My Wife Is A Sword Immortal-Chapter 78 - 67 The Eve of the Storm
Chapter 78: Chapter 67 The Eve of the Storm
“Let’s go out for a drink.”
“Give me a moment to rest, I’m dead tired.”
“What have you been so busy with that you’re this worn out?”
“Hunting for treasure.”
“So, did you find it?”
“No, just wasted half a day for nothing.”
...
“Oh.” The man carrying the wine said quietly, then said no more.
Zhao Rong leaned back in his chair, took a breath, and glanced at Lin Wenruo, who was sitting upright with a straight back. At the moment, his gaze calmly rested on the wine jar he had brought, still damp with dark mud.
The two sat in silence for a while until Zhao Rong stood up, reached for a plate of neatly arranged osmanthus cakes, and pushed it in front of the man who was lost in thought. Then he went behind the room’s screen to change into a different set of clothes before heading out.
“Try it, Su Xiaoxiao made it, it’s a bit sweet.”
Lin Wenruo glanced at the osmanthus cakes and nodded.
By the time Zhao Rong had removed his headscarf and returned to the table in a loose-fitting Confucian robe, he noticed that not a single piece of the pastry on the plate had been taken.
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Zhao Rong grabbed a piece with his right hand, supported it with his left, and popped it into his mouth. While chewing, he said, “Let’s go.”
The two men left the courtyard, with the man carrying the wine leading the way as they headed west.
“Where are we going? Aren’t we using the main gate?” Zhao Rong looked around curiously.
The Lin estate was vast, and he had never been to the western side before.
This part of the grounds had none of the scattered luxurious residences or splendid towers found elsewhere, only becoming more secluded as they walked on.
Their path meandered along walkways, passing pavilions hidden within verdant forests and waters, sunlight spreading on the ground, their footfalls echoing.
“I promised Ziyu that I’d take him for a good time at Lanxi this afternoon. We’ve been putting it off since he arrived, and if we don’t go now, there might not be another chance,” Lin Wenruo turned his head and lightly chuckled. “Let’s not use the main gate. There are too many visitors; it’s hard to get away.”
Zhao Rong nodded in understanding, arching an eyebrow, knowing what he meant by there possibly being no other chance.
The great debate between Confucianism and Daoism was tomorrow, and when Zhao Rong passed through the gates of Luojing City that morning, he had seen a long queue from afar. After finally squeezing into the city, he felt the streets teeming with throngs of people several times more than usual, and noticed quite a few people in unusual and exotic attire.
Now, the entire Zhongnan Country, and even the neighboring states, were focused on Luojing. Countless people of Zhongnan Country, hermits of repute, and cultivators from the mountains had already arrived in Luojing, eagerly anticipating the debate at the Scripture Platform atop Taibai Mountain the next day.
This eagerly watched discussion would completely alter the fate of Zhongnan Country; only one party, Confucianism or Daoism, would be able to remain in Zhongnan Country with rightful claim and discourse.
Moreover, Zhao Rong had noticed on his return to the estate that many guests had come calling. The entrance was bustling with carriages and horses, and the stewards and servants were too busy to keep their feet on the ground.
“Aren’t you entertaining guests, Wenruo? I saw many people at your place today.”
The tall scholar who had played a pivotal role in organizing tomorrow’s grand event in Zhongnan said calmly:
“They are all opportunists. When there was a need to take sides and offer help a few days ago, they all found excuses and were nowhere to be seen. Now, with the debate about to begin and the tide likely to turn, they suddenly emerged, betting on both sides. Chances are, right after leaving the Lanxi estate, they would head straight to the top of Taibai Mountain.”
“Those ‘honored guests’ are dispensable. Why bother with them? Accompanying Ziyu in drinking and enjoying the view is much more important…”
Lin Wenruo suddenly stopped walking, his words coming to a halt as he turned to look outside the gallery.
Zhao Rong followed his gaze and saw an open area in front of a secluded pavilion by the water to the left of the gallery, where only a few trees stood.
Lin Wenruo pursed his lips, “Wait a moment, Ziyu.”
With those words, the man carrying the wine headed toward that pavilion. His steps quickened, but as he came closer, they slowed, and finally, he stopped in front of a tree, looking up.
Zhao Rong stood with his hands clasped behind him, leaning against a column, squinting as he observed the leaves; it appeared to be a gingko tree.
After a while, the man with the wine returned and joined the young Confucian scholar waiting in the gallery. They then entered a secluded path and left the Lin estate.
The two men spent their time at Lanxi, which seven hundred years ago was a royal garden.
Crossing the distant bridge, riding a lotus boat, scaling Daiyan Rock, striding over Song Creek, climbing Cui Mountain, admiring Pear Pavilion, visiting Echo Valley.
As the sun gradually set, the two enjoyed their outing to the fullest and returned home content, leisurely making their way back to the Lin family estate.
Zhao Rong and Lin Wenruo were discussing some matters for the next day on their way back when they prepared to bid each other farewell at a certain fork. However, suddenly, an unexpected figure emerged from the side of the road.
————
Lin Qingxuan, accompanied by servants and followers, hurried back to the Lin family estate from within Luojing City, sitting alone in the carriage, silent and uncommunicative.
After nearly ten days of recovery, his injuries had mostly healed. Only his face, which someone had slapped at Zuiweng Pavilion that day, still hadn’t fully recovered and was slightly swollen.
Inside the carriage, he closed the doors and windows, pulled the curtains, and hid himself in darkness. Apart from feeling the slight rocking of the spacious carriage, he was cut off from the outside world, as if that was the only way to keep the secrets in his heart concealed.
In the darkness, his body trembled slightly, his breathing rough and unsteady. His teeth, which he had been clenching, now trembled, right hand balled into a tight fist.
No longer displaying the smile and composure he had in front of that woman not long ago.
Gradually, he opened his right fist, looking down.
Although he was in a pitch-black carriage unable to see, he knew it was there through the subtle pressure in his palm, lying silently, smeared with his sweat.
How could he have so foolishly taken it in the first place!?
And that friend who tricked him into going to Fengqi Building turned out to be a man from Chongxu Temple. He left his followers outside the door and entered the room. Instead of the top courtesan he had chosen, he met a woman waiting there with a smile.
With the bumps of the carriage ride, his mind wandered, remembering the words of the woman he once considered his sister but now avoided at all costs, whispered in his ear.
He had lost count of how many times he had reflected on it during the trip.
Find the man he knew as Zhao Ziyu, find a way to administer the medicine from the little porcelain bottle in his hand.
Once successful, Chongxu Temple would forgive the sins of the Lanshi family.
All the responsibility for these audacious acts would fall on Lin Wenruo alone.
The Lanshi family could then continue to stay in Zhongnan Country.
And when the time came, Chongxu Temple would support him, Lin Qingxuan, as the new Family Head of the Lanshi family…
Beads of sweat covered Lin Qingxuan’s forehead, but he didn’t wipe them away, instead licking his dry lips.
After returning to Zhongnan Country, he learned that under Lin Wenruo’s leadership, the family had actually dared to challenge Chongxu Temple, something he found hard to believe.
Due to an incident in his youth, he had always been pessimistic about reform, and the shadow of Chongxu Temple loomed over him.
In his opinion, Chongxu Temple, having stood on Zhongnan Mountain for a thousand years, was not so easily overthrown. Lin Wenruo, gambling with the lives of the entire clan, was simply a madman.
However, aside from his identity as a direct descendant, he held no power or influence within the family, unable to steer the direction of the great carriage that was the Lanshi family.
Lin Qingxuan gripped the small porcelain bottle in his right hand again, containing the medicine someone wanted him to administer to Zhao Ziyu. According to her, its effects wouldn’t take place immediately, allowing him a safe escape.
The man inside the carriage lifted his left hand and harshly wiped the sweat from his face.
Damn it, why did he take the porcelain bottle from her hands in the first place?
It’s okay, it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone, and this will not be leaked. He reassured himself.
Besides, he wasn’t going to do it, so what was there to fear?
But even as he thought this, the deep and meaningful smile of the woman as she left, and…
In the dense darkness, the man reached out to touch his still-swollen face.
And the fact that the man at Zuiweng Pavilion that day, who should have been his elder brother, bestowed upon him seven echoes of the zither string for the sake of a damned outsider.
The humiliation of that day was vivid in his memory.
The man’s gaze darkened and turned inscrutable.
