PCA Chapter 227

Chang’an City, Xuanping Ward.

 

The sun hadn’t fully risen yet. Through the morning mist flashed a graceful figure in flowing silk robes that swept the ground, with gauze covering her face and an elegant form. She carried a large food box that seemed disproportionate to her delicate frame, moving both lightly and quickly before her skirts disappeared into the depths of a secluded alley.

 

After winding left and right through the complex network of residential wards for quite some time, and confirming repeatedly that no one was following, the figure nimbly leaped up, pushed off a high wall, and landed steadily in an abandoned residence.

 

This house was overgrown with weeds, with broken walls and ruins everywhere. The courtyard was completely silent—clearly abandoned for many years.

 

The figure’s landing caused no disturbance, the food box contents remaining undisturbed. After a moment, she coughed lightly twice: “Alright, come out. No one followed.”

 

The two broken doors facing her creaked open, slowly revealing one head, then two, then three. Seeing no danger, people poured out of the house—a small room had somehow accommodated twenty or thirty people.

 

From a distance, these people all appeared tall and broad-shouldered. Looking more closely, their eye and hair color differed from Han Chinese, with curved sabers at their waists—they were Turkic people.

 

“Ling’er, beautiful!” Wuchi Ha at the front examined the person before him. With a cinched waist and silk dress, from afar she truly looked like a young maiden in her prime. Who could imagine that such a seemingly fragile “girl” was secretly supporting dozens of wanted criminals and major offenders?

 

Qu Ling’er’s expression visibly darkened, but Wuchi Ha was already distracted, snatching the large food box from Qu Ling’er’s hands and eagerly lifting the lid.

 

A large bowl of steaming noodles appeared. Wuchi Ha’s face instantly fell.

 

“Again… noodles…”

 

Partly to avoid suspicion from buying large quantities of ingredients, and partly for convenience, Qu Ling’er served them plain noodles three times a day. Initially they could stomach it, but after eating continuously for two months, now just seeing anything long and stringy made them nauseous.

 

“Eat it or don’t,” Qu Ling’er rolled his eyes. However bad it was, could it be worse than prison food?

 

Everyone could only reluctantly take noodles from Qu Ling’er. After the large bowl was emptied, Wuchi Ha noticed the bottom layer of the food box had never been opened.

 

Just as he lifted a corner, Qu Ling’er pressed it back down.

 

“Meat…” Wuchi Ha pointed at the food box, immediately agitated.

 

With Wuchi Ha’s shout, all the Turkic people’s gazes turned over—like a pack of wolves starved for half a month.

 

Qu Ling’er immediately hid the food box behind him: “This isn’t for you.”

 

So the group’s gazes shifted backward to the tall figure standing by the door.

 

Qi Lin leaned against the doorframe, smiling and shaking his head: “It’s not for me either.”

 

Qu Ling’er looked up and met his gaze for a moment, then hurriedly looked away and ran toward the back courtyard with the food box.

 

The previous owner of this residence had also been from a wealthy family. Though now abandoned, traces of former glory remained. Whether wealthy merchants or nobles, once fallen from grace with splendor faded, only pavilions and towers with peeling red paint remained, exposing the rotted wood beneath.

 

As Qu Ling’er navigated expertly through the weeds, he slowly recalled Qi Lin’s smile from just now. He felt there was something else mixed in that smile, but lacking his Brother Su’s keen insight, he couldn’t see through or fathom it, only able to let his imagination run wild.

 

Ever since he had broken them out of the imperial prison, first evading the soldiers’ manhunt, then settling such a large group of people—two months had passed in hiding. During this time, the two had never spent even half an hour alone together. Moreover, with Qi Lin’s injuries, they had maintained proper emotional boundaries without even holding hands. In recent days, seeing that Qi Lin’s wounds had finally mostly healed, last night he had snuck over under cover of darkness for some intimacy, only to have his Brother Qi pull a Liu Xiahui—making him spend the night fully clothed in that silk dress, merely being held.

 

Only at dawn did he understand why Qi Lin wouldn’t touch him or undress him—because Qi Lin liked that dress, and even more, liked the person who should be wearing it.

 

He simply liked women!

 

All along he had been passive, following wherever others beckoned, never thinking to ask what exactly Qi Lin saw in him. What if it was just a momentary fancy, and in the end he would still find a woman to marry and have children with? Having figured this out, he finally hardened his heart for once. If Qi Lin didn’t like him, so be it—he wouldn’t cry and beg like some woman. At worst, after getting through this crisis, they could each go their separate ways.

 

Though he said this, his heart still felt uncomfortable. The more he thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt, truly wanting to find an empty room to vent his frustrations.

 

Only upon seeing the side courtyard ahead did he collect his thoughts, changing from his earlier restless demeanor in the front yard to standing properly before the door. After listening carefully to the sounds inside, he gently knocked: “Master, time to eat.”

 

After a while, the door opened from inside. It was Han Shu who opened it, glancing at Qu Ling’er before taking the food box from his hands.

 

“Where’s Master?” Qu Ling’er peered inside, seeing only a blackened, rotted table and nothing else.

 

Qu Ling’er lowered his head somewhat disappointedly: “Master still won’t see me.”

 

Han Shu patted his shoulder: “It’s not about you.”

 

Qu Ling’er forced a smile and tried to sound cheerful: “I made your favorite braised pork, and Master’s favorite blanched vegetables. Tell me if you need anything or want to eat something. If I can’t make it, I’ll go buy it at the East Market.”

 

“We don’t lack anything. Stop worrying unnecessarily and don’t keep running around outside. What if someone sees you?” Han Shu weighed the food box. “Have you eaten?”

 

“I…” Qu Ling’er recalled the plain noodles from this morning, which were indeed hard to swallow. He looked up and smiled: “Of course I’ve eaten. I had two big bowls of rice with the braised pork.”

 

“Good,” Han Shu nodded, stood for a while longer, then said: “Well… I’ll go in now.”

 

Qu Ling’er watched Han Shu turn around, unwilling to give up as he peered into the room once more. Still finding nothing, he reluctantly turned back.

 

Looking up, he met the gaze of a figure standing outside the corner gate—solitary, upright, and capable.

 

Qu Ling’er froze, then quickly lowered his head. Only then did Qi Lin look away and bow to Han Shu, who hadn’t yet closed the door: “I wish to request an audience with General Han.”

 

Han Shu frowned: “My father said he’s no longer a general. Stop addressing him that way.”

 

Qi Lin’s expression didn’t change: “Then I request to see Senior Han.”

 

Han Shu turned to consult with the person inside, then came back: “My father doesn’t want to see you. If you have something to say, tell me.”

 

“I’ve come to thank Senior Han for saving my life that day.”

 

“My father said he saved you for Ling’er’s sake. If you want to thank someone, thank Ling’er.”

 

Qi Lin glanced at Qu Ling’er, who stubbornly stood there picking at his fingers rather than look up at him. Sighing inwardly, Qi Lin said: “Empress Dowager Chu has died. You understand the Secret Door’s methods better than I do. The already precarious court situation has become even more chaotic. Li Sheng controls the government single-handedly, ruthlessly eliminating loyal ministers. I’d like to discuss the next steps with Senior Han.”

 

Han Shu asked a few more questions inside, then came back and opened the door wide: “My father says you can come in.”

 

Qu Ling’er looked up enviously as Qi Lin passed by him. Just as Qi Lin reached the doorway, he suddenly stopped and looked back: “Aren’t you coming?”

 

In the blink of an eye, Qu Ling’er abandoned the solemn vow of eternal separation he had made just last night and eagerly followed along.

 

Spring came late to Chang’an, but there was finally some warmth. However, this house had been abandoned for years—sunlight seemed unable to penetrate it. Upon entering, a dank, decaying smell hit them.

 

After Qu Ling’er’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, he could see the room’s condition. The furnishings remained as before, except for a grand chair placed before the bed. A human figure lay on it—emaciated and haggard. Only when they approached did the figure slightly raise his eyes and instruct Han Shu to bring them seats.

 

Han Shu brought over two stools, but Qu Ling’er went straight forward and knelt before the grand chair. His eyes immediately welled up: “Master…”

 

Han Qi familiarly patted Qu Ling’er’s head and chuckled: “You’re grown up now.”

 

Qu Ling’er sniffled and gently rested his head against Han Qi’s leg: “Master, is my cooking not good? Look at you—you’ve gotten so thin.”

 

“It’s not your fault. Master is old and can’t eat much anymore.” Han Qi watched as Qu Ling’er’s tears fell, immediately streaking two lines of powder down his face. Smiling, he patted Qu Ling’er’s shoulder: “Enough, we have a guest here. What does this look like?”

 

Qi Lin smiled gently: “It’s only natural for master and disciple to be affectionate after such a difficult reunion. Besides…” His gaze fell meaningfully on Qu Ling’er. Before he even spoke, Qu Ling’er’s face reddened. The implication was clear: he’s not an outsider.

 

Qu Ling’er bit his lip lightly. In front of his master, he couldn’t argue with Qi Lin, so he huffily lowered his head and focused on massaging his master’s rheumatic legs.

 

Han Qi leaned back in the grand chair and sighed: “Ling’er grew up in the Secret Door and hasn’t seen much of the world. Thanks to your care back then, he managed to save his life.”

 

“Senior speaks too highly. It was Young Master Su who saved Ling’er that day. Being fortunate enough to meet Ling’er was my good fortune,” Qi Lin’s gaze gently fell on Qu Ling’er’s thin back. “Speaking of care, it’s usually Ling’er who takes care of me more. This time he risked his life to save me again. I remember all these kindnesses.”

 

Qu Ling’er sneered inwardly—a good man and true gentleman wouldn’t repay you with his body.

 

Han Qi’s eyes narrowed: “I heard from Han Shu that you nearly killed Ling’er back then.”

 

“This life of mine belongs to Ling’er. If he wants to take it, I would have no objection.” Qi Lin lifted his robes and knelt down. “I’m deeply grateful that Senior was willing to save us this time. If there are any orders in the future, my brothers and I will not hesitate. My brothers are all rough men—if there’s anything inappropriate, I hope Senior will forgive us. If you feel we’ve disturbed your peace, we’ll find another place and move out tomorrow. Please don’t take your anger out on Ling’er.”

 

After a long while, Han Qi sighed softly: “I don’t blame Ling’er, nor do I regret saving you back then. I shut myself away only because I’m angry at myself. Betraying one’s former master is disloyalty; putting the people in dire straits is unrighteousness. All these years, Li Sheng has never let go of that palace coup, developing this sinister and extreme temperament. I failed Crown Prince Chongde’s trust. Having lived a mediocre life with nothing to my name, I truly have no face to see anyone.”

 

“Father…” Han Shu chided.

 

Qu Ling’er lowered his head and bit his lip: “I’ve made things difficult for Master.”

 

“Enough, enough,” Han Qi waved his hand. “Things have come to this. Let’s talk business. Ling’er, what’s the situation outside now?”

 

Qu Ling’er looked up and pressed his lips: “With Empress Dowager Chu’s death, Chang’an has completely descended into chaos. Many people are packing to migrate south. It’s said that Li Sheng has also colluded with the Turks and Tibetans beyond the borders, waiting to seize power from the young emperor before leading foreign tribes into the passes for massive plunder.”

 

“The Death Gate within the Secret Door has always been embedded in the military, intending to provoke disputes between the two countries so the Secret Door can take advantage. But these people are extremely secretive—only Li Sheng himself knows them. So I don’t know who he’s colluding with or what he plans to do,” Han Qi said. “But from my understanding of Li Sheng, he’s suspicious and controlling by nature. He won’t truly trust anyone, much less share power equally. So leading foreign tribes into the passes is probably just rumors spreading.”

 

Qi Lin nodded: “Li Sheng worked so hard to get all the power in his hands—he wouldn’t easily invite wolves into the house.”

 

“What about your master? Is he really going to ignore everything?”

 

Qi Lin shook his head: “I don’t know.”

 

Han Qi assumed Qi Lin was still hiding something, but seeing Qi Lin look at him sincerely and repeat: “I truly don’t know. Blowing up Xingqing Palace wasn’t in our plans. We received no advance notice, so no one knows where they actually went when they left.”

 

“Hasn’t he contacted you at all in all these days?”

 

“Perhaps Master deliberately doesn’t want to be found,” Qi Lin lowered his eyes slightly. “He’s been regent for so many years. Though others see him as high and mighty, I know he’s been constantly worried about state affairs—internal troubles and external threats. He supported this precarious court situation through his own strength alone. Perhaps he’s tired. Now that he can finally rest, he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

 

“He’s quite carefree,” Han Qi chuckled lightly. “But with Empress Dowager Chu’s death, his peaceful days are probably over. We still need an opportunity.”

 

Qi Lin looked up: “What opportunity?”

 

“Of course, a legitimate opportunity to return. Otherwise, coming back as a wanted criminal, he’d be executed by Li Sheng before even entering Chang’an.”

 

Qi Lin asked: “How do we find this opportunity?”

 

“Since he can stay outside so peacefully, he must have made arrangements early on. We don’t need to worry about that,” having spoken much, Han Qi closed his eyes tiredly. “What you should worry about is whether that young emperor who just lost his mother can hold on until that opportunity appears.”

 

At this point, Qi Lin actually nodded with firm resolve: “I believe in His Majesty.”

 

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