Although Li Heng, the commander of the Imperial Guards, and Liu Yongqian, the deputy general of the capital’s frontier defense army, were both military officers on the surface, their political stances were fundamentally opposed.
In the current imperial court, the factions of the Crown Prince and the First Prince stood in staunch rivalry.
Furthermore, regarding whether or not to wage war against the Western Region nation of Yulong, opinions were sharply divided into two distinct camps: one advocating for peace, and the other advocating for war.
Li Heng belonged to the peace faction, while Liu Yongqian was a proponent of war.
The mastermind behind the scenes was undoubtedly planning to make use of this issue to provoke conflict between the two military forces.
Most importantly, Shi Wenjing was the highest decision-maker of the frontier defense army. Although the branch of the frontier defense army led by Liu Yongqian was only responsible for the security of the capital, should anything happen to Liu Yongqian, it would inevitably drag the flames of war right onto the Marquis of Stability.
“Li Heng advocates for peace, while Liu Yongqian advocates for war; their stances are inherently contradictory,” Shi Yue frowned and said. “The military armory is jointly managed by both forces. If something goes wrong there, no matter who the investigation points to, it will drive the two factions into mutual hostility.”
“Done.” Displaying an uncharacteristic willingness, Pei Xuan readily agreed. “However, I have one condition.”
“What is it?”
“I haven’t thought of it yet. I’ll tell you when I do.”
Pei Xuan drawled lazily, “That means you’ll owe me two favors now. Don’t forget, Young Marquis.”
The score from their previous trip to the public office hadn’t even been settled yet… and now another one was added.
Gritting his teeth, Shi Yue muttered, “Fine, I agree.”
Only then did Pei Xuan depart from Shi Yue’s quarters with an expression of satisfaction.
Walking over to a secluded spot where no one else was around, he let out a sharp whistle, and a figure clad in black emerged from the deep, heavy shadows of the night.
“Master.”
This was one of the elite shadow guards Pei Heng had arranged to protect him—loyal solely to Pei Xuan, whom he could summon whenever a task arose.
“Have people keep a close watch on the military armory, especially anyone close to the Crown Prince and the First Prince. Report to me the moment there’s any movement.”
Pei Xuan’s face remained half-hidden in the darkness as he issued his orders to the shadow guard.
“Yes.”
With that acknowledgment, the figure vanished into thin air once more, as if they had never been there at all.
A few days prior, Pei Xuan had met with Pei Heng once again, and Pei Heng had brought back a piece of news:
The death of Pei Xuan’s mother, Pei Jingyi, might be connected to someone within the imperial family; however, investigations were still underway to determine the exact royal individual responsible.
This meant that if Pei Xuan wished to uncover the truth behind his amnesia and his mother’s murder, he too would have to wade into these murky imperial waters.
However, operating by Shi Yue’s side made his actions vastly more convenient.
The following day dawned bright and clear, an ideal day for a hunting expedition.
Shi Yue shed his usual flowing robes, changing into a form-fitting martial outfit suited for horseback riding and archery, his raven-black hair gathered up high and secured with a white jade hairpin.
Although Shi Yue didn’t actually know how to ride or shoot, the outward appearance still had to be thoroughly maintained.
Emperor Yuanjia did not make an appearance today, delegating the responsibility of overseeing the hunting events directly to the Crown Prince.
Crown Prince Zhou Jingzhi was already seated gracefully atop his horse. Reining in his mount, he swept his gaze across the gathering and announced in a ringing voice: “Today is bright and clear, the perfect time to draw our bows and gallop across the fields! Although His Imperial Father could not be present in person, he specifically instructed this Prince to ensure that all of you return home having enjoyed yourselves to the fullest.”
Raising a hand to signal the guards behind him to unfurl a map, Zhou Jingzhi pointed as he explained, “The eastern woodlands abound with winged fowl, while the western woodlands teem with beasts. Everyone is free to choose their hunting grounds, but remember to exercise caution regarding your safety. Be sure to return to the camp by sunset, as His Imperial Father has prepared a banquet. Whoever brings back the greatest quantity of game shall claim top honors and receive a reward!”
“Thanks to His Majesty! Thanks to Your Highness the Crown Prince!” everyone present shouted in unison.
Pulling out his bow and arrow with a focused expression, Zhou Jingzhi raised them high and loosed an arrow into empty air: “The hunt begins! May you all return with full bounties!”
Mounting their horses side by side, Shi Wenjing and Shi Yuan turned to Shi Yue. “A-Yue, hunting grounds are often frequented by birds and beasts and can be unsafe; do not venture too deep.”
Knowing full well he couldn’t shoot an arrow to save his life, Shi Yue nodded. “I know, Father. You and Elder Brother go ahead; I’ll just look around near the perimeter.”
Both Shi Wenjing and Shi Yuan were military commanders; it would look inappropriate for them not to participate in the hunt.
“Very well. Guard Pei, ensure you protect him well,” Shi Wenjing instructed, casting a stern look at the youth standing behind Shi Yue.
Lifting his eyelids lazily, Pei Xuan bowed with a distinctly lackadaisical posture. “Rest assured, Marquis.”
Shi Wenjing held strict adherence to military discipline and felt a surge of irritation every time he saw Pei Xuan’s unhurried, slouching demeanor.
Deciding it was better out of sight and out of mind, he turned back to Shi Yue, instantly replacing his stern expression with a warm, doting smile. “A-Yue, then Father will be off.”
Shi Yue waved a hand. “Wishing Father and Elder Brother a triumphant return with sweeping victories.”
“Hyah!”
Flicking their whips and digging in their heels, Shi Wenjing and Shi Yuan galloped away toward the depths of the forest.
Pei Xuan asked, “Do you know how to ride a horse?”
Shi Yue nodded; horseback riding was something he could manage.
With a fluid, agile motion, Pei Xuan vaulted into the saddle and looked down from his lofty vantage point. “What are you dawdling for? Get on.”
With no other choice, Shi Yue scrambled onto his own horse and asked, “Where are we going?”
“To find a comfortable spot for the fragile Second Young Marquis to lounge in,” Pei Xuan drawled leisurely from atop his mount.
The “fragile” Shi Yue shot him a glare. “I am not fragile.”
“Indeed,” Pei Xuan agreed smoothly. “You’re just prone to falling ill and terrified of pain.”
Utterly infuriating.
Yet entirely unanswerable.
Following behind Pei Xuan on horseback through twists and turns, stopping and going, Shi Yue eventually found themselves standing upon a flat slope surrounded by a ring of trees that completely insulated them from the clamor of the hunting grounds.
Having spent his entire life in the past engaging in brutal bloodshed, Pei Xuan had been itching for action now that he hadn’t fought in a while.
Sensing this, Shi Yue unslung his quiver and bow and handed them over. “Here, give it a try.”
Taking the equipment, Pei Xuan nocked an arrow with blistering speed, his arm muscles taut. The instant his fingers released the string, the arrow tore through the air like a streak of lightning, striking down a gray sparrow perched high in the treetops with pinpoint accuracy.
A flash of genuine admiration crossed Shi Yue’s eyes. He had known Pei Xuan’s physical footwork was formidable, but he hadn’t expected his archery skills to be equally peerless.
“Your archery is incredible,” Shi Yue praised.
With a faint curve of his lips, Pei Xuan handed the bow back. “It’s a skill for putting food on the table; it can’t afford to be too shabby.”
Knowing his own frail constitution, Shi Yue had never dared to dream of practicing martial arts, but right now, a sudden wave of eager experimentation welled up inside him.
Meeting his gaze, Pei Xuan raised an eyebrow. “Want to learn?”
Frankly, Shi Yue nodded. “I do. Are you willing to teach me?”
“In that case, doesn’t that mean you’ll owe me three favors now?”
Asking for the moon and never stopping, does it ever end?
Glaring at him with a cold smirk, Shi Yue hissed, “Have you forgotten your identity? You’re my personal attendant; you’re supposed to do whatever I tell you to do.”
“Fine,” Pei Xuan chuckled lazily. “Second Young Marquis, this subordinate shall obey your command. Come, let me teach you how to use a bow.”
Hearing him address himself formally with respectful terms, Shi Yue picked up the bow and arrow in satisfaction.
Though Shi Yue had never fired a bow before, the proper posture had been deeply ingrained in his memory from watching Shi Wenjing and Shi Yuan practice constantly at home since childhood, giving him a general grasp of the fundamentals.
Notch the bow, draw the string, just as he prepared to anchor his draw, his hands involuntarily began to tremble.
Walking over, Pei Xuan reached out and adjusted his arm. “Keep your hands steady. Don’t shake.”
Logically speaking, teaching someone archery should involve standing close, hand-in-hand instruction.
Yet this “teacher” Pei Xuan was remarkably uncooperative; he stood off to the side, touching Shi Yue’s arm for barely a second or two before pulling his hand back, acting as though that brief contact constituted teaching him.
When Pei Xuan pulled his hand away for the fifth consecutive time after merely tapping his arm, Shi Yue turned his head in exasperation and asked, “Do I have thorns on me?”
“No.”
“Then why won’t you stand closer? How are you supposed to teach me standing all the way over there?”
Pressing his lips together, Pei Xuan had no choice but to step forward. He moved very close to Shi Yue, though still maintaining a rigid stance: “Hook the string with the three fingers of your right hand, keep your waist and back straight, don’t hunch your shoulders.”
Shi Yue rolled his eyes internally. Why is this little madman so impossibly dawdling?
Is he really that terrified of physical contact between two grown men?
Deciding not to pamper Pei Xuan’s quirks, Shi Yue grabbed his wrist and forced his hand down over his own, pressing palm against palm.
“Archery has to be taught hand-in-hand, otherwise I won’t understand a thing,” Shi Yue declared.
Pei Xuan’s fingertips, calloused from years of gripping sword hilts, pressed against the back of Shi Yue’s fair hand, sending a faint, tickling sensation across his skin.
With a slightly unnatural curl of his fingers, Pei Xuan’s gaze darkened.
“Hurry up! Stop dragging your feet, what’s the next step?” Shi Yue urged.
With no alternative, Pei Xuan wrapped an arm around him from behind, caging him within his embrace as he rested his hand over Shi Yue’s to guide him through the adjustments inch by inch.
Pei Xuan’s low, resonant voice sounded right beside his ear: “Aim at the tree trunk ahead. Clear your mind and focus.”
Following his guidance, Shi Yue fixed his eyes intently on the tree in front of him. Guided by the pressure of Pei Xuan’s fingertips, he abruptly released his grip. With a sharp whoosh, the arrow tore through the air and struck dead center into the tree trunk.
This was the first time Shi Yue had ever successfully loosed an arrow. Beaming with triumphant joy, he curved his lips into a smile and turned his head to tell Pei Xuan, “I hit it!”
As Shi Yue turned, his stray locks brushed lightly across Pei Xuan’s chin, carrying a faint, clean scent of soap.
Gazing down at Shi Yue’s slender neck, a fragile expanse that seemed as though it could be snapped with a single hand, Pei Xuan felt the tips of his ears grow uncomfortably hot as those thoughts ran through his mind.
Noticing Shi Yue turning around, Pei Xuan hastily stepped back.
“Get the feel of it, and practice a bit more on your own,” Pei Xuan said unnaturally, avoiding eye contact.
“Your archery is so brilliant, who taught you?” Shi Yue couldn’t help asking.
Shaking his head, Pei Xuan replied, “I don’t know. Probably figured it out bit by bit on my own. Nobody taught me.”
Just as Shi Yue opened his mouth to reply, Pei Xuan suddenly grabbed his arm, crouching low as he dragged him behind a thick patch of bushes.
“Shh.”
Silencing himself, Shi Yue blinked and peered past Pei Xuan’s shoulder to see Li Heng, the commander of the Imperial Guards, walking by with a Hu person dressed as a guard, both of them glancing around warily.
“I’ve hidden that thing in the hay pile outside the tents. Make sure nobody finds it,” Li Heng instructed in a low voice.
The Hu person patted him on the shoulder. “Relax, this will go off without a hitch! Once it succeeds, those people are guaranteed to fall into civil strife!”
Only then did Li Heng look somewhat relieved, his expression relaxing slightly. “Good. It must succeed; failure is not an option, or I’ll have no way to answer to those above.”
“If we succeed, you’ll still need to put in a few good words for me with Your Excellency.”
The two men muttered back and forth as they walked away, disappearing into the distance in no time at all.
Frowning deeply, Shi Yue’s mind raced: What did they mean by “that thing”? Who was “those above” they had to answer to, the Crown Prince or the First Prince? And how had this Hu person managed to sneak into the entourage? What role did he play in all of this?
Shi Yue asked, “Has there been any movement at the military armory?”
Before Pei Xuan could reply, a sudden, rapid roll of thunderous drums echoed through the air.