Chapter Sixty-Three: The Old Patriarch Is Gone

The fine sand in the hourglass had finally run out; the appointed time had come at last.

A mournful smile blossomed at the corner of Chen Yuanyuan’s lips. She cast one final glance outside the tent, then slowly lay down inside the coffin. Her delicate hand stretched out, raising high the jade vial containing peacock gall. Her crimson lips, painted with vermilion, parted gently... “Husband, do not go too far. I am coming to find you.”

“Yuanyuan, don’t!”

Wang Pu’s voice suddenly echoed faintly from outside the tent. Chen Yuanyuan instinctively sat up, turning her head as quickly as she could to look outside. But soon, the hope in her beautiful eyes faded like fireworks, for there was not a single shadow outside. It was nothing but an illusion.

With a soft sigh, Chen Yuanyuan lay back down in the coffin, once again raising the jade vial.

“Yuanyuan, don’t!”

Wang Pu’s voice called out again, but this time Chen Yuanyuan did not sit up. Instead, she thought sorrowfully in her heart—this must be her husband’s soul, summoning her to join him. She believed that if she drank the peacock gall in the vial, she would see Wang Pu, and then they could be together forever.

She slowly opened her mouth, slowly tilted the jade vial.

Just as the peacock gall was about to pour into her mouth, a large hand suddenly appeared, gripping her fair wrist tightly. With a shake, the jade vial flew from Chen Yuanyuan’s hand, shattering on the ground with a loud crack, spilling its contents everywhere.

“Yuanyuan, you silly girl!”

A familiar voice, and a familiar face appeared above her. Yet Chen Yuanyuan still could not believe it; she gazed at Wang Pu, asking in a daze, “Husband, am I already dead? Otherwise, how could I see your soul? Husband, is it really your soul that’s returned?”

“Foolish girl.” Wang Pu’s heart ached, and two tears fell from his eyes. He pulled Chen Yuanyuan out of the coffin with a strong tug, embraced her, and whispered gently in her ear, “Silly girl, your husband is not dead, nor are you. We are both alive and well.”

“We’re not dead?” Chen Yuanyuan’s beautiful eyes regained a hint of vitality. “Really not dead?”

Wang Pu leaned close to her face and gently breathed on her, saying softly, “Is my breath warm? Only the living have warm breath.”

“Husband...” Chen Yuanyuan finally believed that both she and Wang Pu were alive. Suddenly, she flung her arms around Wang Pu’s neck, crying sorrowfully, “I don’t want to be apart from you, I don’t want...”

“We won’t be apart. We will never be separated.” Wang Pu held Chen Yuanyuan tightly, wishing their bodies could merge into one, and spoke passionately, “Yuanyuan, I promise you—we will never be parted.”

Beijing.

Scarface, Little Seven, the recently released Big Beard, and more than a dozen attendants were escorting Zhen Youcai, making their way slowly toward the army camp outside the city. Since Wang Pu had already ridden ahead on a fast horse, their own haste no longer mattered; whether Chen Yuanyuan lived or died was now in the hands of fate.

As the group approached Dongzhimen, Little Seven suddenly exclaimed and pointed ahead, “Isn’t that Pillar?”

Scarface and the attendants followed his finger. At the roadside tea stall sat a young man in blue, wearing a small cap—a servant from a wealthy household, carrying a bulging travel bag, his face showing signs of a long journey.

“It really is Pillar!” Scarface shouted. “Pillar, what are you doing in Beijing?”

The young man heard the commotion, turned around, and cried out, “Little Seven, Scarface!”

Little Seven and the others crowded forward, asking in surprise, “Pillar, weren’t you in Datong? What are you doing in the capital?”

Pillar stood up and said gloomily, “The old master has passed away. I’ve come to inform Third Master.”

“What? The old master is gone?”

“Yes.” Pillar replied sadly, “Last time, the dispatch from the capital to Datong said the Third Master had led troops to Liaodong and vanished for over a month. Someone recklessly let the old master hear of it, and the shock made him ill. The eldest son invited all the famous doctors in Datong, but none could cure him... The night the old master died, the news of Third Master’s victorious return arrived in Datong—just missed him by a step.”

“Oh!” Zhen Youcai suddenly clapped his hands and cried, “Excellent!”

“And who are you?” Pillar snapped angrily. “How can you speak like that?”

“Uh...” Zhen Youcai quickly recovered and apologized, “I’m sorry, truly sorry. I meant no disrespect to the old master. But the timing of his passing is surely fate—heaven’s will to save the general.”

“Mr. Zhen, you’ve confused me.” Little Seven scratched his head. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Zhen Youcai smirked. “In just a few days, the general will be able to return to Datong.”

“Little Seven,” Pillar urged, “you’d better take me to see Third Master quickly.”

As Little Seven, Scarface, and the others escorted Pillar back to camp, Wang Pu was in a towering rage. Glancing up and seeing them enter, he shouted, “Little Seven, you’re just in time!”

Little Seven entered the tent nervously and asked meekly, “General, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Wang Pu thundered, “You tell me—how did fifty thousand taels of silver become thirty thousand? Where did the other twenty thousand go? Do you realize this silver must be sent back to Datong as compensation for fallen comrades?”

“Well...”

Little Seven was speechless and could only look to Zhen Youcai for help.

Zhen Youcai bowed and entered the tent, addressing Wang Pu, “General, this is not Little Seven’s fault—it was all my idea.”

Wang Pu was startled, “Your idea?”

“Yes, mine.” Zhen Youcai nodded. “To smooth things over for the general, I took it upon myself to allocate twenty thousand taels—five thousand for Minister Zhou, five thousand for Uncle Tian, and the remaining ten thousand all went to Eunuch Wang.”

“You... you wastrel!” Wang Pu groaned. “Even if you needed to bribe them, surely not so much? A few thousand would have sufficed—why so much?”

Zhen Youcai forced a smile, “General, you don’t know—the thresholds of the Minister’s and Uncle’s mansions are very high. Without five thousand taels, you can’t even get in. As for Eunuch Wang, his threshold is even higher. Besides, general, money is just worldly possession. As long as you survive, there will be plenty more.”

“That’s true enough.” Wang Pu nodded and said to Little Seven, “Tomorrow, take some men and sell the ginseng, eastern pearls, gold, furs, and such in the city. We should be able to raise over a hundred thousand taels, which can be used as compensation for the fallen after we return to Datong.”

“Third Master.” Pillar, who had followed them in, finally had a chance to speak. “The old master has passed away.”

“The old master?” Wang Pu asked absentmindedly, “Which old master?”

“Uh...” Pillar was taken aback, “Why, your own father, Third Master.”

“My father?” Wang Pu was stunned, then realized, “Oh, you mean my father. What happened to him?”

Pillar said sorrowfully, “He’s gone.”

Wang Pu wanted to cry but found no tears. He could only wave his hand and say, “You all leave me. I wish to be alone for a while.”