Chapter 78: True Flowers, False Words

To avoid drawing attention, Logan turned and fled in the opposite direction. In his plan, Erhu and the others would return via the small path that Prefect Lu had taken when he arrived. After all, the people Prefect Lu brought didn’t know Erhu and his companions; even if they were discovered, they’d likely be mistaken for ordinary townsfolk.

Once they met Doctor Du for support, they could ensure the safety of the Bamboo Grove Guild and its members. Meanwhile, Logan would seek out Old Hu and confirm that the fake flower he was crafting was ready. He would then hand the item to Prefect Lu, aiming to rescue Zhang the Bamboo, thus completing his mission.

When Logan left, Old Hu had promised wholeheartedly, and entrusting the winter flower to him seemed wise—he was trustworthy. Logan’s mind raced: although Wang Ge was a corrupt official, he wasn’t foolish. Sending all four members of the Bamboo Grove Guild back together was too smooth; wouldn’t it have been more advantageous to send only one and keep the others as hostages?

Logan dared not dwell on the thought, its implications terrifying. A deep unease gripped his steps. Snow drifted gently from the sky, making the ground dangerously slick; he had to tread carefully, lest he slip and fall.

He soon reached Old Hu’s house; the door was tightly shut, and regardless of how much he knocked or called out, there was no response.

Disaster! If even one link in the plan failed, everything would collapse. In the distance, several constables hurried toward the Sima residence. Logan searched frantically for a place to hide, but there was nothing in front of Old Hu’s house but the stall. In desperation, he crouched down, pressed his palms together, and prayed for heavenly favor.

The constables drew closer, when suddenly, a pair of hands stretched out from beneath the meat stall! Logan was startled as he was pulled inside, the stall making a loud racket.

Through a small gap in the fabric, Logan glimpsed Yan Shan, who signaled him to stay silent.

Footsteps circled nearby as several men ran past, whispering to each other.

“How did we decide on the Sima house? That place is creepy—who’d want to go there?” one captain grumbled, his tone tinged with doubt.

“Cut the chatter. Orders are orders. Magistrate Wang knows what he’s doing.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Logan’s face; he recognized the second voice as Zhang Jifeng’s, rough and grainy with curiosity. Logan couldn’t help but try to lift the cloth for a better look.

But the stall had been iced over for ages, and it creaked loudly at the slightest movement. Yan Shan pulled Logan back.

Zhang Jifeng glanced over, suspicious, but hurried on without lingering. Once the constables had left, Yan Shan spoke.

“President, something terrible has happened!”

Logan said, “Why startle me the moment we meet? What’s going on?”

Yan Shan’s thin frame trembled. Logan removed his own coat to wrap around Yan Shan, but Yan Shan refused; instead, they shared the coat together.

“First, what happened with you? Weren’t you with Erhu and the others? I looked everywhere for you!”

Logan’s tone was urgent, which reassured Yan Shan.

“I woke up earliest that day, groggy and wanting to see what was happening outside. When I went out, Zhang Jifeng was nowhere to be seen. I searched around, and then…”

Logan looked up, listening intently.

“And then?”

“And then I couldn’t find him. When I came back, I saw a group storming the Sima residence—what a sight, what a force!”

Yan Shan exaggerated the description, and Logan understood the reason.

“You didn’t dare go inside, right?”

Yan Shan fell silent. With his brothers captured, facing many alone would have been foolish, but hiding felt dishonorable—there was no right answer.

Logan understood: sometimes a deserter survives, and saving lives is not shameful. At least, one less person to rescue.

“Haha! Don’t worry, it’s not such a big deal. As long as you’re safe. We still have much to do.”

Seeing Logan didn’t blame him, Yan Shan continued, “President, when disaster struck, the only ally we have in Anping County is Vice Minister Liu, so I went to the Liu residence.”

Logan was surprised. Yan Shan was young, but his grasp of the situation rivaled Logan’s. He understood the shifting alliances and thought to seek help from Liu instead of acting rashly.

“I saw another group of constables arresting the Liu father and son! I followed them and watched as they were taken into the prefectural office!”

“I see, I see. Don’t worry about the Liu family, but I am puzzled—why would Liu Buwen appear at the Liu residence? Wasn’t he supposed to be keeping watch for us?”

Yan Shan realized the situation was more dire than he thought and continued, “What shocked me most…after the Liu father and son were taken inside, Constable Zhang also entered the prefectural office.”

Zhang Jifeng? Connecting the events, Logan realized his earlier suspicions: the spy was either Liu Buwen or Zhang Jifeng. Regardless of why Liu Buwen was at the prefecture, Zhang Jifeng’s presence confirmed his close ties to Prefect Lu… Could it be that Logan’s carefully laid plan had been exploited?

Old Hu was now missing, fate unknown; the real winter flower was no longer in Logan’s possession, and he had no leverage left. Logan’s mind spun, numb with despair—the situation felt hopeless.

Logan lamented giving away the real flower. Surrounded by lies, it was difficult to distinguish truth from falsehood. Compared to the complex relationships in reality, a single misstep could cost lives; each move was a precarious dance on a knife’s edge, leaving him barely able to breathe.

In the darkness, Yan Shan listened, discerning Logan’s unease from his anxious, rapid breaths. After much deliberation, he finally spoke.

“President, why don’t we go find Brother Tiger and the others? With more people, things will be easier.”

Inside the prefectural office, Prefect Lu dismissed his attendants. At his side stood Red Armor, now healed and respectfully upright.

Prefect Lu paid no mind to the blizzard outside, idly spinning a bodhi bead in his hand. Red Armor, thoughtful as well, had shed his armor to reveal a clean-cut youth with sharp eyebrows and thin lips—unlike the rough personalities of Grey Armor and Yellow Armor.

“Hmph, you’re a clever one—calculating even against your own brothers,” Prefect Lu remarked.

Red Armor remained impassive. Though not tall, he was spirited and alert.

“Not calculation, but strategy. Without intelligence, how can I help the Prefect achieve greatness?”

Prefect Lu snorted again. Red Armor knew full well the Prefect sought the treasure for selfish gain, yet spoke loftily of grand ambitions—it sounded sharp, almost mocking.

“What do you want if this succeeds?”

“I am no scholar. I once did minor work for Duke Song. Now, at last, I have found a worthy master. I wish only to serve at your side, as your right hand!” With that, Red Armor knelt, offering a grand salute.

A worthy master? A right hand? Clearly, Red Armor sought a post. Prefect Lu understood, but he valued talent—capable subordinates were precious.

“Scholarship isn’t the only path. If this is accomplished, it means we are destined. I will surely lend you a hand.”

Red Armor was pleased, and he and Prefect Lu exchanged knowing smiles.