Han Qian naturally had no idea of the peril within the palace prohibition at dawn. When he changed into those tattered clothes emanating a faint rancid stench and stepped into the back alley, a subtle and strange emotion rippled through his chest.
Previously, he had struggled to survive with utmost caution, constantly worried that his father would be executed for remonstrating and offending the imperial countenance, constantly worried that the Wanhong Pavilion conspiracy would one day be exposed and he would ultimately be implicated and reduced to ashes, constantly worried that Anning Palace would bare its savage and bloody fangs to tear to shreds all obstacles hindering the Crown Prince’s succession, and from time to time worried that Wanhong Pavilion and the Marquis of Xinchang’s estate would detect his harbored different intentions and purge the household in advance.
This meant he didn’t dare relax for a moment. His heart was tightly strung without the slightest loosening, like a cornered beast watched by a venomous snake.
Just now in the back courtyard when changing into these tattered clothes, Han Qian had still regretted that he should have had Zhao Ting’er wash them last night so he wouldn’t have to endure this rancid stench. But the instant he stepped into the back alley, Han Qian seemed to completely merge into his newly assumed identity, as if he had truly become a beggar who possessed nothing in this world and had nothing to lose.
Suddenly, everything that had weighed heavily on his heart these days, almost suffocating him, disappeared without a trace. He even had a realization that only by abandoning everything could one control everything.
Han Qian looked up at the narrow strip of sky squeezed out between the high, steep courtyard walls on both sides—clear and azure blue. The courtyard walls were mostly rammed clay, topped with thatch or a layer of eave tiles to prevent rain erosion. Some walls had severe cracks, with clusters of wild grass or three to five vegetable flowers stubbornly growing from the crevices.
Light rain had fallen last night. The alley was somewhat muddy. Though it was only early May, one could faintly hear frog croaking coming from some hidden ditch somewhere, while the crowing chickens and barking dogs from the courtyards on both sides rose and fell continuously without cease.
This was the vigorous vitality that market streets and alleys should have at dawn.
Although Han Qian had been going in and out this past year and had secretly purchased several residences in the nearby alleys to temporarily hide if an incident occurred, he had never truly calmed his heart to feel the genuine atmosphere of these market streets and alleys.
Could this be the true significance of role-playing?
“Young master, these clothes are too foul-smelling. Do we really have to wear these clothes to attend the Third Prince’s wedding banquet? What if we’re thrown out by the guards?” Zhao Ting’er came out pinching her nose. She had adapted in the courtyard for quite a while before she could endure the rancid smell on her body without directly vomiting, but her heart held unspeakable reluctance.
“Don’t you think this is rather interesting too?” Han Qian laughed heartily and pulled Zhao Ting’er toward the alley entrance.
The alley was still quiet, but the main street already had quite a few shops opening. The market citizens rising early gathered from the web-like alleys, and there were also quite a few beggars who didn’t know from which corner they had crawled out to beg for food.
However, quite a few beggars who saw Han Qian and Zhao Ting’er would look at them twice in surprise.
“Are the flaws on us so obvious that people can see through us?” Zhao Ting’er asked puzzled.
“That’s because the flaws on you are too obvious!” Han Qian pulled Zhao Ting’er to a puddle and had her look at herself in the water.
After all, Zhao Ting’er was a girl who loved beauty. Even though under Han Qian’s instruction she had initially mastered makeup techniques, and in the process of making rouge with Han Qian had produced yellow rouge and attempted to use tree resin, pine resin, beeswax, and lead powder to concoct a soft wax with a texture close to skin that could be colored with yellow-red rouge to cover the original complexion—today she had even added a bit of charcoal ash to cover her skin tone to a dark hue—but no matter how you looked at this girl’s eyes and brows, there was still beauty that couldn’t be hidden.
And how could the hair of someone with no fixed abode who endured hunger and cold possibly be as neat and glossy as hers?
“…”
Seeing Han Qian scoop up a handful of foul-smelling mud from the edge of the puddle and about to smear it on her hair after mixing it with the soft wax and charcoal ash, Zhao Ting’er stared at Han Qian with a pitiful, appealing look.
“Stop pretending to be pitiful. Either you stay in the residence and don’t come out with me,” Han Qian threatened ruthlessly.
“Then young master, you do it,” Zhao Ting’er ruthlessly closed her deep, alluring eyes.
Han Qian had to admit this girl was becoming more and more alluring. Smiling, he lifted her chin and smeared the mud paste on her head and face. He also smeared the snow-white, delicate neck inside her collar and the exquisitely carved arms inside her sleeves until they were all blackened, truly disguising her as a youth with a filth-covered face.
Zhao Ting’er’s figure looked very frail to begin with, which was good. To make himself look sickly, Han Qian needed to use tree resin to pad his cheekbones and use gradually shaded yellow rouge and lead powder to apply foundation on his face so his cheeks would appear sunken. The entire process was extremely tedious, but it also made Han Qian seem like a completely different person.
Han Qian didn’t rush to take Zhao Ting’er to stake out the Marquis of Linjiang’s estate. Instead, he found a secluded corner at the alley entrance to sit on the ground and observe with Zhao Ting’er what state those who truly begged for a living were in, then continued adjusting their appearance and demeanor. At noon, the two pulled out pitch-black steamed buns from their bosoms, tearing off small pieces to stuff in their mouths. Afterward, they each picked up a broken clay bowl and a broken bamboo pole, hunched their bodies, and walked toward Fengxiang Boulevard.
“It’s so lively—hasn’t half the city run over to watch the excitement?” Before even reaching Fengxiang Boulevard where the Marquis of Linjiang’s estate was located, Zhao Ting’er was frightened by the crowded throng of people. She remarked with feeling that she hadn’t expected the Third Prince’s wedding today to attract so many people to come watch.
“Imperial weddings are grand occasions you might not see once in several years,” Han Qian said with a smile. “Moreover, to add to the festivities, the Marquis of Xinchang’s estate and the Marquis of Linjiang’s estate have invited several troupes into the city to perform variety shows right on the street.”
Han Qian pulled Zhao Ting’er’s small hand and pushed into the crowd. He saw that on Fengxiang Boulevard, besides the crowds watching the excitement, there were also stalls for fortune-telling and physiognomy reading, diagnosing illness and selling medicine, writing letters for others, and selling sundry goods—everything was available, making Fengxiang Boulevard more bustling and tumultuous than the Eastern Market.
Seeing the patrol soldiers were insufficient, the Marquis of Linjiang’s estate had no choice but to dispatch over a hundred guards to maintain order.
“Young master, look—Dahei and the others have also entered the city!” By this time, Zhao Ting’er had also experienced the wonder of role-playing. She no longer found the rancid smell on her body unbearably filthy, but instead found it very interesting and exciting.
Han Qian pulled Zhao Ting’er back, and the two found a corner to crouch down in. They placed their begging clay bowls in front of them while secretly observing as Fan Dahei brought the first batch of agents into the city, disguised in various identities and dispersed among the crowd.
Having recruited these people with insufficient time for training, they wouldn’t directly explain to them the purpose and objective of establishing the Secret Bureau’s Left Division. But the consequence was that directly dispatching these personnel into the city and dispersing them throughout the major and minor streets, even though currently they were only required to integrate as much as possible into the market streets and alleys, the vast majority still felt anxious and confused inside.
Han Qian and Zhao Ting’er, hidden in the shadows, could very clearly see that some of these people had strong unease and didn’t fit in with the surrounding crowd. Only the dozen or so household soldier sons assigned to the Agent Section performed much better, hiding silently among the crowd watching the excitement.
Han Qian wrote a note in code and, when Fan Dahei wasn’t paying attention, stuck it to the heel of his shoe, ordering him to immediately withdraw everyone and disperse them to other streets and alleys.
Han Qian thought that if these personnel allowed the estate guard camp to detect abnormalities and were then seized one by one from the crowd as lurking assassins, that would create a huge joke.
Fan Dahei only discovered the note under his foot after quite a while. Puzzled, he looked left and right for a long time. He even saw Han Qian and Zhao Ting’er who had retreated seven or eight steps away to crouch at the foot of the wall, yet still didn’t recognize them. He couldn’t understand where the young master was hiding or how he had stuck this note to his boot.
Fan Dahei broke out in a cold sweat. Not daring to delay, he immediately notified everyone to withdraw from Fengxiang Boulevard.
Seeing that Fan Dahei hadn’t recognized him crouching on the steps across from Ningxiang Pavilion, Han Qian felt quite pleased with himself. Zhao Ting’er was even more overjoyed. Pretending to be sick, she lay in Han Qian’s embrace laughing, saying in a low voice: “Young master, tell me how stupid Dahei must be that he couldn’t even recognize the two of us!”
“If that blockhead could see through the disguise, wouldn’t I have mixed in for nothing?” Han Qian said with a pleased smile.
“If I could be like this with young master every day, that would truly be joyful,” Zhao Ting’er propped herself up, half-leaning against Han Qian as she sat, unable to help remarking with feeling.
Han Qian glanced at Zhao Ting’er and saw her stick out her tongue embarrassedly, probably realizing her words were somewhat presumptuous and audacious. He smiled faintly, and couldn’t help thinking in his heart that if there truly were no such disturbances, being able to live in seclusion in the mountains and wilderness with Zhao Ting’er really wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Han Qian and Zhao Ting’er continued lurking in a corner others wouldn’t notice, watching the unbearably crowded throng before them.
Perhaps because the perspective for observing the crowd had changed, or perhaps because agents lurking from other forces hadn’t thought at all to deliberately conceal anything before two inconspicuous beggars, Han Qian could still easily see that among the crowded masses watching the excitement, quite a few people were problematic.
To guard against assassins, the Marquis of Xinchang’s estate and Wanhong Pavilion might have agents hidden in the shadows—Han Qian could understand this. But the agents hidden in the crowd were obviously not all from one household.
Today the Third Prince Yang Yuanpu was getting married—had Anning Palace and the Crown Prince’s side also sent agents to watch this side?
Or could it be that the crowd also concealed agents from the Liang and Jin kingdoms?
In the final years of the previous dynasty, the realm had split into divisions. In recent years, it had gradually formed a tripartite confrontation pattern among the Chu, Liang, and Jin kingdoms. If one said the Liang and Jin kingdoms had agent spies lurking in Jinling City, Han Qian wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised.
It was just that previously, what Han Qian had tried by every means to do was only to avoid being controlled completely by Wanhong Pavilion, strive to establish a foothold beside the Third Prince Yang Yuanpu, and prevent his father from recklessly offending the imperial countenance. Beyond these matters, Han Qian hadn’t been very concerned about other things—nor could he be concerned.
Perhaps because his father’s appointment to a local post was imminent and he himself had formally taken charge of the Secret Bureau’s Left Division, or perhaps because he was currently disguised as a beggar whom anyone in the world could step on, unknowingly his mindset and perspective on viewing problems had both changed.
“Chun Shisanniang and Miss Yao have come. Miss Yao is disguised as a young master and looks just as handsome!” Zhao Ting’er had sharp eyes and spotted Chun Shisanniang deep in the crowd, radiating charm and grace.
In the crowded throng, Chun Shisanniang always attracted the most attention. Yao Xishui had merely drawn her eyebrows thicker—the young master she portrayed was too handsome, also frequently causing the young ladies and young wives on the main street to gaze over with eyes full of spring longing.
Han Qian felt secretly amused. These young ladies and young wives were truly blind, not seeing that Yao Xishui, like them, was also female.