Chapter Eighty-Eight: Each Has Their Own Purpose

Chapter Eighty-Eight: Each With Their Own Aims

In the days before the New Year, the Eastern Capital always carried a feeling of grandeur and bustle, yet left one with a solitary melancholy. Combined with the city's indifferent splendor, it never failed to stir in wanderers a longing for home.

Wang Rouhua did not go to the shop today. Nobles would never dine at their own establishments, and laborers and porters, unless business was particularly good, would not spare so many coppers for a single bowl of noodles. The Tie family's small shop, therefore, served those who had a bit of spare coin but were not exactly well-off—and that segment was the largest in the Eastern Capital.

Being dragged along the streets by his mother was the thing Tie Xinyuan disliked most in the world. Little Qiao'er was still waiting for him to go burn down the prince's manor—who had time for shopping?

A cosmetics shop was no place for a man to enter, yet Wang Rouhua pulled her son inside anyway. A woman who was in the middle of having her leg hair removed saw a male enter and was about to shriek and pull her skirt down, but once she saw Tie Xinyuan's tender young face, she sprawled back onto the brocade couch, hiked her skirt up to her waist, and continued calmly letting the shop girl work on her legs with silk thread.

Damn it all. That brazen woman had nothing but a towel wrapped around her waist, and she lay there with her legs spread without the slightest attempt at modesty. She didn't care in the least, but Tie Xinyuan's face was burning red.

The woman on the brocade couch giggled and said to Wang Rouhua, "Your little young master doesn't know the pleasures of women yet, so he won't look. Ha! Give him a few years, and he'll grow up wanting to look—but then there'll be no chance at all."

Not only did Wang Rouhua fail to come to her son's defense, she even laughed heartily along with the woman. The shopkeeper herself pinched Tie Xinyuan's cheek and praised him: "This young master is quite handsome. If he put on women's clothing here, he'd be a real little beauty. My, my, look how smooth these cheeks are."

Standing in the midst of a gang of female hooligans, Tie Xinyuan was treated like a cloth doll—every woman pinched his cheeks and fondled him—before he finally earned a moment's peace.

After selecting a few cosmetics, Wang Rouhua reluctantly took her leave of that wonderfully vivacious shop, then tried to stick a big red silk flower on top of Tie Xinyuan's head. It was a gift from the shopkeeper, who insisted that it was now all the rage in the Eastern Capital for boys to wear flowers in their hair—only a man adorned with a flower could be considered properly dashing and handsome.

His mother experimenting with rouge on his face earlier was one thing—he could wash it off before going out. But if she stuck that flower in his hair, he would never be able to face Qiao'er and the others again.

Into one shop, out of another, Tie Xinyuan gradually realized that his mother wasn't shopping at all—she was showing off her handsome son to everyone she met. To that end, he had to bare his teeth in a silly grin time and time again, proving to all that he was the imperial court's clever, well-behaved little prodigy.

The purchases piled up, all hung upon Tie Xinyuan's person. Wang Rouhua walked as gracefully as a willow swaying in the breeze, while her son stumbled behind her like a mobile human rack.

The accursed Great Song era had no such thing as a bag. Whatever you bought, the shopkeeper would wrap it in thin paper string and hand it to you. If it was something expensive, they would even artfully leave a little bit visible, the better for the buyer to flaunt it before others.

Seeing her son truly struggling under the load, Wang Rouhua bought a stick of sugarcane and hung everything from it, letting the boy carry it over his shoulder. That made things somewhat easier.

Their carriage was parked at the east end of the market street. The mother and son strolled from east to west, then back again from west to east. In the middle of it all, they watched a monkey performance, and Wang Rouhua gambled on some tables and chairs at an auction—she seemed to have lost money on the deal. In a sour mood, she went to a silver shop and bought herself two pearl hairpins to console herself.

By the time the pair found the place where their carriage had been looked after, the sun was already low in the west.

Tie Xinyuan didn't understand why his mother had to drain every last bit of his strength. But when he saw her buy four boxes of assorted pastries, he began to understand.

Today was New Year's Eve. Mother was going to the Wang household to see her own parents...

Conveniently enough, he had business of his own to attend to, so Tie Xinyuan took it quite philosophically that his mother wasn't bringing him along.

Back at home, the two of them ate a simple meal. Seeing that his mother seemed to have something on the tip of her tongue that she kept swallowing back down, Tie Xinyuan smiled and said, "I'm exhausted today. Don't even think about getting me to move another step."

The troubled look on Wang Rouhua's face vanished at once. She pulled her son close and kissed him on the forehead, saying, "Mama will make your bed right now. Fox will sleep in my room tonight. You rest up—there's plenty of excitement to see tomorrow. I hear they're holding a spirit dance at the Yu Wang Temple. Mama will take you to watch."

Tie Xinyuan truly was worn out. The moment he burrowed into his quilt, his eyelids began to droop. Wang Rouhua sat at the edge of the bed, watching him with doting affection, reluctant to leave.

Tie Xinyuan thought to himself that if his mother lingered much longer, he would very likely sleep straight through until dawn.

Fortunately, Wang Rouhua was a woman of firm resolve. Having already decided not to bring her son to the Wang household, she immediately severed that thread of hesitation. Seeing that her son had closed his eyes, she rose, shut the door properly, and left the room with Fox and a troop of round little puppies.

The moment his mother was gone, Tie Xinyuan's eyes snapped open. His gaze was cold and sharp, utterly bereft of the warmth from moments before.

He pricked up his ears and listened until the sound of the carriage being driven away faded, then slowly dressed himself, found a basin of cold water, and submerged his face in it to banish the last traces of drowsiness. Afterward, he easily slipped over the gate and headed straight for Apricot Garden.

Little Qiao'er sat astride a branch of an apricot tree, munching on pastries to pass the time. Seeing Tie Xinyuan approach in the distance, he hopped down from the branch and asked in a low voice, "Why so late?"

Tie Xinyuan didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "Is everything ready? You haven't been coming here too often these past few days, have you?"

Qiao'er grinned. "I come every day, but only when it's getting dark. Don't worry—I slip in through the irrigation ditch. Nobody's seen me. In the dead of winter there's nothing worth stealing, so the orchard keeper has gone home. Aside from the occasional woman coming by to gather fallen leaves for her heated bed, there's no one else.

I carried all eight hundred catties of lamp oil here myself, barrel by barrel, over the past while. Take a look—not a single barrel missing, and no footprints on the fallen leaves either. A few times I crept in and buried myself in the leaf piles for a long time, waiting, and never spotted anyone following. Just as you said—everything's foolproof."

As he spoke, Qiao'er handed Tie Xinyuan a pair of short stilts. Fixed to the bottom of the stilts were two large wooden feet, each fitted with an ordinary hemp sandal—a disguise.

Tie Xinyuan quickly strapped the stilts to his legs, took a few steps back and forth, and found them steady. He gave Qiao'er, who had already put his own on, a thumbs-up.

Qiao'er smiled, hoisted a wooden frame onto his back, and led the way into the depths of the apricot grove.

Two pairs of big wooden feet crunched over the dead leaves. Both Qiao'er's heart and Tie Xinyuan's were pounding so fiercely they felt ready to leap from their chests.

Not from fear—from excitement. Despite the bitter cold, sweat beaded on both their foreheads. When they reached their destination, they exchanged a look, grinned stiffly, and set about clearing away the dead branches and leaves piled over the hot spring.

From the rear garden of the Gobi Prince Manor came the occasional sharp crack of a firecracker. No telling which of Zhao Yunrang's mischievous sons was at play.

Once the debris was cleared, a row of dressed stone slabs lay exposed before them.

Qiao'er, well prepared, took the wooden frame from his back and straddled the stone slab, two iron hooks as thick as a finger hanging down from the frame.

Working together, they hooked the iron hooks onto the stone slab. After another exchange of glances, Qiao'er fetched a lever and threaded it through a thick iron ring on the wooden frame. The two of them, one on each end, turned the winch, and the hemp ropes attached to the hooks slowly wound around a short jujube-wood bar as thick as an arm. As the ropes tightened, the slab caught by the hooks began to rise slowly—and at the same moment, a burst of damp, warm steam came billowing out.

Tie Xinyuan silently cursed. He immediately wedged a wooden stick into the winch to stop it, staring helplessly at the endless steam rising up. He rubbed his palms in agitation—how could he have forgotten that hot water meeting cold air produces white vapor?

Qiao'er swiftly ran about ten zhang away, looked back, then ran to him again, laughing. "False alarm. The sky's already dark—can't see a thing."

Tie Xinyuan verified Qiao'er's judgment himself, then returned and together they resumed turning the winch. At last, the stone slab, two chi wide and four chi long, was raised at one end, revealing the hot spring flowing gently beneath it.

The spring's flow was not strong, only about two chi deep. Qiao'er tested the temperature with his hand and said, "It's not too hot. I can go down."

He was about to crouch and slip in when Tie Xinyuan grabbed him. "No. If you go in there now, you won't come out alive."

Qiao'er looked puzzled. "It's fine—the water's not hot."

Tie Xinyuan shook his head. "But there's no air inside. The steam from the hot spring is somewhat toxic. Crawl in there and you'll suffocate."

"Then what do we do? If I don't get in and destroy those gratings blocking the debris, the oil barrels won't float through to the lotus pond. And if those barrels can't blow up in the pond, they're useless. It's all right—back when I was a beggar, was there any hole I hadn't crawled through? If I'd known last year there was a hot spring tunnel here, I'd have brought my brothers and sisters to winter here long ago."

Tie Xinyuan snapped, "Listen to me. If you stay in there too long, you're dead. Our goal is to blow up the prince's manor, not to kill you. The closer we get to the moment, the more careful we have to be. Even if we have to retreat, I won't let you be sacrificed."

Qiao'er let out a rough breath and pointed irritably at the tall stone wall not far away. "The gratings are right there—three layers in all. Let's see what you plan to do about that!" (To be continued.)

PS: Thank you to all my brothers and sisters for your kindness. Jie Yu bows to you here. Our results are wonderful—so good they're almost miraculous. Here I must thank all the brothers and sisters in the group, and also the brothers of the Silver Fox forum. Without you, I would be nothing. A thousand thanks. Jie Yu pays his respects.