“Fourth Young Master Hua,” Ling Zhiyan’s expression shifted slightly. “Mind your words.”

Hua Yitang cast a look at Ling Zhiyan that was somewhere between a smile and not. He poured himself a cup of tea, lifted it to his lips, and let the edge barely touch. “Exile to three thousand li — and well done at that. Pick a spot with clear mountains and fine water, rest up for a year or two, wait for the winds to die down, then distinguish yourself with some minor deed in the place of exile, earn a commendation, and the hardship of exile is lifted. Manage a larger merit, and one can be formally restored to the Taiyuan Jiang Family’s clan register. Who knows — one might even carve out a title for oneself.”

Ling Zhiyan opened his mouth. Not a single word came out.

Hua Yitang drained his cup in one go. “You needn’t blame yourself, Ling Liulang. Let alone a minor sixth-rank Court Investigator like yourself — even the chief magistrate of the Court of Judicial Review, Chen Yanfan, would not dare openly go head-to-head with the Taiyuan Jiang Family. He could only grit his teeth and accept it.” He paused. “Unfortunately, had the sentence of execution after the autumn assizes truly been carried out, Jiang Dongyi would still have had a few months to live. The Taiyuan Jiang Family’s maneuvering has only poured oil on the fire and sent Jiang Dongyi to his death all the sooner.”

Ling Zhiyan said, “You’re saying the person who maneuvered Jiang Dongyi into suicide might have been seeking revenge on behalf of Shan Yuanming?”

“Revenge is very likely, though on behalf of whom is another question entirely,” Hua Yitang murmured. “The Taiyuan Jiang Family’s actions are innumerable crimes that could fill volumes. Even death by a thousand cuts would not be excessive.”

Ling Zhiyan was quiet for a moment. Then from his sleeve he drew out a rolled strip of paper. “One hour ago, this appeared on my desk out of nowhere.”

The paper, when unrolled, was roughly three cun wide and five cun long. The handwriting on it was rigidly even and regular, as though it had been printed — obviously written this way deliberately to disguise the hand:

[The death of Ling Xiuzhu conceals other circumstances, and concerns the survival of the Ling Family. If you wish to learn the truth of the matter, meet on the Yunshui River tomorrow at the third quarter of the wu hour.]

Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang went pale simultaneously. Jin Ruo snatched the strip of paper away and felt it all over with his fingertips, then held it up to the light. “The paper and ink are nothing unusual, but this handwriting — it bears a strong resemblance to what the accounts describe as Yun Zhong Yue’s ‘wooden-style script.’ “

Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang looked at each other.

Why would Yun Zhong Yue send this information to Ling Zhiyan?!

Why would he also name tomorrow, the third quarter of the wu hour, on the Yunshui River?!

What was he planning to do?!

Ling Zhiyan said, “The Ling Xiuzhu mentioned in the note is an elder of my clan who died without explanation thirty years ago. The sender is using his cause of death as bait to draw me there, which is rather suspicious. And moreover, I have heard that the Hua Family is meeting with the Eastern Capital’s Pure Gate on the Yunshui River tomorrow at the third quarter of the wu hour for a trade discussion —”

Fang Ke let out a short sound. “Jin Ruo was right. Yun Zhong Yue really is building up to something big.”

Jin Ruo said, “Good timing! Master Fang, tomorrow you’ll have bodies to open.”

Ling Zhiyan nodded. “In that case, Ling will join all of you tomorrow to go and meet this person — Fourth Young Master Hua, why are you looking at me like that?”

Hua Yitang was watching Ling Zhiyan, the rims of his eyes flushed red, his brow deeply furrowed, fingers turning his teacup slowly — clearly hesitating over something.

Everyone else had also gone quiet.

Lin Sui’an exhaled slowly and held out her palm. “Master Fang, the scroll, please.”

The moment the scroll landed in her palm, it seemed to carry the weight of a thousand jun, so heavy that Lin Sui’an’s wrist dipped involuntarily. Hua Yitang’s hand shot out and seized her wrist tightly. His black eyes looked at her in silence, as though wanting to say something but holding back.

“Yun Zhong Yue has the real scroll. Court Investigator Ling will find out sooner or later,” Lin Sui’an said.

Hua Yitang pressed his lips together. His complexion had gone even paler than when he was reproducing the illustrations himself. He raised his voice slightly. “Mu Xia, bring some ginseng slices.”

Mu Xia acknowledged the order and stepped back. Ling Zhiyan looked as though things were beginning to dawn on him. “You truly found the scroll Shan Yuanming left behind?”

Lin Sui’an nodded. “Unfortunately the original was stolen by Yun Zhong Yue. What we have here is the portion Hua Yitang reproduced from memory. The contents, however — Court Investigator Ling, I would encourage you to prepare yourself mentally —”

Mu Xia brought the ginseng slices and asked Ling Zhiyan to hold one under his tongue. Ling Zhiyan was at a complete loss, but seeing Hua Yitang’s expression that said “you’re not getting anywhere near this scroll unless you take the ginseng,” he relented, pinched a ginseng slice, placed it at the base of his tongue, and accepted the scroll.

Outside the waterside pavilion the wind rose sharply. Dark clouds closed in overhead. Thunder and lightning cracked, and rain came pouring down in great sheets — as though a thousand ten-thousand gleaming silver needles were piercing the surface of the lake, stirring up dense, spiraling black whirlpools.

Not a person in the room dared draw breath. They watched in silence as Ling Zhiyan turned through the scroll page by page. He read slowly. Each page he studied at length. The muscles of his face were drawn so tight they almost trembled faintly. Then suddenly, his fingers stopped. Veins of red burst across the whites of his eyes. Lin Sui’an knew he had reached the page with Ling Xiuzhu. Hua Yitang’s breathing stalled. His fingers dug into his teacup, producing a faint cracking sound from his fingernails that rang in the silence of the room like a clap of thunder. Ling Zhiyan looked at that page for a very long time. At last he turned to the next one. His expression and bearing seemed largely unchanged, only the pace of his swallowing had quickened — Lin Sui’an could only hope the ginseng was doing its work —

The rain fell harder and harder. The wind howled like the sound of spirits wailing. The damp cool crept up from the floor along the boards, casting a bittersweet, dim gleam across the room. Ling Zhiyan sat upright in that dense, heavy silence and read through to the very last page in quiet. He closed the scroll, refastened the ties, and laid it flat on the table before him.

Hua Yitang watched his face carefully. “Ling Liulang, whatever you feel — say it. Don’t hold it in. Whatever it is, however great a matter, we will work through it together —”

Ling Zhiyan said, “The one thing the late head of the family was unable to set aside before he died was the cause of Ling Xiuzhu’s death — he could not close his eyes in peace. Today, at last, Ling has come to understand the reason. When next year’s ancestral rite comes, I will report the matter to the former head’s spirit and bring him this resolution he could never let go.” He then looked up at the others. His expression was resolute and composed. His bearing was perfectly straight, as though he could prop up the sky with his shoulders if it fell. “Only — Ling has one imposition to ask of all present. I beg everyone tomorrow to lend me your strength, and to ensure that this scroll is destroyed.”

At those words, everyone’s expression changed.

Ling Zhiyan’s voice dropped slightly. “Though the Taiyuan Jiang Family has shown some decline at court in recent years, they have been laying roots for a hundred years and their foundations run deep. The contents of this scroll are, to be sure, shocking. But to the Taiyuan Jiang Family it is no more than a minor scandal — not enough to damage their fundamental strength. To those who are implicated as victims, however, and their families, it is utter ruin. Not only would years of reputation be destroyed in an instant, but they would very likely face the Taiyuan Jiang Family’s furious retaliation!” He stopped briefly. “My Ling Family would not escape this fate either —”

Lin Sui’an watched Ling Zhiyan steadily. His fists were clenched so tightly that his pale knuckles trembled faintly. He was exerting his utmost effort to remain calm — to calmly weigh the pros and cons — yet his eyes had already been seared to the red of live coals by the fire of his fury.

Lin Sui’an knew Ling Zhiyan was right. Just as it had been with Jiang Dongyi: even with iron-clad proof of murder, so long as the Taiyuan Jiang Family stood as his backing, he had been able to walk free with ease. Had he not died so inexplicably, in a few years’ time he would undoubtedly have resumed his place riding over others and doing exactly as he pleased.

And Ling Zhiyan — who was plainly a victim — had no choice, in order to protect his family and the other victims, but to destroy the evidence of the crimes committed against his own clan. How helpless. How absurd. And how unbearably bleak.

In this instant, Lin Sui’an thought of Qi Yuansheng:

[The grievances of the common people go unheard, their anger unaddressed, their sorrows unvoiced. When those driven to the desperate edge of existence can bear it no longer, they can only strike back with all the strength they have left…]

Hua Yitang was silent for a long while, then asked, “Ling Liulang — are we truly just going to leave it at this?!”

“The enmity between my Ling Family and the Taiyuan Jiang Family is a debt of blood that cannot be shared under the same sky!” Ling Zhiyan said with firm conviction. “This score will not be left unresolved!”

The words were barely out before he coughed up a mouthful of blood with a sharp, wet sound.

“Alright, alright, alright — we’ll help you, we’ll help you, we’ll help you! Take it easy!” Hua Yitang darted to the other side of the table, one hand steadying Ling Zhiyan, the other fanning him vigorously. “Mu Xia — hurry and boil up the ginseng soup, chicken broth, and soft-shell turtle broth — Master Fang —”

Fang Ke had already seized Ling Zhiyan’s wrist. He frowned for a moment. “You can save the turtle broth. He has struck blood rushing upward from extreme anger, the qi and blood are stagnant. Lady Lin — hit him.”

Lin Sui’an struck Ling Zhiyan squarely between the shoulder blades without the slightest hesitation. Ling Zhiyan coughed up another mouthful of blood, then dissolved into a long fit of violent coughing.

Yi Ta brought brush, ink, paper, and stone. Fang Ke’s hand moved like a dragon and a snake across the paper, dashing off a prescription. Jin Ruo grabbed it and vanished from the waterside pavilion at a sprint.

“The stagnant blood has been expelled, the qi flow is restored. No serious damage,” Fang Ke released Ling Zhiyan’s wrist. “Court Investigator Ling — in the future, find a way to let your fire out. Learn from Hua Yitang: when displeased, shout and throw a tantrum without restraint. Or learn from Lady Lin: when angry, punch and kick whoever is nearest. Both are good for your health.”

“Cough, cough — much obliged, Master Fang. Ling will take this firmly to heart.”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

Setting Hua Yitang aside, was this really how she appeared in Fang Ke’s eyes?!

“Mu Xia, clear out the Verdant Hill quarters, prepare bedding and fresh clothes — Ling Liulang is staying the night. I will personally select the incense for the room!” Hua Yitang directed Mu Xia to bustle about. Fang Ke took Yi Ta to the kitchen to prepare the medicine, and in a moment only Lin Sui’an was left beside Ling Zhiyan.

“Thank you, Lady Lin,” said Ling Zhiyan, still not forgetting the courtesy owed by a great family’s son even now.

Lin Sui’an sat cross-legged beside him and said with full seriousness, “Court Investigator Ling, what is your monthly salary?”

Ling Zhiyan startled. “I — what?”

“Save up well. If in the end you exhaust every method and still cannot bring the Taiyuan Jiang Family down,” Lin Sui’an leaned a little closer and dropped her voice, “I’ll help you kill every last one of those Jiang Family dogs. Friends-and-family pricing — one string of coins per head. What do you say?”

Ling Zhiyan stared with his mouth open, coughed up another mouthful of blood, and in the middle of coughing, began to laugh. “Then Ling will need to save for quite a long time… cough, cough…”

Lin Sui’an patted his shoulder. “No rush. Take your time. There’s no hurry.”

There’s no rush. There will be a way.

You must not follow the same path as Qi Yuansheng.

Ling Zhiyan lowered his eyes and let out a soft sound of acknowledgment. His long lashes fell, hiding a gathering dampness inside them.

Thank you.

The rain fell from sunset all the way to midnight. After the zi hour it faded to a light drizzle. By the time daybreak came, the clouds had parted and rosy light scattered across the sky, which the overnight rain had washed into a clear, luminous blue.

Ling Zhiyan touched the fabric of the clothes he was wearing with a curiosity he could not quite suppress. The cut and color were indistinguishable from his own garments, yet when he put them on, they were light and yielding, the texture exquisitely fine. When he moved, the robes rose and floated like green clouds in flight, which was most graceful. He had no idea what material it was made from, but estimated it was assuredly quite valuable.

In the center of the waterside pavilion stood a table of solid wood, eight chi long and four chi wide, laden with an array of breakfast dishes. Ling Zhiyan could only identify a few he recognized: longevity congee, golden milk crisps, Brahmin Light High Noodles, mutton flat-cut noodles — the rest he did not know the names of. Mu Xia considerately sat to one side making introductions, his tongue flying at speed as he rattled off the names of dishes: “Raw-fresh duck blossom dumpling soup, Phoenix Fetal Morsels, Red Lamb Branched Staff, Passing-Door Fragrance, Silk-Wrapped Cloud Dream Pork, Golden-Silver Pinched Flower Flat Cuts, Cold Toad Broth” — and so on.

Ling Zhiyan said, “Eating this much first thing in the morning — isn’t it a bit —”

He couldn’t finish. Because he looked up and saw that a stack of empty plates had already piled up beside Hua Yitang, and Jin Ruo was on his sixth dish. Yi Ta was sitting with her black tea, staring at Ling Zhiyan with an air of vigilant readiness, apparently prepared to charge over at any moment. Ling Zhiyan quickly followed Lin Sui’an’s lead and stuffed his mouth full of steamed buns to capacity. He watched Yi Ta sink back in dark disappointment, and felt relieved.

The bun melted in his mouth, fragrant, sweet, and pillowy soft — Ling Zhiyan felt as though he had barely chewed before it was down. He couldn’t help feeling a touch of surprise. He’d assumed that after yesterday’s events, he wouldn’t be able to eat for three to five days. He hadn’t expected his appetite to be quite so sturdy. Come to think of it, he’d also slept remarkably well last night — a full, dreamless sleep, waking up light and refreshed, the oppressive blockage in his chest almost entirely gone, as if reborn. He was just marveling at Fang Ke’s excellent medical skill when Mu Xia stepped forward with a smile and presented him with a bill.

[Last night’s incense: “The slow gentle ease of a spring day,” quantity: four braziers, price: ten strings of coins total]

Ling Zhiyan’s eyelid gave a small tick. He folded the bill and tucked it into his sleeve. “Is breakfast also charged?”

Mu Xia’s professional smile was impeccable. “Five hundred wen, please.”

Ling Zhiyan immediately pulled both large bowls of flat-cut noodles in front of himself and began wolfing them down.

Lin Sui’an suppressed a laugh and nudged the person beside her with her elbow. Hua Yitang was on his third plate of Heavenly Flower Layered Pastry and said with great satisfaction, “The Ling clan is by nature the most frugal of people. The moment you mention payment, he’ll find his appetite has opened wide — he won’t stop until he eats back every last wen.”

Lin Sui’an said, “Clever.”

He had Ling Liulang completely figured out.

Having eaten and drunk his fill, Jin Ruo wiped his mouth and put forward a suggestion. “Yun Zhong Yue will almost certainly be mixed in among the Pure Gate’s disciples, watching for his moment. To prevent him from disguising himself as one of us, we need a passphrase — if you have doubts about someone, you can use it to verify their identity.”

Hua Yitang thought this quite sensible. “How about: ‘Fourth Young Master Hua is magnificent, Hua Yitang is magnificent’?”

Everyone expressed their contempt without reservation.

Fang Ke said, “A passphrase needs to be unexpected to be effective. The Pure Gate’s phrases are absolutely not to be used. Commonly known poetry and verses are also unsafe. Lady Lin — do you have a suggestion?”

Lin Sui’an suddenly remembered that at one point she had suspected Fang Ke of being a fellow transmigrant and had quietly tested him with a passphrase. She hadn’t expected Fang Ke to still remember it.

“Uh…” Lin Sui’an put down her chopsticks and scratched her head. “Imperial palace jade-liquor wine, a hundred and eighty per cup — how does this wine taste? Let me sing its praises for you —”

“Pfft!” Ling Zhiyan inhaled noodle broth. “Cough, cough, cough, cough!”

Fang Ke nodded. “Unexpectedly unexpected, indeed.”

Yi Ta said, “It rhymes.”

Jin Ruo said, “That works — easy to remember.”

Hua Yitang said, “Use that one!”

Lin Sui’an gave a dry laugh. “You’re all too kind.”

Ling Zhiyan coughed for a good while before finally recovering. He asked, “I don’t know whether the Hua Family has specific terms prepared for the negotiation today, or whether a proposed contract of cooperation has been drafted?”

At that, a sudden quiet fell over the room. Everyone looked at each other.

Fang Ke was the first to make a dismissive sound. “They never gave any of this a moment’s thought.”

Ling Zhiyan was taken aback. “Then today’s negotiation is —”

Jin Ruo rolled his eyes. “The Eastern Capital’s Pure Gate is a subsidiary Ni You Qian Wo You Dao – Chapter of the Pure Gate to begin with. Negotiate a cooperation? Dream on!”

Lin Sui’an rubbed her chin. “All ten elders of the Eastern Capital’s Pure Gate should be present today. Perfect opportunity — clean sweep. If they don’t comply, fight them until they do.”

Hua Yitang fanned himself. “If they still don’t comply, throw money at them until they do.”

Yi Ta and Mu Xia clapped enthusiastically: clap clap clap, clap clap clap.

Ling Zhiyan: “……”

Had he made a rash decision and boarded a pirate ship?

Mini Skit

Lin Sui’an: I know this whole boarding-a-pirate-ship routine well — I completely understand you, Ling Dashing Young Man!