Beauty, Power and Intrigue Chapter 14

The road was not particularly wide, and with Zhao Yilou lying squarely in the middle of it, the convoy had no choice but to stop about ten meters away from them.

Song Chuyi was crying with great effort. The moment she saw someone approaching, she immediately threw herself onto Zhao Yilou and, in the process, brushed all his hair away from his face. With looks like Zhao Yilou’s, if this really were a troupe of performers, they would have to be blind not to take him in.

Before long, a man in the convoy rode forward on horseback at a slow pace, looking down at Song Chuyi and Zhao Yilou from his height. In a rough voice, he said, “Hey, why are you blocking the road?”

Song Chuyi had already prepared her plea and immediately answered in a hurried tone, “My master has fainted for some unknown reason. Please, brave sir, save him!”

The man on horseback gave them a casual glance. Seeing only two frail children, he relaxed his guard. His gaze lingered on Zhao Yilou’s face for a moment before he said, “Wait here. I’ll go ask for you.”

He turned his horse around and muttered under his breath, “Tch, another person fainted on the road.”

Song Chuyi was surprised. So someone had already used this trick before? She wondered which predecessor it had been.

The man returned after a short while, leading a middle-aged woman of about thirty. The woman wore a dark brown robe and walked with proper, measured steps, clearly trained in strict etiquette.

She walked up to Song Chuyi, but before she could speak, her gaze was drawn to Zhao Yilou. She immediately crouched down, reached out to hold his chin for a careful look, then felt his limbs. Her eyes were full of delight. But only for a moment – she quickly masked her expression and asked Song Chuyi, “What is your master’s status?”

Song Chuyi weighed her words inwardly, then lowered her eyes and said in a weak voice, “My master’s family has fallen into decline. We have fled here as refugees.”

Ordinary slaves had little learning, and some, having gone without speaking for so long, even lost their ability to use language. The level that Song Chuyi could display was already that of a relatively high-grade slave.

“On this trip, we are headed to the State of Chu. Are you willing to come with me?” the woman asked.

Song Chuyi nodded frantically, looking exactly like someone drowning who had just grabbed a lifeline.

The woman nodded in satisfaction, paying no heed at all to this unremarkable little female slave before her. Song Chuyi was dressed in rags, and others might not have been able to tell her sex, but the woman, having seen countless people, had recognized at a glance that it was a girl. What was there to be wary of in a lowborn girl? Her life was in the woman’s hands, her fate hanging on a single thought.

“Put them in that carriage as well,” the woman said as she rose, her gaze involuntarily sweeping over Zhao Yilou’s face once more.

“Yes, ma’am.” The burly man hoisted Zhao Yilou onto his shoulder and strode toward the convoy.

Song Chuyi hurried after him. As she brushed past the woman, she caught her from the corner of her eye. She knew perfectly well that Zhao Yilou had not been acting convincingly – the woman had long seen through his pretense of fainting – yet she still took them in. Clearly, she placed great value on Zhao Yilou’s good looks. Did she have some particular use for him?

Song Chuyi carefully racked her memory – was there any powerful noble in Chu who favored handsome young men?

As she pondered, she had already followed the man to a carriage. He placed Zhao Yilou inside, then turned to Song Chuyi and said, “You get in too.”

Song Chuyi acknowledged with a sound and swiftly climbed into the carriage.

It was one of those large vehicles that could carry more than a dozen people. The interior was quite clean, with a straw mat spread over the floor. Beside one wall of the carriage lay a young man. He was covered with a thin quilt, his face pale, and he was rather handsome – his features were not exceptionally striking, but they were clean-cut. The kind of person one would describe as having delicate brows and clear eyes – that was probably the sort he was. Even with his eyes closed like this, one could tell he had a refined, scholarly air about him – most likely a man of letters.

“Have you looked long enough?” The man suddenly snapped his eyes open and glared straight at Song Chuyi.

Song Chuyi gave him a once-over. The man’s gaze was sharp and piercing, nothing like the gentle look he had when his eyes were closed. Ignoring him, she turned and kicked Zhao Yilou in the leg. “Alright, no need to keep up the act.”

Zhao Yilou rubbed his waist and, setting aside his annoyance with Song Chuyi for the moment, reached out to touch the straw mat beneath him, remarking with admiration, “This mat is really well woven.”

The young man lying under the quilt glanced at Zhao Yilou, furrowed his brows, and said coldly, “A man, yet you are willing to be nothing more than a plaything passed between people’s beds?”

That was a harsh accusation. Male favorites, like slaves, had no standing whatsoever. Zhao Yilou glared at him, as if wanting to retort, but after pressing his lips tight for a long while, he ultimately said nothing.

Song Chuyi pulled two quilts from the corner and handed one to Zhao Yilou.

“Utterly shameless,” the young man continued, still targeting Zhao Yilou.

This time, Zhao Yilou was truly angry – even the soft cotton quilt could no longer hold his attention. Just as he was about to lunge forward, Song Chuyi grabbed his arm but was yanked forward by his momentum, crashing heavily onto the young man, who let out a pained grunt.

Song Chuyi sensed something unusual beneath her hand. She pulled back the quilt and, seeing what lay underneath, couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.

Beneath the covers, the young man was bound hand and foot with ropes, wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon. The color of his clothes was barely visible beneath all the straw ropes.

“What difference does it make whether you’re being taken as a male favorite against your will or going willingly? If you truly had any sense of shame, you’d have bitten off your tongue and died long ago – no one’s stopping your mouth.” Song Chuyi said with a gloating smile.

The young man seemed not to have expected that a mere slave would dare to be so insolent. He stared at her for a long moment before asking, “Which of you is the master and which the servant?”

He had been with the convoy for some time, so he knew a little about it – this caravan was not carrying beautiful women or performers, but handsome young men, all of them intended as gifts for the powerful and noble.

“You two are here to mooch off free food and drink, aren’t you?” the young man said.

Song Chuyi lowered her voice and leaned close to his ear, whispering, “If you want to test us, use your brain – don’t resort to such clumsy tactics.”

The young man was taken aback. After a moment, he suddenly smiled and said, “How wonderful.”

“I am Zhang Yi. Might I ask for your name, little brother?” the young man asked Song Chuyi, clearly not realizing that she was actually a girl.

Song Chuyi studied him for a while, then plopped down onto the straw mat and said softly, “Yiyue.”

She wasn’t exactly lying – her original courtesy name was Yinyue, which meant “January.” Song Chuyi was born on the first day of the first month, so her father, who fancied himself quite talented, turned her name into a date record and preened over it for quite some time.

Zhang Yi could also tell that Song Chuyi and Zhao Yilou were merely freeloaders looking for food and drink. Since he needed someone else’s help to escape, and seeing that Song Chuyi was rather indifferent toward him, he took the initiative to recount his misfortunes in hopes of building a rapport.

To be fair, Zhang Yi had truly been unlucky. He was originally a man of Wei, born into poverty. Finding no path to officialdom in Wei, he had traveled all the way to Chu and attached himself to the household of Chancellor Zhaoyang, becoming one of several hundred retainers in the chancellor’s manor – but even there, he fared poorly.

Half a year ago, Zhaoyang led his troops to a great victory over Wei, and the King of Chu awarded him a He Shi Bi jade. One day, while sightseeing with his fellow retainers, Zhang Yi drank himself into a stupor. Zhaoyang took out the jade to show off, but after it was passed around, it was suddenly nowhere to be found.

Because Zhang Yi was poor and of low birth, everyone suspected him of stealing the He Shi Bi. Zhaoyang subjected him to torture and interrogation. Zhang Yi was beaten black and blue, managed to flee Chu, and traveled over mountains and rivers for a thousand li. He was finally nearing the border of his homeland Wei when, gravely wounded and utterly exhausted, he collapsed and lost consciousness. When he woke up, he was lying in this carriage.

“I’ve been in this convoy for half a month now, and I’ve discovered that not only does this caravan carry only male favorites – it’s actually heading back to Chu,” Zhang Yi said with a helpless look. “I tried to escape in the meantime, and as you can see, this is the result.”

Truly, when it rains it pours – there is no such thing as being unlucky enough; there is only worse. After hearing his tale, Song Chuyi burst out laughing heartlessly. But as she laughed, she saw Zhang Yi staring at her expressionlessly, and she couldn’t help but clear her throat awkwardly.