Chapter Text
The tavern was a powder keg of conflicting agendas. In the dim, smoke-shrouded corners, a group of Ji Lei’s remnants—hardened killers—fingered their blades. They had tracked Shen Zechuan here to finish what the torture rack couldn’t.
But the center of the room was a circus.
Xiao Chiye, Commander of the Imperial Army, sat with his boots kicked up on a table littered with empty jars. Beside him sat the formidable Qi Zhuyin, Commander of the Qidong Five Garrisons. Between the two of them, they held the military might of half the empire in one booth, and they were currently using it to get absolutely hammered and talk shit.
Shen Zechuan entered, his silk robes brushing against the grime of the floor. He had come expecting a confrontation—perhaps a blade to the throat or a repeat of that morning’s intensity. Instead, he heard Xiao Chiye’s voice booming with theatrical disbelief, but only snippets of what he was saying.
"...give up the three hundred thousand ingots—and my soldiers— for him? For Ji Lei?" Xiao Chiye was wheezing, clutching his stomach. "How delusional do you have to be? He’s got nothing left! All he has to offer is a confession...too scared to give... talking crazy... he better bring the land- and money-.. or I’m the one who’s going to walk him to the execution grounds ...before....else does!"
Shen Zechuan paused. He felt a sudden, sharp spike of annoyance at being left out. Previously, he was one of the first-or only- to be indulged. Who was talking crazy? Ji Lei, right? Was this about the bribe he had intercepted? He stepped closer, trying to catch the thread of the gossip, his face losing its cool mask.
Xiao Chiye’s eyes snapped to him. The "sunny" disposition curdled into a look of "I am so done with all men, all are snakes." He reached out and grabbed Qi Zhuyin’s arm, pulling his Jiejie closer.
"Jiejie, watch this," Xiao Chiye muttered, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I’m about to clock him."
Qi Zhuyin looked from the wine jar to Xiao Chiye, then to the pale, beautiful Shen Zechuan. She looked like she was debating whether to give Xiao Chiye more wine or just drown him in it to save the family name.
"Let me tell you this, everyone!" Xiao Chiye stood up, swaying slightly. The Imperial Army soldiers at the surrounding tables went quiet, while Qi Zhuyin’s Qidong officers watched with raised eyebrows. "You all think I’m getting it on with him? That we’re some kind of... pair?"
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
"I would rather get a womb punched into me and carry the imperial heir for Consort Mu Ru than to SIT HERE with this guy! If I can get the Emperor to be silent for once and not say anything about it? In fact, I would rather get knocked up and spend my days in a garden by MYSELF in REGRET than to SIT HERE... and get tricked into one night by our dear Vice Commander Shen!"
He slammed his cup down. "Do I sound crazy? I don’t care, I’m drunk!"
The assassins in the back stayed perfectly still. One of them looked at his comrade, their eyes conveying a singular thought: ...What the fuck is happening? Is this a trap or a breakdown?
Shen Zechuan stood in the center of the floor. He caught the glint of the assassins' blades in the periphery of his vision and realized, with a flicker of dark amusement, that Xiao Chiye’s public meltdown was actually serving as a better shield than a wall of guards. No one wanted to jump into the middle of this.
Shen Zechuan stepped into the light of the table, his eyes shimmering with a dangerous, playful coldness. "Second Young Master," he said, his voice a low, melodic contrast to the shouting. "If you wanted to discuss the 'regret' of our morning together, you could have just sent a letter. There's no need to involve the Imperial Lineage or your anatomy."
He leaned over the table, close enough that Xiao Chiye could smell the incense on his skin. "Though, if you're so eager to spend your days in a garden in regret, I can certainly arrange the isolation for you. But I suspect you'd find yourself missing the 'snake' within the first hour."
Xiao Chiye’s jaw tightened. He glared at Shen Zechuan, then looked at Qi Zhuyin. "See? See this? He’s doing it again! He’s doing the thing with the eyes!"
Qi Zhuyin stared at the ceiling, then slowly pushed the wine jar toward Xiao Chiye. "Drink, Ce'an. It's the only way you're going to survive this conversation without crying."
The assassins slowly began to back out of the tavern, one step at a time. They weren't getting paid enough to deal with the Commander of the Imperial Army having a domestic crisis with a "traitor's son" while the Great General of Qidong watched like a bored spectator.
Shen Zechuan watched them leave, then turned back to Xiao Chiye, pulling out a chair and sitting down with a graceful flourish. "Now," Lanzhou said, fixing his gaze on the disgruntled wolf. "Tell me more about this three hundred thousand. I feel I’ve missed the best part of the evening."