Chapter 891: The Plot Unfolds, Information Worth Ten Thousand Gold

Wurigen stared at the contract in Zhang Wenqian's hand, his brain churning with all the memory fragments soaked rotten by alcohol and female color over the past month. Every fragment fished out and examined closely carried the rust-red smell of blood.

Ashina retreated two steps from the edge of the table, his back leaning against the wall. The weight of his body almost pressed entirely onto the wall surface, and his knees under his silk trousers were trembling uncontrollably.

Zhang Wenqian waited for ten breaths. Seeing that neither of them reached out to take it, he was not in a hurry. He placed the contract on top of the stack of ledgers on the Eight Immortals table, dragged a chair over, sat down, and shook the hem of his robe.

"Two, don't rush. Zhang can afford to wait."

He sat on the chair with his legs crossed, his fat fingers tapping one by one on the chair armrest. The crossbow arrows around him still aimed at the vital parts of the two grassland nobles without moving.

Wurigen's breathing slowly pressed down to a barely normal frequency. He put the curved blade back into the scabbard. When putting the blade away, his fingers touched the scabbard mouth and knocked, failing to insert it. He aligned it two or three times before it returned to its position.

"Zhang Wenqian."

"Present."

Wurigen's voice flipped up from the very bottom of his throat, carrying the roughness of broken stones grinding together.

"What do you want me to do?"

Zhang Wenqian took the contract on the table, clamped it with his index and middle fingers, and handed it in front of Wurigen.

"Zhang does not make things difficult for the two of you. The terms are written clearly. The two of you look for yourselves."

When Wurigen took the contract, his finger joints were stiff. The parchment unfolded in front of him, with Chinese characters and Rouran script written once each. The content was divided into three items, each with a circle drawn in cinnabar at the end.

His eyeballs moved from the first item to the second and then to the third. The speed of movement became slower and slower, until finally, it almost moved down word by word.

Ashina leaned over from behind him to look. After reading five lines, his palm pressed on Wurigen's shoulder, pressing Wurigen's shoulder down by a section.

"This is asking us to be traitors."

Zhang Wenqian changed the direction of his crossed legs.

"The word traitor is too ugly. Zhang prefers to call it cooperation."

Ashina's hand withdrew from Wurigen's shoulder and clenched into a fist, hanging by his side.

"You ask us to send back the troop deployment and high-level trends of the Royal Court. What is the difference between this and being a traitor?"

Zhang Wenqian stood up from the chair and walked to Ashina, with less than an arm's distance between the two.

"Teqin official Ashina, Zhang asks you one question, and you answer truthfully."

Ashina glared at him, the knuckles of his fist protruding under his skin because he clenched them too tightly.

"When Wen Ge Ti destroyed your Turkic Khan Court, where were you, Ashina Mukan?"

Ashina's fist loosened and tightened.

Zhang Wenqian's voice was neither high nor low, every word like a blunt knife sawing back and forth on Ashina's ribs.

"You were fleeing for your life. You took the remnants and defeated generals and hid in the corners of the grasslands, eating dead horse meat and drinking snow water. Wen Ge Ti's cavalry chased you for three thousand li. You fled from one tribe to another like a stray dog, unable to even pitch a fixed tent."

Ashina's breathing became heavy, and the heaving of his chest made the buttons of his leather coat creak.

Zhang Wenqian retreated half a step, giving him a little space to breathe.

"What Zhang gives you is not an opportunity to be a traitor; what Zhang gives you is an opportunity for revenge."

His index finger pointed at the position of the third item on the contract.

"Sign this contract, and Da Zhou will secretly provide you with gold, silver, and weapons, supporting you in re-accumulating strength among the Turkic remnants."

Zhang Wenqian's voice sank by two points, carrying a lingering seduction.

"When the day comes when the time is ripe, you, Ashina Mukan, will ride the warhorses given to you by Da Zhou, hold the blades given to you by Da Zhou, and lead the followers you have re-gathered to cut Wen Ge Ti's head off his neck. Does this count as a traitor or a hero?"

Ashina's fist hung by his side, the veins on the back of his hand slowly flattening from protruding. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Zhang Wenqian turned to Wurigen.

"Manager Wurigen, no, it should be called Right Wise King's son now."

Wurigen's hand clutching the contract was trembling. It wasn't from the cold; the edges of the parchment were soaked into a dark color by his hand sweat.

Zhang Wenqian squatted down in front of him, and the gazes of the two were pulled to the same plane.

"After the Prince Heir returns, think about this: your father is the Right Wise King of Rouran. By rights, no matter how you look at it, the Khanate throne should have a share for your family, but how has Wen Geti treated you all?"

Wurigen's mouth twitched.

Zhang Wenqian's voice was like a snake spitting letters beside Wurigen's ear.

"When the double tax order came down, the tax paid by your White Wolf Tribe was 30% more than other tribes. Why? Because Wen Ge Ti wants to cut off your Right Wise King's family foundation, making you too poor to raise your heads to compete with him for the position."

Wurigen's fingers pinched the edge of the parchment hard, and a wrinkle appeared on the paper surface.

Zhang Wenqian stood up and patted his knees that were numb from squatting.

"Sign this contract, and you will send a piece of news about the Royal Court to Da Zhou every month. Da Zhou will provide you with a batch of fine salt and silk every month. These things are white silver when resold back on the grasslands. Your White Wolf Tribe's family foundation can double in less than two years."

He extended three fingers and shook them in front of Wurigen.

"A Right Wise King's son whose family foundation has doubled, and a Right Wise King's son who is poor to the point of clinking—which one is closer to the Khan position?"

Wurigen's pupils shrank and released under the light, shrank and released, and a sickly flush appeared on that face that had been hollowed out by wine and color for a month.

Zhang Wenqian withdrew his hand and tucked it into his sleeve, retreating two steps, leaving space for these two grassland nobles who were making a choice.

"Zhang has spoken to this point. The two of you should understand that this contract is not a dead end for you; it is a way to live, and even a heavenly road ten times wider than the road you are walking now."

He paused, his tone suddenly turning cold, cold like the wind of the twelfth lunar month pouring into the house.

"Of course, Zhang must also make the other side clear to the two of you."

He pulled out that forged letter from his bosom again.

"If you don't sign, today the two of you's heads will move house. This letter, together with all the consumption records of the two of you in Xia Prefecture City for a month and the contracts with your own signatures, will appear on Wen Ge Ti's desk within three days."

Zhang Wenqian held the letter under the lamp, the Rouran script on the envelope clearly identifiable in the light.

"What will Wen Ge Ti see? He will see his own nephew actively running to Da Zhou to collude with an enemy state, using the Royal Court's intelligence to exchange for Da Zhou's support, intending to rebel and usurp the throne."

A dry gurgle came from Wurigen's throat, as if something was stuck at the intersection of his esophagus and trachea.

Zhang Wenqian flipped the letter over.

"Teqin official Ashina's side won't be able to run either. The letter will write that the Turkic remnants are plotting to counterattack Rouran with Da Zhou's help. After Wen Ge Ti reads this letter, the first thing he will do is uproot Ashina Mukan's clansmen from the grasslands."

Ashina's spine left the wall. His body leaned forward half an inch, and the things burning in those wolf-like eyes slowly changed from anger to another kind of more complex light.

"You said Da Zhou would give me weapons and gold and silver to support my revenge. How true is this?"

Zhang Wenqian tucked the letter back into his bosom, a smile appearing on his face again, but this smile was completely different from the flattering Maitreya Buddha-like one before. This smile carried a blade edge.

"Every word Zhang said is true. The Da Zhou Mingjing Si never tells lies because we don't need to."

He walked a step toward Ashina, his voice lowered to a level that only three people could hear clearly.

"Teqin official, think carefully. Da Zhou needs you to be alive and strong because you being alive is a thorn stuck in Wen Ge Ti's back. The stronger you are, the itchier and more uncomfortable he is. Why wouldn't Da Zhou help you?"

Ashina's fingers loosened by his side. When they hung down, they touched the empty scabbard of his sword. The sword was still lying on the carpet and hadn't been picked up.

Wurigen unfolded the contract again, his gaze moving back and forth between the first and second items seven or eight times.

The first item writes about providing information on the Rouran Royal Court's troop movements and high-level personnel changes to Da Zhou on a regular basis every month.

The second item writes about using the identity of the Right Wise King's son to smuggle no less than five hundred high-quality warhorses to Da Zhou every year, intercepting them from the Royal Court's horse herds under the name of normal trade loss.

The third item writes about Da Zhou providing five hundred jin of fine salt, thirty bolts of Shu brocade, and two hundred jin of iron ingots to the signer every month as remuneration, and additionally adding gold and silver rewards irregularly according to the value of the intelligence.

Wurigen closed the contract, opened it, and closed it again.

"Sign this, and I will be Da Zhou's dog."

Zhang Wenqian shook his head.

"The Prince Heir belittles himself. Dogs won't work if they aren't given bones. The Prince Heir is a partner, a friend of Great Zhou on the grasslands; it is merely an exchange of what one has for what one lacks between friends."

Wurigen raised his head to look at Zhang Wenqian's face, the dry skin on his lips shining under the light.

"If I sign, how can you guarantee that Wen Ge Ti won't discover it?"

Zhang Wenqian walked to the side of the stack of ledgers and pulled out two bronze tokens from the bottom one. The tokens were made into the appearance of ordinary caravan waist badges, with an inconspicuous pattern engraved on them.

"The Mingjing Si will arrange a single-line contact secret path for the two of you. At the beginning of each month, a caravan selling cloth will come to your territory to trade. There is a clerk in the caravan with half of his left ear missing. That is the contact person."

He placed the two tokens on the contract.

"The two of you just need to hide the intelligence in the interlayer of the cloth and hand it to him. You don't need to worry about the rest."

Wurigen's hand touched that cold bronze plaque, his fingertips rubbing back and forth on the pattern on it twice.

Ashina picked up his sword from the ground. When he returned it to the scabbard, the blade scraped against the scabbard mouth, emitting a short metallic friction sound. He tucked the sword back into his waist, walked to the table, and took the contract from Wurigen's hand.

"Pen."

Zhang Wenqian gave a wink to the thin-faced gentleman behind him, who handed over a brush dipped in ink.

When Ashina took the pen, his fingers were still trembling slightly. The tip of the pen hung above the parchment for three or four breaths of time.

Zhang Wenqian stood on the side, saying nothing, just waiting quietly.

Ashina's pen fell. The crooked Rouran script signature flowed from the tip of the pen and fell onto the blank space at the bottom of the contract, the ink spreading a small circle on the parchment.

He threw the pen on the table, dipped his thumb in the red mud from the inkstone beside him, and pressed it down fiercely, pushing the inkstone half an inch to the side.

Watching Ashina finish signing, Wurigen let out a long breath. That breath carried the rot brewed by all the paper-drunk and gold-obsessed life over the past month.

He took the pen from Ashina's hand and signed his name on the contract.

The strokes were very heavy, so heavy that the ink penetrated to the back of the parchment.

Zhang Wenqian waited for both of them to finish pressing their handprints, picked up the contract from the table, checked the signatures and fingerprints on it against the light, and then rolled it up carefully and tied it tightly with a new silk thread.

"From today on, the two of you are friends of Da Zhou."

He tucked the contract into his bosom close to his body and clapped his hands.

The black-clad men holding crossbow arrows all around retreated like a tide, disappearing from the shattered windows and flipped-open secret doors. The movements were silent and soundless. Within a few breaths, only Zhang Wenqian and the two grassland nobles whose clothes were soaked through with cold sweat remained in the private room.

Zhang Wenqian put back on the bowing and smiling face of the fat merchant, walked to the door as if nothing had happened, and tugged at the lapels of the dark purple Shu brocade long robe on his body.

"The two of you rest well tonight. Tomorrow Zhang will send people to send the two of you out of the city. The dry rations and horses on the road have all been prepared for the two of you. After the two of you return, remember, the first piece of news must be delivered to the contact person before the fifth day of next month."

His figure stopped at the door and looked back.

"By the way, the bad debt of the two of you, signing the contract counts as offset. The fine salt, Shu brocade, and iron ingots every month in the future are calculated separately and will not be deducted from the account."

He bowed to the two people.

"Happy cooperation."

The footsteps gradually moved away in the corridor. Only the two men sitting dejectedly in the chairs and the shattered window lattices all over the floor remained in the private room.

Wurigen buried his face in his two palms. The sound leaking from between his fingers was muffled and couldn't form a tune.

"How the fuck did I walk into this ghost place?"

Ashina leaned against the wall, his gaze passing through the shattered window hole to look at the night sky of Xia Prefecture City outside. The corners of his mouth slowly twisted into an arc that was uglier than crying.

"Wurigen, do you hate?"

Wurigen raised his face from his palms, his two eyes red like a rabbit.

"Hate who? Hate that Zhang guy or hate myself?"

Ashina supported his body from the wall, walked to the table, picked up the bowl of sour soup that had already cooled through, and tilted his neck to pour it down. The cold soup drew an ice line from his throat to his stomach.

"Both hate, but hate is useless."

He slammed the empty bowl onto the table, and the bottom of the bowl cracked.

"If you want to survive, you have to admit it. If you want revenge, you have to endure it."

Wurigen's hand supported his knees. It took a long time for him to push himself up from the chair and walk to the window. The shattered wood lattice pricked his palm, but he didn't feel the pain.

Outside the window, in the night of Xia Prefecture City, the lights connected into a sea of warm yellow, so prosperous that it made one's chest feel blocked.

"Go back."

Wurigen's voice was hoarse into a slit.

"Go back to the grasslands." ===== CHAPTER 892 =====