Though ordered to stand down, Li Qingquan still gripped his weapon, eyes locked on the enemy.
The two masked men were clearly after Xing Muzheng. The one on the left flung throwing knives, the one on the right sprang forward. Xing Muzheng knocked the knives aside with a swift stroke; a short dagger was suddenly at his neck, but he turned aside, the blade grazing past his skin.
Li Qingquan and the others all sucked in a breath, aching to rush in—but military orders were iron, and they could not move. The left-hand attacker came to aid his partner, and the three fought from the front of the courtyard to the back.
The attackers seemed used to fighting in darkness and deliberately smashed the lanterns—but the guards had already lit torches, flooding the yard with light. Their trick foiled, and though their martial skills were not weak, they could not get close to Xing Muzheng. They were not suited for drawn-out combat.
Looking around at the archers ready on all sides, the masked men realized they had become turtles in a jar. Sharing a glance, they each nodded, then leapt back and escaped over the rooftops—one east, one west.
Li Qingquan looked to Xing Muzheng for instructions on whether to give chase. Xing Muzheng merely stooped, picked up the throwing knife that had fallen to the ground, pinched it between his fingers, tossed it lightly, and then, as if casually, swung it sharply toward the east. A short, muffled groan was heard. The assassin tumbled from the rooftop, rolling down until he landed right beneath the eaves of the east wing. At that moment, Qian Jiaoniang and Xing Pingchun, who had come out without anyone noticing, suddenly saw a huge body fall from the sky before their eyes. Looking closely, they saw the tip of a sharp blade protruding from the dead man’s throat, fresh blood gushing forth. His face was still covered with a black cloth, leaving only two wide-open eyes—as if he could not believe he was already dead.
It was Xing Pingchun’s first time seeing a corpse. He let out a frightened cry and turned to throw his arms around Qian Jiaoniang.
Xing Muzheng quickly gave the mother and son a glance, then raised his hand to order the pursuit of any remaining quarry. Li Qingquan had been waiting for just that order; he took two shadow guards and gave chase. But just as they vaulted over the wall, they heard a scream—one of the fleeing assassins, heading west, fell into an alley, an arrow lodged in his chest.
Standing on the roof, Li Qingquan looked up in surprise and saw a few people in the neighboring courtyard. At their head was a man in a crimson robe with a crane cloak, a bow in hand—it was His Highness the Second Prince. It seemed that arrow had been loosed by him. Li Qingquan ordered the shadow guards to bring the corpse back, then turned to report to Xing Muzheng.
Upon hearing it was the Second Prince who had lent aid, Xing Muzheng told Qian Jiaoniang to go back inside, ordered Wang Yong and the others to clean up the aftermath, changed clothes, and took two men over to the neighboring residence to express thanks.
The Second Prince, Wu Jian, had been born of a lowly status; his mother was a palace maid in the personal service of Emperor Taikang. He therefore had no claim to the throne. Early on, the emperor had granted him the title Fu Wang and given him a modest fief, making him a leisure prince forbidden to enter Yongan without imperial summons. Xing Muzheng had only just come to Yongan and become his neighbor; their first meeting was during a formal call. The Second Prince took after his mother in looks, with a baby face. Though he was only two months younger than the First Prince and already past thirty, he still looked like a youth who had just reached manhood.
When Xing Muzheng arrived at the prince’s residence, the steward was already waiting at the gate. He led Xing Muzheng into the main hall, where the Second Prince was seated with a cup of tea, a handsome boy of thirteen or fourteen standing beside him. The boy was strikingly pretty, though a touch pale with a sickly air. Xing Muzheng went forward to salute; Wu Jian returned the courtesy. The boy also saluted—he was Wu Ze, the prince’s legitimate eldest son.
Fu Wang spoke warmly: “My son and I were deep in a game of chess, neck and neck, when someone reported an unusual commotion at Marquis Xing’s residence. I took up a bow and went to offer aid, and happened to see a man in black fleeing. I knew he was an intruder and shot him. I had meant to take him alive, but my poor skill killed him instead. Does the Marquis know who he was?”
Xing Muzheng said, “I have no idea why the intruder broke into my residence. I thank Your Highness for your assistance. It is late tonight; I will call another day to give proper thanks.”
Fu Wang replied, “Think nothing of it. It’s more important to find out who he was.”
***
Qian Jiaoniang stood to the side. Though Xing Pingchun was still a bit afraid, he stayed close to her, wanting to know who had tried to kill his father. She watched Wang Yong and his men briskly strip the two bodies to their underpants—he had only refrained from taking those because he glanced at Qian Jiaoniang first—but even so, they thoroughly searched front and back. The two assassins had ordinary faces, and apart from some hidden weapons, nothing to identify them. Ah Da said they had no tattoos or brands, only a few scars.
“Strange…” Wang Yong rubbed his chin, speaking as if to himself. “These two are really odd. From their moves, it’s not like they meant to kill the Commander, the Master, yet they were clearly well-trained, not a single flaw in their form. So what did they come for?”
Not here to kill Xing Muzheng? Then why attack him? Qian Jiaoniang narrowed her eyes. She had thought they were the same group as the ones who had attacked in Minghu Prefecture, but those assassins had clearly wanted Xing Muzheng dead with one stroke.
Ah Da nodded in agreement. Squatting beside Wang Yong, he said, “Could it be…” He jerked his chin toward the Second Prince’s residence to the west.
“You mean they were headed there and we just caught them in passing?”
Qian Jiaoniang also knew the Second Prince lived next door, but she didn’t think that was it. If their target was the Second Prince, why waste time tangling with Xing Muzheng? This was clearly aimed at Xing Muzheng. Thinking so, she squatted by the corpses to study them.
Suddenly, a large shadow fell over her. She looked up to see Xing Muzheng standing in the backlight, hands clasped behind him, watching her.
“…Enjoying the view?” he asked. This woman was far too bold, staring at corpses like that. Couldn’t she be more timid? Then perhaps she’d have fewer crooked ideas.
Qian Jiaoniang smiled, stood, and patted her skirt. “Not as good-looking as the living.”
When Xing Muzheng returned, Wang Yong and the others gathered around, each reporting what they’d found and voicing their doubts. Xing Muzheng nodded to show he understood but said little. Noticing Xing Pingchun still looked uneasy, he frowned slightly and called him over. When the boy came, Xing Muzheng pointed at the corpse and told him to pull the arrow out of it.
The dead man’s eyes were still wide open, unclosed in death. Xing Pingchun swallowed hard and said he didn’t dare.
“The living you need not fear, the dead even less,” Xing Muzheng said.
“But Father, I’m… afraid of ghosts!” the boy said miserably.
“Nonsense! Where would ghosts come from?” Xing Muzheng scolded. “Go on.”
Xing Pingchun looked pleadingly at Qian Jiaoniang. She chuckled softly. “No need to be afraid. I’ll pull it with you.”
Hearing her, Xing Pingchun still felt scared but found some courage. Together they walked to the arrow-pierced corpse. Xing Pingchun glanced up at her; she nodded, laid her hand over his, and guided it to the arrow’s fletching. “I’ll count three, two, one, and we’ll pull together.”
Staring at the corpse’s pale, eerie face, Xing Pingchun took a deep breath and nodded. Gripping the shaft, he counted with her: “Three, two, one!”
At “one,” mother and son pulled hard. Blood dripped from the arrowhead onto the ground. Xing Pingchun’s hands still trembled, but he exhaled in relief—until, all of a sudden, the corpse, now freed of the arrow, craned its neck, bulging eyes glaring, and its limbs began to move!
“Ah—!”
Even someone as bold as Qian Jiaoniang was frightened out of her wits by this corpse suddenly sitting up. She clung to Xing Pingchun, and together they let out the most bloodcurdling scream of their lives. Xing Muzheng strode forward in a single bound and swept mother and son into his arms.
Before Wang Yong could land another blow, the “corpse” tilted its head and collapsed again. Wang Yong stepped forward and gave it a kick—it lay completely still.
Wang Yong said, “Madam, Chou’er, it’s fine now. Every now and then, a dead body will twitch once or twice.”
Ah Da laughed as well. “That’s right, Madam. This is the first time I’ve ever heard you yell so loudly!” So, the Madam was afraid of something after all.
Xing Muzheng shot Ah Da a glare, and Ah Da shrank his neck and shut his mouth. Xing Muzheng lowered his head and said softly to Qian Jiaoniang, “It’s all right now.”
Qian Jiaoniang’s heart was still pounding wildly, her mind momentarily dazed. Xing Muzheng saw she had truly been frightened—she even seemed to be trembling—so he held her tighter. Feeling distressed for her, he didn’t take it out on Xing Pingchun. “Told you to do it alone, but you’re too timid—you’ve ended up scaring your mother.”
Xing Pingchun had been scared half to death himself, but upon hearing that his mother had been frightened, he quickly grabbed her hand and looked up. “Mother, Mother, don’t be afraid—it’s all right!”
Qian Jiaoniang came back to herself, and hearing Xing Muzheng scold Pingchun, her anger flared. She glared at Xing Muzheng. “A child must be taught slowly. You suddenly have him do something like this—what if it traumatized him?”
How was it his fault again? Xing Muzheng felt rather wronged. “It’s just a dead person—what’s there to be afraid of?”
“How is that not frightening?” Qian Jiaoniang’s brows shot up. “Even I was scared!” Luckily she was there—otherwise, wouldn’t Chou’er have been scared out of his wits? She bent down and patted Pingchun’s forehead three times. “Peh, peh, peh—my son is right here!”
“Mother, I’m fine!”
Xing Muzheng stood to the side, frowning in silence.
Ah Da, watching from nearby, found it amusing. Why did it feel like “one thing subdues another”? The Great Commander actually had a day like this—he never would have imagined it!
Li Qingquan stepped forward and asked, “Master, how should we deal with these two assassins? Hand them over to the Shuntian Prefecture?”
“No need. Tomorrow I’ll go to the palace and report to His Majesty.”
