The highly anticipated Qingshui Camp Horse Race began amidst a crowd of bewilderment, uproar, and complaints—yet ended in complete silence.
Not a single participating official managed to cross the finish line. Each received only a “participant’s prize”—a white porcelain hand-press cup, its outer wall inscribed with the words: “Take pride in serving the nation and its people; be ashamed of harming them for personal gain.”
They were required to keep these cups in their offices, forbidden from discarding or transferring them. If one was accidentally broken, they had to buy a replacement with their own money.
For those who had skeletons in their closets, dreading the coming investigations, even looking at the cup made their faces turn pale.
Inspector-General Wei had not originally been assigned one, but he proactively asked Su Yan for one, stating solemnly, “I, too, must take this as a warning.”
—Half a year later, similar cups became a trend across the imperial court and government offices of the Great Ming. The inscriptions varied slightly:
“Take pride in integrity; be ashamed of corruption.”
“Take pride in fulfilling duties; be ashamed of neglecting them.”
These “Honor and Shame Cups” became wildly popular.
Centuries later, an intact sweet white-glazed lotus-patterned “Honor and Shame Cup” was auctioned on the antiques market for a staggering 880,000 yuan.
But that was a story for another time.
For now, the officials who had been subjected to Su Yan’s ordeal were desperate to leave. As the sun began to set, they hurriedly set off for their posts.
Su Yan invited Inspector-General Wei to stay in Qingshui Camp for a few more days, saying there were still matters to discuss. Once those were settled, they would return to the capital together. Inspector-General Wei agreed, leaving the racetrack for now.
As soldiers cleaned up the chaotic aftermath, Su Yan glanced at the sky and suddenly smacked his forehead, pulling out his pocket watch.
“4:50 PM… It’s almost the You Hour!”
He hurriedly called for Huo Dun.
“Do you have 1,500 taels of silver banknotes on you? Lend me some for now—I’ll pay you back with the winnings later.”
As soon as news of the horse racing event spread, betting markets sprang up among the people, wagering on the final outcome. Of course, Su Yan secretly fanned the flames, instructing Huo Dun to leak information about the six teams while keeping control over the bookmakers, turning them into covert agents for the authorities. The rules were set: if the race ended in a draw, the bookmakers would pay out half; if it was a null result, they would keep half.
Among the six teams, the Border Defense Garrison Team had the most bets placed on them, while the least favored were the Imperial Stables Team and the Imperial Stud Team.
In the end, all six teams suffered a complete defeat, and the bookmakers made a fortune.
Huo Dun said, “Yes. Most of the gamblers were local merchants, along with some foreign traders. It’s estimated that this time, the bookmakers made over ten thousand taels of silver. Should I exchange it all for treasury notes for you, my lord?”
Su Yan waved his hand. “I only need 1,500 taels. As for the rest, combine it with the review fees collected from the officials and keep a record of it. In the future, we’ll need funds for buying breeding horses, repairing fortifications, and recruiting herdsmen. We can’t rely entirely on court allocations.”
Huo Dun ordered his men to retrieve the treasury notes. A moment later, a soldier returned with a flat wooden box. Su Yan opened it, confirmed the amount, then tucked the box into his robes. “I’ll head out first.”
With that, he swung onto his horse and galloped towards the horse market. Jinghong Zhui followed closely behind, calling out, “My lord, slow down! There’s still time!”
Upon arriving at the marketplace, Su Yan dismounted and searched around.
The horse market was winding down, with only a few buyers lingering and many vendors already packing up. Su Yan wove through the stalls, scanning for his target. When he didn’t find it, his face showed deep disappointment. “Still too late… That merchant must have packed up and left.”
He sighed and was about to turn to Jinghong Zhui when he suddenly spotted a middle-aged peddler at the corner loading his cart. Wasn’t that the very weapon dealer he had been searching for?
Hurriedly, he ran over. “Boss! Have you sold that sword yet?”
The merchant turned and slapped his thigh. “I knew it! Young master, you didn’t seem like someone who would go back on your word. You promised to come on the last day of the horse market at You Hour, and now it’s halfway past You Hour. I was just about to pack up. No, I haven’t sold it! Someone else offered 280 gold coins, cash, but I refused—I kept it for you! Three hundred gold, or 1,500 taels of silver, just as we agreed, right?”
Su Yan suspected that the merchant simply hadn’t been able to sell it. After all, in all of Qingshui Camp, he was probably the only fool willing to spend such an outrageous sum on a Western sword. But he still spoke politely, “Thank you, boss. Let’s settle the deal.”
The transaction was quickly completed.
Su Yan grasped the sword—a black scabbard, a silver-threaded spiral hilt, and a blade with intricate Damascus steel patterns that resembled swirling constellations. The more he looked at it, the more he felt it was worth the money. He asked, “Does this sword have a name?”
The merchant replied, “The Western blacksmith who forged it said that every weapon crafted by their master is given a name based on its material, style, and spirit. This sword is called—” He spoke a phrase in a foreign language. Su Yan didn’t fully understand, but it sounded like an ancient Middle Eastern tongue. The merchant added, “It translates to ‘Knight’s Oath.’ Strange name, isn’t it?”
Su Yan chuckled. “Not strange at all—very fitting.”
He cupped his hands in farewell, turned around, and realized that Jinghong Zhui was nowhere to be seen.
Where did he go without a word?
Scanning the crowd for his bodyguard, Su Yan walked ten or so paces until he reached a large tree where no one else was nearby. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, “My lord.”
Su Yan turned.
In the shade of the tree, Jinghong Zhui stood rigidly upright, a plain longsword at his waist, holding something in his palm. A long silver chain dangled down, and his expression, though cool and resolute, carried a hint of awkwardness and nervousness. But his gaze was unwavering.
“Where did you run off to? You didn’t even tell me—I had to search all over for you.” Su Yan’s tone carried a trace of complaint as he stepped forward, holding out the sword. “Here, I promised to get you a new weapon. You can toss away that second-rate backup sword on your waist now.”
Jinghong Zhui didn’t take the sword. Instead, he slowly opened his fingers and extended his palm.
It was a fire striker—gold-inlaid with silver engravings of wave patterns and a mythical chiwen motif, attached to a steel rod linked to a silver-rimmed leather pouch. Embedded with agate, red coral, and turquoise, it bore intricate carvings and had a fine silver chain. It was lavishly crafted.
Su Yan stared at it and immediately recognized it—this was the fire striker Shen Qi had gifted him before he left the capital. He had always worn it as an ornament on his belt. Later, when he and Jinghong Zhui had fallen into a valley and spent two nights in a cave, it had proven invaluable. Afterward, in order to escape, he had reluctantly traded it to a passing salt merchant for an old horse and a waterskin.
“How did you…” Su Yan parted his lips, an indescribable mix of emotions rising within him—surprise, excitement.
Jinghong Zhui lowered his head, stepped closer, and personally fastened the fire striker back onto Su Yan’s belt. “At the time, I noticed that you were reluctant to part with it, so I guessed it must hold great significance for you. I originally intended to steal it back after the exchange, but I feared you would think me dishonorable, so I let it go. Just now, I happened to spot that salt merchant in the market, still wearing it on his person, so I bought it back to return it to you.”
Su Yan was momentarily dazed, his heart surging with gratitude and warmth. Sincerely, he said, “Thank you, Ah Zhui. This item is indeed more than just a fire striker to me. Being able to recover it like this—it’s the best outcome I could hope for.”
He ran his fingers over the fire striker, unable to stop a smile from forming.
Jinghong Zhui hesitated before asking, “My lord, you seem to treasure this item greatly. Was it a gift from someone important? A friend, a colleague… or a beloved lady?”
Su Yan laughed. “What beloved lady?”
Jinghong Zhui muttered, “That one in Rouge Alley…”
He spoke so softly that it seemed like he wanted Su Yan to hear it on purpose.
Su Yan paused, then suddenly realized. “You mean Ruan Hongjiao? She’s not exactly a beloved lady—just someone I enjoy listening to sing… Wait, how do you know about her?”
Jinghong Zhui turned his face away without answering.
Su Yan smirked teasingly. “Have you been one of her patrons?”
“I told you before—‘until four days ago’—or did my lord assume I was lying?” Jinghong Zhui’s expression darkened slightly.
Su Yan sneered, “Just a joke, don’t take it seriously.” But after laughing, he found himself a bit annoyed—so you’ve ended your virginity, yet it wasn’t even with anyone else, it was with my pain! As the victim, what the h*ll am I laughing for?!
“In the capital back then, to escape being captured by Wei, that crook’s, soldiers, I hid in a carriage to sneak out of the city. It was you who covered for me and took me in. During that time, I was your driver—do you still remember that?”
Su Yan kept a straight face and nodded.
“Back then, Ruan Hongjiao sent her maid several times to invite you to Rouge Alley, but you refused because the Feng faction hadn’t been eliminated yet. You were afraid of being caught in a scandal or getting assassinated—do you remember that?”
Su Yan thought for a moment and nodded.
Jinghong Zhui continued, “I also heard from the innkeeper of the place you stayed at before that you came to the capital half a year before the exam to prepare, yet you spent most of your time at Rouge Alley, tangled up with that courtesan. Is that true?”
Su Yan nodded again, “That’s true. But ‘tangled up’ is a bit crass. Actually, we—”
Jinghong Zhui didn’t want to hear the answer and interrupted, “Was the fire striker her gift to you? Are you planning to… You can’t officially marry her since she’s of low birth, but are you thinking of taking her as a concubine?”
Su Yan detected the jealousy in his tone and couldn’t help but smirk. “And if I am? Will you recognize her as the lady of the house?”
Jinghong Zhui’s eyes darkened with suppressed anger. He forced it down and said with a blank face, “If I can manage not to kill her, that’s already me giving you face. She’d better know her place and stay out of your way, or one day, I will lose my temper.”
Su Yan burst out laughing, “I thought you were all about training and revenge, but turns out you’re just a jealous mess!” Used to teasing Jinghong Zhui, he couldn’t resist adding, “Relax, I already have a concubine. Even Little Jing has called her ‘mistress’ to her face. Just one, no others.”
Jinghong Zhui stared at him intently and suddenly smiled faintly. “I hope the Lord remembers what you promised today.”
A sudden chill ran down Su Yan’s spine, as if he had just triggered some ominous fate. He instinctively touched the fire striker at his waist, hesitating whether to tell Jinghong Zhui that this wasn’t actually a gift from some delicate woman’s hands—it was a parting gift from a brother.
But since Jinghong Zhui and Shen Qi had a long-standing grudge and would fight on sight, it was probably best not to bring it up and create unnecessary trouble.
Making up his mind, Su Yan shoved the newly bought sword at Jinghong Zhui’s chest. “How long do you expect me to hold this for? It’s heavy as h*ll. Take it.”
Only then did Jinghong Zhui accept the sword. He unsheathed it, examining the blade from hilt to tip, then solemnly fastened it to his waist, discarding his old sword at the base of a tree without a second thought.
Su Yan could tell he was extremely pleased with his new weapon, which in turn made him happy as well.
Jinghong Zhui asked, “Does this sword have a name? If not, please bestow it with one.”
Su Yan replied, “The blacksmith already named it. It translates to ‘Knight’s Oath’ in our language. If you find it odd, feel free to rename it.”
Jinghong Zhui was silent for a moment before saying, “I’m bad at naming things, so I always called my last sword ‘Nameless.’ I’ll just call this one ‘Oath.’ It suits me.” He grasped the hilt and looked up at Su Yan, his expression solemn, as if swearing an oath. “A sword’s name reflects its wielder’s heart. If I ever betray this heart, my path as a swordsman will be broken—I will never wield a sword again.”
Su Yan knew how weighty those words were to a true swordsman. He immediately grabbed Jinghong Zhui’s arm. “Don’t jinx it! You can’t just throw around flags like that!”
Jinghong Zhui let go of his sword hilt and covered Su Yan’s hand with his own.
Su Yan felt the callouses on Jinghong Zhui’s fingers scrape against his skin, sending a strange, tingling sensation up his arm—one that was both slightly painful and inexplicably… thrilling. Deep inside, he felt an unfamiliar shiver…
He scolded himself for his improper thoughts. Just a casual touch, and he was overthinking it? He felt ashamed for harboring such inappropriate notions about a martial artist so devoted to his craft.
Then, in all seriousness, the so-called martial artist shyly yet boldly asked, “So… can diao be thrown around casually?”
