The newly appointed Imperial Censorate Deputy Feng Lin’s residence was located in Renming Lane, just two alleys away from the bustling Qiaotou Street. It was close enough to the liveliness yet quiet enough for peace – a prime location in the capital. At this moment, the north wind was howling, and the tiny snow grains had turned into fluttering flakes.
When Feng Lin entered the capital, he had brought only two servants, rolling up their bedding and moving straight in. On this snowy night, the vast mansion was lit by only a few dim lamps, giving it an eerie and desolate air.
The door creaked open, and a gust of cold wind rushed in, making the candle flames leap wildly, almost going out. When the door was shut again, the light steadied once more.
“Master, please take your medicine,” the servant said softly, looking toward Feng Lin, who lay on his bed facing the wall.
“No need.” Feng Lin’s voice came from the bed.
The servant’s face crumpled as if he were about to cry.
“Master…” he called timidly.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Feng Lin’s voice was calm.
The servant knew his master’s stubborn temper, so at those words, he dared not press further.
He just sat quietly by the bed, wiping his tears.
Facing the wall, Feng Lin stared blankly at the shadow cast by the candle flame.
It was her.
It was actually her.
The hand resting by his side clenched again.
How could it be her?
With a pop, the candle flared, bursting into a brief flower of flame. Feng Lin’s body trembled slightly; his face burned hot, as if someone had slapped him hard across the cheek.
How could this be?
That girl who had once smiled and said, “If you must put it that way, then the one who saved you wasn’t me, and the person you ought to thank isn’t me either,” – how could that girl be the same person who now, under the banner of divine power, stirs up the people and flaunts her merit to threaten the Emperor and the court?
How could these two completely different people be one and the same?
How had she changed?
How had she become like this?
Changed?
He realized he had never truly known her at all – just like Han Chang, he had only met her once, by chance.
Feng Lin suddenly sat upright, startling the servant who had been wiping his tears.
“Master!” the boy cried out in alarm.
But Feng Lin had already swung his legs off the bed and was walking barefoot across the floor.
“Prepare the carriage! Prepare the carriage!” he said again and again.
The servant turned pale with fright and hurried forward to grab him.
“Master, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to see her – I have to ask her myself,” Feng Lin said.
“Master! It’s too late – it’s far too late! And it’s snowing…” the servant pleaded.
Feng Lin had already reached the door and pulled it open. A blast of cold wind rushed in, carrying flakes of snow. He stopped in his tracks.
Hearing the commotion, another servant came running. The two of them grabbed hold of him, one on each side.
“Master, it’s too late – how could you go visiting someone at this hour?” they pleaded.
Yes, to call on a woman this late at night would indeed be improper.
Feng Lin stood there motionless, letting the wind and snow lash against him.
“Master, please rest first. We can go first thing in the morning,” the servants urged carefully.
Feng Lin nodded.
“All right,” he said.
The two servants gently led him back inside and closed the door against the storm.
On that snowy night, Feng Lin’s residence had fallen into silence – but in other homes, lamps still burned bright, and people came and went without pause.
With a swish, a door was flung open, and a man wrapped in the chill of the night stepped inside.
Four or five people were seated around the room; at the sight of him, they all straightened up.
“Well?” someone asked.
“I found out,” the man replied. “Three years ago, when that fire broke out at the post station, this Lady Cheng was also staying there on her journey back from the capital to Jiang-zhou. When the bandits set the fire, she and her party shot the arsonists on the spot, then helped put out the blaze. So to Feng Lin, she was literally a life-saving benefactor.”
The people in the room all looked enlightened, and turned their eyes toward Attendant Scholar Gao.
“Then Heaven truly has opened its eyes this time,” said Attendant Scholar Gao, dressed in a plain home robe. His tone was slow, his face still showing disbelief. “How could there be such a coincidence?”
The aides in the room looked at one another, equally incredulous.
“Yes – how could it be such a coincidence?” they echoed.
“Has anyone gone to Puxiu Temple to burn incense lately?” someone asked in all seriousness.
“I haven’t gone to burn incense,” another replied just as solemnly, “but when I passed Jimin Bridge, I tossed a half-eaten spicy duck head to a beggar. Could that have earned me some good karma?”
The people in the room glanced at one another, then suddenly burst out laughing all at once – the laughter was so loud it seemed to shake the roof, sending the snow that had drifted into the corridor swirling wildly in the wind.
Attendant Scholar Gao slapped the table and laughed, joining the chorus of booming voices that filled the room.
“Who would’ve thought! I figured this time we’d either come back empty-handed or only get half of what we wanted – but to think, Heaven has truly smiled upon us! Both of them are going to be swept away at once!”
“Truly, man proposes, but Heaven disposes,” someone added with a grin.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Chen Shao and Old Master Chen wore complicated expressions. Father and son exchanged a look, then gestured for their attendants to withdraw.
“So it really was her, that time,” said Old Master Chen, gazing toward the screen behind him – upon which old brush marks and ink circles still lingered.
“So you mean it was a passing traveler who saw injustice and drew their blade to help -that’s how it happened?”
“How long has Lady Cheng been gone?”
“…By the route, ten days ago she should have reached around…”
According to the detailed report Feng Lin had sent, the ones who intervened were a group of about twenty people, coming from the direction of the capital, escorting a woman –
A woman!
And the two men shot dead on the spot…
Could it really be that same “fool from Jiang–zhou” again?
“You still refuse to believe it, but I knew it was her,” Old Master Chen said with a laugh.
Chen Shao shook his head.
“Truly… Heaven toys with men,” he murmured, lifting his gaze to the screen. “Now this, instead, has turned into trouble.”
Old Master Chen’s expression also grew grave.
Inside, the brazier glowed warm, yet the atmosphere was as cold and heavy as the ice and snow outside.
“This time,” someone said quietly, “Feng Lin has driven himself into a dead end.”
“At this very moment, if he doesn’t continue pressing the accusation, he’ll be seen as disloyal – as someone who abandoned righteousness for personal feeling and private gratitude. The other censors and remonstrators will never let him off.”
“But if he does continue the charge, and succeeds in having Lady Cheng punished and banished, then in the future he will surely be impeached himself – accused of betraying his benefactor, branded as faithless and ungrateful.”
“They say loyalty and filial piety cannot both be fulfilled: to be loyal, you must wrong your kin; to be filial, you must fail your sovereign. But in this case, Feng Lin can have neither – whichever he chooses, it will be wrong.”
“The Emperor is a benevolent ruler. Once this thorn is lodged in his heart, it will never be pulled out again.”
Chen Shao nodded, his expression dark.
“And yet he can’t simply do nothing,” he said. “If Feng Lin insists on pursuing the case, then both he and Lady Cheng will be cast out of the capital in disgrace. If he chooses not to, and instead submits his own guilt and leaves to avoid conflict, the matter still won’t be settled. Lady Cheng will carry the stain of this accusation regardless, and others will use it to attack her again and again.”
At that, he set his teacup down heavily.
“Truly – man proposes, but Heaven disposes.”
The lamplight flickered, never going out, while the shadows on the doors and windows swayed and stretched, mingling with the swirling snow outside.
The snow stopped overnight; the courtyard was carpeted in white, and the morning light brightened early.
Old Master Zhang pulled the door open and drew in a breath of the cold clear air – only to have an old servant step up right in front of him, making him nearly choke.
“Wan Ping, what are you doing?” he said, patting his side.
“Master, you’ve heard about Feng Lin’s matter, haven’t you?” the old servant asked.
“Wasn’t that settled last night?” Old Master Zhang said nonchalantly. “What now?”
Before the servant could answer, something occurred to him.
“Ah – right, right,” he said, turning as he spoke. “I forgot to add one thing: she also saved this Feng Lin.”
The servant hurriedly followed him in.
“Master, the Feng Lin she saved is the very man who’s going to ruin them both,” he said urgently.
“How could that be?” Old Master Zhang said with a laugh, casually picking up a brush from the desk.
“How could it not be?” the old servant replied heatedly. “Now Feng Lin has driven them both into a dead end! Forget the debt of saving his life – there might still have been a way out if he’d kept his head. But no, that spineless man fainted the moment he saw Lady Cheng! There’s no hiding it now!”
“This isn’t some shameful secret that can’t be spoken of,” Old Master Zhang said, calmly adding another brushstroke to the screen. He examined it for a moment, then stepped back a few paces to take in the whole picture.
“Master,” the old servant said anxiously, “this is going to ruin them both. Our Ban Qin’s been crying till her eyes are all swollen.”
“That silly girl,” Old Master Zhang burst out laughing. “She’s already been sold out once by that mistress of hers – yet she still doesn’t understand!”
“Master,” the old servant said again.
“Mutual destruction,” Old Master Zhang replied, setting down the brush and rolling up his sleeves. “Ever since that little lady tricked me once, I’ve never believed her to be the sort who’d really let things end in ruin for both sides.”
“Master, you’re too petty – still holding on to that?” The servant looked half amused, half helpless.
“It’s not pettiness,” Old Master Zhang said, waving his hand. “It’s called remembering the past as a lesson for the future.”
“Master, that was nothing – how can that compare to what’s happening now?” the servant said anxiously.
“Of course it can,” Old Master Zhang said with a laugh, glancing at him. “It’s all the same.”
All the same?
How could the two things be alike – a fool’s father trying to send away the fool’s maid, and a Imperial Censorate Deputy moving to indict a woman of great renown?
“They’re both the same,” Old Master Zhang said. “Just people with no other choice, forced to do heartless things.”
From outside came the sound of hurried footsteps.
“Master Feng has arrived at Lady Cheng’s gate!” a young servant called, poking his head in.
So he really went!
What choice would he make?
Though neither choice could lead to a good outcome, there was still the question of which misfortune would come first.
Everyone who heard the news was speculating and waiting in tense silence.
Feng Lin dismounted from his horse and lifted his gaze to the residence before him.
The snow in front of the gate had been swept completely clean, and many people were slowly gathering nearby.
They were not the spies who had followed him along the way – Feng Lin knew that these must be the people who came regularly to learn calligraphy from Lady Cheng.
He took a deep breath and raised a hand to signal.
“Master…” the servant called out reluctantly, “perhaps you shouldn’t go. You’re still ill -better to rest and recover a while longer.”
Illness was a convenient excuse.
If the recovery took longer, if enough time passed, some matters might fade away, big troubles becoming small, small ones disappearing altogether. At worst, he’d be mocked or ridiculed, but that was far better than charging headlong into the storm, meeting blades and spears head-on.
Time was a fine thing – it could smooth over almost anything.
But Feng Lin’s expression hardened; his eyes flashed sharply at the servant.
“For the sake of the country, I have never spared myself. I have never been one to hide,” he said.
The servant could only lower his head helplessly and step forward to knock on the door.
The door opened, and a gatekeeper came out to look them over.
Feng Lin stepped forward and, with both hands, presented a visiting card.
“I pays my respects to Lady Cheng,” he said.
