Chapter Fourteen: Misfortune Begins Now

Yu Hualiang climbed into the carriage as though he were marching to his execution, bringing only Mo Cai with him. He knew he would still have to mention Aliu’s situation to the Seventh Prince.

Inside the carriage, Mo Cai noticed how haggard Yu Hualiang looked. He handed him a cup of hot tea and asked, “Young master, are you tired?”

Yu Hualiang waved his hand dismissively—dead sooner or later, what did it matter? He might as well get it over with quickly. He took the tea, but just as he was about to drink, the carriage lurched, and the tea spilled all over him.

Mo Cai hurried to blot the tea from Yu Hualiang’s clothes with his own sleeve. The tea had just been boiled—though Yu Hualiang wore thick clothing, it was impossible not to get burned.

“Young master, are you alright?” Mo Cai asked anxiously.

Yu Hualiang wiped his clothes and replied calmly, “I’m fine.”

Only then did Mo Cai climb down from the carriage, fuming and ready to confront whoever was responsible for the disruption. “What happened here! Driver, do you even know how to drive a carriage? What if my young master had been hurt?”

He berated the driver furiously, but to his surprise, the driver was staring ahead in terror. Mo Cai poked his head out and saw, half-collapsed in the road, a man dressed in black, covered in blood.

“You… you ran someone over?” Mo Cai scolded the driver.

The driver shook his head frantically, “No, brother, I didn’t! He fell straight from the sky!”

The man in black frowned, saying nothing. Blood was streaming from his pants leg—he must have injured his leg badly, making it impossible to walk.

Yu Hualiang got out, straightening his clothes, and hurried over to assess the man. “Quick, we need to get him to a clinic!”

Mo Cai, hiding behind him, whispered anxiously, “Young master, we don’t know his background—what if he’s a bandit or a thief…”

“A bandit or a thief is still a person!” Yu Hualiang squatted down. The man lay motionless, silent; despite his pain and inability to move, he didn’t cry out.

He looked to be only seventeen or eighteen—a mere boy, yet so stoic. It tugged at Yu Hualiang’s heart.

“Little brother, can you move?” Yu Hualiang asked gently.

The man frowned, as though trying to get up, but his injuries were too severe. Yu Hualiang explained, “Don’t misunderstand, I am Yu Hualiang of the Yu Family’s Society of Painting. I’m not a bad person! Ask around if you don’t believe me.”

At this, the boy finally managed to turn his head. His face was pale, wet with cold sweat, his eyes sharp as a wolf’s—enough to make Yu Hualiang tense.

He forced out two words, “So noisy…”

And then he fainted. Yu Hualiang caught him just in time, and Mo Cai, face full of worry, helped lift him into the carriage.

They rushed to the nearest medical hall. While they traveled, Yu Hualiang loosened the man’s clothes to check his wounds. Mo Cai shot him a strange look.

Yu Hualiang explained, “I’m just saving his life… And don’t breathe a word of this to Aliu!”

Mo Cai nodded, not daring to say more. He was squeamish about blood to begin with, and now, having to undress a man soaked in it, he could only shut his eyes and fumble to remove the man’s shoes.

But as soon as they started undressing him, they recoiled in shock—the man’s entire body was bristling with hidden weapons, large and small.

Yu Hualiang guessed: could this be one of those legendary ninja? If not a ninja, then an assassin.

He realized at once that he’d likely gotten himself into serious trouble.

“Mo Cai, whatever happens today, we tell no one about this. We’ve never seen this man, understand?”

His young master sounded so grave that Mo Cai was instantly terrified. He whimpered, “Young master… are we in danger?”

Yu Hualiang couldn’t be sure, but he had to save the man. He shook his head. “It should be fine.”

The two of them carefully rolled up the man’s pant leg. The cloth, soaked with blood, stuck to the flesh. Each time they peeled back a bit, the man’s brow furrowed in pain.

When they’d finally removed everything, they saw a wound as long as a man’s palm, the flesh gaping open gruesomely on his pale calf.

The ankle was swollen, and amidst the mangled flesh, they could even see a sliver of white bone.

How much pain must he have endured? Yu Hualiang sighed in pity and tried to coax a little tea into the boy’s mouth.

When they reached the clinic, Yu Hualiang begged the physicians to treat him, handing over every piece of silver he had and urging them not to breathe a word of what had happened.

He turned and found himself spattered with blood, penniless and without a change of clothes. Just as he began to fret, his eyes fell upon the carriage driver.

The driver wailed, “You want to swap clothes with me and frame me!” Yu Hualiang, exasperated, finally wrote an IOU, the terms spelled out in black and white.

Even then, the driver was reluctant to trade his rough cloth clothes for Yu Hualiang’s silk garments.

Once Yu Hualiang donned the black coarse clothes, Mo Cai couldn’t help but marvel at the saying, “Fine feathers make fine birds.” Dressed in coarse cloth, Yu Hualiang looked every inch a down-on-his-luck scholar.

Yu Hualiang, however, was satisfied. The black made him look even thinner, his tall, slender figure like a willow in the wind.

And the coarse cloth, surprisingly, was stiffer and thicker than silk—warmer, too.

So pleased was Yu Hualiang with his new look that when he reached the gate of the Seventh Prince’s manor, the guards refused to let him in.

Yu Hualiang lamented the unfairness of the world—even a carriage driver was human. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to enter?

“No, really, Officer! I’m Yu Hualiang. I’m here to report for duty. If you don’t believe me, ask the Seventh Prince himself.”

The guard glared and shoved him back. “Go on, get out of here! You think the Seventh Prince is someone you can just summon? Look at yourself!”

Mo Cai caught Yu Hualiang as he stumbled, fuming. “My young master is the Seventh Prince’s appointed painter! If you bar him from entering, you’d better be prepared to lose your head!”

The guard sneered, “A painter, you say? Dressed like a beggar, and you want to climb up the social ladder? Ha! I advise you to leave, and quickly. The Seventh Prince’s manor isn’t a place you can just waltz into.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover!” Mo Cai shouted, but Yu Hualiang, face cold, held him back. “Let’s go.”

Once they’d walked away, Mo Cai grumbled, “Young master, he really is blind with arrogance, just because of your clothes.”

Yu Hualiang thought back—when the Seventh Prince had summoned him, he’d already seemed irritated. If he failed to appear today, the Prince would only be angrier and find fault where he could.

No, he had to see him today, no matter what.

“Mo Cai, let’s circle the Seventh Prince’s manor a few times.”

Mo Cai was bewildered. What was his young master up to now?

“Seventh Prince! It’s me, Yu Hualiang! Open up!”

Mo Cai watched his master shouting at the gates, mortified. He tried to dissuade him, “Young master, stop yelling; the Seventh Prince can’t hear you!”

Yu Hualiang was puzzled—were the walls in ancient times really so soundproof? The wall wasn’t very high; maybe, with Mo Cai’s help, he could climb over.

Mo Cai became the unwitting accomplice. Just as they were about to scale the wall, the guard from before appeared with a squad, smirking triumphantly. “So you couldn’t get in at the main gate and decided to climb the wall, eh?”

Yu Hualiang scrambled down, trying to reason, “Brother, listen—”

“Who’s your brother?” the guard replied with disdain.

Yu Hualiang changed tack, “Alright, big brother! Will you listen? The Seventh Prince really did summon me to the manor.”

“Get lost! I’m telling you, scram now, or I’ll have you locked up!”

Yu Hualiang finally abandoned the idea of sneaking in. Mo Cai sighed, “Young master, let’s just go home and try again tomorrow.”

“No…” Yu Hualiang pouted obstinately. “I’ll wait right here. I don’t believe he won’t come out!”

Mo Cai, unable to sway him, glanced around. “Since we can’t get in, why not stop by the Four Treasures Shop nearby? Most of the Yu Family’s brushes and ink come from there—the owner knows us well, and might lend you some clothes.”

The suggestion reminded Yu Hualiang, and off they went. The streets of the capital were bustling, full of vendors and shops, the noise and commotion overwhelming.

Yu Hualiang’s stomach rumbled as he caught the scent of street food. He searched his pockets—nothing but a jade pendant.

He took it out and recognized it as the one Chang Zihao had tossed at him days before.

The jade was crystal-clear, delicately carved, with a single “Chang” etched on it—truly exquisite.

This must be worth a great deal, Yu Hualiang thought.

“Mo Cai, is there… is there a pawnshop?” he asked.

“Wait here, young master. I’ll ask around.”

A passerby pointed out a pawnshop right next to the bookstore ahead. Yu Hualiang clutched the jade, guilt gnawing at him—he reassured himself that he’d redeem the pendant as soon as he saw the Seventh Prince.

The bookstore looked familiar. Yu Hualiang read the sign aloud: “Chang’s Book Pavilion.”

He looked at the jade in his hand and suddenly thought he might as well try his luck inside.

The shop was spacious, filled with all kinds of books, papers, and ink. There were quite a few customers as well.

The shopkeeper greeted him politely, “What would you like, young sir?”

Without a word, Yu Hualiang presented the jade pendant. The shopkeeper’s eyes widened in shock; he seized Yu Hualiang’s wrist and shouted, “Guards!”

“What are you doing?” Yu Hualiang struggled in terror.

In moments, a gang of servants brandishing brooms rushed in, glaring at Yu Hualiang with murderous intent.

Mo Cai stepped protectively in front of Yu Hualiang. “On what grounds are you grabbing my young master?”

The shopkeeper snatched the pendant and snapped, “On what grounds? This is the Third Young Master Chang’s pendant! He never lets it out of his sight. Did you steal it?”

Yu Hualiang protested, “Hey! He lost it to me, fair and square!”

“Nonsense! I’ll have you hauled before the magistrate!” The shopkeeper spat, “A petty thief, and still so brazen!”

Yu Hualiang was even more aggrieved. Just because he was dressed poorly, did that make him a thief? The Yu family hadn’t even bothered with distinctive jade tokens.

In his younger days, Yu Ming had not been wealthy, but he was talented and later married a lady from a prominent family—Yu Hualiang’s mother, who had insisted on marrying him and no one else. Only after he’d made his way at court did they officially wed, and it wasn’t until he was over thirty that he had a son.

So the Yu family never cared much for such tokens—at most, they’d hang a lantern with the family name on their carriage at night.

“Third Senior Brother, why are we here today?” Mu Qi yawned, trailing after Chang Zihao. He grumbled, “If you needed something, you could have sent a servant. Why come yourself?”

Chang Zihao frowned, “I don’t know. I just had a feeling I should come and take a look.”