Chapter Five: Far-Reaching Ambitions

Yun Tianjiao assumed her daughter was merely bored during her illness, or perhaps eager to learn the ways of managing a household, so she patiently shared bits of domestic trivia.

"The price of rice has gone up again... A few days ago, one could still buy a dou for the usual sum, but now, it only buys eight sheng."

"On East Street, the cloth shop has just received a new batch of fine cotton. They're asking five hundred coins for a bolt—last year, it was barely over three hundred..."

"Your father went to the county office the other day—he heard that refugees outside the city have increased. They're all crowding the official roads, looking so pitiful..."

"Our backyard vegetable plot, those two mu, suffered from scant rainfall this year. The seedlings are wilting; the harvest will likely be halved..."

These fragmented words, like scattered pearls, were quietly threaded together by Wen Changkong.

He recalled a few days prior.

When Qiuqiu returned from fetching food in the kitchen, she whispered, "Aunt Zhang, the cook, said that the grain shop's clerk secretly told her many rice shops have started hoarding grain, fearing the harvest will be poor..."

He also remembered yesterday afternoon, when he lingered under the corridor, feigning a need for fresh air. Through the courtyard wall, he vaguely overheard some women in the alley, voices lowered in anxious gossip:

"Have you heard? Over at Xihe Village, several tenant farmers had their fields taken back by their landlords. They're raising the rent, and those who can't pay must pack up and leave..."

"Ah, in these times, farming can't support a family, and there's no work at the construction sites. How can people survive..."

Refugees increasing...

Prices unstable...

Fields abandoned...

Hearts unsettled...

These phrases pressed on his heart like cold, heavy stones.

Qingxi Town, and indeed the entire Yun Tian Prefecture, was shrouded in an invisible panic.

Bandit trouble was a visible blade, but soaring prices and displaced refugees were invisible ropes, slowly tightening around the necks of ordinary folk.

The Wen family was, for now, secure in food and clothing, relying on his father's modest stipend and a few inherited acres. But—

If grain prices rose further;

If bandit dangers intensified;

If...

If anything happened to Father or his sister...

Wen Changkong dared not dwell on it.

He set aside his storybook, approached the window, and gently eased open a crack.

Beyond the courtyard wall lay the narrow alley of Hexi Village.

A few sallow, thin-faced women hurried by, baskets containing only withered wild greens.

Further off, ragged figures seemed to huddle in the shadows, indistinct.

A vague notion, like a stone dropped into a deep pool, spread ripples through his heart.

Restoring the family name and achieving scholarly honor were obsessions for his father and sister.

Yet now, Qingxi Town was tossed in storm and uncertainty.

If the rear faltered, if people’s hearts scattered, how long could his father and sister continue their bandit suppression at the front?

If even food was scarce, what honor could be pursued?

He needed to do something.

Not for glory, but simply for—

Survival.

To let the Wen family endure, to let Qingxi Town catch its breath.

He sat again on his embroidered stool, his gaze no longer lingering on the embroidery frame, but drifting toward the gray, clouded sky outside the window.

His fingers tapped the table unconsciously, his mind racing through the fragments of stories about "military farming," "work-for-relief," and "stabilizing prices."

What had once seemed mere clever plot devices now glimmered like faint lights in the darkness, guiding his way.

"Qiuqiu."

He called softly.

The door creaked open a sliver; Qiuqiu's head peeked in. "Miss?"

Wen Changkong regarded her, his gaze calm. "Tomorrow... sneak into town. Find out two things for me."

At once, Qiuqiu tensed, glancing around before tiptoeing inside and closing the door tightly. "Miss, please speak."

"First, ask around—which grain shop in town has the best reputation, and which owner is most upright? Second..."

He paused, lowering his voice further, "See if there are any reliable, desperate refugees in town or nearby—those with families, who seem honest and just want a meal."

Qiuqiu stared, puzzled. "Miss, why do you want to know these things?"

Wen Changkong did not explain. Instead, he drew a small pouch from his sleeve, filled with a few bits of silver and a string of copper coins—everything he had managed to save over the years.

"Take this money, use it as needed." He pressed the pouch into her hand; his fingertips were icy. "Remember, quietly—let no one know I sent you. Especially... don't let Father or Mother find out."

Qiuqiu gripped the heavy pouch, gazing at the uncharacteristically solemn look in her mistress's eyes, a tightness clutching her heart. She nodded with determination. "Rest assured, Miss. Qiuqiu understands!"

Watching Qiuqiu carefully hide the pouch in her bosom and depart, Wen Changkong slowly leaned back in his chair.

Sunlight filtered through the paper window, casting shifting shadows across his face.

He lowered his gaze to his hands—hands skilled in both calligraphy and music, able to embroider intricate blossoms, still tinged with the cool touch of silk threads.

These hands, perhaps unable to wield sword or spear, could yet stitch countless landscapes.

And, within these boudoir walls, could search for a path of survival for his storm-battered family, for their precarious town.

He picked up the book, "A Thousand Schemes of the Demon Sect Maiden," and turned to the page marked with plain paper.

His fingertips brushed over the words "rumor," "public sentiment," and "leveraging circumstances," and deep within his eyes, something began to gather—a hidden current stirring in the depths.

...

That night.

Wen Changning lay upon Liu Meimei's luxurious bedding, plotting her next move.

How to quietly capture the bandit leaders in one fell swoop?

How to spirit away the gold and silver stored in the warehouse?

Suddenly, footsteps barely audible—almost blending with the night wind—approached outside.

Wen Changning's gaze sharpened, instantly focusing.

"Tap, tap, tap..."

A faint, rhythmic knocking sounded.

She lounged languidly into the soft pillows.

Her expression shifted instantly into Liu Meimei's habitual mix of tipsy allure—her voice sultry and drawn-out: "Who is it~? Disturbing my dreams at such an hour..."

Her body adopted Liu Meimei’s lazy posture, letting the sheer shawl slip from her shoulder to reveal a patch of luminous skin.

Secretly, her fists clenched, power coiled within.

The door slid open silently.

A figure slipped in like an orchid under the moon, closing the door behind.

He was a handsome young man—well-dressed, upright in bearing, his dark hair gathered loosely with a wooden hairpin, a few strands tumbling across his brow, lending him a touch of disheveled charm.

Candlelight gilded his striking profile, sword brows and star-lit eyes, a high-bridged nose and thin lips pressed together, marked by a hint of melancholy and fragile grace.

A subtle, chilly fragrance—cedar and plum—drifted from him, blending with the heavy scent of cosmetics in the room.

Wen Changning’s senses sharpened.

This scent...

Too refined to be common!

No ordinary destitute youth could afford it!

Her face betrayed nothing, her gaze seductive as she patted the side of the bed. "Well, where did this handsome fellow come from? You look unfamiliar. Lost your way? Or... missing your elder sister?"

Her tone lingered, playful and teasing.

The youth lowered his eyes, lashes casting a beguiling shadow, posture humble, his voice deep and pleasant, tinged with just the right amount of nervousness.

"I am Yun Xiao, newly arrived, stumbled into this place by chance. I hear the Fifth Master here... is generous, especially to those in distress."

"Yun Xiao... penniless, fallen here, anxious at heart, especially come... to pay respects to the Fifth Master, seeking a place to settle."

He lifted his eyes, gazing steadily at the languid figure on the bed, his deep eyes reflecting her as clearly as moonlight on a cold pond.

He played up his aloof and fragile aura to perfection, easily stirring protective instincts.

Wen Changning sneered inwardly:

Such acting, such temperament, such incense...

Trying to deceive her?

What was Black Wind Fortress? A den of dragons and tigers!

Ordinary fallen gentry would avoid it at all costs, let alone present themselves to the Fifth Master.

He must have an agenda. Outwardly, her smile grew more alluring, pulling the shawl further down to reveal more luminous skin. "Oh? Seeking shelter?"

Her gaze slid over him in assessment. "My place isn’t a charity house. Want to stay? Let's see if you’re worth keeping."

Her meaning was clear, her eyes scrutinizing.

Yun Xiao looked startled, leaning in, lowering his voice to a husky whisper, suggestive and intimate. "Yun Xiao... though unremarkable, has read a few books, knows a bit about... worldly matters. If the Fifth Master does not disdain, Yun Xiao... is willing to serve loyally, without complaint."

He reached out, his fingertips seemingly idly brushing her hair atop the brocade quilt, his motion slow and laden with implication. "Only ask... the Fifth Master to offer some protection."

Wen Changning’s internal alarms blared! Her fingers twitched, inner strength gathering.

Her face remained composed, exposing her slender neck. "Protection? I do like... capable people."

She shifted, her tone probing. "But... Yun Xiao, your bearing, your fragrance... doesn't match someone fallen from grace."

"Rather... you seem like one of those noble sons from the capital’s grand families. Did you... get into trouble so grave you ended up in these mountains?"

She tossed out a test, her gaze sharp as a blade, seeking to pierce his disguise.

Yun Xiao’s heart tightened, his face turning bitter. "Fifth Master jests. Grand families? Yun Xiao... that’s long past."

"Just a family struck by misfortune, all scattered now. The incense is merely... an old habit, a keepsake. Apologies for the jest."

Wen Changning scoffed inwardly:

Still pretending! Family misfortune?

All scattered?

Yet his composure in adversity, his innate nobility, were not so easily erased by a single fall.

She tapped the brocade quilt, murmuring, "Family misfortune? Then... do you know the current grain price at 'Ruifu Ji' in the capital? Heard it's risen sharply."

She lobbed another seemingly trivial, yet subtly significant question—Ruifu Ji was an imperial merchant, grain price fluctuations involved court intrigue, hardly something a typical fallen scholar could answer casually.

Yun Xiao’s pupils contracted imperceptibly!

What a cunning question!

His mind raced, but his face stayed mild, feigning ignorance: "This... Yun Xiao has been away for a long time, distant from the capital’s matters. Sorry to disappoint the Fifth Master." He dodged again with "I don’t know," but his doubts deepened: this "Liu Meimei" was not what she seemed.

Her sensitivity to the capital’s nobility, her keen observation...

And the occasional flash in her eye, at odds with her alluring face—sharp and calm.

She was not the lecherous, brainless Fifth Master, obsessed only with yin-yang.

Who was she? Was she here undercover as well?

For that thing?

Or...

At that moment, Wen Changning’s lips curved into a meaningful smile. "Is that so?"

She pressed no further, but her gaze swept over his waist, lingering on what seemed an ordinary jade pendant, her eyes subtly probing.

That jade...

Its carving was unusually refined.

She grew more certain of his extraordinary status and ambitious intent.

Yun Xiao sensed her focus, his internal alarm blaring! Outwardly unperturbed, he subtly shifted to hide the pendant.

At the same time, his doubts grew immense.

She noticed the pendant! She wasn’t as simple as she seemed! The depths of Black Wind Fortress were greater than he had imagined!

Their gazes met briefly in the air.

Wen Changning saw a fleeting wariness and deeper inquiry in his eyes.

Xiao Heng saw the cold, knowing amusement and sharpness in hers.

The candle flickered, blossoming into a flame.

In the dim light, they sat at the bedside in ambiguous postures—one with seductive eyes, the other with tender intensity.

The air blended chilly fragrance and heavy powder, an atmosphere seemingly intimate but in truth rife with silent probing and mutual suspicion.

Wen Changning yawned lazily, her gaze shifting with a hint of fatigue. "Enough, it's late. Your intent is clear to me."

She waved dismissively, like sending away a pet. "Go on. The fortress has its own rules. Want to stay? Find the steward tomorrow for a job. Whether you’re a horse or a mule, we’ll see."

Her tone carried impatience and a subtle warning.

Yun Xiao’s mind churned with suspicion, but he obeyed, rising and gazing deeply at Wen Changning, sighing softly. "Yes... Yun Xiao takes his leave. Many thanks for your guidance, Fifth Master."

He bowed with elegance, turned and departed, his shadow stretched long in the candlelight.

The door closed softly.

Wen Changning’s languid, seductive expression vanished, her gaze sharp as a blade on the closed door.

This man... was no ordinary fish in a pond. Who was he? What did he seek?

Meanwhile.

Yun Xiao’s figure slipped from Liu Meimei’s perfumed courtyard, as silent as a specter melting into the night.

He ducked into a secluded corner near Liu Meimei’s residence.

Overgrown weeds and massive stones cast dense shadows, blocking distant lights and voices.

His face was icy calm, deep eyes glinting with sharp, complex light in the moon’s glow.

"Your Highness."

A low, raspy voice, nearly merging with the night wind, came from behind a stone.

The youth’s name was Xiao Heng, Prince Gong of Dayong.

A few days ago, learning that the "Hidden Dragon Map" was in Black Wind Fortress, he took the alias Yun Xiao to search for it.

Without pausing, he walked into the shadows.

A figure wrapped in black night attire, only sharp eyes visible, emerged from the darkness, kneeling respectfully.

Xiao Heng nodded slightly, his face expressionless, voice low and cold, commanding. "Shadow."

"Your Highness," Shadow’s voice carried a barely perceptible weight. "Just now, I sensed your aura was unsettled. Did that witch mean you harm?"

He raised his head, his eyes flashing coldly, murderous intent clear. "Shall I silence her forever?"

His hand silently rested on the short blade at his waist.

Xiao Heng raised a hand, halting him.

He turned, gazing toward Liu Meimei’s courtyard, his eyes deep and inscrutable.

Moonlight traced his handsome, hard profile.

"No need."

His voice betrayed no emotion. "This Liu Meimei is not what she seems."

Shadow paused. "Not what she seems? Your Highness means—?"

"She is nothing like the rumors of a lecherous, brainless fool obsessed with nourishment."

Xiao Heng’s voice was tinged with amusement and gravity. "She is meticulous, observant, unusually sensitive to the capital’s nobility and imperial merchants’ grain prices. She even noticed the disguised jade pendant at my waist."

He recalled those eyes—sharp as a hawk beneath her allure, her probing questions veiled in casual conversation.

Shadow’s eyes flashed. "She saw through your disguise? Impossible! Unless..."

"Unless she herself is not the real Liu Meimei," Xiao Heng interjected, his tone certain. "Or, someone is guiding her from behind."

He paused, his voice colder. "Either way, it proves that Black Wind Fortress is deeper than we expected. Acting rashly would only alert the enemy."