Chapter 16: When the Rabbit Dies, the Hounds Are Boiled

The Sus held the realm's remounts. Men who controlled horses, grain, or steel always walked half a step above the rest.
Since the founding they had never let the strings slip. Su Yu believed what every loyal house believes: serve well, and the throne pays you back. His garden was in full flower. It would bloom for generations.
Companion a king, live with a tiger. Who can swear how the night ends?
Su Yu was past forty, still fond of his wife. Concubines gave him daughters only. Two legitimate sons—so he drove them hard.
Mingfeng had entered office young and now ran the bureau better than his father. Six months ago he and the imperial veterinarians rewrote the rules; plague losses on the ranges halved. Next month's tally would bring reward.
Gold was nothing beside the name. Su Yu was aging; Mingfeng's hour had come—inherit the road, widen the road, maybe become a blade the next heir kept at his belt.
The heir made him proud. The younger boy made him ache.
Minglang came late to his mother. She spoiled him; he fell behind every boy his age. He would not inherit—stupidity should not matter. Su Yu could not bear it anyway. Every day the child came home from school to the study for testing, and every day the house shook with shouting.
That afternoon father and eldest talked remounts in the study, pleased with each other. Su Yu was already counting next month's honors for Mingfeng.
"His Majesty will grant office," he said. "Jewels are trifles. I want your road steady. The Huns are stirring again—horses will decide much. Win the throne's trust and the Su name rises. Your brother is young. The beam is still yours to carry."
Mingfeng agreed, spine straight, pride leaking through despite his usual calm. A father's praise at that age is wine.
They were still smiling when a servant called from the door. "Master—the second young master is back."
School was over. Minglang would come to the study as always.
Su Yu rubbed his temples. One son shone. The other waddled in like a pet pig. Comedy and headache in one package.
Minglang edged in, mouth twisted. "Father. Brother."
Su Mingfeng tousled his hair. "How was class?"
Silence meant disaster. Su Yu's face hardened. "Palms."
The boy held them out—red welts from the board.
"Why so hard?" Mingfeng murmured. "He's small."
"You spoil him—that's why!" Su Yu roared. "What now?"
Minglang squirmed. "Master wanted four words: *when the rabbit dies, the fox grieves.* I couldn't write them."
Su Yu looked as if someone had struck him. "At your age your brother was reading remount law. You've disgraced us."
Mingfeng opened his mouth to plead. Minglang sobbed louder. "I couldn't do four—but I did six: *when the cunning rabbit dies, the hounds are boiled.* More words. Same thing, yes?"
"Rubbish," Su Yu snapped. Mingfeng laughed despite himself. "Brother, those are not the same."
"What do they mean?" The round face tipped up.
Mingfeng explained gently. One phrase mourns a shared fate. The other says the hound that caught the rabbit for its master is cooked once the prey is gone—useful tools thrown away when profit ends. Like burning the bridge after you cross.
Minglang frowned. "But the rabbit still dies first. Fox sad, dog dead—everyone loses. Same story."
Su Yu went quiet. "The rabbit dies?"
"Yes." Minglang spread his stung palms, stubborn and innocent. "Always after the rabbit dies. So fox and dog both suffer. If everybody suffers, the words match, don't they?"
The study seemed to shrink.
The fox was clever. It might see the trap coming.
But the hound had run down the rabbit for its master. What happened to the hound?
Su Yu's color drained, then darkened.