When Shaanxi Inspector General Wei Quan received a flying message from the Embroidered Uniform Guard outpost in Xian, he broke into a cold sweat.
He was aware that the Embroidered Uniform Guard maintained hidden posts in towns near the border, but he never imagined one was right under his nose in Xian, near the brothels he frequented. He began to worry whether his visits to these pleasure houses had been observed and reported back to the high and mighty emperor in the capital. Nervously, he reassured himself that, since he neither took bribes nor neglected his duties—indulging only in a modest love for beauty—there was no reason for alarm. After all, years had passed without incident, which suggested the spies likely didn’t care about his harmless indulgence.
Settling himself, he issued an immediate military order to the Provincial Military Command Office, mobilizing 1,000 elite soldiers under the leadership of Qianshi Sheng Qianxing. At just over thirty, Sheng was seasoned, having fought bandits and battled Tatars. Wei personally instructed him to ensure the safety of Censor Su, warning him that failure would cost him his head.
Sheng Qianxing departed with haste, traveling through the night to Yanan—only to find an empty nest. Censor Su had already left three days earlier.
On the night of the prison raid, Su Yan had successfully resolved the crisis in Yanan. Seeing that troops were now stationed in the city, he concluded that no further disturbances would arise. After a day of rest, he bid farewell to Prefect Zhou.
Prefect Zhou tried to persuade him to stay longer, pointing out that he was still recovering and unfit for the rigors of travel.
Su Yan declined politely. “If I rest any longer, I’ll grow lazy and lose my drive. Yanan is only the first stop—there are still so many prefectures in Shaanxi waiting for me.”
Having bonded through the night of peril, Prefect Zhou developed a genuine respect for Su Yan. Before his departure, Prefect Zhou personally prepared a spicy feast featuring herbs from his prized garden. Su Yan, though not addicted to spicy food, occasionally craved it and had been stuck eating bland congee for days. Throwing caution to the wind, he indulged in the meal, even taking along two jars of Prefect Zhou’s homemade mustard paste as parting gifts.
Over dinner, Zhou Zhidao asked, “Will you be heading to Qingyang City or Xian next? Qingyang is closest, but Xian is more prosperous and home to the Inspector General’s Office.”
“Neither,” Su Yan replied with a smile. “I’m headed to the monitoring fields and grazing pastures for on-site inspections.”
Hearing this, Zhou Zhidao believed he was serious about reforming the state’s livestock management. Why else would he bypass comfortable cities to brave the desolate countryside? He raised a cup of yellow osmanthus alcohol in admiration. “To your success, Censor Su.”
Su Yan nodded in thanks and lifted his cup, but the ever-watchful Jinghong Zhui coughed conspicuously from the doorway. Turning to him with a grin, Su Yan teased, “I know—I shouldn’t drink while recovering. Just one cup to toast our host, all right?”
Jinghong Zhui didn’t approve but also didn’t argue publicly, merely fixing Su Yan with a disapproving glare.
Zhou Zhidao chuckled. “Your bodyguard is quite formidable. My wife uses the same expression when scolding me.”
Embarrassed, Su Yan apologized. “Forgive his lack of decorum, Lord Prefect.” He drank his alcohol quickly and rose to leave, entrusting a wounded Embroidered Uniform Guard soldier to Zhou Zhidao’s care before departing.
Outside the prefect office, nineteen Embroidered Uniform Guard and two servants stood ready. Jinghong Zhui was already at the reins of the carriage when Su Yan pulled him into the cabin. Inside, he opened a pouch of pine nut candies and placed it on his lap. With a teasing smile, he asked, “Are you mad? Because I ignored the doctor’s advice or because the prefect compared you to his wife?”
A faint blush swept across Jinghong Zhui’s stern face. He murmured, “I overstepped. It’s not my place to interfere.”
Waving dismissively, Su Yan said, “It’s not interference—it’s concern. You know I’m not exactly disciplined. I need someone to rein me in when I stray too far. Like a housekeeper…or a nagging wife, ha ha ha….”
Jinghong Zhui’s ears turned redder, and he bit out, “Please don’t tease me, my lord.”
Though usually composed, Jinghong Zhui’s thin skin made him susceptible to Su Yan’s playful jabs. Su Yan found this contrast endearing and often couldn’t resist pushing his buttons. Yet he also knew when to stop.
Switching to a serious tone, Su Yan said, “I wasn’t teasing. I mean it—you’ve been indispensable on this journey. If not for you, we’d have suffered greatly, especially during the jailbreak. Your skill saved not just me but Prefect Zhou Zhidao and his people. You’ve been incredible, Ah Zhui.”
Jinghong Zhui’s voice was resolute. “The credit is yours, my lord. I’m merely a sword in your hand. You decide where to strike; the success is yours.”
Su Yan clapped him on the arm. “You once were just a weapon—a quick and sharp one. But now that you’ve left your assassin’s life behind, you’re more than that. You have your own desires, dreams, and ambitions. You should express them freely and pursue them boldly. Staying with me is just a temporary stop; you still have your own road to walk.”
Jinghong Zhui hugged his sword in silence, his expression darkening further as his eyes fixed on the intricate patterns of the rug beneath the carriage floor.
Su Yan reflected inwardly, feeling there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with his earlier remarks. Still, he couldn’t fathom why the other man was upset. Awkwardly retracting his hand, he thought to himself: D*mn, the temper’s getting worse. What happened to the loyal and gentle attendant—er, snail girl coming to repay kindness? It’s all my fault for spoiling him.
While berating himself for indulging Jinghong Zhui too much, Su Yan couldn’t help but feel a secret joy. Compared to their initial meeting, this man was now far more human—no longer just a cold-blooded assassin driven by hatred.
Su Yan grinned and said, “Alright, alright. I’ll let you keep an eye on me. No drinking, eating light, avoiding late nights, taking care of my health, and staying safe. Anything else?”
“…Nothing else,” Jinghong Zhui replied stiffly.
To him, Lord Su was nearly perfect in every way—appearance, character, intellect, and breadth of vision—all traits he admired and respected, though they also made him feel unworthy. Even Su Yan’s occasional mischievousness seemed like youthful charm, deserving protection. However, Su Yan’s tendency to disregard his own well-being was one thing he couldn’t overlook. It pushed him to nitpick and voice his concerns, though he often regretted doing so afterward, fearing he’d annoyed his lord. Tongue-tied as always, he found it impossible to say anything conciliatory and resorted to silence.
—This personality of mine is awful. Apart from my sister, probably no one else could stand me, let alone like me, he thought grimly, his face set in a cold, stiff expression.
“Then stop sulking already. Come on, smile a little and have some candy.” Su Yan held out a small paper bag of sweets.
Jinghong Zhui didn’t like sweet foods and shook his head.
“Something sweet might lift your mood. At least it’d spare me from looking at that sour face the whole journey.” Without waiting for a response, Su Yan plucked a candy and leaned forward, popping it into his mouth. “Don’t worry; I washed my hands after eating. Cleaner than yours.”
Jinghong Zhui could have easily dodged, yet he sat still, letting Su Yan place the candy on his lips. Su Yan’s warm, smooth fingertip brushed against his mouth as he bit down on the overly sweet pine nut confection. His previously stern features softened slightly, and his heartbeat grew erratic.
Su Yan tossed a candy into his own mouth and chewed it, deciding he preferred the “bone-in abalone candies” sent by the crown prince. Too bad I won’t get to have more until I’m back in the capital, he mused.
The carriage rumbled onward, and Su Yan’s gaze grew distant, reminiscing about people and places in the capital. His thoughts wandered to the memorials and letters he had sent. Had they been received? How would they respond?
Jinghong Zhui, observing Su Yan’s distraction, noticed the bag of candy slipping from his grip and reached out to tighten the opening.
At the same time, Su Yan came back to his senses and quickly pressed down on the bag. Their hands overlapped on Su Yan’s thigh, prompting him to smile awkwardly.
“…Apologies for my offense,” Jinghong Zhui said flatly, withdrawing his hand. Yet, the sensation of Su Yan’s warmth beneath the thin fabric—firm and resilient—lingered. A chaotic impulse to breach the boundaries surged before he immediately berated himself: Beast.
Unbothered by the “offense,” Su Yan soon found himself wincing as the carriage jolted violently. A groan escaped him as he grimaced in discomfort.
He sighed, popped another piece of candy into his mouth, and let his thoughts drift. Half a month of jolting around—my backside is about to split open. How much longer will I have to endure this carriage ride? If only I could invent bearings to reduce wheel friction, the speed would improve… And if I could make rubber tires, the ride would be so much smoother… But unfortunately, rubber trees only grow in Vietnam—no, in Jiaozhi—and they can’t be transplanted. That’s tricky… Bearings seem like the easier option for now…
—
The northwestern winds whipped up sand and dust, casting a dreary, desolate air over the streets. At the far end, a rundown house looked even more abandoned in the bleak surroundings.
Li Four, having lost a round of leaf gambling with two colleagues, had no choice but to take off his official hat, swap into coarse cloth garments, and step outside while cursing under his breath. As he swung the door shut a little too forcefully, there was a loud crash—the entire wooden door detached from its frame, striking the steps and breaking off a corner.
Startled, he scratched his nose in embarrassment, then hastily propped the door back up and jammed it into the frame with a firm push—good enough for now. Of course, if someone so much as nudged it, the door would fall again. But that wouldn’t be his problem anymore. Whoever was unlucky enough to deal with it next could either pay for repairs or leave it as is.
Zhang Three strolled through the dusty streets, humming a tune, but found nothing of interest. Just as he was about to return and face another round of scolding, his eyes lit up—at the far end of the road, a spacious carriage was approaching, accompanied by attendants.
Anyone who could afford such a grand carriage and retain a retinue had to be rich. The vehicle was coated in travel dust, suggesting its owner had come from afar. Could they be merchants drawn to Pingliang for this year’s border market, looking to trade tea for horses?
Perfect. This could cover the next few days’ meals.
Li Four swiftly crossed the street and positioned himself near a vegetable stall, pretending to browse. The moment the carriage neared, he suddenly dashed forward and threw himself under the horse’s hooves, curling into a ball and wailing dramatically:
“Aiya! The horse hit me! My bones are broken! It hurts so much—ahhh!”
The carriage driver, Su Xiaobei, went pale with shock and yanked the reins hard. Before he could even dismount, imperial guards flanked the scene, surrounding the wailing man.
“Who are you?” one barked. “Why are you blocking the road?”
Li Four howled louder. “I’m the one who got hit! My leg is broken! Pay for my medical expenses and lost wages, or I’ll report you to the magistrate! Let’s see how you do business with a legal stain on your record!”
Su Xiaobei leapt down from the carriage, flustered and furious. “You ran into the road out of nowhere! I didn’t even feel the horse hit you—why should we pay you?!”
“Of course you didn’t feel it—it wasn’t you who got hit,” Li Four retorted before breaking into another dramatic wail. “Broad daylight! A carriage has struck a man! And now they want to flee the scene—where’s the justice in that?!”
From atop his horse, one of the guards unsheathed his blade with a frown. “Move, or you will lose that leg for real.”
Rather than backing down, Li Four wailed even louder. “Not only are they trying to flee, but now they want to silence me for good! Fellow townsfolk, someone call the authorities—help a poor victim seek justice…”
Su Yan lifted the carriage curtain and peeked out, amused. “Oh, a scammer playing the ‘injured pedestrian’ act. Too bad I don’t have a dashcam installed.”
Jinghong Zhui remarked, “Just the usual tricks of shameless scoundrels. I’ve seen plenty. Let me go down and scare him stiff. He won’t dare try extortion again.”
Before Jinghong Zhui could leap out of the carriage, Su Yan pressed him back down with a smile. “This is my first time encountering such a situation in the… uh, ancient times. It’s novel to me; let me have a look.”
Jinghong Zhui reluctantly relented. “These are bottom-feeding scum, not worth your time, my lord.”
By now, a crowd had gathered to watch the commotion. Disguised as servants, Su Yan’s Embroidered Uniform Guard guards, growing impatient, drew their blades with a menacing glare and dismounted.
Seeing their aggressive stance, Su Yan, concerned the guards might actually harm or kill someone, hurriedly stepped off the carriage, raising his voice. “Don’t act rashly.”
Li Four, seeing the main figure appear, noted he was a fair-faced young nobleman. He immediately shouted, “Settle privately! Don’t go to the authorities! Just ten taels of silver, and we can settle this without delay young master.”
Su Yan arched a brow, genuinely pulling out a small silver ingot.
Li Four’s eyes locked on the silver, practically glued to it, hands itching to grab it.
Tossing the silver up and down a few times, Su Yan abruptly threw it behind him without looking. The ingot landed three zhang away, rolling along the ground. Smiling, Su Yan teased, “Hurry and fetch it. If someone else picks it up first, don’t blame me.”
Everyone’s eyes followed the rolling ingot. After a moment’s pause, the crowd surged forward.
“Get back! That’s my silver!” Li Four shouted, leaping up and running with his “injured” leg faster than anyone, shoving others aside. “Out of my way! Who wants to touch that silver? This Laozi is an official and will drag you to the yamen for a beating!”
An official? What kind of official would stoop to extortion? Su Yan’s curiosity piqued. Before he could signal, his bodyguard efficiently swooped in, grabbed Li Four like a chick, plucked the silver from the scrambling crowd, and swiftly returned.
The would-be freeloaders felt a sudden gust of wind—a blur—and the silver was gone. Stunned, they muttered about ghosts and scattered.
Jinghong Zhui dangled Li Four upside down from a second-floor clothesline, wiped the silver ingot clean on his hem, and handed it to Su Yan.
“Since you retrieved it, keep it,” Su Yan offered. “Buy yourself a drink.”
Jinghong Zhui pocketed the silver without ceremony. Su Xiaobei, visibly displeased, muttered, “So wasteful with our limited funds.”
Feigning ignorance, Su Yan strolled to Li Four. “Who are you, and why are you pulling—uh, extorting?”
Li Four, hanging upside down, his face red and swollen, moaned, “It hurts…. My leg’s really broken!”
Su Xiaobei scoffed and spat, “Broken my *ss! You were sprinting like a deer for that silver!”
Su Yan turned to Chu Yuan, one of his guards. “Cut off his ear. If he keeps lying, take his nose next.”
Chu Yuan acknowledged with a nod and stepped forward, blade gleaming.
Terrified, Li Four confessed, “I’ll talk! I’ll talk! I’m just a scoundrel trying to get by. Please, spare me, my lord. I’ve got an elderly mother and young children depending on me—”
“Cut the nonsense. How old was your mother when she had you?” Su Yan tapped his head with his boot. “You also claimed to be an official earlier, and no one in the crowd disputed it. What kind of official?”
Li Four stammered but refused to speak. Su Yan, unfazed, calmly ordered, “Cut off his balls.”
At this point, Li Four truly began to cry. He admitted honestly, “I am the Deputy Supervisor of Lingwu Bureau at the Pingliang Yuanma Temple. My humble name is Li Four.”
Su Yan was momentarily stunned before he let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. “A Deputy Supervisor? Ninth-rank official, which means you’re still an official with some status. And yet, you’re out here pretending to be a street thug?” He gave Li Four a hard kick to the forehead with the tip of his boot. “Scamming people? If there’s one thing I hate the most, it’s scammers!”
His mind flashed back to his past life—driving a beat-up little Polo, only to still get targeted by old grifters faking injuries. Just thinking about it made his wallet ache.
Li Four, reeling from the blow, repeatedly begged for mercy as a large bump swelled on his forehead.
Having vented his frustration, Su Yan ordered his men to release Li Four and commanded him to lead the way to the Lingwu Bureau.
With a blade pressed against his throat, Li Four had no choice but to comply. Cursing his rotten luck, he trudged ahead, his bruised forehead now resembling a goose egg, leading the high and mighty young master who had suddenly descended upon his miserable fate.