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048 The Governor & His Wife
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 15:51:56 +0000 UTCYue Ruo stepped into her husband’s study, her footsteps barely audible against the polished wooden floor. Ren Jin sat behind his desk, fingers steepled in thought, while Chief Enforcer Liang Na stood by the window, still as a statue. At her arrival, both turned; it was Liang Na who offered the first respectful nod.
“Have you reached a decision?” Yue Ruo asked, her voice calm and clear.
Ren Jin exhaled through his nose, rubbing his brow. “We must assign someone to the Daoist.”
Daoist. There was no need to name him. In recent days, only one figure had stirred the undercurrents of the empire so thoroughly: Da Wei, the cultivator entangled in demonic plots, imperial edicts, and sect rivalries alike.
Liang Na’s gaze remained steady. “I still believe it unnecessary. He has proven capable.”
Ren Jin scoffed. “Capable? The deeper he steps into the Empire’s heart, the sharper the knives around him become. Do you believe the ancient clans and old monsters will simply ignore a wild card like him?”
Yue Ruo stood quietly at the side, her hands folded in front of her, listening.
“If he offends a sect out of ignorance,” Ren Jin went on, “he might erase them from the map with a flick of his sleeve. Not out of malice, just recklessness. That kind of power, untempered, is a liability. A waste.”
Liang Na folded her arms. “And who would you send? No one can command him.”
“Not command,” Ren Jin replied. “Guide. Someone who knows the terrain, its hidden rules and buried knives.” His gaze settled on her. “You.”
Yue Ruo noted the slight tension in Liang Na’s jaw. She had known the Chief Enforcer for many years, enough to recognize her disapproval.
“I refuse,” Liang Na said flatly. “My post is here. I serve to protect this family. I will not abandon my duty.”
“You should stay,” Yue Ruo interjected, voice gentle but firm.
Both turned to her.
She met Ren Jin’s eyes. “Sending her might buy favor with the Daoist. But at what cost?” She ran a thumb along the embroidered sleeve of her robe. “The Riverfall Continent is not the main continent. That world is one of hidden dragons and crouching tigers. Even Liang Na would be walking into danger she has never known.”
She turned to Liang Na. “You can match swords with sect masters here. But beyond our borders, even kings tread lightly.”
Ren Jin leaned back in his chair, sighing. “So you believe the risk too great?”
“I do,” Yue Ruo said. “To her. To us. To the city.”
Ren Jin was quiet. Then he gave a tired, knowing laugh. “I thought you’d say that.” He straightened, voice sharpening. “In that case, I ask one thing.”
Liang Na raised a brow. “Speak it.”
“If you remain, you will protect not just me and my family, but the city. All of it.”
Yue Ruo felt clarity settle over her like mist parting before the sun. So that was his true aim.
She remembered the chaos when the demon's presence broke loose. Back then, Liang Na had obeyed Ren Jin’s orders precisely, but the moment she was free, she had gone straight to Yue Ruo and the children, dragging them to safety through smoke and ruin.
Liang Na had sworn to guard the man and those he loved. Never the city.
Now, he was changing that vow.
A long silence passed.
At last, Liang Na nodded. “I understand.”
Ren Jin’s gaze softened. “Then it is settled.”
Yue Ruo watched as her husband leaned back, his posture easing. She could tell he had anticipated this outcome from the start. He always did.
There had never been a need to send their sharpest blade. Liang Na's strength, still cloaked in secrecy, was too valuable to expose. Her past as the Empire’s hidden dagger, if revealed, would only invite calamity. A blade in shadow was safer than one displayed for all to see.
But someone still had to be sent.
Yue Ruo exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting elsewhere. Her thoughts settled on her second son.
Ren Xun.
A boy of modest cultivation, scorned by the court’s sharper tongues as a wastrel. Yet those who knew him spoke of his gentleness and his steady loyalty. Kindness in the son of a governor was a fragile thing, precious, yet dangerously exploitable.
Ren Jin would not hold this city forever. Whether he perished in battle, ascended to the throne, or was cast out by the tides of fate, Yellow Dragon City would one day need a new master. And there were those already eyeing Ren Xun as a piece to be moved, sacrificed, or crowned, depending on how the game played.
Naive. But such was the nature of power.
Yue Ruo turned to her husband. “Then send Ren Xun.”
Ren Jin frowned. “What?”
“Send our second son to travel with the Daoist,” she said, calm as still water.
Ren Jin leaned forward, brows drawn. “He’s barely in the First Realm. You think this is wise?”
Yue Ruo folded her hands in her lap. “It is necessary.”
Her husband studied her. “Speak clearly.”
“If he stays,” Yue Ruo said, “he becomes a pawn. A token to manipulate, a hostage in waiting. But if he leaves… if he walks beside the Daoist, he’ll gain perspective. Strength. He will be beyond their reach.”
Ren Jin’s gaze sharpened. “And you believe the Daoist will accept him?”
Yue Ruo’s lips curved into a faint smile. “We appeal to his righteousness.”
Ren Jin gave a short laugh, dry and tired. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple,” she replied. “He won’t abandon someone placed in his care, not if he believes that person depends on him. Especially not someone so… harmless.” Yue Ruo had seen the man for herself, so she knew. Albeit limited to the impression the man left, she was rarely wrong when it came to judging a person's character.
Ren Jin rubbed his temple, the gesture weary. After a moment, he let out a soft chuckle. “You’ve already calculated every angle, haven’t you?”
“Would you expect anything less?” she said mildly.
Ren Jin shook his head, a reluctant smile forming. “Very well. Let us see if the Daoist takes him in, but let's not get our hopes up.”
Yue Ruo tapped a slender finger against the armrest, her voice calm yet deliberate. “The Daoist will take him, if we make it a condition.”
Ren Jin raised a brow. “A condition?”
She nodded. “Lin Lim.”
At the mention of the name, Ren Jin’s expression darkened. “That beggar-woman?”
“The same one who’s captured our son’s heart,” Yue Ruo said, not without a hint of dry amusement. “If we tie Ren Xun’s departure to her people, Da Wei will find it harder to refuse.”
Ren Jin leaned back, thoughtful. “You believe he’ll accept... for her sake?”
“My eyes tell me he’s met her before. Not deeply entangled, but familiar enough. If we present it as a favor to her kin, he’ll see it as reasonable, maybe even a karmic obligation.”
Ren Jin exhaled through his nose. “Convenient.”
“Very.”
Silence hung briefly between them, until Liang Na finally broke it. “And the Great Enemy?”
Yue Ruo folded her arms. “You mean the demons?”
Ren Jin shook his head. “If only it were that simple.” He cast a glance toward Liang Na. “Da Wei knew of them before we did. Calls them the ‘Great Enemy,’ as if he’s crossed blades with them before.”
Liang Na narrowed her eyes. “Yet we know so little.”
Yue Ruo’s gaze shifted to her husband. “You fear what he might uncover?”
“I fear what he might bring with him,” Ren Jin murmured. “Wherever that man goes, calamity follows. Not because he seeks it, but because fate tosses him into the eye of the storm... At least, that's what Father said to me.”
No one spoke for a long moment.
Then Liang Na straightened. “I’ve stayed too long.”
Ren Jin nodded. “Back to your post.”
Liang Na gave a shallow bow and turned to leave. At the threshold, she glanced back at Yue Ruo. “Whatever comes next… be ready.”
And then she was gone.
Yue Ruo rose and crossed the room, lowering herself onto her husband’s lap with practiced grace. She leaned against his chest, tracing idle patterns on the embroidery of his robe.
“Hmmm… something just crossed my mind,” she murmured.
Ren Jin smirked, one arm curling around her waist. “Is it about how strikingly handsome your husband is?”
She chuckled, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Flatter yourself all you like. I was talking about the auction.”
He tilted his head. “What about it?”
“Who’s hosting it?”
Ren Jin exhaled softly. “Old Song.”
Yue Ruo lifted a brow. “That half-dead relic? He’s still breathing?”
Ren Jin let out a low laugh. “Surprised me too.”
“Last I heard, he was drowning himself in wine and women. What’s he been up to?”
“I’ve had him watching for devil cults or possible rebellions,” Ren Jin said. “His cultivation may be shallow, but he’s got ears in every alley and eyes where shadows gather. If anything stirs beneath the surface, he’ll know.”
Yue Ruo tilted her head, thoughtful. “Devil worshippers, now? So we are holding back secrets.”
Ren Jin sighed, fingers running gently through her hair. “Only that things are shifting. The demons aren’t just scattered anomalies anymore. There’s movement and organization. And wherever they gather, rot follows.”
She nestled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “Then we keep our ears open.”
He squeezed her hand. “We always do.”
Yue Ruo stretched lazily, still nestled in Ren Jin’s embrace. “So, what’s the word from the sects?”
Ren Jin exhaled, fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. “Chaos, as expected. Mostly fear of demons and Da Wei... Pan Xia and Long Xieren seemed panicky around him. For now, they are resorting to posturing and acting tough. As for the Isolation Path, well, they are celebrating.”
She raised a brow. “They celebrate?”
“That’s what I said,” he muttered. “Not the banquet-and-wine sort, but the kind of quiet fervor that makes you nervous. The spies say they’re calling it an ‘auspicious omen.’”
Yue Ruo frowned. “Those hermits wouldn’t call the sun rising an omen unless it bled fire. What about Cloud Mist?”
“Picking fights with Isolation Path,” Ren Jin said dryly. “Apparently one of their elders was ‘deeply offended’ by something Isolation Path said, though no one can actually agree on what was said.”
“Of course,” she sighed. “They hate being left out of anything, especially happiness.”
Ren Jin smirked. “Sounds about right.”
“And Sword Canopy?”
His expression darkened. “Quiet. Too quiet.”
Yue Ruo’s eyes sharpened. “That’s unlike them.”
Ren Jin nodded. “I think they’re still reeling from Long Xieren.”
“The resurrection?” she asked. "Ah, that explains their strange attitude to Da Wei."
He nodded again. “The empire has revival methods—old relics, sealed arts—but using them is rare. What unsettled them wasn’t that it happened… it’s that Da Wei didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask permission. Didn’t consult fate. He just… did it.”
Yue Ruo tapped a finger lightly against his chest. “That’s what worries me too. He acts on instinct, not calculus.”
“That’s what makes him dangerous,” Ren Jin said, voice low. “He’s not bound by sect dogma. Not constrained by family politics. He doesn't think like us. Which means we can’t predict him.”
Yue Ruo exhaled slowly and leaned into his warmth again, her fingers tracing idle circles on his sleeve. “Then let’s hope we don’t end up on the wrong side of his decisions.”
The moment stretched, the steady thump of Ren Jin’s heart anchoring her. Rare were the nights like this, where power could be set aside, where they could just be husband and wife, not governor and strategist.
Ren Jin brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re getting comfortable,” he murmured.
She tilted her head up, eyes gleaming. “A wife isn’t allowed to enjoy her husband’s warmth?”
His smirk deepened. “You’re welcome to enjoy as much as you like.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “If we didn’t have a city to run, I might’ve...”
Knock knock.
Both flinched.
The intimacy shattered like a dropped teacup.
Yue Ruo sat up straight, smoothing her robes with practiced grace. Her expression reset to elegant, cool, and composed.
Ren Jin coughed and adjusted his posture, the mask of the governor slipping back into place.
Another knock.
Ren Jin sighed, voice even. “Enter.”
The door swung open with quiet finality. Liang Na stepped inside, her expression a mask of calm.
Yue Ruo’s gaze sharpened. “What’s the impatience for?”
“I knocked,” Liang Na replied, tone clipped and dry. She crossed the threshold with unhurried grace, eyes sweeping the room. A flicker of amusement ghosted at the corner of her lips, though it vanished as quickly as it came.
Ren Jin let out a measured sigh. “What is it now?”
“The Sect Elders of Sword Canopy and Cloud Mist request an audience,” Liang Na said, hands folding behind her back.
Ren Jin’s brows drew together. “Both of them? Together?”
She nodded once. “They stand outside as we speak.”
He glanced at Yue Ruo. That alone was strange. Those two sects barely tolerated each other’s existence, let alone approached as one.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Send them in.”
Liang Na stepped aside with a respectful tilt of her head.
Two figures entered.
Long Xieren of Sword Canopy came first: tall, blade-straight, every motion imbued with a swordsman’s unyielding restraint. His eyes were cold iron, his presence sharp enough to draw blood.
Trailing behind him, Pan Xia of Cloud Mist drifted in like fog over water. His robes shimmered faintly with ethereal light, his steps so light they barely seemed to touch the ground. Where Long Xieren was blade, Pan Xia was vapor: soft, but no less dangerous.
Though their paths did not cross, the tension between them crackled like silent lightning.
Yue Ruo moved to stand beside Ren Jin, her gaze unreadable, measuring the visitors with a quiet attentiveness.
Ren Jin leaned back, fingers steepled. His voice was calm, but carried weight. “Elders. What wind carries you both to my door?”
Long Xieren and Pan Xia stepped forward in perfect unison, their robes stirring with subtle grace. Then, as if choreographed, they both spoke.
“We wish to speak with Daoist Da Wei.”
Their voices clashed midair—Long Xieren’s clipped and commanding, echoing the severity of the Sword Canopy Sect; Pan Xia’s smooth and precise, like mist threading through stone—soft, but insistent. Neither yielded.
A pause settled, taut with unspoken irritation.
Ren Jin leaned back in his seat, lips quirking into a smirk as his fingers tapped idly against the armrest. Yue Ruo’s eyes flicked toward him. She recognized that look. He had foreseen this, every step of it, and now he was enjoying the performance, savoring the leverage it gave him.
“Ah,” he said, voice laced with dry amusement. “Both of you? At once? What an astonishing stroke of fate. Sadly, Master Wei is my guest and I’d hate to trouble him after what he has done for my city. It would be rude to disrupt his rest at this juncture, don’t you think so?”
Long Xieren’s expression tightened, his composure wearing thin. “Spare us your games, Prince Ren. Where is he?”
Pan Xia’s smile was polite, but there was a quiet pressure beneath it. “Indeed. We both have business with Daoist Da Wei, and I believe you knew that before we arrived.”
Ren Jin chuckled softly and exchanged a glance with Yue Ruo. She said nothing, but the faint shift of her stance mirrored his amusement.
“I must say,” Ren Jin said, clasping his hands before him, “your sects’ sudden concern over a solitary cultivator is... intriguing. What is it you wish to discuss?”
Long Xieren’s jaw clenched, but it was Pan Xia who replied, his voice cool. “That is between us and the Daoist.”
Ren Jin exhaled slowly, deliberately. “Ah, but you see… Daoist Da Wei can be rather mercurial. If he perceives a threat where none was meant, things may become... complicated.”
Pan Xia’s smile faltered, just slightly.
Long Xieren crossed his arms, the gesture stiff with frustration. “Then name your price.”
Yue Ruo almost laughed. Ren Jin had them exactly where he wanted, caught between pride and desperation.
A lot of things happened over the past week, all involving small and big things. For some time, Da Wei was categorized among the small things, however after what just happened, this particular elders must have realized just how deep they were in shit.
Since Da Wei was practically Ren Jin’s guest, the Elders could only turn to him for help to solve any ‘possible’ misunderstandings that might’ve arisen between Da Wei and them.
Ren Jin’s smirk deepened. He tapped his fingers against the armrest, savoring the silence that followed Long Xieren’s bluntness.
“Price?” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. “Now that’s an interesting shift in tone. Not long ago, your sects wouldn’t have cared if an independent cultivator lived or died. And now… what was it? You both need a… private audience?”
Neither elder replied.
Yue Ruo crossed one leg over the other, her voice as smooth as lacquered silk. “You must understand. Daoist Da Wei doesn’t operate on traditional sect courtesy. If he feels threatened, cornered, or even bored, he might do something… theatrical.”
Pan Xia’s eyes narrowed. “We are not here to threaten him.”
“And yet you come uninvited, together, during a time of great instability,” Yue Ruo said, tone pleasant but precise. “Forgive us for being cautious.”
Long Xieren ground his teeth but said nothing. Pan Xia took a breath and clasped his hands behind his back.
“We are prepared to offer terms,” he said at last. “Sword Canopy and Cloud Mist are willing to… coordinate. Briefly.”
Ren Jin raised an eyebrow. “A temporary alliance?”
Pan Xia inclined his head. “A temporary understanding.”
“Cute,” Yue Ruo murmured, barely suppressing a smile. “What changed? Last month, you were trading assassination attempts.”
Pan Xia let out a small sigh. “The same thing that worries you, I suspect. The demons are only the surface. There’s more coming, and Da Wei may already be standing at its heart.”
Ren Jin and Yue Ruo exchanged a brief, unreadable glance.
Then, slowly, Ren Jin stood. The atmosphere shifted with him, authority settling into his frame like a well-worn coat.
“I will speak with him,” he said. “But I make no promises on his behalf. He’s not under our command.”
Long Xieren gave a short nod. “That is enough.”
Pan Xia added, “And if he agrees to meet, we ask it be without… interference.”
Ren Jin smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Naturally.”
Yue Ruo walked beside him. “One last thing,” she said lightly, walking toward them. “If you two end up fighting during this so-called meeting, please do it outside the city walls. We only just finished reinforcing the south district after the riot and stampede that occurred.”
The elders gave no answer, only curt nods.
Ren Jin waved a hand dismissively. “Liang Na will notify you when the Daoist is available. Until then, I trust you’ll make yourselves useful. Perhaps contribute to the defense drills, hmm?”
Neither man looked pleased, but they turned and left without another word.
As the door closed, Yue Ruo exhaled, her tone low and laced with amusement. “Well… looks like our quiet days are over.”
Ren Jin nodded, reaching for the teacup beside him. “They were never quiet to begin with. Just muffled.”
He took a slow sip. “Let’s see what Da Wei makes of this.”
“Or maybe,” Yue Ruo trailed, “We don’t need to tell him anything.”
After all, there was the auction… No need to risk Ren Jin’s friendly relationship with Da Wei. Not to mention, losing face for the Elders’ sake. If her reading of Da Wei’s character was correct, he’d hear them out regardless during the auction.
Yue Ruo added, “They can meet just before the auction, so that they can talk. There is no need for you, my dear husband, to impose on Master Wei’s time, is it?”
“Indeed,” softly remarked Ren Jin. “What would I do without you, sweetheart?”
"Incomplete, probably," snarkily remarked Yue Ruo.
