Chapter 2658: The Capital (Part 14)
Li Rufeng nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Since ancient times, the Son of Heaven has always been made by those with strong soldiers and sturdy horses. The Great Song occupies Lingao, where we have built high walls and accumulated grain in abundance. Only after ten years of planning and ten years of patient waiting have we achieved today's powerful army and great wealth. We should be pointing our banners northward, wielding golden halberds to sweep away the barbarians, drawing fine bows to punish the disobedient. These construction slaves who have usurped the Ming are nothing but petty clowns. Once our grand army arrives, they will crumble instantly. Our orders will settle all four directions, and within a month, the world will change masters." He paused, his voice turning bitter. "Taking our time to claim kingship is acceptable, but if we tarry too long, we lose the heart of enterprise. Lingao has become a nest of brocade and embroidery; the Purple Light Tower, a village of gentleness. The Senators spend their days playing with wind and moon, hesitant and indecisive as little girls. I cannot fathom what they are doing."
"Silence," Liao Sanniang said softly. "The court situation is treacherous. Do not discuss such matters recklessly."
Li Rufeng realized he had spoken out of turn. He sighed lightly and coughed to cover his embarrassment. "We will need to select a few steady and skilled hard hands. Sooner or later, we must venture out of the city."
Liao Sanniang looked up, considering for a moment before speaking. "Zhao Liangjian counts as one. He hails from Jingxing in North Zhili and served as a 'Ma Lang Hand.' He is skilled in using flying stones and can take out a person's eyes from twenty paces. He is meticulous, experienced, and prudent in his actions—a man who can be relied upon. There is also Liu Chang, an archer from Xuzhou. He is an excellent shot, clever and sharp."
Li Rufeng nodded. "Fine. I will pick two more. Chen Cui, a 'Mao Hulu' from Henan—he can climb houses and ascend roofs, traverse mountains and cross ridges. He is skilled with short weapons and has seasoned Jianghu experience. And Sun Changtou, originally a warrior monk from Funiu Temple. He possesses great strength and impressive stature. He has smashed through prefectures and counties for many years and is well-traveled and knowledgeable, familiar with using a staff. We can choose a few more besides them, and that should be enough."
Thinking of these men, Liao Sanniang said softly, "They did not come from Lingao, yet all are people who keep faith and value righteousness. With their skills, they could carve out territory anywhere, whether as soldiers or bandits. They are willing to accept five or six taels of food and wage silver here each month simply because they refuse to bully the weak or slaughter the innocent indiscriminately."
At this, both fell silent. The hall sank into a brief quiet. In the dim evening light, everything appeared old and dirty. Dust and sand poured in through the open hall door, rendering the two figures—standing one behind the other—chaotic and blurred.
After a short while, Li Rufeng broke the silence. He stroked his beard, hesitated, then asked, "Do you truly believe there will be news?"
Liao Sanniang shook her cloak, walked to the hall door, and raised her face toward the sky. "There will be."
The few pale white pockmarks on her nose bridge caught the dim afterglow, reflecting a faint light like scattered cold stars against a dark night. Her tone was confident and unwavering, without the slightest hesitation—as if answering Li Rufeng, yet also speaking to herself.
When Leng Ningyun woke, his mind was in chaos. For a disorienting moment, he could not determine where or when he was, somehow convinced he was still napping in his office at the fund management company from back then.
His mouth and tongue felt parched. "Little Li, pour tea!" he called out groggily.
A moment later, a cup of tea was indeed brought to his lips. Leng Ningyun took a sip in his confusion, and comfort spread through his body. He smiled. "Little Li, you don't know—I just had a dream. It was really interesting! I'll tell you about it the next time we eat together..."
"The Master can speak of it anytime; this slave loves to listen." A woman's charming voice sounded by his ear.
"Hey, what 'Master'? Call me Sir—" Leng Ningyun suddenly shuddered. Wrong! Wrong! Why would Little Li call me 'Master'?! When feelings run deep...
His eyes snapped open. In an instant, memories flooded into his mind like a tide. He woke immediately.
This is bad! I've been kidnapped!
Before coming to the capital, Leng Ningyun had received comprehensive training from the External Intelligence Bureau at the "Farm." The lectures on the dangers of overseas activities had focused heavily on how to prevent kidnapping and how to handle being kidnapped.
If this were a simple kidnapping for ransom, he would not have worried much. Kidnapping was, after all, nothing more than a pursuit of wealth. To obtain the ransom, kidnappers would not easily take his life. With Delong's influence in the capital, spending money to eliminate the disaster would resolve the problem.
But alas, today's kidnappers were not after wealth!
Thinking of this, Leng Ningyun secretly cursed his own recklessness. His soul had been hooked instantly by that letter.
Reflecting on it, he still could not escape the shadow of "abandoning the gun and fleeing" at the camp all those years ago. Though no one had mentioned the matter in all this time, he had always considered it a shame. He had not hesitated to risk his life repeatedly to prove himself...
This time, if he was being honest, it had been a momentary obsession. The bait thrown by the other party was simply too tempting. If he could have obtained a clear answer, it would have been no less explosive than detonating an atomic bomb in the Senate. He could have seized the opportunity to become a "rising star" attracting everyone's attention.
Yet that momentary obsession had led him to this end. Thinking that he had not even notified Wu Kaidi, Hexiang, or the others—that he had not left behind a single written document—he broke out in a cold sweat.
I brought this upon myself. I cannot live!
The thought filled Leng Ningyun with such regret that he nearly fainted again.
"Master, drink a few more mouthfuls." Through his daze, he heard the woman from before speaking softly.
Leng Ningyun opened his eyes. He was lying on a Babu bed, its curtains hanging low around him. The speaker was a young woman kneeling on the bed, feeding him water.
"Where is this?" he asked, confused.
The woman did not answer. Seeing that he had awakened, she said in a low voice, "Master, please do not talk too much. The drug has not worn off yet. Just rest well."
Leng Ningyun observed that she was about twenty years old. From her appearance and dress, she looked like a maid from a wealthy household. Her accent, however, was not the Jianghuai dialect of the capital's Mandarin but carried the southern tones of Jiangnan.
At this moment, his entire body was sore and limp, utterly devoid of strength. Even his brain felt clouded with dizziness. He knew the other party must have administered some drug to control him easily.
This filled him with fear. He had no idea what these mysterious drugs were made of or what consequences they might have for his body. Even in the old spacetime, clinically tested anesthetic drugs still carried great risks—let alone these unexplained substances with unknown pharmacology in this world.
However, no matter how unwilling he was, he could only submit to the mercy of others. He had been terribly thirsty, so he drank several more mouthfuls of water until he finally felt comfortable. Then came the urge to urinate. Setting aside any embarrassment, he said, "I need to urinate. Help me up."
The woman complied, helping him rise from the bed and lean against its side. She fetched a chamber pot and assisted him.
Leng Ningyun had spent several years in the capital and had grown somewhat accustomed to ordering slaves and maids about, but he still could not adapt to being served like an invalid. "I'll do it myself," he said hurriedly.
"Your legs and feet are weak right now. Do not push yourself," the maid replied.
Leng Ningyun's hands and feet were indeed feeble. He could not even urinate on his own—he had to lean against the bed rail just to sit upright. He had no choice but to let the maid handle him. After fully experiencing the corruption of a landlord's privilege, he was helped back onto the bed.
The maid brought a porcelain bowl. "Master Leng, you have not eaten for a day. Please have some."
He had not felt hungry before, but at her words, he suddenly realized his five viscera were empty. Since I have been kidnapped anyway, I might as well relax, he thought. Losing a Senator would be a major incident; both the Beijing Station and the Senate would spare no cost to rescue him.
Opening the porcelain bowl, the fragrance of milk mingled with fermented rice wine wafted out. It was a bowl full of milk curd. The slightly yellowish curd was dotted with nuts and dried fruits, and it instantly aroused his appetite.
He took a bite with a silver spoon. The milk fragrance was rich, the taste smooth and sweet. The craftsmanship behind this curd had definitely come from a wealthy local household.
Milk curd existed in Beijing during the Ming Dynasty, but compared to the later Manchu Qing era, this delicacy was far rarer. Outside the palace, only high officials, nobles, and the finest brothels could savor such treats.
Indeed, Leng Ningyun thought, the ones who kidnapped me are not common highwaymen, but some 'Big Shot.'
As for who that Big Shot might be, he had a vague sense in his heart—though how that person had written that letter remained an unsolved mystery.
After finishing the bowl of fruit curd, Leng Ningyun felt comfortable throughout his body. When the maid brought mouthwash, his spirit had nearly recovered. After rinsing his mouth, he asked, "Who is your master? Why was I brought here?"
The maid curtsied and offered an apologetic smile. "This slave is named Zhiling, ordered to serve the Master here. If the Master has any requests, please just tell this slave. Only do not leave this room. As long as you do not go out this door, the Master shall act as a Duke for ten thousand generations..."
"Alright, alright, enough of that. I understand!" Leng Ningyun felt a wave of irritation. However, hearing her name was Zhiling, his heart stirred. "Is your surname Lin?"
"This slave is not surnamed Lin. The name was bestowed by the head of the household," the maid said, her smile unwavering.
"Listening to your accent, you seem to be a Southerner." Leng Ningyun had spent his previous life in financial circles and was keenly sensitive to people's accents.
Zhiling smiled slightly but did not engage further.
"It is this slave's good fortune that the Master is considerate of this slave. If the Master needs anything, just give a shout. This slave will be just outside." With that, she withdrew.
The door opened. In a fleeting glimpse, Leng Ningyun caught sight of what appeared to be a small courtyard. The sky beyond was pitch black, and he could discern nothing clearly. Looking around, the room he occupied seemed to be the east side room of the main house. The decoration, furniture, and furnishings were of a level appropriate to a middle-class family—nothing particularly luxurious. The sole luxury item was an Australian oil lamp that illuminated the entire space.
From these furnishings and the condition of the room, he roughly deduced that this must be someone's residence. Night had already fallen outside, yet he could not hear the watchman's drum. Clearly, he was not in the city—not even in Haidian Town. Most likely, he was in some landlord's dwelling in a village or a wealthy family's countryside villa.
It seemed the other party had been well prepared.
At this time and in this place, he could only embrace the philosophy of "taking things as they come." He leaned back against the headboard to rest. The drug's effects had not yet worn off, and he felt weak and exhausted.
Just then, the partition door creaked open. Heavy footsteps approached, followed by a man's voice: "Mr. Leng, how have you been?"
(End of Chapter)