The oil lamp flickered dimly as Fan Jianglin clumsily ground the ink. Across from him, Xu Sigen wore a heavy expression.
“By doing this… doesn’t it make us look completely useless?” Xu Sigen said.
The first time they joined the army, they had failed to earn any merit, ended up as deserters, and nearly lost their lives. Finally, they’d gotten a second chance, and yet now…
At this point, they couldn’t even keep hold of their rewards.
So many wasted years, and still nothing accomplished – having to rely on a young girl now, just the thought of it made them want to bash their heads against a wall and end it all.
“We grew up poor. Our parents died early, and we scraped by in confusion…” Fan Jianglin said, with a faint smile. “Later, Maoxiu suggested that a man should strive to achieve something in his life…”
“What he really wanted was to teach us to read and write.”
Xu Sigen burst out laughing.
But as he thought of their younger days, the laughter brought a redness to his eyes.
“Later, he himself realized it wasn’t possible,” Fan Jianglin went on with a laugh. “So he said, ‘If we can’t labor with our minds, then let’s labor with our bodies instead…’”
Across the room, Fan Jianglin’s wife, who was lulling the child to sleep, couldn’t help but smile as well.
“…After years of training in martial arts, we finally thought we were ready to make something of ourselves. Full of ambition, we enlisted, hoping to earn glory and honor. But before we could achieve anything, we quarreled and were forced to flee…” Fan Jianglin’s tone softened with memory. “…At that time, Maoxiu once said something to me behind your backs. He said, perhaps we are just those whose hearts soar higher than the heavens, but whose fates are thinner than paper. Most people are like that – always imagining themselves to be unique, that Heaven would look on them with special favor. But in truth, we are nothing more than one speck of dust among countless others.”
Xu Sigen nodded.
“But at least we were fortunate enough to meet Sister,” he said. “That really was Heaven’s special favor.”
“Yes. Which is why this life is worthwhile,” Fan Jianglin nodded again, grinding the ink as he spoke. “We know what kind of men we are, and how much weight we carry. Just as Sister once told us back in the capital – we should do what we can do, and leave the rest to her. Now, we’ve done all that lies within our ability. For the rest, we have no strength. If we act rashly – if we stir up trouble with Fang, or clash with those high-ranking generals – not only will we fail to clear the injustice, we’ll end up losing our own lives as well. So tell me – are we after pride, or are we after results?”
Xu Sigen looked at him and nodded.
“Brother,” he called, as if wanting to say something, but in the end said nothing – just nodded again.
“Write,” Fan Jianglin said, lifting his hand.
Xu Sigen nodded once more and picked up the brush.
Watching the two brothers begin their letter, Fan Jianglin’s wife gathered up the sleeping child and quietly stepped outside.
The summer night carried a faint coolness. She stood outside, drew in a deep breath, yet still couldn’t make sense of it.
Such a serious matter – something that even the Inspector himself ultimately refused to intervene in – could it really be solved just by telling that “Sister”?
What sort of person was that younger sister, really?
In the capital, as daylight broke, the door to Qin Shi’san-lang’s room was carefully pushed open by a maid. Seeing the young man sitting upright inside, she was startled.
“Young Master, you haven’t slept?” she asked, hurrying over to kneel by his side.
Qin Shi’san-lang rubbed his shoulder, set down the letter in his hand, and declined her offer to assist with his washing.
“I need to write a letter,” he said.
The maid quickly obeyed, fetching brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, and with a sweep of her sleeve began to grind the ink.
“…You said you wished you could be like before and give that man surnamed Fang a good beating, but you also know that beating him would be pointless… Growing up has only made life feel more stifling – maybe it would be better to stay ignorant forever… Just for going to see Commissioner Jiang, you’ve already been scolded in turn by your uncles and cousins, put under house arrest, and nearly tied up and dragged back home… They don’t understand… they don’t understand why the affairs of a few lowly soldiers should matter so much to you…”
I understand…
Qin Shi’san-lang set brush to paper.
I understand why it matters to you, and I understand why it matters to her. But those others – they don’t know what they’ve really done, nor do they know what it is that she cares about.
Still, it isn’t simply growing up that makes life so stifling – it’s that growing up without being strong enough does. Everyone yearns for the heights, yearns to become strong; perhaps it comes from the instinctive desire not to be trampled by others.
In this world, there is no higher truth: if you are strong, then you are the truth. So keep striving in the Northwest. Don’t forget the bold words you boasted – I’ll be entering the field myself next year.
As for this matter, I think you should leave it here and not meddle further. For the Northwest, this case is already sealed shut. If you keep stirring it up, you’ll gain nothing but resentment and unnecessary trouble.
From here on, it will be her matter to handle.
What is not hers, she never cares for – but if anyone dares try to take what is hers, they will pay the price.
That much – you know in your own heart, don’t you? The truth is, you were never foolish at all…
At this point in the letter, Qin Shi’san-lang set down his brush.
Most of the time, people already know the answer in their hearts – asking others is really just an excuse to find someone to talk to.
He pressed his lips into a faint smile, crumpled the paper into a ball, and tossed it aside, then began writing anew.
When he saw the letter sent off by the page, Qin Shi’san-lang stood beneath the corridor and stretched his arms.
“Young Master, breakfast has been brought,” a maid reported beside him.
Qin Shi’san-lang gazed out at the summer courtyard and let out a long breath.
“Help me wash and change. I’m going out,” he said.
In the height of summer, the Immortal’s Abode was as serene and refined as ever, untouched by any hint of bleakness despite the season’s discomfort.
“Young Master Qin, what a coincidence you’ve come today – there happens to be one private room left,” the usher said with a smile as he led the way.
“I only came to rest a while in peace,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied, then asked, “Is Ban Qin here?”
The usher shook his head.
“Unfortunately, she just stepped out,” he said. “If you need her, I can go call-”
Qin Shi’san-lang lifted his hand and waved it off.
“No need. I was only asking,” he said.
His robes flowing, he walked up the stairs heading east. From a room to the west, Chun Ling happened to step out and, at the sight of Young Master Qin, her face lit up with surprise and delight. She almost called out, but then glanced back at Lady Zhu behind her and held her tongue.
From the open doorway behind came bursts of laughter.
Lady Zhu emerged, her eyes rimmed with red, head lowered as she hurried along. Clearly, this banquet had not been a pleasant one.
Chun Ling bit her lip, her gaze flickering. Seeing the usher open a door to a private room for Qin Shi’san-lang, she quickened her pace toward the stairs and, quite deliberately, let her step slip. With a sharp cry, she tumbled sideways onto the steps.
Startled, Lady Zhu and the maid behind her both rushed forward to help. Instinctively, Qin Shi’san-lang turned his head. When he recognized who it was, the foot he had been about to place across the threshold halted in mid-step.
By then, one of the attendants had already hurried over to help. With the support of another maid, Chun Ling managed to stand.
“It’s nothing, nothing – I’m just too clumsy,” Chun Ling said tearfully.
Lady Zhu merely told her to be more careful, then moved to step forward.
“What’s the matter? Do you need a doctor to have a look?”
The voice of Qin Shi’san-lang came from the side.
Lady Zhu turned her head and, catching sight of him, looked momentarily surprised before lowering her gaze to offer a respectful salute.
“No, no, it’s fine. I just slipped,” Chun Ling stammered, her head bowed, nervous and flustered, while hastily trying to walk on.
Lady Zhu again gave Qin Shi’san-lang a respectful salute, then lowered her head and continued on her way.
“Are you returning, or going elsewhere?” Qin Shi’san-lang asked.
Lady Zhu halted, her head bowed slightly.
“I am on my way back,” she replied.
“I’ve heard your skill on the zither is exceptional. I wonder – might I be fortunate enough to hear it?” Qin Shi’san-lang said.
Lady Zhu hesitated briefly.
“You flatter me, young master. I dare not presume such praise,” she said, turning to offer a formal salute.
Qin Shi’san-lang smiled and took the lead, stepping forward.
Lady Zhu lifted her feet to follow. Her maid quickly abandoned Chun Ling, hurriedly scooping up the qin to go after her mistress. Chun Ling straightened, rubbing at her leg for show, then lifted her head ever so slightly, the corner of her lips curling into a faint, triumphant smile.
Inside the private room, the dishes and wine were set out one after another, and soon the clear, tinkling notes of the qin filled the air. When the piece ended, Qin Shi’san-lang came back to himself and clapped in praise.
“Lady Zhu, your artistry has improved yet again,” he said.
“It has been more than two years. If I hadn’t improved, I fear I wouldn’t even earn my keep,” Lady Zhu replied with her head lowered.
For someone of Qin Shi’san-lang’s background, he seldom visited brothels or pleasure quarters, let alone summoned official courtesans to drink with him. The last time he had heard Lady Zhu play the qin at close range was during a Qin family banquet.
Reminded of it, the memory struck him at once.
That banquet had been held to bid farewell to Cheng Jiao-niang…
And in the blink of an eye, so much time had passed – yet it felt as if it were only yesterday.
That girl truly was heartless. When she said goodbye, she was gone for good, without leaving even a word behind.
Lady Zhu glanced at him, adjusted the strings, and let her pale fingers sweep across them. A longer, more lingering melody rose into the room.
Drawn back by the sound, Qin Shi’san-lang listened, a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. He poured himself a drink and sipped slowly as the music carried on.
When the piece came to an end, Lady Zhu took a brief rest and lifted the teacup at her side.
“Wait,” Qin Shi’san-lang raised his hand to stop her.
Of course – if the host had not invited her, how could a courtesan in attendance presume to drink?
Lady Zhu inclined her body respectfully and set the cup back down.
“The tea has gone cold,” Qin Shi’san-lang said as he poured a fresh cup. “Your breathing is unsteady – evidence of knots in your heart. Better to have some hot tea.”
With that, he slid the filled cup toward her.
The maid who had been kneeling by the door quickly rose, carried the cup over, and handed it to Lady Zhu.
At last, Lady Zhu lifted her gaze to him. She smiled faintly, her delicate face blooming like a flower.
“Then I must thank you for even this small word of kindness,” she said, raising the cup and draining it in one go.
Qin Shi’san-lang laughed.
“Shouldn’t you be thanking a kindred spirit instead?” he said with a smile. “If not for that, wouldn’t your melody to soothe my mood have been played in vain?”
“You are mistaken. Whether or not you are a kindred spirit is for you to decide. But whether I play or not – that is my duty,” Lady Zhu answered with a smile. “It is simply what I am meant to do.”
Qin Shi’san-lang burst into hearty laughter.
“Good – well said, duty indeed. In that, you are rather like her…”
Her…
What respectable woman would ever wish to be compared to someone like a courtesan? Any other courtesan in this situation would likely have acted coy, feigned shyness, or murmured some words of false modesty. But Lady Zhu merely smiled – neither flustered nor overwhelmed, neither anxious nor elated.
The door slid open, and a woman stepped inside.
“Young Master Qin, were you looking for me?” Ban Qin asked with a smile, glancing once at Lady Zhu, who sat to the side.
“Yes,” Qin Shi’san-lang nodded.
Seeing this, Lady Zhu rose to take her leave. Qin Shi’san-lang did not try to keep her, merely ordered the servant to present her with her fee and see her out.
“…Young Master Qin, are you in low spirits? To think you’d drink and even call for a courtesan. Be careful – if your father finds out, he’ll break your legs…”
“…Don’t worry. My father couldn’t bear to. And as for inviting your lady again – I doubt I could afford it a second time…”
Laughter drifted from within the room, easy and unrestrained, the sound of two people well at ease with one another.
Lady Zhu turned away, watched the door close behind her, then lowered her head and walked off with unhurried steps.
“What did you say?” Ban Qin asked in surprise, sitting up straight.
“I said – your mistress is about to enter the capital,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied, looking at her as he raised his wine cup and drank.
Ban Qin studied him for a moment, her expression turning solemn.
“Young Master Qin, has something happened?” she asked.
Meanwhile, in Jiang-zhou, a shout rang out in the alleys of South Cheng.
“What are you running for, what are you running for!” Steward Cao grabbed hold of Cheng Ping, glancing back at Cheng Jiao-niang as he lowered his voice. “You see my lady and the first thing you do is run?”
“It’s not because I saw your lady that I ran. I was going to run anyway – the day’s getting late, I need to get to the street and earn some money…” Cheng Ping said with utter seriousness.
Before he could finish, Steward Cao smacked him on the head and gave him a shove.
By then Cheng Jiao-niang had already come closer. Cheng Ping grinned and raised a hand in greeting.
“What a coincidence, my lady, out for a walk again?” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang bent slightly in a formal salute.
“Sir, where are you headed?” she asked.
“Oh, nowhere much, just a stroll through the market,” Cheng Ping replied with a laugh, lifting his foot. “Then I’ll just-”
“Why wouldn’t you take the money I offered you?” Cheng Jiao-niang interrupted. “I meant nothing else by it. I only wished for you to have peace of mind, to focus on writing your book and preserving history.”
Cheng Ping rubbed his head and gave a dry laugh.
“You think that would give me peace of mind?” he said. “My lady, better to let me be, and let everyone be at ease.”
With that, he lifted his foot and started walking away.
Cheng Jiao-niang stood motionless in silence for a moment.
“Have you ever thought that your children and descendants might face hardships in the future? Perhaps if you grew stronger…” she began again.
Cheng Ping halted, turned back, and smiled.
“You still don’t understand,” he said with a laugh.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him.
Cheng Ping raised a hand and pointed at her.
“If I become stronger, that’s only me – it has nothing to do with anyone else, much less with my children or descendants. Even if they run into difficulties, those are their own troubles. In the end, they’ll have to overcome them themselves. As for me – it has nothing to do with me.”
Nothing to do with him! How could it have nothing to do with him? Was he saying he would no longer care? That he would not care for them at all? Was it truly as he said – that this was fate, and they could do nothing but accept it?
“But we are not willing to accept it,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
She thought of Cheng Ping’s words, but still… she could not resign herself.
“If you’re unwilling, then go and grow stronger. It’s not as if the final verdict has been handed down yet – it’s not time to surrender to fate,” Cheng Ping said with a frown. “Why keep talking about others? If you don’t hurry and do what you yourself should be doing-”
Not time to surrender to fate? Not yet?
Cheng Jiao-niang couldn’t help but step forward.
“Is there still a chance? If I grow stronger, what good will it do?” Her hand clutched at her collar, her face dazed. “They’re all gone…”
“Are you not still here?” Cheng Ping cut her off.
I’m still here? Am I still here?
“But I… I… I’m not me…” Cheng Jiao-niang murmured.
“You know who you are – how can you not be yourself?” Cheng Ping said with a smile, waving his hand. “As long as you know who you are, you will always be you. As long as you’re here, things aren’t over. It’s not the end yet – there’s still a chance. Go now, go, go and become stronger.”
I’m still here! There’s still a chance! Things aren’t over yet!
Cheng Jiao-niang stared blankly, her ears ringing.
She was still Cheng Fang, she was still Cheng Fang. The matter with the Yang family wasn’t over. She hadn’t died. She was still here. She still had a chance – a chance to avenge her family, her clan, a chance still…
Seeing that Cheng Jiao-niang had fallen silent, and the others were gathering around her in worry, Cheng Ping seized the moment to turn and scamper off.
Children really weren’t so hard to coax… all you had to do was say what they needed to hear.
“This brat!”
Steward Cao gave chase for a few steps, but when he saw Cheng Ping dart off like the wind, he had no choice but to give up. Turning back to see Cheng Jiao-niang still standing there motionless, he frowned.
Lost in a daze again?
Hurried footsteps sounded in the alley. A servant boy came rushing up.
“Miss, a letter from the Northwest,” he said, handing over an envelope.
Ban Qin reached out, opened it, and passed it to Cheng Jiao-niang.
Her slightly unfocused gaze swept over the paper, then gradually sharpened.
“So this is what happened…” she murmured.
“Miss, what is it?” Ban Qin couldn’t help but ask.
Cheng Jiao-niang gave no reply. She put the letter away and stared ahead for a moment.
So it is!
Truly, in this world, only the strong prevail.
“Pack our things. We’re going to the capital,” she said.
To the capital?
Ban Qin was taken aback. She quickly turned to Steward Cao, only to find him wearing the same look of astonishment.
So she hadn’t misheard after all.
“Now?” Ban Qin asked.
“Now,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, lifting her foot as she turned, striding quickly back toward the house.
