Listening Snow

II

Back in the manor of the Prince of Qin, he sat on his bed deep in thought, lacing and unlacing his fingers. Yang Cheng’s testimony had really given him nothing to work with in the first place.

A woman startling to the eyes.

Quintessential if her mission was to be any success.

Guards have been set up. Every amid and servant checked.

He had always prided himself on the fact that his manor environs and the manor itself were impregnable. It was a widely known fact. Yet, they had had a maid infiltrate his manor.

Startling to the eyes.

Yang Cheng was a renowned gambler, liar and womanizer all these serving as a façade to cover the disgusting thief he really was.

It had been easy to apprehend him. All he needed had been a good gambling night, a few jars of wine and a woman startling to the eye to land him in a puddle.

Now he was the one in a puddle.

Yang Cheng hadn’t recognized him as the Prince of Qin. Madame Yang however, did. It was no news the Yang wealth was accumulated based on forgery, illegal dealings and plain – even twisted – treason; as well as who and who were the major players. Madame Yang was one critical player. The idea to use one, or two, of the women in the Yang household to cross and pressurize Yang Cheng had been a brilliant one. But had come with a hefty price.

His manor and the lives in it – sixty-two of them -, his reputation had become sitting ducks.

He sighed heavily and rose from his bed. It was either the manor had been brilliantly infiltrated, or it was yet to. He wanted to bet on the latter but experience had taught him to always expect the worst. The element of surprise therein would be in his Favour. Yet the thought didn’t leave him any respite.

He needed a bathe.

If the former were to be dwelt on, then he could only shudder at the idea of whether or not the mission was indeed a success. Being a custodian of a forged or stolen dragon seal was a crime of treason. The innate royal tussle for the throne was bad enough. He had struggled to ensure it was known knowledge he wasn’t and won’t ever be interested in the throne. Yet, it hadn’t done him much good as this night bore testament to. Neither did it keep him safe and sound.

Having arrived the bath, he disrobed and walked into the soothing water, hoping it would soothe him.

Life as a royal sin was just as privileged as it was a life lived very constantly walking on the edge of a knife.

Arresting Madame Yang and exposing the young master Yang had in its own their devilish dividends. As known as their source of wealth was the fact that they’ve almost made themselves invincible by backing certain royal members and had a finger, even if not a thumb, or two in court. Her trial and the predictable end result of young master Yang’s exposure would run raw in so many; and he suspected his father would have a tussle in his hands trying to save face as opposed to seeming perturbed by the unfolding circumstances.

Now, if only he could just as well get an answer to this nagging question, he would undoubtedly consider his hard work aptly rewarded. However, he would simply make do with watching the show from ‘the sidelines’ he had permitted himself to only do.

Yet there was no telling young master Yang was ignorant of his player. So who? Who played this zither for this dance from a distance?

He hissed out loud, eyes and head rolled back to further seek the –

A loud splashing sound together with an equally loud gasp broke him out of his very brief reverie, and what he saw stripped him of all composure and decorum he had learnt all his life. For there right in the middle of his bathe was a wet woman. Her hair such an odd color in clogs all about her head and body.

He was shocked.

He was startled.

She was beautiful.

She was in the wrong place.

She was shocked and obviously not happy about – something that eludes him.

She was one thing too: a woman startling to the eye.