Accidentally Having a Baby with the Future Emperor - Chapter 104 Part 2

The next morning, Xiao Rong went to the adjoining room to see Feng Zhong and Mu Yin, who were tied back to back.

The two had suffered through the entire night; their faces were pale and bruised, clearly sleepless.

Mo Dong spread a mat on the ground and invited Xiao Rong to sit, then poured him a cup of hot tea.

Feng Zhong’s mouth was gagged, his eyes wide with fear and vigilance, a far cry from the arrogance he had shown the night before. Mu Yin’s face was ashen, devoid of hope.

Xiao Rong lifted a hand and Mo Dong stepped forward to remove the cloths from their mouths. Xiao Rong took an unhurried sip of tea, set down the cup, and smiled slightly. “After resting a whole night, I imagine the two of you must have plenty to say to me.”

Mu Yin slowly turned his head to look at the young man in plain robes sitting gracefully before him; refined, poised, and utterly self-possessed. For a moment, he still could not believe that this was the same man famed throughout the realm, the arrogant and brilliant heir of the Xiao Royal Residence. Although the outside world whispered that the heir had been expelled from the Xiao clan, the man was still Prince Xiao’s only son, not someone they could have murdered. Chief Steward Xiao’s attitude last night only confirmed that.

A night had passed and Mu Yin felt as if he’d been roasted alive.

He had thought invoking the Prince of Wei’s name would cow their opponent, but now it seemed impossible. The path before him looked like nothing but a dead end.

Feng Zhong, however, put on a servile smile and begged, “When we were in Songzhou, it was I who failed to recognize a great man and offended the Young Prince. I beg you to show mercy. Please, do not hold this against me. Last night… last night’s events were all his doing!” He pointed at Mu Yin.

Mu Yin spat in anger. “Ungrateful wretch!”

“Hm?” Feng Zhong sneered. “What favor did you ever do me, Young Master Mu? You only used me to do your killing and burning, and to cover your mistakes. Don’t think I’m blind. You hated the Young Prince because he outshone you. You were afraid he would steal your glory, so you stopped at nothing to strike him down!”

“You cur!” Mu Yin spat again.

Xiao Rong watched the two men tear into one another. Only when they were on the verge of coming to blows did he speak, calm and deliberate. “Whether or not you acted on the Prince of Wei’s orders, the prince is not without culpability. If he wishes to clear himself, his only choice would be to sacrifice you. The Prince of Wei will not protect you. I trust you’ve already figured that out, yes?”

Feng Zhong needed no reminder. Mu Yin, long accustomed to the Prince of Wei’s temper, knew well the prince’s nature. He understood that although the Prince of Wei wore a mask of benevolence, he could be ruthless. Moreover, Mu Yin had acted in secret. If exposed, his end would be dire.

“Say what you have to say directly,” Mu Yin said in a voice like ash.

Xiao Rong smiled. “What I have to say isn’t the point. The point is you must show me you’re still of use, enough to make me consider sparing your lives.”

Feng Zhong immediately cried out, “Name it and I will do it! I’d brave fire and water for you, Young Prince!”

Xiao Rong nodded and told Mo Dong, “Bring paper and ink.”

Mo Dong obeyed and soon set paper and brush before Feng Zhong.

Feng Zhong looked puzzled at Xiao Rong. “What do you mean, Young Prince?”

“I want to see every penny you moved between the Assistant Prefect of Songzhou, Yan Hemei, and the Cui clan,” Xiao Rong said. “Write it down; every transaction, itemized.”

Feng Zhong hesitated and then began to tremble.

Mo Dong drew his sword with a clatter.

Feng Zhong quickly began nodding like a pecking chick. “I’ll write it, I’ll write it now.”

Mo Dong hauled him to the desk and loosened his bonds. The man picked up the brush with shaking hands and began to write.

Xiao Rong sat unmoved, turning to Mu Yin. “Clan Head Feng is proving his value. And you, Young Master Mu, what can you offer? Or do you choose to stand on principle?”

Mu Yin’s lips moved. “I’m not truly one of the Prince of Wei’s inner circle. I don’t know many of his core secrets. I’m afraid I can offer little of great worth to you.”

Xiao Rong pressed his temple with a hand and smiled. “Valuable things needn’t be state secrets. With your wit, Young Master Mu, you know that.”

“If I tell you, will you spare me?” Mu Yin asked.

“I dislike solving problems by killing when other means suffice,” Xiao Rong said. “If you can satisfy me, I will not only spare your life; I will ensure you return safely to the Prince of Wei.”

Mu Yin’s gaze flickered. “For whom does the valuable information the heir seek? The Crown Prince? Don’t tell me the heir truly intends to serve the Eastern Palace?”

Xiao Rong’s dark eyes still held a smile. “No matter whom I serve, no matter whether I am still the Xiao clan’s heir or not, your life depends on a single word from me, Young Master Mu.”

Mu Yin swallowed hard.

He did have his misgivings. If it were for the Prince of Jin, it would be one thing. But the Prince of Wei despised the Crown Prince most of all. Should the day come when the Prince of Wei discovered he had leaked vital information to the Eastern Palace, even if he returned safely to his side, the Prince of Wei would never spare him.

“It seems Young Master Mu truly has a backbone, loyal and steadfast to the Prince of Wei. In that case, I shall honor your devotion and send you on your way.” Xiao Rong’s tone was calm and unhurried, as if he were not speaking of killing, but of sending someone to pick chrysanthemums at the foot of the southern hills. Once he finished speaking, he rose gracefully and walked toward the door.

As the young man’s determined back receded, fear wrapped around Mu Yin like something solid. He almost blurted out, “The tournament!”

Xiao Rong halted.

Mu Yin grasped at the lifeline. “The martial arts tournament! I know its secret!” He said hurriedly.

Xiao Rong finally turned his head, sunlight spilling over his fine, composed features in a sheen of gold. “What secret?” he asked.

Mu Yin replied, “That day, I happened to pass by the Prince of Wei’s study and overheard a conversation between him and his advisor Ding Wei. Ding Wei is his trusted aide. He was reporting that the Eastern Palace planned to take part in the tournament. The Prince of Wei said something very strange. He said, ‘So what if the Eastern Palace joins? The tournament was never truly for the tournament itself.’”

Xiao Rong was silent for a while and then asked, “And?”

Mu Yin shook his head. “Just then, a servant came by with tea. I was afraid of being discovered, so I left quickly. But I’ve always felt those words were odd. Since the Eastern Palace is joining, I thought perhaps this might be of value to the heir.”

A faint smile curved Xiao Rong’s lips. “It does have some value. But Young Master Mu’s life should be worth more than one vague sentence, shouldn’t it? Let’s do this. I’ll give you a set of ink and paper. I want to know which other great scholars, besides Qi Qiuyu, the Prince of Wei has been courting to debate the classics on his behalf. You’re in charge of the provincial registers, so surely this won’t be difficult for you.”

***

The following day, Xiao Rong remained inside his room, not stepping out once.

By evening, Mo Dong brought him two sheets of freshly written paper.

Xiao Rong skimmed them casually, then glanced at the dimming sky and said suddenly, “Go buy me some bandages and wound medicine.”

Mo Dong’s face changed. “Young Prince is injured?”

Xiao Rong shook his head. “No. Just go. Don’t ask questions.”

Mo Dong looked the Young Prince up and down. Seeing that he was perfectly fine and even wearing that faint, unreadable smile, Mo Dong could only obey, although suspicion flickered in his mind. Could it be the heir thought those two next door were being dishonest and was preparing to torture them, thus asking him to fetch medicine in advance?

Vermillion Bird Avenue was lively, with no shortage of apothecaries. Thinking that torture would waste a lot of salves, Mo Dong bought extra kinds of wound medicine just in case.

When he returned, Xiao Rong was reading under the oil lamp’s glow. Seeing the rows of jars and bottles placed on the desk, he asked, “Why did you buy so many?”

Mo Dong replied, “I was afraid you might run out, Young Prince.”

Xiao Rong picked up one porcelain bottle, examined it for a moment, and then smiled. “So be it. You’re right. I’ll be needing quite a lot. Go on then,” he added. “Keep watch next door. I’ll call if I need you.”

Mo Dong nodded, closed the door, and withdrew.

“Guard Mo, Guard Mo…” a sycophantic voice called from the next room.

Mo Dong turned, hand on his sword. Sure enough, Feng Zhong was poking his head through the crack of the door, grinning obsequiously.

“What is it?”

“Has the heir read what I wrote? Has he calmed down yet?”

“No idea.” Mo Dong strode over and kicked the door shut. A yelp of pain came from inside.

The oil lamp burned softly, casting warm gold over the room.

Xiao Rong slowly finished reading the two written reports, tucked them neatly into a wooden chest in the corner, and returned to his seat. He picked up the bandages Mo Dong had brought, rolled up his sleeve, and began calmly winding them around his forearm. When he had wrapped a thick layer, his elbow accidentally brushed the oil lamp.

The lamp toppled, rolling toward him.

Xiao Rong frowned and gave a quiet ‘ah,’ unable to dodge in time, the flame nearly touching his sleeve, when a faint rush of air passed his ear and a hand caught the lamp before it fell.

“Are you all right?”

A deep voice followed.

The breath from the speaker stirred the fine strands of hair at Xiao Rong’s temple. Lifting his lashes, his dark eyes met the man who had appeared out of nowhere. “I thought Your Highness was set on being a thief, perched on the roof and never showing himself again.”

Xi Rong was cloaked in black night-gear, silent, his gaze fixed on Xiao Rong’s bandaged arm. “Let me see.” Without waiting for consent, he reached for Xiao Rong’s wrist but the young man drew back in time, hiding his hand behind him.

“The Eastern Palace isn’t my home and Your Highness isn’t my kin,” Xiao Rong said coolly. “Why the concern?”

Xi Rong’s eyes were dark and fathomless. He only murmured again, “Let me see.”

“No need.” Xiao Rong arched a brow. “I can take care of myself. I wouldn’t dare trouble Your Highness.”

Silence stretched between them.

After a long moment, Xi Rong said quietly, “I spoke too harshly yesterday.”

Xiao Rong lifted his brows again. “Your Highness is a prince. Between ruler and subject, there are only commands. How could words be too harsh? Even if you said worse, I’d still have to accept them.”

“I was wrong,” Xi Rong said at last, almost like an admission of defeat, and then insisted, “Let me see your hand.”

Xiao Rong, still hiding it behind him, hesitated and refused to show it.

Xi Rong’s eyes fell on the untouched row of medicine bottles on the table. A thought struck him and his brows knitted, his body trembling faintly with anger.

“Rongrong, you lied to me again!”

***

“Chief Steward Xiao, the Crown Prince has entered the heir’s quarters.”

Under the night sky, a shadow guard reported to Xiao En.

Xiao En frowned and then sighed helplessly. “Forget it. Keep watch. Tell me when His Highness leaves.”