Chapter Eighty-Nine: Turmoil Rises in the Royal Capital

After giving Lao Wu a proper burial, the storm that had broken over Qishan began to swell at once, a great shadow descending upon this once-glorious land of Great Qian.

Duan Yuquan and Han Yuyang discussed the matter at length and came to the conclusion that they must go to the royal capital and set the record straight. Otherwise, those at court would surely pin the grave charge of treason on them.

But one unavoidable question stood before them: how were they to prove their innocence?

Even if they did everything they could to clear themselves and spoke nothing but the truth, their words would carry limited weight. The trust the Great Qian court once placed in them had likely already sunk to the bottom.

In the military tent, Jiang Chen rose and said, “To put it plainly, what you need is a middleman—someone to speak to the court on your behalf.”

Duan Yuquan slapped the table. “Exactly. Brother Jiang is right. Unfortunately, I’ve thought and thought, and still can’t find such a person.”

“If he is to be a middleman, then he cannot stand wholly with Qishan, nor wholly with the court. I happen to think the right person is already here in Qishan.”

Duanmu Qing immediately exposed Jiang Chen’s meaning. “You’re not about to bring up that fake identity of yours again, are you? The son of the Minister of Revenue, Shi Guangjun? Setting aside the fact that you aren’t him, even if we found the man himself, what reason would he have to help us speak?”

Yet Jiang Chen said with complete confidence, “I may be a counterfeit, but the genuine article is here in Qishan as well, and I can guarantee he’ll be more than willing to help us with this favor.”

Everyone in Qishan was astonished. They had never had much dealings with Shi Wanli, the Minister of Revenue, and had even clashed with him over the military stipend. What reason would the Shi family have to take the lead in such a matter?

Jiang Chen offered no further explanation. These people carried themselves with open honesty and upright righteousness; if he told them he had used poison as leverage to make it easier to control Shi Guangjun, he feared only contempt would follow.

At dawn the next day, Jiang Chen returned with Yue’er to the official ship moored on the riverbank. Traveling with them were Han Yuyang and Duanmu Qing.

Only after learning more did Jiang Chen realize that Han Yuyang and Duanmu Qing had been childhood sweethearts, both secretly devoted to one another. Had the fighting in the northern frontier not been so urgent, they should already have reached the point of discussing marriage.

Duanmu Qing was in fact the only granddaughter of the late commander-in-chief, Duanmu Hongtu, while the youth Jiang Chen had once met, named Han Ji, was Han Yuyang’s sworn younger brother. The two shared the surname Han and were of like temperament, which was why they had become bound as brothers.

By Jiang Chen’s judgment, if Qishan was to be completely cleared of suspicion, it would not be enough merely to explain the conflict with the Heavenly Wind Camp. The real root of the matter lay in uncovering the truth behind Duanmu Hongtu’s death.

No one in all of Qishan would believe that Han Yuyang had killed him, and Jiang Chen understood the man’s character and conduct well enough to know there must be a vast conspiracy hidden behind it all.

To wash away the accusation that Han Yuyang was the killer would be to wash away the suspicion hanging over all of Qishan.

To settle this matter, Han Yuyang had no choice but to take the great risk of going to the royal capital. Duanmu Qing could not put her heart at ease, and insisted on accompanying them.

Once aboard the official ship, Jiang Chen formally introduced the true Shi Guangjun to everyone. The young noble of the Minister of Revenue’s household had obediently waited for Jiang Chen here for two full days.

Han Yuyang pulled Jiang Chen aside and asked in a low voice, “This Young Master Shi is surprisingly polite. Are you two very close?”

Jiang Chen chuckled. “Quite close. Whatever requests you have, feel free to make them directly to him.”

Half a month later, in Golden Sun City, the royal capital of Great Qian, the early risers had already begun their day’s labors, and the city’s most prosperous market streets were gradually filling with rising heat and clamorous voices.

One thing, however, was different from before: the business of several long-established breakfast shops in the capital had become much slower than it once was, all because a new store had opened in Willow Lane.

This shop sold no steamed buns, wontons, soy milk, or fried dough sticks. It had no sesame cakes, spring rolls, or fried sugar cakes either.

In short, none of the ordinary breakfasts sold in the city for over a hundred years could be found here. And yet people still flocked to it with unflagging enthusiasm.

“Esteemed guest, what would you like to eat?” A young man of upright bearing and striking handsome features called out to customers in a loud voice.

“Five egg tarts, and a bowl of river snail rice noodles.”

“Right away. Our shop is small, so please take them home to enjoy. We do not serve meals on the premises.”

After a few exchanges conducted with practiced ease, the young man quickly wrapped up the order, took the silver, and hurried on to the next customer.

This breakfast shop sold only three things: egg tarts, fish balls, and river snail rice noodles. Every one of them was a delicacy beyond compare, the kind that left people unable to stop once they had tasted them, forever lingering in the memory.

Only half a month earlier, the people here had never even heard of egg tarts. As for fish balls, they had no idea what kind of balls they might be. And the river snail rice noodles, with their strange and pungent aroma, had opened everyone’s eyes to the fact that there truly existed in this world such a foul-smelling yet soul-stirring treasure of a delicacy.

All morning long the shop was packed beyond capacity, customers streaming in without end. Though their overwhelming popularity had hurt the business of nearby competitors, the food was so impeccable that even the owners of other breakfast shops liked to come here and taste the morning fare.

“Yue’er, there are finally not so many people now. You should rest a while.”

Jiang Chen poured Wu Yue a cup of water, asking with concern, a little pained for her.

“No, Brother Chen, I’m fine. If I’d known we would sell out so quickly today, I should have made more egg tarts last night.”

Wu Yue still felt regret over it.

“Fool. There’s still plenty of silver waiting for us to earn. Why wear yourself out just to make a few more egg tarts? I’d rather not open this shop at all if it meant you’d be exhausted.”

Only then, seeing Jiang Chen somewhat insistent, did Wu Yue obediently sit down and take the warm tea, savoring it carefully.

“Mmm, so fragrant. The flower tea Brother Chen makes has its own special flavor too. It smells even better and tastes sweeter than any I’ve had before.”

Jiang Chen boasted, “Of course. If I wanted to, I could open a tea shop as well. But we still have proper matters to attend to, so these things can only be put aside for now.”

No sooner had he spoken than a burst of commotion rose from the center of the busy street.

Through the tangled silhouettes of the crowd, Jiang Chen saw two burly men grappling violently, apparently glaring at each other over some grievance. Soon, however, one of the men’s chest tattoos caught his attention.

“Brother Chen?”

Jiang Chen did not hear Wu Yue’s startled cry. He pushed straight into the crowd of onlookers, and when he finally forced his way inside, he was shocked to discover that the tattoo on the burly man’s chest was exactly the same as the one on Qi Zhaoxuan, who had died at Lao Wu’s hand that day.

This unexpected discovery sent a buzzing roar through Jiang Chen’s mind.

Could it be that the people bearing this snake-head tattoo were far more numerous than Qi Zhaoxuan alone? This three-eyed serpent tattoo seemed faintly to represent some hidden force lurking in the shadows.