27 The Gambler

Page (1/3)

Ye Lingbo had always acted like an antelope hanging its horns on a tree branch—leaving no trace by which she could be followed. Even at the lively spectacle in the Wei household, she had watched only the first half before leaving early, lest she be trapped in the departing crowd of noble ladies and find her carriage unable to return for half the day.

She had not taken part in the ladies’ and young misses’ heated discussions at all. She returned home early, drank a bowl of ginger broth to ward off the cold, played cards with A-Cuo and Yanyan for a while, and went to bed early. The next morning, after sleeping to her heart’s content, she saw the snow glittering outside, stretched lazily, and asked Little Willow, “What hour is it?”

“It is already the Dragon Hour.” Little Willow was preparing tea, but in the end she could not resist adding, “He has arrived.”

Lingbo merely gave an indifferent “Oh,” then turned over in bed and lazily picked up a bronze mirror to see whether her face had become swollen from sleep.

“Miss, he arrived at the Rabbit Hour.” Little Willow continued, “It is terribly cold outside.”

“I know.”

After saying that, Lingbo rose without hurry. She washed, combed her hair, and changed her clothes. She did not forget to have Little Moon change the water for the narcissus in the basin. Only when Little Willow was about to lose patience did she finally drape a white fox-fur cloak over her shoulders and stroll out.

After a night of heavy snow, heaven and earth glittered like crystal. Three years earlier, Lingbo had made a considerable profit at an antique shop and renovated the entire alley behind her house, replacing the old roof tiles with blue-green glazed ones. Against the frost on the persimmon trees, the sight was indescribably beautiful.

Such beautiful scenery called for a beautiful woman.

A man like Pei Zhao naturally would not freeze to death. On such a bitterly cold day, he wore no fur-lined cloak, only a blue mantle, and held a battered umbrella. Against the snow-bright world, his exquisite features carried an austere chill. He looked like a figure from a painting.

By comparison, Lingbo seemed much plainer. Even a white fox-fur cloak worth a fortune could not alter the blandness of her features. When Pei Zhao intercepted her and pressed her against the wall, the smile on her face remained composed, devoid of glamour.

“Well, well. General Pei is angry.”

She still smiled as she teased him.

Pei Zhao was not angry. He was merely disappointed. So this was what he looked like when he did not smile: his brows and eyes sharp as if painted with a knife, his lashes dusted with fine snow. He was so handsome that one man alone could rival a thousand snow-covered mountains at dusk.

“So Miss Ye has been deceiving me all along.” Pei Zhao remained calm, though disgust showed in his expression. “All that talk of making knotted cords and taking commissions—was it merely to trick Er Ya into going to her death?”

“Is Er Ya dead?” Lingbo asked with a smile.

Pei Zhao did not answer. He only pressed his lips together and gave a cold laugh.

“You merely used them as a knife to deal with the Wei family.”

“And what of it?” Lingbo asked lazily. “What, are they not allowed to be knives? Or is there something shameful about being a knife? You think Er Ya and the others should spend their entire lives in some narrow alley, learning to wash clothes, cook, and make knotted cords, dragging snot from their noses and unable to afford even a single pear. I think wealth and honor can both be sought. You know only how to pity them and offer them charity, while I am helping her stake everything on a chance at unimaginable riches. Between you and me, who is it that truly looks down on them?”

She spoke words no young lady in the capital would ever have uttered. With not a trace of powder on her plain face, she stood calmly in the brilliant snowlight, gazing idly into Pei Zhao’s eyes.

Even Pei Zhao found it difficult to withstand her edge.

“What if you lose your wager?” he asked.

Page (2/3)

“Then I lose. Nine out of ten wagers are lost, are they not? Wealth and honor have always been sought through danger. When you go to war, do you not risk nine deaths out of ten for the sake of entering the Hall of Lingyan and becoming a marquis with ten thousand households? Their fathers died on the battlefield in pursuit of fame and glory. They possess that same fierce spirit—so why should they die ignobly between the manger and the stable? I explained everything clearly to Er Ya, and she willingly chose to stake her life on this gamble. Yet you want to keep her like a caged bird. Is that not what truly looks down on them?”

Her words were so sharp that they made the blood surge and ambition rise. Her pupils were black and bright, as though fierce flames burned within them.

Even Pei Zhao could only retreat into self-mocking laughter.

“No wonder Miss Ye guessed at our first meeting that I was a gambler.” He laughed at her. “It turns out that you are the true gambler.”

“Life is like rowing against the current: stand still and you fall behind. If one wishes to strive for the heights, how can one avoid taking risks?” Lingbo told him calmly. “General Pei need not regard me as though I were some monstrous flood.”

The people of this world were dull-witted. They believed only in sincerity, in goodness as pure as white paper, in the clumsy honesty of the simple-minded. They did not know that to manipulate others, one ultimately had to carry a little genuine feeling in one’s heart as well. At least when the Grand Princess had left yesterday afternoon, no one had wanted that little girl called Er Ya to succeed in her gamble more than Lingbo did.

But she had not guessed Pei Zhao’s answer.

“That would be going too far.” There was even a trace of admiration in the way he looked at Ye Lingbo. “I am not afraid of you, Miss Ye. It is only that—”

“That our paths differ, so we cannot work together?” Lingbo finished for him.

“Not that either.” Pei Zhao’s answer once again caught her off guard. He smiled and teased her. “I was merely wondering: now that Miss Ye has one hundred and fifty households fewer to hold hostage, how will you continue working with me?”

Lingbo was somewhat surprised as well. In her eyes, the men of the world fell into only two kinds. One kind was too dull to see through her true nature. The other understood her and kept respectfully away. Even her own father, Lord Ye, stood somewhere between the two: on the one hand, he stubbornly maintained the dignity of a father; on the other, he was faintly afraid of her. After all, compared with Qinglan’s open and honorable nature, Ye Lingbo had spent years walking in darkness.

Yet Pei Zhao looked at her unlike any other man. He did not seem afraid, nor did he keep his distance out of respect. Instead, he appeared to be studying her, without even the slightest hint of surprise. Even when her ambition flared openly, he did not react like other men, as though he had been insulted. Rather, he seemed to have encountered someone like her long ago.

It was precisely this unusual quality in Pei Zhao that prompted Lingbo to say what came next.

“Pei Zhao, honestly, I do think you are a rare talent—”

“A rare talent for keeping watch on Cui Jingyu,” Pei Zhao supplied unhurriedly.

Ye Lingbo rolled her eyes at him. In any case, she no longer cared about preserving her image before him. Otherwise, she would not have come without putting on even a trace of makeup.

“A rare talent for mending the red thread,” she corrected with disdain.

Her ways were secretive, and few people knew of them. Though she was close to her sisters, none knew the course of her game. Even Han Yueqi had only ever understood a point here and there. Now that Lingbo was mentioning her plans for the first time, even that seasoned woman felt her blood quicken with excitement.

“You do not understand, Pei Zhao. I am going to do something monumental. If I succeed, it will be a masterstroke that turns heaven and earth around. It will be extraordinarily difficult, but I must succeed! I have no other choice!”

A-Cuo had asked her about love, but in this life she was destined to have nothing to do with it. The person she loved most was Qinglan. She wanted to mend that red thread and determine whether Cui Jingyu could truly be trusted. The seven years following her mother’s death had been unbearably bitter. She wanted Qinglan to enjoy a fulfilled and happy life from beginning to end, and for that, she did not care how much of her strength and intelligence she had to expend.

Pei Zhao gazed at her surging ambition, his expression one of profound admiration.

“Does Miss Ye need my help with this monumental undertaking?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Of course.” Lingbo immediately fixed him with a stare. “Pei Zhao, what do you want? Wealth, fame, or status? You know, even a title is not beyond reach. Your five thousand soldiers should not have died in vain at the Battle of the Singing Sands River—”

Page (3/3)

Pei Zhao smiled and raised a hand to stop her.

“That speech will do for Er Ya. You need not use it on me. There is nothing I want.”

“Not a single thing?” Lingbo clearly did not believe him. She immediately eyed Pei Zhao suspiciously, trying to find a flaw in that godlike, handsome face.

Pei Zhao merely smiled.

“How about this?” he asked with a smile. “I will help you, provided that along the way, you discover what it is I want.”

“Really?”

Lingbo naturally knew it was not true. There was something in Pei Zhao that suggested he treated the world as a game. Perhaps he was merely standing by to watch the moment her wish fell apart.

But since he had said it was true, Lingbo did not press him further.

“All right.” Lingbo looked him over, then casually tossed him a sheet of paper. It was Cui Jingyu’s service record from earlier. “The Grand Princess is holding a banquet tomorrow, and all the generals of the Northern Pacification Army will be there. You should go as well.”

“I will see how things stand,” Pei Zhao replied.

Lingbo was truly at a loss with him. He had not even managed to obtain a title, yet he always acted as though he had countless important affairs to attend to.

So she let him take his leave. Only after he had reached the mouth of the alley did she call out to him.

“Hey, Pei Zhao.”

Pei Zhao turned around and saw something blue flying toward him. It was a blue fox-fur cloak, no less valuable than the white one Lingbo wore—worth a fortune.

“It is for you.” Ye Lingbo was as lavish and carefree as a feudal lord scattering gold in an old heroic tale. “Do not dress like a penniless vagabond every day. You are embarrassing me.”

Her arrogance was matched by that of her maid. After Lingbo tossed over the fox-fur cloak, one of her maids came forward to hand Pei Zhao a fine umbrella, adding for good measure, “Our young mistress has no need for hostages. Everyone who follows her does so with absolute devotion.”

Pei Zhao found that amusing. He was just about to ask how many people followed her, after all, when the maids had already hurried away, leaving only a trail of footprints in the alley.