I THINK OF MY LORD FONDLY, but he will never change. He is ignorant, yet I am helpless.
Incense of helplessness. The name alone elicited a thousand sorrows. It held a fragrance like the first lotus in early summer, delicate and refined, but in truth, it was a terrifyingly effective drug—a horrific poison of which people trembled at the thought.
Although its toxicity wasn't enough to kill, the incense would permeate one's body, devouring bones and marrow, until the victim gradually grew addicted. A day without the incense and they'd find themselves short of breath, their body weak and mind delirious. Three days, and they would feel as if sharp knives were scraping at their bones; their suffering would be unbearable. After five days, their only succor would be death. They'd have to cross the Bridge of Helplessness leading to the afterlife for a bowl of Mengpo's memory-erasing soup.
The moniker of "helplessness" didn't refer to the forlorn state lamented by poets, but instead to the Bridge of Helplessness that spanned the underworld's River of Oblivion.
Cui Buqu had sat in the lightless, soundless house for five full days. His tormentor had the timing down to an art: food and water were sent only when his fatigue grew unendurable, and he was drifting in and out of consciousness. When he next regained awareness, he found sustenance an arm's length away.
It was only a tiny bit of food and water, barely enough to keep him alive. But the greatest torment was neither thirst nor starvation: it was the endless silence and the blur of time. He didn't even know what day it was. What followed the darkness was more darkness. Beyond the stillness lay eternal silence.
He tracked the hours by counting the twelve joints of his four fingers. He did his best to stretch his body and recite classics, from Daoism to Confucianism, then from Legalism to Buddhism, in an attempt to clear his mind and keep himself focused.
Gradually, his eyesight deteriorated, but his hearing became keen. At this point, even the scurrying of insects and mice, the drip of water, would have been precious treasures. But there were no such sounds. He didn't know what method Feng Xiao had used, but it was as if the house had been forsaken by the rest of the world. If not for those meager rations, Cui Buqu would have suspected they really had forgotten him.
No average person could have endured this kind of silent torment, where day and night ceased to exist. Forget ten days or half a month—even three days would drive them insane. And that was to say nothing of Cui Buqu's health, which was so poor he fell ill with every turn of the season. By the third day, frustration and anger roiled within his heart. His stomach ached from hunger, and his limbs grew weak. His mind was falling into a muddle. Chills ran through his body, yet his forehead began to burn. Sensing another major bout of illness was imminent, he simply surrendered to it. No longer did he recite classics, and he allowed his consciousness to slowly fog over.
It was then that he smelled a fragrance.
The scent was faint, almost imperceptible, like a fragrance he'd smelled at the capital's Yinhe Gardens last year: subtle yet sweet, the scent of lotus blooms carried over the breeze, mingled with the fresh aroma of lotus seeds.
Soon the capital would grow warmer, and officials and dignitaries would begin entertaining guests in their homes. Their favorite technique was to place boiled lotus seeds and silver ear mushroom broth in a jar, then lower it into a well and leave it for half a day, retrieving it once guests arrived. First they'd treat their guests to a cup of hot lotus tea to warm the stomach and quench any extra internal heat in the body, then they'd follow up with a cool bowl of lotus seed and silver ear soup. The concoction filled the mouth with fragrance, soothing one from throat to stomach and extinguishing excess heat. He himself had experienced this kind of hospitality many, many times.
Cui Buqu suddenly opened his eyes.
The darkness that greeted him snapped him instantly back to reality. He still smelled the fragrance. It wasn't a hallucination. In the darkness, he raised an eyebrow slightly and sneered to himself.
Incense of helplessness.
Though it was a terrifying poison, it was also an incredibly rare and precious one. Yet Feng Xiao was using it on him—how extravagantly wasteful.
It was impossible for Cui Buqu to leave the house, and he could hardly stop breathing. He had no choice but to inhale that bewitching, addictive fragrance, little by little. A skilled martial artist might have circulated their internal energy and thereby resisted the effects for some time, but Cui Buqu was no martial artist. The incense of helplessness would only accelerate the breakdown of his body and leave him hanging between life and death.
It seemed his tormentor didn't wish him dead and was only using the incense to force him to tell the truth. But using something like this on Cui Buqu was akin to cracking a nut with a sledgehammer.
The men of the Jiejian Bureau could have no idea that Cui Buqu had been exposed to a similar incense years ago—and for ten excruciating days. Though he'd been left half-dead, he'd maintained a basic level of awareness throughout and had never succumbed. Even his master, Fan Yun, had been astonished. He'd judged his pupil's willpower to be so strong that, if not for his weak body, he could have conquered any martial art in the world.
Yet incredible brilliance would always draw the envy of heaven. Fan Yun knew it as well: even if Cui Buqu learned no martial arts, he still stood head and shoulders above the vast majority. Some people were destined to be extraordinary from birth. To Cui Buqu, all suffering was simply the stone against which he honed himself. Only by blowing away the dust could one discover the gold beneath.
Cui Buqu slowly closed his eyes once more.
Soon, Linlang Pavilion's auction would begin. Feng Xiao couldn't wait much longer to come for him. Cui Buqu gave him ten days.
***
"So what happened?" Feng Xiao frowned impatiently at Pei Jingzhe, who seemed to be struggling to speak.
Linlang Pavilion's auction had begun four days ago. It would last for six, so tomorrow was the final day. Up till now, it had mostly been medicinal herbs and silks at auction; the rare treasures everyone was interested in would feature at the end.
The auction had bustled with activity in the last few days. Goods and items exchanged hands, and many looked forward to returning home with bursting satchels. Still, plenty had their sights set on the final day of the auction. Even if they couldn't afford any rare treasures, if they could catch a once-in-a-lifetime glimpse, they wouldn't have traveled thousands of miles in vain.
But Feng Xiao was deeply unsatisfied.
Things were not progressing as he wished. Wen Liang and the others were still in custody, and though Linlang Pavilion didn't dare openly defy the magistrate, people still arrived daily to plead for mercy. Feng Xiao turned every one of them away and tossed Cui Buqu into the care of Pei Jingzhe, then went to personally keep an eye on the auction. But Lady Qin never appeared. It was as if she'd vanished into the sea of people, and the whereabouts of the Jade of Heaven Lake also remained unknown.
If the jade reappeared, it would be on the last day of the auction. But as Feng Xiao turned things over in his mind, he felt that he'd missed something, and it made him irritable.
Since the day he'd taken charge of the Jiejian Bureau, it'd been smooth sailing. What obstacles he'd encountered were hardly worth mentioning. It had been a long time since he'd experienced this type of elusive frustration, where everything felt hazy and indistinct. As if an invisible hand was playing chess, and Feng Xiao, originally standing beside the chessboard, had somehow been pulled into the fog and was about to become a chess piece himself…
Feng Xiao started, as if he'd suddenly grasped something—but then it was gone.
Pei Jingzhe finally got the words out: "Previously, your lordship instructed me to administer incense of helplessness to Cui Buqu for five days. The man is obviously frail; I didn't dare give him too much. Just now, I entered to take a look and found him in a daze. I splashed him with some well water to wake him and took the chance to ask him a few questions, but he maintained he had nothing to do with Lady Qin. It's my belief that this man named Cui is truly innocent!"
If he weren't innocent, he had a core and heart of steel, so strong even incense of helplessness was powerless to move him.
Was such a thing possible?
Pei Jingzhe had never seen a martial expert who could endure multiple days of exposure to incense of helplessness without begging for mercy—never mind an invalid like Cui Buqu.
"Where is he?"
"In bed in the east wing."
Feng Xiao's brows drew low in a frown. "You let him out?"
Pei Jingzhe's smile was strained. "My good lord, do you think everyone is like you, capable of spending days inhaling incense of helplessness and coming out unharmed? If they can't get his fever down, he might not survive, let alone confess."
Feng Xiao snorted. "That man still has his uses. If it looks like he won't make it, use drugs if you have to; keep him breathing."
Pei Jingzhe was gobsmacked. Feng Xiao wanted to torture Cui Buqu with drugs again already? He hurried to say, "The doctor already gave his opinion! He said his body's completely spent; he can't withstand any more torture!"
Feng Xiao made no response as he followed Pei Jingzhe to the east wing.
Sure enough, they found Cui Buqu sound asleep. His cheeks were noticeably gaunter and his complexion paler than it had been two days ago. Blue veins were faintly visible on the arm peeking out from under the covers, painting a vivid picture of a diseased and broken man at death's door.
Feng Xiao stood by the bed and watched Cui Buqu's sleeping face for a long time. The ailing man seemed to sense his burning gaze, and his forehead wrinkled a little in his sleep.
"Sir, are we going to cleanse his body of the incense?" Pei Jingzhe whispered. "Otherwise I fear he'll never recover."
Feng Xiao shook his head. He stroked his chin as he stared at Cui Buqu, watching him battle his nightmares. He seemed fascinated. After a moment he said, "Say, could he be from the Zuoyue Bureau?"