Chapter Ninety-Two: Green, Green Are Your Lapels

“Fine skill, Brother Yongzhao—fine skill!” After a full five or six breaths had passed, the first cheer finally burst from outside the ring. It was Wang Han, who had recovered from his shock and was laughing aloud while clapping in praise.

“Well struck, Brother Yongzhao! That was thoroughly satisfying!” Wang Zhihuan followed close behind, likewise snapping out of his daze. He joyfully punched the air again and again. “Now I finally understand why the Mohists of old dared to stand against the lords of the Six States! Brother Yongzhao, that was exhilarating—exhilarating! If only the bout had been slower, I would have seen nothing of it at all!”

“Fine skill! This clerk has real skill!”

“Well fought! Magnificent! That is exactly how a man like that ought to be dealt with!”

And so on.

All at once, the cheers around them caught fire. The young girls who had followed behind “Zhumeng” made no effort to conceal their feelings, clapping and waving with bright excitement.

Zhang Qian, meanwhile, still felt he had not had his fill. He first smiled and cupped his hands to the crowd, then rolled his shoulders and arms, and at the same time called out to the Tibetan warriors around him, who stood staring in utter astonishment. “Anyone else? Step into the ring! Don’t worry—today we settle victory and defeat only. No one dies!”

It was exhilarating. Damn it, it was truly exhilarating. He had not felt this satisfied in ages.

Since crossing over into this world, this was the first time he had fought so freely and so thoroughly. Especially that final whip kick—against an evenly matched opponent, he would never have dared raise his leg so high. But if the opponent was Guo Nu or Ren Cong, his junior brothers, he could not bear to strike so harshly. Only Ji Duorou had just the right level of fighting ability, and the right level of asking to be beaten.

“No, no more—there’s no one left!” The Tibetan warriors hit by Zhang Qian’s gaze all turned their heads and stepped back, none willing to come forward and take him on. In fact, even the courage to meet his eyes had vanished.

Even the valiant and battle-hardened Sergeant Ji Duorou had failed to last three rounds before being swept out of the ring by the foot of this eighth-rank Tang clerk, where he lay unconscious. What need had warriors less capable than Sergeant Ji Duorou to enter the ring and throw away their lives?

Besides, in a Heaven’s Judgment, the rule was one bout and done. How could it be like polo, where one had to win two out of three?

“Since you lost, why are you still not apologizing to the others?” Seeing that none of the Tibetan warriors had the courage to enter the ring and accept the challenge, the girl known as Zhumeng quietly let out a breath of relief. She deliberately pulled a stern face and scolded the warriors.

If Zhang Qian had refused Ji Duorou’s challenge just now, or if he had lost, then even with her unusual status she could have forced the warriors to apologize, but they would not have been sincerely convinced. Perhaps on returning, they would even have exaggerated matters and gone to slander her before the Tibetan envoy Xixunre.

But now, with that one whip kick from Zhang Qian, all trouble had vanished. No matter what decision she made, it would only be because the Tibetan warriors themselves were useless, not because she was deliberately favoring her own side.

His legs are so long, and that move was so crisp!

She could not help stealing a glance at Zhang Qian, then turned her face away and suddenly felt her heart flutter like a little deer at a spring.

He can’t have noticed I was looking at him, can he?

The thought flashed through her mind at the same instant her heart leaped, and in an instant her face grew even redder. She twisted her head farther aside, yet her ears quietly pricked up, straining to listen to the sounds around her.

On all sides, apologies were already breaking out in a wave. The Tibetan warriors, obeying their mistress’s order, were bowing to Zhang Qian and offering their excuses.

“We know we were wrong. Please forgive us, honored lords of Tang!”

“What happened just now was indeed our fault. We beg the forgiveness of the Tang gentlemen!”

“We were in the wrong. We are willing to make amends!”

Zhang Qian’s attention at this moment should have been entirely absorbed by their words and gestures of apology. He was busy exchanging courtesies with the warriors, and probably had not looked her way at all.

A small, faint sense of disappointment welled up in her heart. Beneath it, too, was a trace of grievance.

What are you thinking, Yang Qingxing? How shameless can you be?

You are Zhumeng of Tubo now, and he is a clerk of the Tang Armaments Office.

That grievance, like a seed, quickly sprouted in her heart, growing into several long vines.

That’s right. To him at this moment, you are the master of these Tibetan warriors. Ji Duorou lost; as their master, you ought to make some gesture as well.

She shook her head lightly, dispelling the disappointment in her heart and tearing those vines to shreds.

Then she took up her mount’s reins once more, slowly turned, and displayed all the composure and dignity she could muster. “Brother Yongzhao, take this horse as compensation! Please be generous and do not continue to quarrel with them over it!”

“This—forget it. My horse was only a draught horse; I certainly can’t accept such a heavy compensation!” Zhang Qian froze for a moment, then hurriedly waved his hands with a smile. “Besides, that Ji Duorou said before that if he lost, both he and his horse would belong to me. Since the horse is only for pulling a cart, I’ll just take it to settle the account!”

With that, he smiled and gave the girl a slight nod, then strode toward Ji Duorou’s mount.

The Tibetan warriors around them all breathed a sigh of relief and, to Zhang Qian’s surprise, actually rushed forward on their own, clumsily helping to lead Ji Duorou’s horse over to him. From first to last, no one looked at Ji Duorou again, as though he had been dead for many years.

Seeing this, Zhang Qian became even more certain that his choice had been right. The girl “Zhumeng” claimed to be the mistress of these Tibetan warriors, and her ties to some high-ranking figure among the Tibetan tribes must be anything but ordinary. As for the girl’s mount, it had come from that Tibetan queen mother or some such person, and was certainly no ordinary steed.

If he took the girl Zhumeng’s horse, he would not be able to ride it for the time being anyway. At most, he would keep it in the stable and let it fatten up. But if the girl’s gesture of offering the horse as apology provoked the queen mother’s displeasure, she would likely have to bear the wrath of all the Tibetans alone.

The goodwill between clever people often need not be stated too plainly. The instant Zhang Qian accepted Ji Duorou’s horse from the Tibetan warriors, the girl’s heart had already become perfectly clear.

“Brother Yongzhao—” Her eyes suddenly felt a little hot, and even the sunlight at her back seemed scorching. She wanted to say something of thanks, but feared exposing the weakness she felt at that moment. After the three words left her lips, she pressed them tightly shut.

The vines she had just torn away in her heart began once more to creep everywhere, and this time they grew twice as fast as before. Worse still, they were covered in thorns, so that every time she tried to tear them away, the pain went deep to the bone.

“Miss Zhu, there’s really no need to be so polite.” Zhang Qian, however, did not catch the tremor in her voice. Holding the reins of the horse, he turned back with a smile. “This horse is quite good too, and it looks rather docile. Very well, let’s let today’s matter end here. Ji Duorou is not dead—send someone to take him back, and he’ll recover after a few days of rest. When I struck, I deliberately avoided his vital points!”

Those last words were purely to change the subject, lest the girl insist on giving the horse to him and the two of them end up awkwardly declining back and forth.

Who would have thought that the moment he finished speaking, Ji Duorou, who had been lying on the ground, suddenly rolled himself upright. Though he could barely stand, he staggered to Zhang Qian’s feet and fell to his knees, bowing deeply.

“Master, Ji Duorou has lost himself to you. From this day on, you are Ji Duorou’s master. Whatever the master wants Ji Duorou to do, Ji Duorou will do. Whether in water or in fire, I will never so much as frown!”

Before Zhang Qian could react, he quickly turned his body toward the girl as well. “Zhumeng, for Ji Duorou to become the master’s slave is Heaven’s decree. I ask that after you return, you tell Xixunre to treat Ji Duorou’s family well!”