Chapter 16: Heaven's Gifted Jade

Yan Dong’s face changed dramatically, his expression shifting through a tumult of emotions. Though he was a eunuch, he possessed a spirit no less heroic than Shi Jie’s. To stand by and watch tens of thousands of commoners being carried off—how could he not be filled with rage? Yet, if a fight broke out now, the empire might once again fracture, the consequences far outweighing the deaths and suffering of a few tens of thousands.

“Speak! What is your plan? How will you rescue those people?” Yan Dong’s eyes were bloodshot, his nostrils flaring as he stared intently at Cai Cong.

“The secret cannot be revealed. Grand Eunuch, you need only tell His Majesty: On the day of negotiations, whatever I do, it will be for the people; please do not interfere.”

“That’s impossible! If you’ve already been bought by the Turks, five hundred elite soldiers would be enough to force open the city gates.” Yan Dong refused to consider it. Who could say whether Cai Cong had someone backing him? Who would risk handing him five hundred elite troops under such uncertainty?

“Possible or not, that is for His Majesty to decide, not you. Besides, before the negotiations, these five hundred soldiers must follow me out of the city. I intend to have a proper conversation with Jieli.”

As a master of deception, Cai Cong knew exactly how to speak, what gestures to make to inspire confidence in others. At this moment, he was the very image of Zhuge Liang reborn, with the fate of the realm weighing on his words, lacking only the feather fan and scholar’s robe.

Seeing Yan Dong about to protest, Cai Cong waved his hand, his interest waning as he said, “I do this because life among men is hard enough; why should we suffer so much? Go on! If His Majesty is willing, let him send the troops. If not, then you and I must keep this matter utterly secret, not a single word must slip.”

“In that case, I will return to the palace to report. Master of the Palace Secretariat, I take my leave.” With that, Yan Dong pushed open the door and departed, surrounded by his attendants.

Cai Cong gazed at the blazing sun overhead, murmuring, “Will things change because of me? If they do, then who am I? But those are thirty thousand souls…”

Meanwhile, Yan Dong hurried to the imperial palace, accompanied by an unremarkable attendant, making his way to the Imperial Library.

“Greetings, Your Majesty!”

The two knelt in unison, their voices resounding.

“Rise! Begin your report; I am listening,” Li Shimin said calmly.

The two exchanged a glance, and the unassuming attendant crouched on the floor, stretching lazily and laughing, “Grand Eunuch, you’re here! I thought you wouldn’t arrive until the afternoon!”

His demeanor, his tone—he was like an enlarged version of Cai Cong. Then the two reenacted the conversation from Ci’en Temple, replicating every nuance and attitude with uncanny accuracy.

When the exchange was over, the attendant knelt and said, “Your servant is incapable: I can mimic his tone and gestures, but the confidence, pride, and compassion that radiate from his very bones—I simply cannot reproduce.”

Li Shimin smiled and said, “Rise! How could I blame you? Painting the skin is easy, but engraving the bones is hard, especially if one wishes to emulate a heart as subtle as his. Go now and claim your reward!”

Once the attendant had departed, Yan Dong knelt and said, “Your Majesty, this old servant failed. I could not test the true abilities of the Cai family’s son. Thinking back, from our meeting to our parting, I was led by the nose every step of the way. I beg punishment.”

“Rise! You old fool—those closest are always the most confused. Think about it: how many among the officials and ministers can lead you by the nose, make you jump into the pit he’s dug? Could there truly be one who learns wisdom without a teacher in this world?”

As he spoke, Li Shimin himself became bewildered. Cai Cong’s background had been thoroughly investigated, yet no one could explain how he had suddenly become so clever.

After a long pause, Yan Dong finally dared to ask softly, “Your Majesty, should we give him the troops he requested?”

“Give them! Why not? All under heaven belongs to the king. If he can rescue the captured commoners, I will not begrudge him titles or rewards.”

Li Shimin’s words were both domineering and tinged with frustration. As emperor, to bow his head and negotiate in disgrace was a bitter humiliation. If the people could be saved, at least some measure of dignity could be reclaimed.

“Then I will arrange it at once. Also, Duke Li has sent word: the required gold, silver, and jewels should be delivered to the Cai family’s son. What do you think…”

“I have always trusted those I employ. Send them all. I want to see what tricks he can pull off. Did you know? I wish I could meet this lad myself. Today he sent someone to stake out the Three Ministries, learning to imitate others’ speech, but he failed miserably, stuttering and evoking only laughter.” Li Shimin was in high spirits, ending his words with a smile.

Night fell. The Turks’ tents stretched for dozens of miles, a majestic sight. Warriors patrolled back and forth, sabers at their waists and spears in hand, fierce and strong. The Turks were composed of many tribes, so the camp was divided into numerous areas.

The left side was occupied by the Atair Tribe, one of the largest, surrounded by smaller clans. This tribe boasted nearly a hundred thousand people, with over twenty thousand archers. Their chief, Atair Mengnaite, held considerable sway among the Turks.

Of the tens of thousands of captives, several thousand had been seized by him. Mengnaite strode with the vigor of a tiger, his face as dark and stormy as the weather before a tempest. Barely in his twenties, he commanded such a vast tribe—his pride was boundless.

Today, over a trivial matter, he had been publicly rebuked by Jieli, stripped of all dignity.

“Chief, the Khagan was outrageous today. He clearly means to suppress our Atair Tribe. His ambition is as obvious as a starving wolf on the plains—he wants to swallow us whole!” a burly man said anxiously. Jieli’s ambition was immense; as Khagan, he was not content, but sought to crush any tribe that might threaten his position.

“Hmph! Of course I see his ambition. But now, his power is greater. We must endure it. If we fight now, the other tribes will seize the chance to take their share.” Mengnaite, though young, showed keen political insight, analyzing the current situation with near-perfect accuracy.

“What then? If this continues, once he’s finished with the Tang slaves, he’ll come for us.” The burly man drew his curved saber and furiously hacked at the table.

“Stop your nonsense! Get out!” Mengnaite glared and shouted angrily. What he admired most were strategists, but all his men were brawny, simple-minded fellows. Even this relatively clever subordinate could not control his emotions.

“Fine, I’ll go. I’ll find a couple of Han girls to vent my frustration. Chief, do you want some too? Han girls are white and smooth, like silk to the touch.” The man grinned, dropping his saber, his face twisted with lewd desire.

“Go! Bring me two petite girls like last night. Remember—they must be from noble families,” Mengnaite said, swallowing saliva and waving him off.

Soon, two frail, tearful girls, barely thirteen or fourteen and dressed in thin clothing, were dragged into the tent. Perhaps their parents had already promised them to someone, or perhaps they had been cherished daughters at their parents’ knees. But when the Turks’ iron cavalry battered down the city walls, they fell into endless hell amid their cries.

“Come here! Hahaha…” Mengnaite laughed lustfully, grabbing their arms and pulling them into his embrace, venting his desires as they screamed.

After the storm had passed, Mengnaite donned his robe and called out contentedly, “Someone! Take these two away, give them to my warriors for their amusement.”

The two girls trembled violently, their eyes devoid of any light, mere dead flesh as the guards carried them out.

At that moment, a little black dog, its fur jet-black and eyes bright and lively, scampered into the tent. Before the guards could catch it, it opened its mouth and spat out a piece of jade, half the size of a palm, crystal-clear and flawless. It then sat before Mengnaite, looking at him innocently.

“Stop!” Mengnaite shouted, halting the guards, his voice tinged with expectation. “Is this for me?”

“Woof woof… woof woof…”

The little black dog barked loudly, pushed the jade to Mengnaite’s feet, then retreated to its original spot, watching him closely.

Mengnaite laughed uproariously, picking up the jade and examining it with wild delight. On the front, the words “Heaven’s Gift” were engraved in Turkic script; on the back, a howling moon-wolf was carved, its head raised to the sky.