In the end, Yan Cen fled Taijing as though he were escaping.
He had no choice but to leave, for day after day, those three brothers appeared out of nowhere and watched him like tigers eyeing prey, making Yan Cen suspect the person he came to see was not his legitimate elder brother at all, but rather the sister of those three brothers, while he was nothing but a reckless youth trying to whisk away someone else’s girl.
It was not that Lu Min and the other two set traps for Yan Cen. No, they did nothing, merely watching him silently with resentful, indignant eyes.
Sometimes it even led to laughable fights for favour, so much so that on the day Yan Cen took his leave, from Head Steward Chen in the inner court to the Jinyiwei Commander Gong Jun, everyone felt regret. This was because the Third and Sixth Princes had worked especially hard during that month to learn about government affairs, showing outstanding skill, and even Lu Min managed to hold his own within the covert guard.
Yet regrets were regrets. If Yan Cen wanted to leave, they still approved.
After all, his identity was too sensitive, and it could not be made public, posing an uncertain danger.
No wall in the world was truly windproof. If Yan Cen stayed in the inner court for too long, word would inevitably reach the ears of the Grand Councilors of Wenyuan Pavilion. The power structure of Qi’s officialdom was still in turmoil, and if a huge stone were thrown into the mix, no one knew how long the turmoil would last or what influence it would bring.
Even if Yan Cen did not reveal his identity or restore the surname Lu, his mere “existence” would stir chaos.
Yan Cen was not stupid. No one needed to tell him—he could sense it himself.
Besides, living in the palace made him uncomfortable. The palace servants followed him everywhere, whether he was washing, dressing, eating, or resting. Yan Cen could not treat these eunuchs and maids like “things,” even though they never raised their heads and served him with utmost respect. What Yan Cen needed was an empty room or a group of people without differences in status.
Especially his deformed arm. Apart from Lu Ni, no one could hide the shock in their eyes when they first saw it.
Although they strove to get used to it, and although Yan Cen had saved Emperor Yongchen, they could not show scorn, but instinct was hard to control. In the palace, such a person with an irregular appearance practically could not exist.
Palace maids and eunuchs aside, neither the Third nor the Sixth Prince—except Lu Min—had imagined that anyone in the world could be born looking so unusual.
Had he not been the same-mother younger brother of the Eldest Prince, the words “monster” might have slipped out.
One could not blame the Third and Sixth Princes, for they were born and raised in the palace. The Sixth Prince, Lu Xi, at least went to the imperial tomb in Yongzhou once; the Third Prince had not left Taijing at all. Though they read books describing how someone looked ugly, someone else had a sunken forehead and bulging eyes, yet another was short in all five aspects, other than height, they had no real concept. Just how bulging? Just how ugly? Some “extraordinary appearances” were praised in poetic language, described as “majestic and strange,” which sounded more like describing mountains. Who knew what exactly was “strange” about them?
Yan Cen especially challenged their thinking even more than ordinary ugliness.
——There was nothing wrong with his face, but he had an extra arm.
The Sixth Prince nearly thought it was some nasty trick, like a street performer with three heads and six arms, breathing fire and swallowing swords. Fortunately, he was not that foolish. Though he thought it, he did not say it, avoiding a conflict and preserving his standing in his elder brother’s eyes.
They were completely outmatched, so the three brothers, upon reflection, resolved to distinguish themselves in assisting the government, proving to Emperor Yongchen which brother he absolutely could not do without. So what if there was a true younger brother? The help they could offer and the things they could accomplish were beyond Yan Cen’s capability!
Yan Cen: “……”
Of all the 36 stratagems, fleeing was best.
He had no desire to play the clown for those three, so was retreating not enough?
Naturally, Emperor Yongchen could not bear to see Yan Cen go, but after a month together, he saw many problems. The palace was ultimately not where Yan Cen wished to remain. Rather than see Yan Cen unhappy, it would be better to choose a day each year for a reunion. Hence, he carefully selected items Yan Cen might need, and Gong Jun sweetened the deal by presenting a rank-five Jinyiwei Qianhu waist plaque.
Rank-five did not count for much in the capital, but it carried weight in the other provinces.
Of course Yan Cen did not want it, but a single sentence from Meng Qi persuaded him: What if the Shimo Mountain stronghold faced trouble someday? One needed a way to delay a crisis and contact Taijing. In any case, it was an empty rank, with no subordinates and no stipend.
On the day Yan Cen departed, he also rode in Meng Qi’s carriage.
They were heading the same way to Yongzhou.
Though Emperor Yongchen did not say so, he worried about Yan Cen traveling alone, even though he knew Yan Cen had roamed the martial world for years. As the elder brother, he still wished his younger brother could be in better circumstances. If Master Meng could mentor and care for him, so much the better.
Whether Yan Cen planned to live in seclusion or return to Taijing someday, any knowledge he gained from Meng Qi would be priceless.
Emperor Yongchen felt that after a single trip outside, Lu Min had been noticeably “straightened out.”
Everyone harbored selfish motives, and Emperor Yongchen was no exception. He was already confined to Taijing’s royal city, beset by endless problems, and perhaps he would be cursed by history after a hundred years. Yet he did not want Yan Cen to suffer the same fate.
None of the brothers had good destinies, and Yan Cen’s was the bitterest. But misfortune and fortune leaned upon each other. Yan Cen had become the only one able to slip the shackles. As long as Yan Cen could live freely, Emperor Yongchen would do anything gladly.
Meng Qi stroked his chin, moved by the lavish gifts Emperor Yongchen bestowed: ancient medical texts, landscape paintings, fine jade, and excellent wine… He packed them onto the carriage and set off.
So there was one more Yan Cen. Could he possibly be a bigger eyesore than Lu Min?
Thus, on Mo Li’s first departure from Taijing, his carriage held the Second Prince, and on his second departure, it still held a Second Prince. Though it was not the same person, Mo Li felt that since Yan Cen’s body was frail, with extra vital organs that might be affected by intense joy or sorrow—especially since he had suffered from an intestinal abscess a few months earlier—it made sense to care for him a while longer, treating him like a patient being sent home.
The autumn wind rustled, and the river flowed steadily.
With Gong Jun’s efforts, everything went smoothly until they reached Yongzhou on the fifth day.
People welcomed them at the city gate, arranged their lodging at the inn, provided timely hot water and thoughtful meals, and even paid all expenses in advance.
“……This makes me think that in the future, the greatest rival of Fengxing Pavilion might be Qi’s Jinyiwei.”
Meng Qi spoke in all seriousness, leaving Mo Li half-crying, half-laughing.
Yan Cen, seated on the carriage shaft, hesitated and asked, “Uh, does that mean these people want to follow us all the way to… the Shimo Mountain stronghold?”
From the bottom of his heart, Yan Cen did not want that. Meng Qi leaned against the carriage wall and said calmly, “Don’t worry. Apart from raising cats, Gong Jun usually knew where to draw the line. After another hundred li or so, those Jinyiwei would not show up again.”
“Huh?” Yan Cen was baffled. In what way was the Commander raising cats carelessly?
Meng Qi spoke with disdain: “He had eight at home already, yet still wanted to bring back a ninth. Number Nine was that Ah Hu in your brother’s arms. Was that not outrageous?”
Yan Cen was speechless.
In truth, he had held Ah Hu before.
It felt soft and warm, with a noticeable weight.
When Ah Hu sensed the gloom on Yan Cen, it disliked it. It meowed once to flee, but Emperor Yongchen stroked its fur and placed it in Yan Cen’s hands. Ah Hu reluctantly tolerated it for a while before decisively hopping down and running away.
Yan Cen felt a bit regretful. Ah Hu was truly so warm, lazing about beside his elder brother’s hand and yawning, both languid and obedient.
“If it were Ah Hu…”
“What, you liked that tabby cat too?” Meng Qi narrowed his eyes.
“No, no.” Yan Cen instinctively denied it. That was his brother’s beloved pet, so even if he liked it, he could not reveal that, “That cat lived in luxury. How could it possibly roam far and wide with me, suffering and toiling? It was too pampered and too much trouble.”
Meng Qi remained expressionless, while Mo Li stood by, wanting to laugh.
Fat Mouse had been provoked, yet without Yan Cen realizing it, his words soothed the rodent’s anger. From start to finish, Yan Cen had no idea what had happened. The scene was truly amusing.
“If he really brought the cat onto the carriage, what would you do, Brother Meng?” Mo Li turned his head and whispered.
The technique of transmitting sound discreetly was not so effective anymore, for Yan Cen’s martial arts were now quite advanced. Getting closer was better, letting Yan Cen only hear a few muffled fragments.
Hearing this, Meng Qi raised his eyebrows—bringing the cat onto the carriage? How dare Yan Cen!
He would knock both man and cat unconscious!
Mo Li gently shook his head, not believing Meng Qi was capable of handling a cat; at best, he would chase it away.
“How could I let that cat near A-Li?” Meng Qi leaned close to Mo Li’s ear, speaking so softly that each word felt like a heavy knock on the heart. Mo Li’s earlobe sensed burning heat, as though something brushed against it, “Even if I had to brave fire and blades, I would shield A-Li in front.”
Right then, the carriage jolted. Yan Cen spoke hurriedly, clearly embarrassed, “Senior Meng, Dr. Mo, something seems amiss outside.”
He did not dare look back. He simply held the reins with one hand, while the other gripped the hidden-weapon pouch. He watched the distant woods warily.
Mo Li nudged Meng Qi.
The bump from before made Meng Qi fall against him, and Mo Li’s earlobe felt like a bead slipping into a “dragon’s mouth.” Now the entire right side of Mo Li’s body tingled, shivers travelling up his spine.
“In broad daylight.” Mo Li forced out the words through clenched teeth.
Meng Qi did not go overboard. He pointed to the carriage roof and the still tightly drawn curtains.
——They could not even see the sun, so how was it broad daylight? The sand rat felt justified.
Suddenly, both men froze, listening intently.
In the distance, there were shouts of battle, mingled with pounding hooves and the clash of blades.
Meng Qi sprang to his feet, lifted the curtain, and leapt down from the carriage.
“You stay put for now. Dr. Mo and I will go ahead to check.”
Yan Cen hesitated, about to protest, but then he met the gaze of Mo Li, who was second to emerge, and instantly yielded under the doctor’s look.
Indeed, he was still half a patient.
Over on Meng Qi’s side, he felt at ease. With Yan Cen there, he did not worry about the carriage coming to harm.
The two men employed light-foot skills. They had not gone far when they saw utter chaos.
Some looked like soldiers, some appeared to be ragged bandits, and even more were armed jianghu drifters wielding a wide variety of weapons. In the midst of all this, there was a merchant caravan surrounded by crates. The attendants and grooms had all grabbed weapons and were fighting with no intention of retreat.
Meng Qi sized up the various sides with amusement, as though some vile soldiers moonlighting as brigands, mountain bandits, and greenwood bandits had simultaneously set their sights on a batch of goods.
Standing out most in the crowd was a strikingly beautiful woman in a red skirt, wielding a goose-feather sabre.
“You scoundrels courted death yourselves.”
Facing an encirclement of more than ten men, the woman lifted her foot and kicked away the bandit’s head that was lopped off by her sabre, then slammed the hilt into the soldier sneaking up behind her, causing his nose to bleed profusely as he wailed in pain.
“If this old lady doesn’t teach you a harsh lesson today, you’d think that all who travelled this road could be easily bullied?”
No sooner had she spoken than the men in front of her cried out and staggered backward, frantically clawing at their heads and faces.
“…Poison?”
Meng Qi had just wondered when he saw Mo Li press his forehead and say, “It was nettle. Likely mixed with refined scorpion venom powder, making them itch all over.”
Meng Qi paused. He was stunned that A-Li could identify the substance from so far away. How impressive was that?
Before he could finish that thought, Mo Li raised his palm and knocked several bandits into the air, saving the caravan workers from danger.
“Mistress Xue.”
Mo Li stood firm, just one step beyond the powder that Xue Zhu had scattered.
“Why did you come to Yongzhou?”
As he spoke, Mo Li did not pause. His internal power surged into the purple blade that flashed before their eyes.
Mistress Xue stared blankly at how Mo Li used a sword like a knife.
How was it that after leaving for a while, Dr. Mo even changed weapons?
