Volume One: Carefree Journey Amidst Indistinguishable Paper Leaves Chapter Fifty-Five: Sworn Brotherhood

Qi Yu's expression twisted with rage, the muscles of his face twitching as he sneered, "You... you're abusing your power for personal gain. Now that you've risen to power, you just want revenge on me."

Yang Ning clapped and laughed. "Well said! I told you, you're clever, and sure enough, you are. You're absolutely right. I am abusing my power for personal reasons, and I do want to get back at you." He stepped forward, a cold smile on his face. "I just love watching you simmer with resentment while being utterly helpless. Well? What can you do to me?" Glancing at Qi Yu's tightly clenched fists, he went on, "Looks like you're about to get physical. Go ahead, come at me. I swear I won't fight back. That would give me the perfect excuse to throw you out of the residence, which I'd be more than happy to do."

Madam Qiong's eyes gleamed with malice as she coldly ordered, "Qi Yu, he is the heir apparent. If he asks you to pay your respects, then do so."

"Mother...!" Qi Yu looked back to see Madam Qiong nodding slightly, her face dark as a thundercloud. Suppressing his seething resentment, Qi Yu hesitated for a moment, then cupped his hands in salute to Yang Ning.

"Very good." Yang Ning smiled. "Now you're starting to learn proper manners. That's a promising sign. Qi Yu, as your elder brother, let me give you some advice. Whether you heed it or not is entirely up to you."

Qi Yu simply raised his chin in defiance, his eyes brimming with hostility as he stared at Yang Ning, refusing to speak.

Yang Ning spoke slowly, "I know you like to play clever tricks, and you're not exactly a fool. If you put your intelligence to honest use, you’ll be just fine, and you’ll never lack for a life of luxury. But let me warn you—don’t use your cunning for the wrong purposes, and don’t plot against me behind my back. I’m not one to lose my temper easily, but if you ever truly enrage me, your days will become very unpleasant." His voice dropped to a chill. "Do you hear me?"

Qi Yu snorted, spun on his heel, and strode away at a brisk pace, never looking back at Madam Qiong as he passed her.

Madam Qiong shot Yang Ning a venomous glare, then hurried after her son.

Watching the pair disappear from view, a cold smile curled at Yang Ning’s lips.

Often, it is not outside forces that bring down powerful families, but internal strife—the seeds of disaster are sown within, and bitter infighting leads to collapse.

Yang Ning cared little for the rise and fall of the Marquis of Embroidered Robes’ household, but he harbored a deep dislike for Qi Yu and his mother.

Qi Yu’s curses toward Gu Qinghan just now hadn’t been a mere slip of the tongue, but the outpouring of long-held resentment.

Gu Qinghan, in her efforts to uphold the family’s dignity and protect Qi Ning’s legitimacy, had inevitably offended Qi Yu and those around him, becoming one of the greatest obstacles to Qi Yu’s ambitions for succession. To someone like Qi Yu, Gu Qinghan was a thorn in the flesh, and if he ever gained power, he would surely seek revenge against her.

Yang Ning understood the principle that people look out for their own interests, but this mother and son were devious by nature, always scheming behind others’ backs—a sharp contrast to Gu Qinghan’s upright methods. Even if the day came when he had to leave, he would see to it that this pair would no longer threaten Gu Qinghan.

Still, he knew all too well that such underhanded schemers were best kept close watch on. Now that he was their target, he must stay vigilant. Should he ever catch them in the act of plotting against him, he would show no mercy.

Lost in thought as he walked, Yang Ning was startled by a voice: "Young Lord, there you are!"

"Oh, Uncle Duan, you were looking for me?" Yang Ning looked up to see Duan Canghai hurrying toward him. Smiling, he said, "I was just about to come find you myself."

"Is there anything you need, Young Lord?" Duan Canghai greeted him with a respectful bow.

Yang Ning smiled. "No need for such formality between us." He lowered his voice, "By the way, Uncle Duan, do you know where the Marquis of Wuxiang’s residence is? Is it also on this Pipa Street?"

Duan Canghai shook his head. "The Marquis of Wuxiang’s residence is by Wende Bridge, some distance from ours. Why do you ask about it, Young Lord?"

"I’m thinking of paying him a visit," Yang Ning replied with a smile. "Since he called on us last time and we haven’t given him a proper answer, now that the mourning is mostly over, it’s only right that we respond."

"Ah?" Duan Canghai quickly asked, "Has the Dowager made her decision?"

Yang Ning answered calmly, "This is my marriage; naturally, the final say is mine." He paused, then added, "Besides, the Marquis of Wuxiang made himself quite clear. Do you really think we have any room to maneuver?"

Duan Canghai’s face grew grave. "Su Zhen has disgraced the family. If we go back on our word over such an important matter, he’ll never be able to show his face in front of the old Marquis of Wuxiang again." Suddenly, something occurred to him and he slapped his own forehead. "I almost forgot—Young Lord, you’d better not go just yet. Someone has come looking for you."

"For me?" Yang Ning was puzzled. "Who is it?"

Duan Canghai lowered his voice, "Your sworn brother, Yuan Rong!"

"My sworn brother?" Yang Ning’s heart tightened. "I… I have such a sworn brother?"

"Well…," Duan Canghai hesitated, then said cautiously, "Young Lord, this Master Yuan is someone you’ve been acquainted with for some time. But if you’ll pardon my bluntness, it’s best not to get too close to him. In the past, your dealings with these sorts of people have brought you little good and plenty of trouble. The Third Madam doesn’t much approve of you associating with them so often, either."

"Oh?" Yang Ning, quick on the uptake, instantly grasped the situation. He smiled. "Uncle Duan, is this sworn brother of mine one of those idle young rakes who do nothing but chase after pleasure? Are we merely drinking companions?"

At this, Duan Canghai’s furrowed brow relaxed and he broke into a smile. "So the Young Lord sees things clearly after all. That’s a relief. Yuan Rong is the legitimate eldest grandson of Minister Yuan of the Ministry of Rites—a man of vast learning and culture. Master Yuan, coming from such a distinguished family, does have some literary talent. But…" He shook his head with a smile, "Youthful folly is only natural, I suppose."

"How odd," Yang Ning mused, half smiling. "I’ve been back all these years, and the mourning period for my father has lasted quite a while, but this sworn brother of mine has never once appeared. Why show up now that the mourning is over?"

Duan Canghai replied quietly, "If I’m not mistaken, it must be related to the recent assassination attempt at the Loyal Mausoleum."

"Oh?" Yang Ning’s brows drew together. "What do you mean, Uncle Duan?"

Duan Canghai, thinking Yang Ning misunderstood, quickly explained, "Don’t get the wrong idea, Young Lord. Yuan Rong had nothing to do with the assassination. He may be frivolous, but he’s not a bad person." He glanced about, then continued, "His grandfather is the Minister of Rites, and the Loyal Mausoleum falls under that ministry’s jurisdiction. With an attempt on the Marquis’s heir’s life right under their noses, if the matter escalates, it’ll cause trouble for Minister Yuan. He likely wants to keep things quiet but can’t intervene directly, so he’s sent Yuan Rong to test the waters first."

"Ah," Yang Ning immediately understood. "So Minister Yuan wants to downplay the incident, but since he can’t come himself, he’s using Yuan Rong to feel out my intentions?"

Duan Canghai gave him a thumbs-up. "Exactly, Young Lord. You see straight to the heart of matters. You’re getting sharper by the day, and that’s a blessing for our household."

When Yang Ning finally entered the side hall, he found Yuan Rong drinking tea, alone. He did not go in right away but lingered outside, watching secretly.

Yuan Rong appeared to be about twenty, dressed in a cream-colored brocade robe and a stylish cap. He was the sort of man whose clothes complemented him, and with his fine attire, he cut a dashing figure. Seated by himself, he clearly had no interest in the tea before him. It seemed he hadn't anticipated Yang Ning would be watching from outside.

Just then, Yuan Rong stood up, beaming, and gazed at an empty spot, saying with a broad smile, "Brother, I've missed you so much! At last, I finally get to see you today!" He spread his arms wide as if to embrace someone.

Yang Ning was startled at first, thinking this fellow must possess some uncanny ability to sense his presence, but then he realized Yuan Rong was merely practicing his lines.

Sure enough, Yuan Rong shook his head, muttering, "No, that's not right. He’s just lost his father—I should look more sorrowful." He lifted his head, put on a woeful face, wiped away an imaginary tear, and said despondently, "Brother, with the Marquis gone, the whole nation mourns. You must take care of yourself. If you ever need anything, just say the word—I’ll face any hardship for you. After all, we’re sworn brothers." Suddenly, he stopped short, shook his head again, and muttered, "No, that won’t do. What if he really asks me for a favor? I’d be digging my own grave."

His expression shifted from sorrow to joy and back again as he rehearsed his lines, muttering to himself, making Yang Ning stifle a laugh. At last, Yang Ning coughed loudly and strode into the room with his hands behind his back.

Startled by the cough, Yuan Rong scrambled to compose himself. He turned, his face breaking into a smile—only to promptly swap it for a look of grief when he saw Yang Ning’s indifferent expression. He stepped forward, "Brother, you—" But before he could finish, Yang Ning brushed past him without so much as a glance and sat down.

Yuan Rong froze, awkwardness etched on his face, then hurried over, lowering his voice, "Ning, are you… are you all right?"

Yang Ning looked up, fixing him with a steady gaze, saying nothing, his face expressionless.

Under Yang Ning’s silent stare, Yuan Rong grew uneasy. Forcing a smile, he stammered, "The Marquis… the Marquis is gone. You… you must take care of yourself. If there’s anything… anything I can help with… Oh, I mean, Ning, you see, I…" He faltered, then suddenly seemed to realize something, forcing a rueful smile. "Are you angry that I didn’t come by to help you sooner?"

Yang Ning snorted dismissively, saying nothing.

Yuan Rong raised his hand to the heavens, swearing earnestly, "Heaven bear witness—I heard you’d been kidnapped and I was beside myself with worry. I wanted to sneak out of the capital to rescue you, but that stubborn old man at home said, ‘If they dare kidnap even the Marquis’s heir, the capital must be in chaos!’ He locked me in my room, and I couldn’t get out at all."

Yang Ning shot him a glance and snorted again.

"Of course, I wasn’t about to let him stop me that easily," Yuan Rong said gravely. "My brother was kidnapped—how could I, as an elder, do nothing? For me, loyalty comes first. I’d lay down my life for it. So one night, I tried to sneak out, but…" He sighed. "The old man was too cunning. He caught me in the act. And then… I was punished—caned so hard I couldn’t sit down for more than half a month." Seeing Yang Ning’s continued indifference, he grew anxious. "You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll show you right now!"

With a look of grim resolve, Yuan Rong lifted the hem of his robe and, turning his back to Yang Ning, began to untie his trousers to prove his point.

—End of excerpt—