At the second quarter of the hour of the dog, morning stars twinkled in the sky. On a desolate stretch of riverbank outside Jiangning city, the night wind moaned past a houseboat floating on the water’s surface, light spilling from within its cabin.
Waking up in a daze, consciousness not yet truly clear, with little light around him, the sounds from outside drifted into his mind now strong, now faint; before his brain had properly started working, he couldn’t parse the meaning of these broken fragments of speech.
“…drink less…”
“…a scholar without the strength to truss a chicken…”
“…this time’s pig for the slaughter…”
“…at the hour of the rat, Big Brother’s to take a torch up the mountain to wait for the others… ought to know about this by now…”
“…know the signal…”
“…three circles left, three right…”
“…Father, that pig for the slaughter… nice shoes…”
“Don’t go doing anything reckless!”
“But…”
“This kind of pig… not fifty, but at least thirty…”
“Won’t wake up before the hour of the rat at the earliest, leave him be…”
“Father, a pig like this… let him do it one-handed…”
“…Listen to me…”
A dull ache throbbed at the back of his head; it took a long while for his thoughts to gather, a complicated feeling hard to put into words.
It had been a very, very long time since he’d felt such naked hostility — even that time with Tang Mingyuan hadn’t carried quite this kind of malice.
He tried hard to recall what had happened before — that look, the swing of the club… who was doing this?
The Su family, the Xue family, the Wu family… probably not, it made no sense. The Su family had no reason to do this to him at present, unless someone wanted to kill off the old patriarch and then get rid of Su Boyong and his daughter. The Xue and Wu families likewise had no reason to move against him — all he had was a bit of a literary reputation, and for merchants of similar standing, this kind of move was usually a last resort; once done, there’d be no room to salvage things, and once the mask was off, all consequences would spiral out of control. This shouldn’t be the first move against him…
Wulie’s army? Even less likely — if it were them, it wouldn’t be like this…
Who on earth was it, and whom had he offended…
His sense for detecting goodwill versus ill will was fairly sharp; had there been any sign of it beforehand, he would most likely have noticed. This really did seem to have come out of nowhere. He ran through possible suspects one by one in his mind — Xue Jin was one, but that man could never have had the resolve or the nerve for something like this, not even in a moment of madness. Beyond that, he couldn’t think of anyone. Or was this just some random kidnapping for ransom?
Pig for slaughter, hour of the rat… that didn’t fit either.
However he turned it over, he couldn’t pin down the source of this hostility — but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it carefully. His hands and feet were already bound, the room dark; in the next room, several people were eating and drinking, the glow of an oil lamp seeping faintly through cracks in the wall, the room swaying slightly, the sound of flowing water — he was on a river…
The image of the man before he’d blacked out surfaced in his mind — a giant well over two meters tall, built like some kind of boxing champion, with accomplices besides. Hard to deal with… He closed his eyes, his body tensing slightly, then relaxing again, his fingers behind his back searching ceaselessly, feeling for anything sharp or useful he could exploit. Out in the corridor, it seemed someone occasionally walked past…
Inexplicable, unreasonable, damn it, couldn’t make sense of it, why, who on earth… a faint anxiety, a restless agitation welled up — having absolutely no clue was the most infuriating thing of all to him, but it was quickly reined back in by calm and self-control, his fingers continuing to search, slowly, inch by inch, trying not to make a sound.
A year of disciplined training, plus the ominous feeling he’d had upon seeing that look in the man’s eyes, meant that when the club swung down he’d actually flinched slightly — perhaps that was why the man had misjudged the timing. This might be his only chance; there was no room for second-guessing or complaint. Only by dealing with what was in front of him could he afford the luxury of thinking further ahead. He might not get another opportunity, but he had to stay calm — mustn’t be hasty, mustn’t be hasty…
…
Time passed like the water flowing below, second by second. As the burning sensation at the back of his head gradually faded, in the oppressive darkness the surroundings grew quieter, and the situation around him became clearer. Voices, the sounds of eating and drinking — in the next room there were two adults, two children (though the “children” were probably already grown), and a woman… perhaps a whole family.
Pig for slaughter… not the first time they’d done this. There must be deaths on their hands. That big man was simply too much to handle — not in the same weight class at all; an ordinary scholar seeing him would probably have been terrified out of his wits. Ning Yi steadied his breathing, analyzing all this in his mind. At some point, a faint sound came from the doorway; he opened his eyes slightly. Someone was quietly picking the lock.
The lock was halfway open when it stopped. “Little brother, what are you doing?”
“Brother, that pig’s shoes… he won’t be needing them anyway.”
“Father said not to do anything reckless! Give me the key!”
“Oh.”
The brothers’ conversation was kept low, and then they each moved off. Ning Yi, who’d been holding his breath, now let it out slowly, his hand against the wall behind him quickening its faint scraping motion.
Before long, faint sounds came again from the doorway.
…
The door opened just a crack, and a stout, muscular youth slipped quietly in, then gave a soft, somewhat smug snort. In his hand he held a club, and he tucked a length of wire back into his robe.
The youth walked toward the corner, getting a good look at the scholar tied up and dumped on the floor — this scholar was frail-looking, not even as sturdy as himself, seemingly weak as a reed.
All those rich men in the city were like this.
“Pig, if you wake up and try anything, I’ll crack your skull open with one swing…” the youth said, vicious and low-voiced. He waited a moment nearby, then set the club aside, crouched down, and pulled off the scholar’s shoes, admiring them delightedly in the dim light. Then he sat down with his back to the scholar and took off his own shoes — putting his back to his captive was an unconscious habit by now.
First shoe, second shoe, both pretty and a perfect fit… Just as he was about to stand up, behind him the figure sat up without a sound, both hands spreading apart in the darkness as the ropes fell from his wrists. Those hands suddenly clamped shut.
Crack—
A head turned to face a different direction.
…
He didn’t put his shoes on. Silently, he pushed the door open and stepped out — outside was the houseboat’s corridor, laid out in a “王” shape, six rooms in all. He’d been held in the room between the sitting room and the kitchen, which had no door; the other three rooms on that side had only windows. No one in the corridor. He crept along, glanced once into the sitting room, and quickly pulled back.
Three people, one table, one oil lamp. One was the big man who’d spoken to him; another was likewise burly, built like an iron tower; the third… must be the big man’s eldest son, also over 1.8 meters tall.
Three lotus stems floating in a jade pool…
In the room, the iron-tower man was talking to the eldest son.
“…Big Brother, Uncle’s telling you, in this world of the martial arts, only true ruthlessness, true boldness paired with a careful mind, can get you anywhere. But don’t think ruthlessness means picking fights for the sake of bravado. True ruthlessness only comes out when it’s truly needed — just once, and everyone will fear you. Back in the day, that man surnamed Lei…”
The words didn’t register in Ning Yi’s mind at all — blah blah blah, what kind of nonsense philosopher act was this… He looked around. The door was on the sitting-room side; how to get out? His swimming wasn’t good, and though the water outside flowed fairly gently, it was loud — if he were heard, he wouldn’t get far.
His face darkening, he continued along his original path to the other side. In the kitchen, a heavyset woman was cooking. Ning Yi looked around, eyed the chimney and other fixtures, and two seconds later stepped inside and picked up the knife from the cutting board.
The woman turned around. In the next instant — a flash, and blood sprayed skyward, gushing into the pot like a fountain, sizzling. A shadow was cast against the wall as the kitchen knife came down again and again.
…
Blood seeped through the floorboards, perhaps dripping down into the river below. The shadow stood before the stove, expressionless, pouring pork fat, kerosene, and various oils into the boiling pot. His eyes swept around, sorting through everything in the kitchen — occasionally he’d pick up a paper packet, open it, then discard it. Once the oil was fully boiling, he poured the scalding liquid into an earthenware jar bound with straw rope.
Then, from the sitting room, a voice called out: “Big Brother, go see if your mother’s finished cooking…”
Ning Yi quietly pushed the kitchen door shut, a scale weight in one hand and a boning knife in the other, and hid to one side of the doorway. Footsteps approached, drawing closer; the door opened, and the instant the young man stepped in, Ning Yi blew out the lamp as though a gust of wind had done it. The firelight from the stove still flickered; the young man froze for a moment: “Mother…?”
Ning Yi swung the scale weight and slammed it into the back of his head. As the body toppled sideways, only then did Ning Yi catch him.
…
“That man surnamed Gu, I hear, has become an official — going to be a county magistrate…”
“If we could get Big Brother and Second Brother to go along and get some kind of position, that wouldn’t be bad — we’ve got something on him…”
“No need to push a scholar like that too hard…”
In the room, Yang Yi and Yang Heng were chatting, occasionally sipping wine, eating peanuts. Realizing it had been some time since Big Brother went off, Yang Heng frowned.
“Why isn’t Big Brother back yet…”
“Mother—!” The cry suddenly rang out from the direction of the kitchen, desolate and hoarse. Both men startled; Yang Yi snatched up a crossbow and rushed toward the corridor inside, while Yang Heng drew a steel saber and headed for the door.
“Watch the pig!”
Yang Heng burst out the door to check whether anyone was fleeing across the river. A few seconds later, from the room behind, Yang Yi’s furious roar suddenly rang out: “Let him go—!”
When Yang Yi charged into the middle corridor, it was dim, with only a faint glow coming from the kitchen. Before he could even open the second door to check on the pig, his eldest son was pushed out, his head covered in blood, staggering. Clearly he’d been beaten unconscious, then roused slightly, then beaten again.
A blood-stained boning knife was pressed against his throat, held in one hand — the slightest movement could slit it open. Hiding behind the son, pushing him forward, was the pig they’d tied up — the scholar who’d looked so harmless was now faintly streaked with blood all over.
“Let him go!”
Yang Yi’s eyes were about to split with rage; he raised his crossbow and roared.
Ning Yi wasn’t particularly short, but Yang Yi was simply enormous, blocking the way ahead like a wall. Both sides paused for a moment. Then a voice carried across — not as high-pitched as Yang Yi’s, just laced with deep disgust, plain and simple.
“Go ahead and shoot.”