Chapter 146 — Heavy Rain

Meanwhile, …

He started up in alarm at the sound of a rushing, crashing noise—rain falling from the sky.

So it was raining!

He pressed a hand to his chest, and it was a long while before his heart steadied.

These days at the Duke of Britain's residence had been, for Chen Yanzhou, a matter of sleeping on his spear and waiting for dawn—though Song Yan had lifted his confinement some days before, so long as he had not left the Duke of Britain's gates, each day was like dwelling in a tiger's den.

He sat quietly for a time.

The rain fell harder and harder; the wild wind lashed the branches into a crackling clatter, and the scent of ambergris from the incense burner by his bed drifted through the air, lending a sense of peace and calm.

Chen Yanzhou could not help smiling.

This Songluo—since when had he taken to burning ambergris?

Was he afraid his guest would not sleep well?

Xuanying had sent two lads of twelve or thirteen to "wait on" him. One was called Songluo, the other Wuyi—both names of teas. Songluo was lively, Wuyi steady, and both were quick-witted: they said what should be said and not a word more. In food and clothing, in every comfort, he wanted for nothing; they even had a little learning, and when they flattered him their praise had substance. Again and again he found himself marveling at the splendor of the Duke of Britain's house—to produce two such lads at a moment's notice, what but a hundred years of accumulated wealth could do it?

He remembered that the window of the study had not been closed.

Of all things, a study fears damp.

Chen Yanzhou called for the lad on duty: "Songluo! Songluo!"

No one answered.

Chen Yanzhou frowned.

Whether because they were carrying out orders or because such were the rules of the Duke of Britain's house, the two lads had never before left his side—and yet today he could not summon either of them?

He wondered privately, and out of the corner of his eye caught sight of a white mourning robe.

It had been brought by a servant named Zeng Wu.

The Duchess of the Duke of Britain had died, and everyone in the household must go into mourning.

He had explained to Zeng Wu: "I am only a temporary guest here; plain dress will suffice."

Zeng Wu rolled his eyes and said with contempt, "Since you eat the Duke of Britain's food and drink the Duke of Britain's drink, you must keep the Duke of Britain's rules. Don't think that because you are a bosom friend of Mr. Yan you may set yourself apart. Even if Mr. Yan himself returned, he would have to wear deep mourning."

Chen Yanzhou had taken up residence on the pretext of an old acquaintance with Yan Che.

Naturally he would not stoop to argue with Zeng Wu over such a thing, and silently accepted the mourning robe.

Zeng Wu strutted out, muttering as he went: "Nothing but a fellow who claims to know Mr. Yan, cozzens the heir and comes to our house to wheedle food and drink—what's so grand about that! And he dares put on airs before me. Make me angry, and I'll go lodge a complaint with the Duke himself and see you unable to swallow what you've bitten off!" His tone was full of scorn and loathing.

Chen Yanzhou could only smile bitterly.

He was not the only one in the Duke of Britain's house to see him so.

But that was just as well—no one would pay him any attention.

He found a robe in the tall cabinet nearby, threw it over his shoulders, and went to the study.

The four crackle-glazed casement windows, propped open by day, let light and air into the study; but now, closing them was something of a nuisance.

Chen Yanzhou was just about to take down the props when he saw Songluo running toward him with a banana leaf over his head.

He thought of the ambergris in his room, and something stirred in his heart; he hid behind the window.

Soon light footsteps sounded beneath the covered walkway, coming all the way to the side room next to the inner chamber.

That was the bedroom of Songluo and Wuyi.

So late—where had he been?

Chen Yanzhou pondered, and stepped out from behind the window.

Someone came running toward him through the rain.

Chen Yanzhou looked closely—it was Wuyi.

Like Songluo, he went straight to the side room.

Chen Yanzhou sensed that something was not quite ordinary.

He thought for a moment, then crept softly to the door of the side room and listened to the sounds within.

"Hurry and change out of those wet clothes—mind you don't let Old Chen catch you."

Wuyi's voice was low, but on such a night it carried with perfect clarity.

"What rotten luck! To run into such heavy rain!" Songluo muttered.

But Wuyi asked, "Did you find out anything?"

"I couldn't find out a thing," Songluo said, his voice dejected. "All I know is that the Duke of Dingguo himself gave the order for that Wang Xilai to make the arrest. As for why, nobody knows. We can only wait for the heir to return and deal with it." His tone turned puzzled. "Strange, though—half the guards in the household now are men I don't recognize, and they kept interrogating me about my identity. If I hadn't run into Guard Xie, I might not have made it back! In the old days, new guards were always paired with someone for a while, until they'd learned most of the faces in the household, and only then were they put on patrol. But this time, out of four men, Guard Xie was the only one I knew..."

"That's why I say something's wrong!" Wuyi's voice was full of worry. "Brother Chen Tao served the heir closely—the heir praised his caution more than once, even trusted him with his own private silver. What could Brother Chen Tao possibly have done? And Guard Wen—when the heir left, he told him right in front of me to keep a closer watch on our courtyard while he was away in Liaodong, and he told me to go to him if anything came up. But I've gone looking for him several times and never found him. What is he doing..."

The two fell silent at the same moment.

Chen Yanzhou hurried back to his room and lay down.

Before long, Songluo came in.

"Old Chen! Old Chen!" he called softly to Chen Yanzhou.

Chen Yanzhou grunted and turned over.

Songluo let out a long breath and lay down on the large kang by the window outside the screen.

But Chen Yanzhou could not sleep at all.

He knew Chen Tao—just as Wuyi said, a careful young man, sparing of words and quick to read a face. With a temperament like that, he was perfectly suited to be a personal attendant.

What could he possibly have done?

He wondered how Dou Yan was faring.

With Duan Bing and Chen Lanxu at her side, she should be safe enough.

That day had been truly terrifying. If the young lady had not acted on the instant, they would all likely have died at the farmstead.

What a pity, though—she was to marry Wei Fan!

The fool had no brains at all. He never stopped to think how far apart he and Song Ke were in both age and station—so why on earth would Song Yan go out of his way to court him with such courtesy?

Should he warn Wei Fan?

He certainly could not tell him about the farmstead. The Fourth Young Lady's acquaintance with Song Yan would have to be given some new explanation. But a lie is like a snowball: the more it rolls, the thicker it grows.

Chen Yanzhou sighed and listened to the rain all night.

By the next morning, the rain had slackened considerably.

Wuyi said to him with a smile, "I have business—I need to go find Guard Wen. Could Old Chen spare me for the day?"

Chen Yanzhou thought of the conversation between Wuyi and Songluo the night before, and said, without betraying anything in his face, "Go on. I have Songluo here with me."

Wuyi thanked him again and again and went out, overjoyed.

He did not return until noon. After the midday meal, he said he would go out again to look for Guard Wen: "...Didn't find him. Or perhaps he's gone off somewhere on some business?"