ITVCFITB CHAPTER 28

Chapter 28: A Stroll Through Town

The “show” Li Mingjin meant wasn’t the varied acts the courtesans were putting on.

Just then, a thick plume of smoke billowed up from beneath today’s stage. The mentors seated closest to center leapt up in panic and tumbled away, and the courtesans waiting behind the scenes to go onstage shrieked and scattered in chaos!

Both the stage and the backstage devolved into a mess, with no one directing a proper evacuation.

Worse still were the three hundred “live audience” below, bolting around like headless flies, not even sure where the exits were.

Smoke thickened around the platform. People covered their noses and mouths. The stench was unmistakable: something was on fire!

Cries for help rose in waves.

“Ahhh! Run! Fire! The place is on fire!”

“Fire!”

“Head for the exits! If you’re slow, you’ll burn to death!”

“Where are the fire-men? Save us! Hurry!”

“Help! Someone help! Heavens, give me a hand!”

Among the spectators were handpicked commoners and a bevy of idle, thrill-seeking nobles. They’d received the earliest VIP invitations. The Eldest Prince had the best view of all; of the Luo clan, he currently had the warmest ties, so Shen Mingyun had given him a VVVIP seat, closer than marquess-heirs and commandery princes.

Under normal circumstances, the nearer to the stage, the better the view. Now, the nearer, the faster the smoke rolled in, coughs racked chests, eyes burned so badly one had to squint to slits. In the scramble to flee, there simply wasn’t time. And the wind was blowing straight toward the VIP tier, making it the first to choke.

The Eldest Prince was ringed by guards; without them, he’d have been trampled flat.

Most nobles on the dais were likewise bundled out by servants, with no more order than the crowd below. It was a contest of elbows, who could shove through first to the stairwell.

Why not jump down, someone asked since it’s only two stories?

Because Shen Mingyun, in proposing temporary VIP stands, had wanted the audience to feel a “high-altitude thrill.” The tiers had been built higher than usual. Now the drop was too far; no one dared jump. Do it and you’d break a leg or your head.

The Eldest Prince covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and still nearly blacked out from coughing. “Cough-cough!”

“Your Highness,” a guard said, “the crowd below is a riot. We may not get through. I fear the people will harm you.”

“Cough! Make a path! We’ll force it if we must! Cough! Another breath of this and we’ll all roast!”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

The stage stood where public bouts were usually held, a space the authorities rented out if you paid enough. Shen Mingyun liked the breadth and had, for “safety,” fenced in the entire audience area. He’d plagiarized with thoroughness, afraid later “fans” would lose all restraint and mob their favorites, so he’d put up rails. Pity: the rails now became obstacles to escape.

Seeing the flames creeping close, the three hundred “live audience” heaved at the fencing. When kicking didn’t work, they climbed, the rear following the fore. Chaos turned to carnage like a refugee camp brawl over a crust of bread.

On the second tier, the Eldest Prince and company finally squeezed down to the first. Just a breath from freedom, a knot of masked men in coarse ash-gray hemp surged out of the smoke and blocked the run to the fence.

They didn’t speak, just swung broadswords straight at Li Mingyu and the rest!

“Protect the Eldest Prince!”

“Assassins! Assassins!”

“Your Highness, I’ll shield you!”

The smoke was thick; the blades fell indiscriminately. The Eldest Prince blanched. He had no weapon, only a decorative jade flute, which splintered after a few parries. Desperate, he shouted, “Who are you? Name yourselves!”

The leader, silent until now, barked back, “Li Mingyu, you’re a damned faithless cur! We killed for you, and you tried to wipe out my brothers to the last! Debts have creditors, today we take blood for blood! This is your death day!”

The Eldest Prince was no fighter, herded to the rear by his guards. Nose covered, he craned for a look, more rattled by the accusation than by the smoke. “You speak nonsense!”

“Days ago, we did your job,” the leader roared. “Chased the mark to a cliff, just as ordered. A clean trade. Then you turned on us and stiffed us our thousand taels!”

“Shut up! Don’t slander me!”

The leader’s laugh was a bark; his blade chopped down again, but a guard caught it.

The din swelled; screams overlapped.

The prince’s guards were top shelf; for the moment they held the line.

Red-eyed from smoke, the Eldest Prince took a kick from behind when a guard’s back turned, down he went, knees skinned, that proud pretty face smashed into a swollen, bleeding mess, one tooth wobbling loose.

Abruptly the smoke thinned; the assassins melted into the crowd.

Guards hauled the Eldest Prince up and sprinted for the gate. The haze here was lighter. When they finally looked around, the killers had vanished. Shaken and bleeding, the prince didn’t linger on their sudden appearance or disappearance. Being alive was enough.

Only after they’d fled did officers from the yamen arrive, wresting control of the scene. The commoners had already poured down Yunsheng Avenue and were gone. Left behind were the noble scions, livid that assassins had chased them in the capital. If not for their speed, they’d have been skewered.

In truth, the worst injured was the Eldest Prince. The sight of him rattled the constables. If the Emperor blamed them, heads would roll.

Under summons, the promoters were dragged over. They’d escaped unharmed and nearly died again on seeing the prince’s face. There was nothing for it but to apologize, in tears, to the prince and the gathered lords.

Yes, poor planning. Who could have guessed someone would target the event on opening day? They’d been giddy with success and hadn’t laid proper precautions.

The Eldest Prince was aching, furious, humiliated. The assassins had come for him.

The yamen began probing the cause of the fire.

Beneath the stage they found thirty braziers, all burning wet wood—the smokiest fuel. Clearly planted.

With the prince the only one seriously injured, officials needed an answer. They hauled the promoter away for questioning.

“Where are the assassins?” the prince demanded. “No one saw them leave through the crowd?”

A constable held up several soot-black strips of cloth. “Your Highness, they likely slipped out with the panicked public under cover of smoke, ditching their masks in the press.”

The capital’s prefect, alerted to the gravity, rushed over. “Trace them, now! I want to know how they got in, and who dared strike at the Eldest Prince in a crowd!”

Escorted by a small army, the Eldest Prince was taken back to his residence.

On the way, clutching his bloody mouth, he replayed the near miss. Only he knew where those men had come from.

They were the most reckless breed of cutthroat. He’d brought them to the capital to serve him. Now they were unruly and dangerous to him. After the attempt on Third Brother, he’d had them “cleaned up.” How were any still alive?

Panic prickled. People must have heard the exchange. No one could learn of his collusion with brigands, if the Crown Prince did, he’d strip him to the bone. The Crown Prince had been scoring wins lately that he’d even stolen the waterwheel plans. Infuriating!

And both the contest and the plans traced back to Shen Mingyun. Had he quietly defected to the Crown Prince? Why was the morning calm, only for assassins to appear when he arrived?

Backstage, Shen Mingyun huddled with courtesans and catamites. In a corner, he hissed to the system, what’s going on?

“Arson,” it said. No more. Perhaps it didn’t know.

Soon the yamen came, questioning one by one. The Eldest Prince had said the assailants were men. The officers took one look at the trembling, pampered beauties, most couldn’t lift a blade and moved on.

When no one was looking, Shen Mingyun used a seven-minute invisibility item and slipped out the back.

With the promoters arrested, staying only raised his risk.

“The co-hosts have been taken in,” he told the system. “I don’t know if the contest can continue.”

“If you fail to proceed, the mission fails and your balance is low,” the system replied.

“I know. Don’t nag.” He regretted splurging on beauty items; now he couldn’t afford better protection, let alone high-tier tools.

The shop had five tiers. Completing missions earned shop coins and points; hit thresholds and the shop upgraded. The same type of item varied drastically by tier like a rattletrap in an old block versus a tower on the Bund.

He should have budgeted. Who knew missions could fail? He’d had a run of bad luck, twists derailed several in a row.

“Can’t you push me some easy ones?” he asked. “Lower points are fine.”

“Tasks are random. I can’t interfere.”

“No little backdoor? We’ve been in this world over a year.”

“The system follows rules. No custom assignments. Don’t hunt shortcuts. Complete tasks, earn rewards.”

He wanted to scream. Maybe Luo family feng shui was cursed; since Mount Dajue, things had gone wrong. Three mission failures. Over two hundred shop coins spent to bid for the plans, wasted. The Eldest Prince must have blabbed to some woman; two months of work flushed. Hearing the plans were now with the Crown Prince nearly killed him. Useless Eldest Prince, mud that won’t hold a wall!

Time to change thighs. One isn’t enough anyway.

The Crown Prince’s maternal clan was too strong; if he ascended, power would be carved up. Not ideal.

He’d once favored the Eldest Prince; after today, he balked. Don’t put all the eggs in one basket.

The Third Prince was too brutal, no future ruler. He’d nearly been bundled into the Third Prince’s residence; the man was not only cruel but obviously lustful. Good thing Luo Shuyu had married in instead. After failing to ruin their wedding and missing those rewards, Shen had marked a grudge. The newlyweds seemed born to thwart him. How annoying.

The Fourth Prince’s backing was weak for now, but he left a fine impression: gentle, courteous, tasteful, romantic, a rare man. Put him on the “maybe” list.

In the end, he hesitated. Why not place small bets on all three? As a ger, surely none would make things hard for him.

He regretted not finishing that boring novel and flaming the author at three chapters in. If he’d read to the end, he’d know the paths. Now he could only rely on luck and items.

With a system, the world is mine!

He slipped home and found a letter from the Fourth Prince waiting. A pressed flower petal on the seal, of course his chosen “male god” had taste. The penmanship was exquisite, too.

---

Upstairs, Luo Shuyu and Li Mingjin watched the entire farce unfold. The noble youths’ ugliest sides on full display. Sworn brothers yanking each other’s hair to be first out; a “good friend” shoving his fat companion aside and vaulting over him to flee.

Truly an eye-opener for Luo Shuyu.

And since Li Mingjin had brought him, it meant the “fire” was part of the plan.

The Eldest Prince had gotten the scare of his life, but in the end it was only that, a scare. Aside from scrapes from shoving, the public had fled fast; no casualties.

They sat again.

“This won’t be enough to stop ‘Courtesan 101,’ will it?” Luo Shuyu asked. “Once those promoters are released, they’ll resume, too much sunk cost.”

“There’s more to come,” Li Mingjin said, pouring fresh tea. “No rush. Once won’t make them wary.”

His arrangements rarely worried Luo Shuyu. With so many commoners present and no casualties, it was clear he’d planned thoroughly. Luo Shuyu sipped. “Did you seed people among the crowd?”

Light kindled in Li Mingjin’s stormy eyes. “Mn.” Being seen through by Luo Shuyu filled him with secret delight.

“And step two?” Luo Shuyu asked.

“You’ll know when the time comes,” Li Mingjin said, teasing.

Cradling his cup, Luo Shuyu smiled. To Li Mingjin, it felt less like late autumn than a spring thaw.

“The show’s over. Just tea is dull. Shall we stroll a bit?” Li Mingjin suggested.

“Your leg, will it be alright?” Luo Shuyu asked.

“It’s fine. The swelling’s mostly down.”

Luo Shuyu studied him. Since he so rarely proposed such things, he agreed. “Alright.”

They ambled onto the avenue. Shops dazzled on either side; even Luo Shuyu, who seldom went out, didn’t know where to start.

An old fellow passed with a sheaf of candied hawthorns. Li Mingjin’s gaze tracked him. “Shuyu, I wager you want a skewer.”

Luo Shuyu blinked. “I suppose I… do.”

Behind them, Qingwang paid and brought one. Li Mingjin’s eyes never left the candy. Enlightenment dawned on Luo Shuyu; he pressed the skewer into Li Mingjin’s hand. “Now that I think on it, I’ve had too much tea. Can’t eat just now.”

“Can’t waste it,” Li Mingjin said at once. “I’ll eat it.”

“…” Are you sure I was the one craving it?

They passed a ring-toss stall. Leaning on his cane, Li Mingjin eyed the ten bamboo hoops. “I bet you want that pair of clay dolls.”

This time inspiration struck. “Yes. I believe I do.”

A red-and-blue pair was quickly won.

They wandered on.

Just when Luo Shuyu thought they might browse a clothier, Li Mingjin stopped dead and stared at him.

He thought the foot hurt and was about to ask, when a wave of roasted-meat aroma floated by. He glanced right: a shop selling grilled pig’s feet. He hesitated. “Your Highness, I…”

“You must be hungry,” Li Mingjin said, knowingly.

“…Right,” Luo Shuyu sighed inwardly.

---

Author’s Note:
Third Prince: Wife, it’s late, you must be hungry!
Luo Shuyu: …滚 (scram).

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Little note(s):
Yamen: refers to the local government office in imperial China, essentially the administrative and judicial center, often combining executive, judicial, and sometimes police functions aka local authorities.