Chapter 63: A Broad Discussion of the World (1)

Yang Qi’s study.

A foreign concubine, clad in a vivid, revealing tight dress and sporting short brown hair, lay beneath Yang Qi, displaying every manner of seduction. The exotic allure she radiated was enough to make any man’s heart itch with desire. Yet Yang Qi’s face remained pale; no matter how she teased him, he could not muster any interest. After a long while with no response, the concubine herself grew dispirited, her breathing quickened as she withdrew her hands.

Seeing her thus, Yang Qi’s expression turned fierce and savage. He raised his leg and kicked her, sending her sprawling to the floor with a pained cry. Yang Qi straightened his clothes, his face dark and stormy, rage roaring within him like a beast. He paced the study, shattering several precious, colorful vessels, yet his fury and resentment were not abated.

Within the manor, it was rumored that Yang Qi had taken the concubine into his chambers and doted on her lavishly. Night after night she attended him, making many of the maidservants envious. In reality, it had been a year or two since Yang Qi had actually touched her. The land was fertile, but the seed would not take; all things are destined, and not a bit is up to man.

Ever since a grave illness struck him ten years ago during his post in the south, his masculine vigor had collapsed. In secret, he had sought countless physicians and remedies, all to no avail. None but Lady Zheng, his wife, knew of this shame. This was the true reason he seldom approached women and had never formally taken a concubine.

The foreign concubine knelt on the floor, tears streaming down her face, silently sobbing in terror. She had once believed she had found her fated benefactor, that she would be cherished and, if she bore a child, escape her destiny of being used and discarded. Yet she never imagined that the man on high was impotent, keeping her confined and subjecting her to perverse torments, making her life unbearable, worse than death.

With a bang, Yang Qi kicked open the study door, then strode out, draped in a purple fur cloak. He left the courtyard, walking along the manor’s corridors toward the main gate. At the archway of the second courtyard, Yang Kuan, who had been waiting, hurried to follow, plastering a smile on his face as he trailed behind Yang Qi.

Yang Qi led Yang Kuan out of the manor, neither riding nor taking a carriage, but walking slowly to the detention house at the rear of the magistrate’s office. The official prison of Jiangning was in the west of the city, but this place was simply a temporary holding cell established by Yang Qi for convenient interrogations.

When the magistrate arrived, the two guards bowed low.

Yang Qi waved his hand, and they quickly opened the cell door, ushering him inside. He strode swiftly, his face dark, and Yang Kuan and the others dared not ask questions nor even breathe loudly.

As he reached the cell where Kong Sheng was held, Yang Qi slowed his steps.

Kong Sheng was still seated cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation. Hearing the commotion, he opened his eyes, meeting Yang Qi’s gaze.

Yang Qi waved his hand. “All of you, leave.”

Yang Kuan acknowledged, leading the guards and attendants quietly away.

Yang Qi approached slowly, his gaze sharp as a blade, fixing Kong Sheng with a cold look. “Kong Sheng, have you reflected in this cell these past days? Do you know your error?”

Kong Sheng smiled. “My lord, I truly do not know what wrong I have committed.”

Yang Qi’s brows shot up, nearly erupting in anger, but he restrained himself, speaking gravely. “Kong Sheng, do not be ungrateful. Do you know what happens to those who anger me in Jiangning?”

Kong Sheng replied calmly, “At worst, death. What more can my lord do?”

“You do not fear death?” Yang Qi sneered.

“What use is fear? My lord holds power, can overturn clouds and rain, call a stag a horse, and with false charges end my life. Whether I fear or not, I cannot escape your grasp, can I?” Kong Sheng’s answer was tranquil.

“By rights, your reckless deception warrants death. Yet, seeing you are talented, if you repent, I can spare you.” Yang Qi clasped his hands behind his back, looking down at Kong Sheng.

“I submit to your judgment,” Kong Sheng said, spreading his hands. “But truly, I have no fault to confess.”

Yang Qi’s eyes flared, his voice low and angry. “Kong Sheng, you impudent wretch! I offer you a way out, and you dare refuse!”

Yang Qi had come today seeking a way to let Kong Sheng go. After days of brooding, his anger had subsided; he realized that even if Kong Sheng petitioned, the court would never relocate the capital to Jinling—it was nothing but a farce. Yet Kong Sheng neither yielded nor confessed, leaving Yang Qi with no way out.

Kong Sheng looked back, half-smiling, utterly unafraid. He saw through Yang Qi’s hypocrisy; he felt that staying in this cell to quietly cultivate was far safer and more peaceful than outside. Yang Qi, harboring concerns, would not harm him, and so Kong Sheng feigned ignorance of Yang Qi’s implied goodwill.

He guessed Yang Qi’s sudden visit was prompted by news—likely that the imperial edict would soon arrive in Jiangnan, compelling Yang Qi to release him for the sake of appearances.

In fact, that very morning Yang Qi had received word: Li Heng’s small court had dispatched the imperial envoy, Li Fuguo, grand steward of the inner palace, leading dozens across the river toward Jiangning. They were expected within three days.

For the court to send a eunuch steward so far to deliver the edict, the likelihood of announcing a capital move was slim. The only possibility was that Guo Ziyi’s recommendation had caught the emperor’s attention and Kong Sheng was about to be appointed to office.

At this point, Kong Sheng’s rise was unstoppable, beyond Yang Qi’s control. No matter how angry Yang Qi became, he could not continue to detain a scholar about to be officially ennobled by the court.

Yang Qi’s face darkened like water. He took a deep breath and spoke coldly: “Kong Sheng, I have wandered officialdom for decades, judging countless men, yet I misjudged you. Never did I imagine that a mere youth like you would have such connections and cunning—right under my nose, you overturned all, playing everyone, myself included, in the palm of your hand. Well, you are remarkable!”

Kong Sheng smiled softly. “My lord, I merely sought a path to advancement. I never wished, nor ever intended, to oppose you. Moreover, Miss Xue Ruo cares deeply for me; thus, you will always be my elder. No matter what I achieve, past, present, or future, I will never harm the Yang family. You may rest assured on this point.”

Hearing this, Yang Qi decided not to conceal anymore. He was silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed aloud: “Very well, Kong Sheng, I will trust that you won’t oppose me. So long as you keep your word, the two-year pact remains valid.”

Kong Sheng rose, calm and composed. “In that case, I have a few heartfelt words, if uncle would permit me to speak?”

Yang Qi’s mouth twitched, seeming to guess Kong Sheng’s intent, his expression changed, brows knitted tight.

His gaze was sharp and cold as a blade, staring at Kong Sheng. Some words were best left unspoken, for once the last veil was pierced, neither he nor Kong Sheng could turn back, and things would reach their bitter end.

At such a moment, if forced, Yang Qi would have no choice but to silence Kong Sheng forever.