Ji Zhao did indeed intend to go and find Han Shou, but he had not yet worked out exactly what to say... The man seemed to loathe charlatans. If he walked up putting on airs and dropped a few hints like 'your big brother is going to off you,' would Han Shou fire back that he was playing at ghosts and gods and then give him a beating?
Still, from the look of Han Shou, he probably already had some inkling in his heart... Either way, he had to find a time to make contact with the man.
Ji Zhao left Ji Tan's room carrying the chair, his thoughts astir. Then he went to the storeroom, took a dagger and hid it inside his robes, went to his own room for his money pouch, and left the Ji household.
— The Ji family had no martial heritage, but by Ji Bei's generation she had somehow managed to become an outstanding graduate of the Luo River Pavilion, so the storeroom held all kinds of weapons for Ji Bei's daily training. Now that the Black Cavalry bandits were attacking the city and arms were short inside the walls, most of the weapons had been donated, leaving only a few that were truly impractical on the battlefield — daggers, for instance — and Ji Zhao had gladly helped himself. Going out against this backdrop without a blade for self-defense, he would never have felt at ease.
Outside the Ji household, he looked all around. The city had a bleak, dilapidated air; passersby were few, all hurrying along with bitter faces, and more than half the shops had closed, while the ones still open were so deserted you could have netted sparrows at their doors.
Things were bad — Ji Zhao had sensed as much even in the game. Small wonder: with the Ning pushing south, if the emperor wanted to keep up his armies, he had no choice but to bleed the people dry. Now there was fighting at the front, the soldiers here had only just been conscripted away, and then the Black Cavalry bandits came to besiege the city. There were not even many arms in the city. With no money and no men, naturally everyone was on edge. It was lucky that the attackers were not the Black Cavalry army's elite. It was two flocks of scrawny chickens pecking at each other, and with its military fortifications, Anchun would hold out for some time yet.
Ji Zhao crossed the streets, heading for where the original body's memories placed the Han house — mind you, his status was lowly in the extreme, and ordinarily he was in no position to go out, let alone to deal with the Han family. But Ji Ren had treated him as his own son, and Ji Bei was the county's Martial Warden; in this extraordinary time all of Anchun relied on her martial strength, so no one would come by with nothing better to do and kick Ji Zhao while he was down.
"That's... Han Yi?"
He had crossed one street and was nearly at the Han house when Ji Zhao suddenly saw a young man with a gloomy face come out of a tavern. By his looks, it was Han Yi.
A thought stirred in Ji Zhao's heart. He stepped slightly aside, waited until Han Yi had left the street, then went into the tavern. The main hall on the ground floor was nearly empty. He went upstairs, swept his eyes around, and saw Han Shou in a corner, pouring and drinking alone.
In all fairness, Han Shou was a good deal better-looking than his elder brother. He was born of a concubine and had inherited his mother's looks: tall and slender, broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist, with a pair of peach-blossom eyes and a teardrop mole at the corner of one eye. He truly was a strikingly handsome man.
Ji Zhao walked over. "Drinking alone?"
If this were a man's opening line to a woman, it would be too trite for words, but between two men it was not nearly so strange.
"What of it?" Han Shou glanced at Ji Zhao and seemed to recognize him. He spoke with a smile. "The third of the Ji family — are you going to drink with me?"
Ji Zhao sat down. "I've never had wine."
"Mn. With your eldest sister's temperament, I'd guess you haven't." Han Shou seemed slightly tipsy, his voice a little floaty. "But I think you need a drink... Your head still hurts, doesn't it? A bit of wine might ease the pain some."
"I've often heard that men speak sweet, clever words when they're coaxing a woman," Ji Zhao said.
"Why bring that up all of a sudden?" Han Shou smiled carelessly. "But it's true enough, because the things women want can't be given without lying."
Ji Zhao followed up close behind with the second half: "But only now do I realize that when a man is looking for a drinking companion, he'll say just about anything too."
Han Shou started slightly, then burst out laughing. "Haha... Interesting. Were you always like this, or did that walk between life and death open up your mind like the Duke of Wu'an's?"
"It's only that in that moment, I felt that many things I used to care about didn't really matter." Ji Zhao beckoned over the waiter to bring him a wine bowl. "I've just seen through a few things, that's all."
Han Shou said, chuckling, "Your birth, for instance?"
— This one had a vicious tongue too. Ji Zhao had not met many people who talked the way he did. Ji Zhao's origins had been the great pain of the original body's whole life; they were simply too lowly, the kind that barred him even from sitting the imperial examinations.
Ji Zhao said, "It would be impossible to say I don't care, but not to the point of needing to drown my sorrows."
Han Shou looked at the wine bowl in front of Ji Zhao and asked, "Then why have the waiter bring you a wine bowl?"
As he poured for himself, Ji Zhao repeated his opening line. "Drinking alone?"
Han Shou caught on and smiled faintly, clinking cups with Ji Zhao. "There are two of us now."
The crisp sound of the clink rang out, and the cloudy liquid poured down into their bellies.
Ji Zhao felt the stream of heat rolling down his throat. "Did you know there are only three kinds of people in this world who drink?"
"Which three?"
"Those who like to drink."
"Naturally."
"Those who drink to keep someone company."
"Like you."
"Those who drink to drown their sorrows."
"I see... That would be me." Han Shou smiled, whether in mockery or self-mockery it was hard to say. "It seems you know what I'm sorrowing over."
Ji Zhao said, "Who in Anchun County doesn't?"
This was the truth. By rights, Han Yi was the eldest son of the principal wife, so the family property ought certainly to go to him. But this was among the common folk, not inside the palace. Being the eldest legitimate son might be useful enough in ordinary times, but if the gap between the children was too great, passing the inheritance to a favored son by a concubine was nothing strange. In the Yan dynasty, after all, the sons of concubines had inheritance rights too — not to mention that Han Shou had both looks and bearing, and was a promising sprout for martial arts besides.
"Heh..." Han Shou smiled. "Who sent you?"
Ji Zhao said, "You could guess."
"Then I'll guess." Han Shou folded his arms across his chest. "Ji Bei doesn't care a whit about my family's petty squabbles. The county magistrate is terrified right now that the city will fall and he'll lose his head, so he certainly wouldn't send anyone to say this sort of thing. And even if the Liu family were looking for someone, they'd never come to you. Which means either that second sister of yours has gone mad over something, or you've gone mad yourself."
"Why mad?"
"With a great enemy at the gates, isn't saying this sort of thing madness?"
"It's precisely because there's a great enemy at the gates that it needs saying," Ji Zhao said. "Since ancient times, chaos has been the best time for speculation, profiteering, seizing power — and killing."
"...I see. So it's you who's gone mad." Han Shou pondered a moment, then rose to his feet. He looked at Ji Zhao and nodded slightly. "I understand what you mean. Today's drinking wasn't much fun. Once this business is over, I'll treat you to a banquet."