Ch 37: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Ah Yue had become emperor!

The Mus were left dizzy by the sheer weight of such news.

Dazed, they were brought back to the capital by Ah Yue, dazed they attended his enthronement, and dazed again they were named the only non-imperial royal household of the new dynasty—causing every courtier to look askance.

All of Ah Yue’s blood kin were gone; in his heart, the Mu family were his only remaining relatives.

Anyone could see how much the new emperor cherished them. Riches poured endlessly into the Prince Mu’s household, and he treated the Mus with the courtesy due to his elders.

With iron-blooded means, once he took the capital, the new emperor purged half the former court. Every clan involved in the false charge that destroyed the House of Marquis Weiwu—he left not a single one untouched.

By then, it was plain to all that the Mus were exceptional. Visitors bearing gifts came in a ceaseless stream.

The Mu family… simply couldn’t take it.

Inside the grand and imposing princely residence—

Mu Dazhu spoke with Zhang shi: “Seems to me, being a prince isn’t such an easy life after all.”

Zhang shi agreed wholeheartedly. That day she had refused every guest, removed the heavy pins from her hair, leaving only one simple clasp, and felt her head instantly lighter.

She nodded. “Exactly. So many people, familiar and unfamiliar, all greeting me so warmly—and even knowing the name of my cousin’s younger brother. Isn’t it exhausting?”

The couple exchanged a look, then spoke in unison: “Why don’t we just go back home?”

They discussed it with the rest of the family. Perhaps because the Mus truly were different, all of them felt living in the princely mansion of the capital was stifling—far less free than life at home.

So, determined, the whole family entered the palace to speak with the emperor Ah Yue.

Ah Yue was reluctant, but the Mus were firm. He had no choice but to send them back to Dazhuang Village under escort, even assigning them two hundred private soldiers.

And still it wasn’t enough—he took up the imperial brush and granted Anle County, where Dazhuang Village lay, to the Mus as their fief.

Mu Xing did not leave with the rest of the family. He remained in the capital a while longer, for Ah Yue worried about his health. Not only did he summon the palace physicians, but he even posted public notices to seek the finest doctors of the land to tend him.

*

With the Mus gone, only one of them was left in the capital—and that one happened to be the emperor’s shixiong.

In a flash, Mu Xing became the most sought-after person in the city.

But he was nothing like the other Mus. Temperamental and willful, if in a good mood he might attend an outing, a flower banquet, or a feast of crabs and chrysanthemums; if not, he wouldn’t go, even if the palace itself sent invitations.

Over time, people learned his tastes, bringing delicacies or elegant amusements to please him. And Mu Xing did indeed make a few friends.

One day, the steward reported that a man claiming to be an old acquaintance had come to visit.

The visitor looked utterly ordinary. The steward couldn’t tell if he might be some relative of the Mus, so he asked Mu Xing for instructions.

The man was brought inside.

An ordinary elder, plainly dressed—yet his hands showed the unmistakable signs of a life without labor.

Mu Xing thought for a moment. The Mus surely couldn’t have such a relative.

“May I ask who you are?”

The elder lifted his head, tears streaming down his face. “So alike… truly too alike.”

Mu Xing frowned. The words rang ominously, stirring memories of a certain marquis’ household.

And sure enough, in the next instant the old man sobbed bitterly: “I am the second steward of the House of Marquis Cheng’en. Young master, the entire household is waiting for you to save them!”

So it was.

Mu Xing asked in surprise, “There are still people of the Cheng’en Marquis’ household left? I recall Ah Yue punished many clans. Wasn’t the Cheng’en Marquis’ family among them?”

The old steward: “…”

Why did that tone sound… off?

But he dared not say anything. He had no other way. Mu Xing was the only hope for the household now.

So he told the story.

Indeed, the house of Cheng’en had been implicated. In the case that destroyed the Weiwu Marquis’ clan, many great families were entangled, Cheng’en among them.

The house had been confiscated, its masters thrown into prison awaiting judgment. The servants, being of no consequence, had mostly escaped.

Nearly all the great houses friendly with them had been wiped out. Just when all hope was lost, Mu Xing suddenly appeared in the capital’s circle of power.

The second steward came at the heir’s command to beg Mu Xing’s aid.

“Young master, word has it you are His Majesty’s shixiong, and that His Majesty holds you in great esteem. If you but speak, the house will surely be spared from death!”

Mu Xing thought for a moment. “If I plead, Ah Yue would likely grant me that face.”

The steward’s face lit with joy.

But then the man before him went cold. “But why should I plead?”

Mu Xing gave a soft, derisive laugh. “What is Cheng’en Marquis’ house to me, that it’s worth my intercession?”

“Besides, if Ah Yue let an enemy live just for my sake, how wronged would he be?” Mu Xing’s gaze turned icy. “He suffered enough when he was young, and now at last he has risen to this height. Why should he suffer further for a household that means nothing to him?”

“Go back.”

The steward was aghast. His voice rose harshly: “But young master—whether you admit it or not, the blood in your veins is of the Lu family. That is a fact you cannot deny. You cannot be so heartless!”

“Is that so?” Mu Xing leisurely blew on his tea and said roguishly, “Well, I refuse to admit it. I have nothing whatsoever to do with the House of Marquis Cheng’en. So what? I really am that heartless.”

The expression on his face clearly said: And what can you do about it?

The old steward: “…”

Mu Xing looked at him. “Those who bring misfortune on themselves cannot live. The Lu family is merely paying for what they once did. No one can save them.”

“Go.”

---

Lu Jiaming lay on his bed.

Because of his condition, he hadn’t been thrown into the Imperial Prison with the other Lus.

But with the estate confiscated, the masters imprisoned, and the servants either gone or sold, the once-grand marquisate was now empty.

Other than the guards tossing a steamed bun by his mouth at mealtimes, no one paid him any attention.

He could even smell the stench rising from his own body.

From outside, he heard the guards chatting:

“I heard today another divine physician answered the imperial edict to treat Young Master Mu.”

“His Majesty truly dotes on Young Master Mu.”

“Of course! That’s His Majesty’s shixiong. They say His Majesty learned all his skills from Young Master Mu. And the Mu family—why, they’re His Majesty’s saviors.”

“The Mus are so lucky. Just for saving the young emperor once, they rose from peasants to princes overnight.”

“Young Master Mu doesn’t look like any peasant. I saw him once—the bearing, the looks, it’s not too much to call him an immortal. I’d say he even surpasses that famed imperial concubine of the former dynasty, the so-called most beautiful woman.”

“…”

Lu Jiaming’s eyes went wide.

He knew exactly who they were talking about.

The Mus! Mu Xing!

He wanted to shout, to declare that he too was of the Mu family!

That he was the Mu family’s true son, that he should have been the emperor’s shixiong, that he was the one who should be basking in endless glory!

But he could not speak.

Why hadn’t the Mus come to find him?

Now that they were a princely house, deeply cherished by the new emperor—why hadn’t they come to rescue him from this misery?

In a haze, he thought: If only, back then, the babies had never been switched.

---

At the Mu household.

Zhang shi woke from a dream with a start.

She sat bolt upright, staring blankly ahead. After a long while, she turned toward her sleeping husband.

“Mu Dazhu, wake up!” She slapped his face lightly.

Mu Dazhu opened bleary eyes, mumbling, “What is it? It’s not even dawn.”

Zhang shi shook him. “Don’t sleep! Tell me—don’t we have a youngest son, called Mu Xiaobao?”

Mu Dazhu looked at her as if she were mad. “What are you talking about? Missing Xiaobao so much you’ve gone crazy? He’s in the capital. If you miss him, send a letter.”

Zhang shi suddenly let out a long breath of relief. And then, unable to hold it back, tears streamed down her cheeks.

That frightened Mu Dazhu. He scrambled up, holding her and patting her back. “What’s wrong, what’s wrong?”

Zhang shi sobbed, “I just dreamed—when Xiaobao was just born, we thought he wouldn’t survive, so we secretly abandoned him. I saw him, so tiny, picked up by a beggar, never fed or clothed properly, growing up thin and frail, only to die of illness in his teens.”

The dream had been so vivid and real that Zhang shi had woken drenched in cold sweat, unable to tell dream from reality.

Mu Dazhu comforted her: “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid. That was only a dream. Our Xiaobao is perfectly fine. His health is good now, and Ah Yue has hired countless divine doctors to treat him. Xiaobao will live a long life.”

Zhang shi murmured “Mm,” but she couldn’t sleep again. At dawn she had a carriage readied and hurried to the capital—she had to see Xiaobao with her own eyes to be at ease.

---

As Mu Dazhu had said, Mu Xing truly lived for over a hundred years.

He had cultivated the arts of the School of Carefree (Xiaoyao) Wanderers, his inner strength was deep. And with both the Mus and Ah Yue devoted to his health, sending him every tonic and rare medicine imaginable, he became perhaps the most well-nourished man in all of Great Zhou.

He was already beautiful, and with the cultivation of the Carefree School, as the years passed his bearing grew only more ethereal. His appearance remained unchanged for decades.

At first, some nobles of the capital sought marriage ties. But gradually, such proposals ceased.

It was as if all tacitly acknowledged that he was no mortal. Some even believed he was truly a celestial being.

By the end of his life, Mu Xing was surrounded by quiet emptiness.

His parents and brothers long gone, Ah Yue too had departed. The emperor now was Ah Yue’s grandson, who treated Mu Xing with deep respect.

But aside from his blood kin, others felt more awe than closeness. Who would not fear such a person, no matter how striking his outward beauty?

One day, Mu Xing felt a subtle premonition.

He bathed and burned incense, changed into plain robes, lay calmly upon his bed, and drifted into slumber.

The next day, when the palace attendants came to call him, they found him lying peacefully—breath already stilled.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣