of antiques and calligraphy, one could not avoid blades and blood. The Shen family’s hundred-odd retainers now proved their worth.

No matter what, they had to hold out until midnight; outside, the night watchman had just called the hour of You.

The blue tiles on the roof were crushed to powder, dust scattered everywhere. Shouts and the clash of arms filled the air. Shen Desan, knife in hand, fought as he retreated toward the rear courtyard.

Imperial affairs were always a gamble of life and death. Shen Desan understood this well—but the Fourth Prince’s offer had been too generous to refuse.

Six thousand taels of gold had bought not only the Shenzhao Flying Horse Statue, but also the lives of all two hundred souls in the Shen household.