The early June mornings in the northwest carried a hint of chill. The sky in the east was just beginning to glow, and the southern gate of Longgu City was already bustling with people.
After this battle, many had received rewards. Some who were previously commoners had been recommended for official posts, which meant they needed to travel to the capital to submit their service statements for record.
Both civil and military officials were among them, young and old alike. For these men, the occasion was no less glorious than having their names announced on the imperial examination list. Along with the officials seeing them off came relatives of every sort – uncles, aunts, distant kin – crowding the place until the whole southern gate resembled a marketplace.
Zhou Liu-lang was also among those being sent off. But unlike the others, he was not going to submit his service statement. He already held official rank, and after this campaign he had been promoted two grades. Taking advantage of the paperwork to be delivered, the government office had dispatched him to the capital as well.
“It’s been over two years since you left home. You must miss it, don’t you?”
The uncles and elder cousins of the Zhou family surrounded Zhou Liu-lang, laughing as they spoke.
“I do miss it,” Zhou Liu-lang replied, “but it’s only just that – a thought.”
“Good! A fine son of the Zhou family!” Several large hands reached out, tousling his hair and thumping his shoulders.
“You old fellows,” someone called from behind, “don’t go roughing up the young man like that. Just because you envy his strong bones and muscles doesn’t mean you should beat him down.”
Everyone turned to look, and laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Master Zhou.”
Inspector Zhou, dressed in a purple robe, nodded with a smile.
“So this is your family’s sixth son, isn’t it?” he said, his gaze sweeping over the tall, sturdy, and handsome young man before him. “How old are you this year?”
“Eighteen,” Zhou Liu-lang answered loudly, lifting his head.
“Built like a young bull calf,” the Inspector said with a laugh, reaching out to pat Zhou Liu-lang on the shoulder.
“My lord, look who’s talking – better be careful with that pat of yours,” one of the Zhou elders joked.
Inspector Zhou threw back his head in laughter and continued chatting with them.
Zhao Cheng, who had been standing beside Inspector Zhou, now stepped forward.
“That matter still weighs heavily on me,” he said in a low voice.
Zhou Liu-lang quickly bowed in salute.
“My lord, you flatter me too much,” he said. “Your kindness is something I will never forget for as long as I live.”
“I also spoke to Master Zhou about it, but… you understand…” Zhao Cheng continued, his gaze shifting to the other side.
Zhou Liu-lang followed his look.
There, surrounded by a crowd of people, Jiang Wenyuan was smiling broadly.
“Go back to the capital for now – it’ll do you good to lie low,” Zhao Cheng said, reaching out to pat Zhou Liu-lang on the shoulder. “You’re still young. There’s no rush.”
After a few simple words of farewell, the officers turned and headed back first.
“Deputy Commissioner Jiang! Deputy Commissioner Jiang!”
A loud voice rang out from the crowd.
At the sound, everyone present lowered their heads slightly.
Jiang Wenyuan’s face flushed dark purple, yet he was forced to squeeze out a smile.
Here on the Northwestern Front, everyone called him “Commissioner.” Only a very few made a point of adding that “Deputy” – and Inspector Zhou was one of them.
“Master Zhou,” Jiang Wenyuan said, raising a hand with a smile.
“Deputy Commissioner Jiang, come, come,” Inspector Zhou said, laughing as he pulled him over.
Every word “Deputy Commissioner,” as if afraid he or anyone else might forget. Jiang Wenyuan fumed inwardly, but on the surface he could only keep smiling.
The two men entered the city, surrounded by a crowd of officers.
Once the officers had left, the others also began to set out. With tearful waves of farewell, the crowd dispersed, and the space before the city gate soon fell quiet.
Zhou Liu-lang still stood where he was, occasionally glancing inside the gate.
“Liu-lang, are you waiting for someone?” someone asked.
Zhou Liu-lang shook his head, withdrawing his gaze.
“No. I’ll be going now,” he said, swinging himself onto his horse.
The young attendants and retainers mounted as well, while another horse carried local specialties and gifts.
Zhou Liu-lang cast one last look at the city gate, then spurred his horse and galloped away.
Morning light brightened into midday, and the farewells of dawn had long since dispersed. The bustle at the city gate returned to its usual rhythm.
Two carriages creaked their way out through the gate. In the constant flow of traffic they seemed unremarkable, accompanied by only four or five attendants, and one man on horseback to see them off.
“Brother, let me go with you,” Xu Sigen said, his voice tinged with reluctance.
“No need. Someone must remain here,” Fan Jianglin replied from inside the carriage. “The household can’t be left unattended, nor the comings and goings at this place.”
Xu Sigen clearly understood.
“Then take care on the road,” he urged, fussing over the attendants and checking once more on the luggage, carriages, and horses.
“Don’t worry,” Fan Jianglin’s wife said, holding her child.
“Rest assured – we’ll see the master safely to the capital,” the accompanying soldiers called out loudly.
These were men Xu Sigen had summoned from his own unit, carefully chosen for their loyalty and reliability, and well compensated with silver.
“Good. Then I’ll trouble you with this task,” Xu Sigen said, nodding.
“All right, no more farewells – we need to be on our way,” Fan Jianglin said.
In the end, Xu Sigen escorted them for ten li beyond the city. Only when the carriages and horses had dwindled to black specks on the horizon, vanishing from sight, did he finally turn back.
“What’s that Fan Jianglin up to?” Assistant Commander Fang – no, now already promoted as Commander Fang – was not headed to the capital but directly to his new fortress to take up post.
Before leaving, though, he had made a point to inquire after some of his old subordinates, among them Fan Jianglin.
He heard that Fan Jianglin had left Longgu City with his whole family.
“They said he was taking the spirit tablet home for burial rites,” a personal attendant reported.
“Taking the spirit tablet home?” Fang chuckled, shaking his head. “What a joke – only remembers to do that two months later?”
But it had nothing to do with him anyway. All the better that Fan was gone, better still if he never came back. With Fang’s change of office, this matter would simply be left behind and forgotten.
In June, the sky was as fickle as a child’s face. Just moments ago it had been clear, but suddenly heavy raindrops came crashing down, scattering the lively street into chaos and turning it into a watery mess.
Manager Wu reached out to close the window, listening to the pounding of rain against the panes.
“Oh dear, I hope Miss didn’t get caught in the rain,” he said worriedly.
Ban Qin sat there, swiftly flicking the counting rods while flipping through the account book. Without even raising her head, she laughed.
“Don’t worry. Miss can divine the heavens – she’s on very good terms with the gods themselves. If it were going to rain, she would have known ahead of time,” she said with a grin.
Manager Wu chuckled too, shaking his head as he looked at the spirited maid.
At first, after hearing Qin Shi’san-lang’s words, he still had some doubts. But soon a letter arrived from Jiang-zhou confirming that the lady was indeed going to the capital. From that moment, the girl had been so overjoyed she seemed not to know what to do with her hands and feet – whirling about every day like a spinning top, as if only that could burn off her excitement.
“If Miss is so skilled,” Manager Wu teased, “I wonder if Heaven has told her the exact hour of this year’s solar eclipse?”
At that, both of them burst into laughter.
It turned out that some time ago, they had planned to go to Puxiu Temple to pray to the Buddha and hold a ritual for the lady’s safe journey. But unexpectedly, Puxiu Temple had already been reserved for a ceremony and was not receiving visitors. When they asked, they learned that it was officials from the Bureau of Astronomy’s Division of the Imperial Observatory who had come to burn incense and seek blessings.
Naturally, the officials had wanted to keep their purpose a secret. But if even the imperial palace leaks like a sieve, how could a temple keep things hidden? Very soon everyone knew: the officials had come to ask the gods and Buddha to reveal the date of the solar eclipse. For a time, it became the laughingstock of the capital.
People had long known that the Observatory’s astronomers were lazy and incompetent, and mistakes in the calendar were nothing unusual. But to make such a farce of seeking divine help to chart the heavens – this was a first. Even though the officials vehemently denied it afterward, that did not stop the story from spreading.
Of course, the censors seized the chance to launch attacks against the idle and inept who merely warmed their posts. But such denunciations soon veered off course, devolving into endless squabbling and mutual recriminations, until in the end the matter was left unresolved.
As for the common folk, they cared nothing for court politics. All they cared about was the joke.
Ban Qin and Manager Wu shared a hearty laugh, then began calculating how far along Cheng Jiao-niang and her party should be by now. Outside, the pouring rain did nothing to dampen the cheerful mood indoors.
Meanwhile, a hundred miles away, the skies were perfectly clear.
“Miss, the road is blocked,” two attendants galloped up to the carriage and reported.
“Blocked? You mean we can’t get out of the city?” Ban Qin lifted the carriage curtain, fanning herself, her face beaded with sweat.
“The city gate is shut. They won’t let anyone through,” one attendant replied.
“Why won’t they let us through? Our travel permits are all in order,” Ban Qin asked in puzzlement.
“They said it’s for a ritual service – no passage allowed,” the attendant said.
Ban Qin gave a disbelieving laugh.
“What kind of ritual could close the city gate?” she exclaimed. “How dare the authorities?”
This clearly went beyond even the attendants’ expectations. One of them shook his head.
“We couldn’t get close. We were stopped outside. They said no one may leave until tomorrow afternoon,” he explained.
“Ridiculous! We’re supposed to reach the Pingliang post station tonight. If we wait until tomorrow, our journey will be delayed,” Ban Qin said anxiously, turning to Cheng Jiao-niang.
Inside the carriage, Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Let’s go have a look,” she said.
