Mo Sang was still holding the broom, his mind wandering for a split second, when he suddenly heard the ring of a blade. He looked down to find Xiao Biehe pointing a sword at his throat.
Terrified, Mo Sang scrambled to his knees. Unsure if Biehe knew everything, he began to kowtow frantically, begging for mercy. “Master, I know I was wrong! Please forgive me just this once!”
“I will not kill you,” Biehe said indifferently. “Leave the General’s Manor on your own. From now on, we shall act as if we never met.”
Mo Sang’s heart raced. It seemed Biehe truly knew. Knowing his Master’s personality, Mo Sang realized he would never be forgiven.
Just then, Mo Sang heard footsteps approaching. As a martial artist, his senses were sharper than average, and he recognized the heavy, authoritative stride of the General of the State. Suddenly, Mo Sang grabbed the blade of Biehe’s Bugui (No Return) sword as it was being withdrawn. Blood gushed from his palms immediately, dripping onto the ground. Mo Sang pulled the blade toward his own chest.
“Master, spare your disciple this once!” Mo Sang wailed, tears streaming down his face. “I will listen to everything you say from now on!”
Biehe frowned and tried to pull the sword back, but Mo Sang gripped the sharp edge tight, refusing to let go.
The cries reached the ears of those outside, causing them to hurry. Xiao Changfeng kicked open the courtyard gate. “Xiao Biehe, what are you doing! I never knew you were so malicious!”
Biehe looked at Mo Sang coldly. “If you don’t let go, I really will kill you.”
Mo Sang looked pitiable, his tears mixing with the blood on his chest and hands. “If killing me eases your anger, then do it. I am willing to die by your hand.”
“Xiao Biehe!” Changfeng roared. “Six months ago, it was Mo Sang who brought me back to the capital after I was wounded. He has looked after me day and night. And you want to kill him? Or can your eyes no longer tolerate even your own father? Are you so eager to take over this manor?”
Xiao Jinshi, following behind, saw his brother pointing the sword at a bloodied, weeping Mo Sang. Strangely, despite his resentment for Biehe, his first instinct was to believe that Mo Sang must have done something to harm the family otherwise, his brother would never have drawn his weapon.
“Put the sword down!” Changfeng bellowed. “Do I have to beg you?”
Biehe let go of the hilt, leaving the sword in Mo Sang’s hands.
Startled, Mo Sang held the blade for a moment before using his own sleeve to wipe it clean. He crawled forward on his knees to return it. “Master.”
Biehe took the sword, sheathed it, and set it aside. He looked at his father. “What do you wish to say?”
Xiao Changfeng suppressed his rage. “You are old enough. It is time you married.”
Biehe remained silent. He knew his father opposed the marriage to Mu Yunfei not out of protection, but because he believed Biehe was “unworthy” of a future Emperor.
“Regardless of the Prince’s feelings,” Changfeng continued, “the position of Crown Princess is not something you should covet. The Prince will be Emperor. Do you expect to be the Empress of Great Liang?”
“What does Father suggest?” Biehe asked.
Changfeng sighed in relief, surprised Biehe hadn’t resisted. He looked at his son’s face a face so beautiful it seemed like a curse. He wondered if disfiguring that face would finally stop Biehe from “causing trouble.”
“We cannot defy the imperial decree,” Changfeng said. “But if you do something to wrong the Prince before the wedding, he might cancel it in his anger. Find someone of low status even a servant will do. If it’s a woman, even better; you can have a child first, and then the Prince…”
“Father.” For the first time in his life, Biehe interrupted him. He looked into Changfeng’s eyes. “Am I truly your biological son?”
“Presumptuous!” Changfeng’s hand shook with rage.
“Regardless,” Changfeng continued, “you cannot marry the Prince! You don’t deserve him! If you won’t choose someone, I will choose for you and send them to your room. We will tell the world you lacked virtue, and the Emperor will cancel the marriage!”
Suddenly, Mo Sang crawled toward the General. “General, I am willing! I have loved my Master since the day he saved me. Please, grant me this!”
Changfeng looked at Mo Sang. He had a good impression of the boy. He looked back at Biehe’s face truly a face that brought disaster.
“Fine. It is settled. Even if you cannot have children since you are both men, Mo Sang is a good boy. Do the deed tonight. When we see the Emperor, you will insist you love Mo Sang and betrayed the Prince. The Emperor is a merciful ruler; he will punish you, but he will retract the decree.”
Mo Sang kowtowed in gratitude, then looked at Biehe with eyes full of hunger.
“I refuse,” Biehe said coldly.
Changfeng’s face twisted like a butcher’s. “It is not up to you! Guards! Lock down the Young General’s courtyard. He is not to take a single step out until he has reflected on his actions!”
Inside the room, Mo Sang followed Biehe. “Master…”
“Get out,” Biehe said. “If you don’t leave, I will kill you.”
“But the General said… I truly love you, Master!”
“I refuse. I do not like you. Do not call me ‘Master’ again.”
Mo Sang’s expression shifted from sadness to a cunning smirk. “Master… the Prince didn’t touch you yesterday, did he? Who helped you with the drug in your system? Are you still pure? If you won’t have me, perhaps I should tell the General. Let everyone in Great Liang know what their ‘pure and noble’ Young General does in private.”
Mo Sang stepped closer, wanting to see Biehe provoked. He was bitter. Someone had already “tasted” the moon he had worshiped in his heart. If Biehe was already “unclean,” surely he was now a match for someone as “filthy” as Mo Sang?
Biehe remained expressionless. He simply found the manor tedious now. “What does it matter if I have been with someone? The Prince drugged me; if anyone is at fault, it is him. Why shouldn’t I find someone else?”
Mo Sang froze.
Just then, the gentle scent of flowers returned. A beautiful, dignified woman stood at the gate. It was the General’s wife, Jiang Xu’er. Though nearly forty, she looked like a bride in her twenties.
She had lived in this manor for nearly twenty years but had never set foot in this courtyard. Even with guards and her son present, she looked terrified, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
She glanced at Mo Sang, seemingly comforted by a third party’s presence. “Go,” she told him softly. “I wish to speak with him alone.”
Mo Sang left with a lingering sense of regret.
In the quiet courtyard, only Biehe, Jiang Xu’er, and her two maids remained. She looked at her son as if he were a man-eating beast, only calming down after her maids squeezed her hand for reassurance.
“Mother,” Biehe acknowledged.