Doctor Li slowly withdrew.
“Your Highness, should we ask Lady Cheng to come and take another look at Prince Qing?” a eunuch behind him whispered.
Duke Jin’an shook his head.
“She’s not a doctor,” he said.
The eunuch was silent for a moment.
“But her return now is truly ill-timed,” he whispered again. “Sometimes she saves lives, and saving lives can also be…”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, so you don’t need to answer,” Duke Jin’an cut him off.
The young man’s face, turned slightly to the side, was half in light and half in shadow, carrying a hint of cold sternness.
The eunuch lowered his head and answered softly, “Yes.”
Duke Jin’an rose to his feet and slowly walked out to the veranda, watching the child running before the hall.
“Liu Ge’er,” he called, walking toward the boy in the courtyard while clapping his hands. “Come, I will take you to play soccer.”
Sunlight filtered through the canopy, striking his face. Even with his eyes closed, it felt blinding, and voices kept drifting into his ears.
“…Master, please call for a doctor to have a look…”
“…What’s there to look at? He just drank too much…”
“…Who knows if it’s just drinking too much, or if someone slipped him something? Master, how can you trust that girl…”
“…Say one more word of nonsense and I’ll send you back to your family’s house…”
“…Look at you – don’t you distrust her as well? You’re just afraid of her. Even if she harmed Liu-lang, you wouldn’t dare say a word, would you?”
A woman’s sobbing rose outside the door, mingled with Master Zhou’s furious shouts.
“Mother.”
Zhou Liu-lang turned over and sat up, calling out loudly.
“I’m fine. Stop quarreling. I just want to lie here quietly for a while.”
The crying outside the door ceased, replaced instead by joy.
“Liu-lang, are you really all right?” Madam Zhou asked from outside.
“I’m really fine, I’ve already woken up,” Zhou Liu-lang replied.
“That’s good, that’s good,” Madam Zhou said.
After a few more words of caution, she finally left, and quiet returned outside the door.
“I’m finding her more and more pitiful now. Her relatives who don’t know her look down on her and despise her; those who do know and understand her are afraid of her and treat her as a taboo. The only thing missing is anyone who actually pities her or cares for her…” Qin Shi’san-lang said.
“Did you not understand what I said?” Zhou Liu-lang replied, turning his head to look at him. “I just want to lie here quietly for a while.”
“I understood,” Qin Shi’san-lang said, still fiddling with a string of beads in his hand as he went on talking. “Is this spoils taken from the barbarians? Wolf fangs? Quite pretty.”
“If you think it’s pretty, then take it,” Zhou Liu-lang said, lying back down.
“What would a man like me wear that for?” Qin Shi’san-lang laughed, tossing the string of wolf fangs onto Zhou Liu-lang’s face. “Besides, not many women would be willing to wear it either.”
Zhou Liu-lang snorted, caught it, slipped it onto his wrist, and turned over to face the inside.
“Hey, what did you two talk about yesterday? How did you end up drinking yourself senseless? And why would she invite you to drink with her?” Qin Shi’san-lang asked with a laugh, reaching out to give him a shove.
Zhou Liu-lang turned over and sat up again.
“There’s less than six months left before the Imperial Examination. Can’t you go back and study properly?” he said. “When the time comes and you fail the exam, should I comfort you or laugh at you?”
Qin Shi’san-lang chuckled, stood up, and headed outside.
“If you don’t want to say, then forget it. After all, in front of her, all you’ve ever done is make a fool of yourself. Maybe it’s just as well you don’t say anything,” he said with a grin.
With a thud, a beast-head ornament smashed against the door and rolled to the ground.
Qin Shi’san-lang poked his head back in from outside.
“It’s not as if you’ve ever really struck me hard before, so why bother putting on an act now…” he said with a laugh. Seeing Zhou Liu-lang grab the teacup at his side and raise his hand, Qin Shi’san-lang laughed again and strode quickly away.
At last, everything inside and outside truly quieted down. Zhou Liu-lang let out a breath and fell back onto the couch again. Staring up at the canopy for a moment, he glanced outward. Behind the curtain he saw the shadow of a maid passing by.
Reaching under his pillow, he pulled out an object and shook it open – it was a plain brocade handkerchief.
Snow-white silk, with the characters Tai Ping embroidered on it in dark red.
This couldn’t possibly have been made by that girl; she would never bother with needlework.
Zhou Liu-lang curled his lip, tossed it aside and turned over. A moment later, though, he reached out again, grabbed the handkerchief, laid it over his face, and drifted off to sleep.
Meanwhile, Qin Shi’san-lang had once again come to Yudai Bridge.
“The imperial exam is almost here. Students from other provinces are already hurrying over, yet young master, you’re still so carefree?” Even the maid remarked the same way.
“I’m fully prepared,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied, stepping through the gate and looking at Cheng Jiao-niang, who was just coming out, with Ban Qin holding a veiled hat in her hands. “Are you going out?”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Is there anything I can help with? This matter isn’t like the last one. Last time it happened in the capital and involved court factions. This time it’s about the northwest military – just a battle. And it was a victory. A few soldiers lost, but officials up and down have no objections. To the court, this is truly nothing more than a trivial matter, the smallest of small matters. Think about it: in the northwest, in a place like Longgu City, this couldn’t even stir up much trouble, it was pressed down. All the more so in the capital – no one will be interested…” Qin Shi’san-lang said, looking at Cheng Jiao-niang. “If you want to confront this matter openly and uprightly, it won’t be easy.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Then can you do me a favor?” she asked.
“Of course,” Qin Shi’san-lang said with a smile.
“Help me find a burial plot near the capital,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
A… a burial plot?
Qin Shi’san-lang was dumbstruck.
Dark clouds gathered overhead. After a blast of wind, rain came pelting down like soybeans. The carriage rushed into an inn, and though the inn’s attendants came with umbrellas to help, everyone’s clothes were still soaked through.
“Get us a good room, boil hot water so everyone can wash and soak a bit.”
Hearing this voice, the attendant looked somewhat surprised, his gaze shifting toward the newly arrived guests standing in the main hall.
A few young soldiers, still gawking curiously at a carved lotus screen in the inn, their eyes full of wonder.
A plain-looking woman carrying a child – whether in her speech, her dress, or her demeanor, every bit of her radiated the foolish daze of a country bumpkin in the city.
People like this wanted a good room? And hot water for a bath?
The attendant curled his lip in disdain.
“Also bring a pot of wine – your best,” the man went on, stopping squarely before the inn attendant.
This man, like the few young ones, was thin, wiry, travel-worn, and seemed utterly unremarkable.
“What is it?” Fan Jianglin asked, seeing the inn attendant still standing there without moving.
“Master, here we require payment in advan–” the attendant drawled lazily, arms crossed. Before he could finish, a money pouch was tossed his way.
The attendant caught it with quick, precise hands, and with just that catch he could already roughly estimate how much was inside.
“Master, please, the good room! Come, come, quickly – boil hot water!”
“…Feed the horses well… use the best hay and beans…”
In the pouring rain, the entire inn suddenly bustled with activity.
Once Fan Jianglin and the others had gone inside, the main hall quieted down again, leaving only the sound of the rain pouring outside.
In the corner, three guests stood up and walked toward the back courtyard door. Through the curtain of rain, they watched the group heading upstairs.
“Brother…” one of them said, jerking his chin toward the other side.
The other two followed his gaze and saw several men in the rear courtyard carrying a large chest toward a room. The chest was covered with waterproofed oilcloth. Two men lifted it carefully, while two others beside them held umbrellas, just as cautious.
The three said nothing more, simply standing behind the curtain, watching as the chest was carried into the room of the man who had just paid. The rain fell heavier and heavier, cutting off their line of sight.
At midnight the rain stopped, and half a cold moon hung in the night sky, casting a pale glow over the inn washed clean by the storm.
Because of the downpour, there were not many guests in the inn; the good rooms in particular felt all the more deserted. Other than the chirping of insects and the faint drip of rainwater left clinging to the tiles, everything was hushed.
Three figures slipped across the courtyard under the moonlight, ghostlike, and crept upstairs to halt before a certain door.
One man pressed his ear to the door and listened for a moment. Then, slowly, he slid a thin wire through the crack. Before long, the latch lifted with a faint sound, and he gently pushed the door open, motioning to the others behind him.
Moonlight spilled inside, casting the silhouettes of two men onto the floor. At once they spotted the large chest set against the corner wall. The leader raised his foot to step in, but the man beside him reached out and stopped him.
That man gestured with his hand, then pointed toward the floor.
The leader, puzzled, lowered his head. In the moonlight’s reflection, he finally made out a faint, almost invisible line stretched across the doorway.
They had even set up a tripwire as a warning device…
The two men did not look frightened – instead, there was a trace of delight on their faces.
That meant whatever was inside the chest had to be extremely valuable.
One of them gestured, then carefully lifted his foot to step across.
But he had taken barely two steps when his foot suddenly gave way beneath him, and at the same instant there was a muffled thud from behind.
“Damn it, there was another hidden wire.” The man sprawled on the floor cursed under his breath. Clutching the cut on his leg, blood seeping through, he carefully pushed himself up and turned to look – only to freeze in shock.
The man behind him had already collapsed, lying motionless.
“Ah-Si!” he rasped, hurrying back a few steps.
The fallen man’s eyes bulged wide, a crossbow bolt protruding from his neck, the feathered tail quivering faintly. Blood slowly spread beneath him, glinting with an eerie sheen in the moonlight.
“Even as thieves, you dare to speak so loudly – no sense of rules at all.”
A man’s voice sounded from behind.
The man kneeling by the corpse turned back in fright and saw another man step out from behind the screen by the bed, a bow in his hand.
“We failed this time – we admit it…” the man rasped. “Leave us a way to live…”
As he spoke, he tossed the knife in his hand aside and raised both hands.
Fan Jianglin looked at him, seeming to hesitate.
“Please, just trying to scrape by – we’ve offended you, I’ll be going now…” the man panted. The word “go” had not even left his lips before he suddenly dropped to the floor. At the same time, a figure sprang out at the doorway, hurling a throwing knife straight at Fan Jianglin before darting to the side.
Fan Jianglin loosed an arrow. The flying knife went wide, but it had already bought enough time for the man on the ground to lunge forward, pulling another blade from his leg and slashing it toward Fan Jianglin’s neck.
With a wet sound, the man staggered forward and fell, the knife still clutched tightly in his hand, a crossbow bolt driven clear through his throat.
Even in death he seemed unable to believe it, eyes bulging, legs twitching a few times before falling still.
“S… Sir…”
A stammering voice came from outside. The man who had thrown the knife slowly stood up, two blades pressed against his neck, glinting coldly under the moonlight.
“Spare… spare me…”
Fan Jianglin looked at him and raised his bow once more, aiming directly at him.
“Shout,” he ordered.
“Thieves! Catch the thieves!” the two soldiers bellowed.
At their cry, the courtyard suddenly burst into commotion. Lamps flared to life in many rooms, the inn’s attendants rushed out with sticks, and the air filled with the clamor of hurried footsteps and shouts.
They were just thieves – capturing them would be enough, no need to kill…
The man with the blades pressed to his neck let out a breath of relief. As a thief, he usually wished the world could stay forever in darkness, but at this moment, seeing the lights and the crowd filled him with joy.
But before he could even smile, there came a sharp twang. An arrow from within the room streaked out, flashing in the glow of moonlight and lantern light. He had no chance to cry out; the arrow knocked him backward, and he collapsed to the ground, twitching twice before lying still.
“Catch the thieves!” Fan Jianglin shouted again, gripping the arrow in his hand as he called loudly toward the outside.
By dawn, the courtyard of the inn was packed with people all craning their necks to look upstairs.
An officer lifted himself up from beside one of the corpses and gestured to the constables.
Two constables carried the body away, a white cloth draped over it, stirring up a noisy commotion among the crowd below.
“They tried to steal from you, so you killed them all?” the officer asked, looking into the room.
Inside stood several men, and a woman clutching a child. Having run into thieves, and now with deaths involved, her face had gone pale as she kept patting the child in her arms to calm it.
“Yes. Not only did they try to steal, but when I caught them, they even tried to kill me,” Fan Jianglin said.
The officer nodded, stepped into the room, and held out his hand.
“Where are you from? What do you do?” he asked.
Fan Jianglin took out a stack of travel permits and handed them to the officer.
“Fan Jianglin, a man from Maoyuan Mountain, serving as a Brave in the Northwest Army. I’ve brought my wife back to the capital to visit family, and these few soldiers are escorting us,” he explained.
After checking the permits and finding nothing amiss, the officer relaxed.
No one could become a Brave without having killed at least ten Western bandits. As for these thieves, the officer knew of them – they were known for quick hands, with several lives already on their heads. He had been looking for a chance to arrest them, and hadn’t expected them to meet their end at the hands of men who lived by killing.
Still, they had miscalculated badly. What could a few poor soldiers possibly have worth stealing?
The officer’s gaze fell on the large chest in the room. A fine wooden chest like that – its craftsmanship alone was worth a hefty sum. Then what might be inside?
“What’s in it?” the officer asked.
Fan Jianglin stepped forward and opened the chest. Inside were five clay urns neatly arranged. The officer froze for a moment.
“My five brothers fell in battle. I’m taking them home,” Fan Jianglin said.
As the officer came down, the crowd of onlookers erupted again.
“Sir, what did they try to steal?” some townsfolk who knew him asked curiously.
The officer gave them a look, his expression somewhat strange.
“The dead,” he said.
That answer drew even greater astonishment, and the crowd surged forward in excitement.
The constables scattered the people and escorted the officer out. Seeing the three corpses thrown onto a cart outside the inn, the officer shook his head again.
“Damn it… to end up dead at the hands of a bunch of dead men – what rotten luck,” he muttered, glancing back at the inn.
Still, these soldiers were truly ruthless.
Was it really just for a few urns of ashes? Even so, was it worth striking so mercilessly?
Standing before the chest for a moment, Fan Jianglin poured out a jug of wine in front of it, then closed the lid.
“Jianglin, this chest draws too much attention…”
“Jianglin, you’re being far too generous…”
“Exactly, Jianglin, we should keep a lower profile.”
The three soldiers all spoke up.
Fan Jianglin smiled.
“Even if you keep a low profile, you can’t avoid being schemed against and hurt. And if you’re high-profile, it’s just the same. Since it’s all the same, better to live freely and with some satisfaction.” He paused, then added, “Perhaps if we’re even more high-profile, those who wish to harm us will have to think twice, weigh it carefully, and hesitate.”
As he spoke, he glanced at the wooden chest behind him and tightened his grip on the bow in his hand.
Just as he finished speaking, footsteps came thudding outside – the soldier who had gone to the post station to gather news had returned, holding an urgent dispatch from the relay.
“Jianglin, a letter from the capital for you,” he said.
Fan Jianglin quickly reached out to tear it open, then handed it to the woman beside him.
The woman, holding a child in her arms, leaned over to read.
“Your sister says we should travel slowly, and not arrive in the capital until the end of July. She’s not ready yet,” she read aloud.
Not ready yet?
Fan Jianglin looked out toward the courtyard and folded the letter in his hand.
Then we’ll wait. Wait as long as it takes – because his sister had never disappointed anyone, whether it was living up to the hopes of her own people, or delivering the retribution others deserved.
