"You..." Jiang Yihuan clenched his ivory chopsticks, the tips scraping against the porcelain plate with a sharp, piercing sound. He recalled the archery competition last year, when Jiang Songyi had fired three arrows, all hitting the bull's eye, and Yue Qingyang had applauded and praised her, saying, "Women are as good as men." It turned out that the murderous intent was already there.
Jiang Dinglian's fangs, gnawing on the lamb's leg bone, suddenly felt itchy, as if he were chewing on Gu Zheyuan's neck. One hundred thousand taels of silver! Enough to provide three hundred suits of chain mail for the soldiers of the Northern Frontier, and this prodigal girl actually used it to feed the eunuchs!
"They say there was poison feather frost in the food." He deliberately sucked on the bones to make a noise. "When they found it, the body was full of maggots and rotten enough that you could see..."
"Father!" Jiang Qinghe suddenly stood up, and the lotus incense burner was overturned by her wide sleeves, and the incense ash extinguished the last spark. "My daughter remembered that I have to copy ten volumes of the Ksitigarbha Sutra today, so I will take my leave first."
Madam Jiang trembled as she leaned on her agate cane. The wrinkles under her jade forehead bandage deepened. "I've been a vegetarian these days. I'll go to the Buddhist temple first..."
In a blink of an eye, Jiang Dinglian was the only one left in the hall, enjoying his meal. He glanced at Jiang Songyi, who remained expressionless. She was stirring the already cold bird's nest soup with a silver spoon. The red string wrapped around the spoon handle was the same peace knot Yue Qingyang had woven last Mid-Autumn Festival.
"Tomorrow my father will be inspecting the camp outside the capital." Jiang Dinglian suddenly threw a lamb leg bone into the gilded spittoon. "Since you have nothing to do, go to the storehouse and pick out some brocade to make new clothes." He paused and added, "Put it on my account."
Jiang Songyi's fingertips trembled, and ripples appeared in the bird's nest soup. This was the first time her father had mentioned her marriage—in her previous life, she wore that blood-stained wedding dress until her death.
The candlelight flickered in the bronze goose-fish lantern. Xu slammed her silver chopsticks down on the rim of the agate-inlaid silver bowl. "Don't talk while eating, don't talk while sleeping, but you guys are just talking about fighting and killing at the dinner table." She picked up a piece of pickled goose feet and threw it into Jiang Dinglian's bowl. "Let the hostage die. It will save us from having an idler in our house."
Jiang Songyi lowered her head as she ate her rouge-colored rice, the gold and jade pendant dangling against her ear annoyingly. She looked at the young face reflected in the bottom of the bowl. It was clearly just the age of a young girl, yet in her previous life, it had been hung on the flagpole on the city wall for a full thirty-nine days, its flesh and blood drained away by the north wind like bacon.
"Dongling is demanding a million silver coins, clearly aiming for a falling out." Jiang Dinglian mumbled, chewing on a goose paw. The Zhenyuan Marquis still had his battle robe on, his black iron wristband gleaming coldly in the candlelight. "Twenty years ago, I was able to repel them, and now I can do the same—"
"Father, be careful with your words!" Jiang Yihuan suddenly called out. As he stood up, the sword at his waist struck the back of a nanmu chair, startling the serving maid and causing her to drop her soup spoon. The young general's glare was sharp, piercing his concubine in the corner. "The one who murdered the hostage must have ulterior motives."
Jiang Songyi paused slightly with the silver spoon he was using to scoop the soup.
[Fool! Do you think Yue Qingyang is still that hostage who was bullied? In his previous life, he pretended to be a pig and ate the tiger. When he destroyed the Western Jin Dynasty, he used your head as a sacrifice. He also hung the intestines of 3,000 Black Tiger Cavalry soldiers at Yulong Pass for ten whole days!]
With a clang, Jiang Yihuan's sword fell to the ground. He stared at his willow-like sister before him, unable to identify the wax corpse on the city wall with her. Even more horrifying were the details in his inner voice—the pattern of the Black Tiger Cavalry's flag, the location of the Yulong Pass beacon tower—no way a woman in seclusion could possibly know them.
Xu frowned: "Why is Huan'er so clumsy today?"
"That's all right," Jiang Dinglian said suddenly, his fierce eyes sweeping across his daughter's frail shoulders. He remembered the last time he'd seen Song Yi in her previous life. The mummy still wore the gold and jade bracelet he'd given her on her coming-of-age ceremony. The old general's Adam's apple rolled, and he suddenly slammed his wine cup down. "Fight if you want! I'm going to the Ministry of War to demand military pay!"
Jiang Songyi stared at the greasy liquid floating in the soup. In her previous life, it was this sentence that had caused Jiang Dinglian to be mocked by the peace advocates in front of the military department as a "reckless man who ruins the country." Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed the jade bracelet on her wrist, and suddenly she heard her father's voice like thunder: "This time, Dad can protect you."
After dinner, the study was brightly lit with candles. Jiang Dinglian sat in a rosewood armchair, his horse and golden sword in hand. On his desk, beside Sun Tzu's Art of War, were several brand-new vernacular novels. His rough fingers carefully grasped the pages, and suddenly he chuckled, "This Mr. Zizhu is quite interesting."
"When did father start to read these miscellaneous books?" Jiang Yihuan frowned, looking at the cold, gleaming Mo Dao on the weapon rack. The blade, still stained with the yellow sand of the northern desert, stood out against the delicately scented books on the desk.
"Your sister bought it." Jiang Dinglian froze as he turned to a certain page. The plot in the storybook, where a general was betrayed by his closest relatives, bore a striking resemblance to the sentiment he had just heard. He changed the subject in a gruff voice, "The Dongling delegation will arrive in Beijing the day after tomorrow. Bring your men to keep an eye on them."
Jiang Yihuan was about to respond when he saw the red seal of Yuewen Book Studio on the title page of the storybook—it was clearly a first edition hardcover. Remembering Jiang Songyi's remark during dinner that "Mr. Zizhu is the prince," his pupils constricted. "Father, do you know this Mr. Zizhu?"
Suddenly, a subtle noise came from outside the window. Father and son exchanged a glance, and Jiang Dinglian instantly regained his nonchalant demeanor. "Who cares if it makes your sister laugh?" he said, deliberately rattling the pages. "Look at this paragraph about the young lady's clever strategy to capture the tiger talisman. It's much more interesting than a military book."
At that moment, on the study's roof, a secret guard leaned against the glazed tiles, holding his breath in concentration. In his arms, he held the crown prince's newly written chapter, the ink still wet. Listening to the conversation within, he suddenly felt fortunate not to be wearing the Eastern Palace token tonight.
Jiang Songyi was standing in the porch. She stared at the two silhouettes on the window paper of her study. It was here, in her previous life, that her father had given her the tiger talisman: "Yi'er, guard the house for your father." That night, the snow was heavy, and her father's armor was covered in ice. He never returned.
"Young lady, be careful not to catch a cold." A maid came over with a fox fur coat, but she waved it away. In his previous life, Yue Qingyang was a master of disguise. Even now, as a destitute hostage, he had planted three spies in the Marquis's mansion. The cook, among them, was probably brewing poisoned almond curd in the east wing.
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