Wu Da had been rather troubled lately.

His position as head constable of Yidu’s prefecture was one he had stumbled into. The previous head constable, Wu Zhengqing, had been a capable man — he had captured the peach-blossom murderer who had shaken the entire Tang nation, and in one stroke had been promoted to Yidu’s judicial adjutant. With that, the position of head constable fell vacant.

Yidu was a city where powerful clans carved up territory and jianghu factions were tangled up like snakes and dragons. Without the backing of a great family or clan, there was simply no holding onto the position. Several candidates had been proposed, but whether the various factions were pulling too hard in different directions, or for some other reason, three years passed and eight head constables came and went. In the end, this scalding-hot potato somehow landed in the hands of Wu Da — a man of what could only be called “three nothings.”

The “three nothings” referred to: no jianghu background, no powerful family background, no political background.

Ten years ago, Wu Da had inherited his father’s trade and become a constable. His father had worked diligently his entire life and died as nothing more than a constable. Wu Da had assumed his own life would be much the same — and never dreamed that one day he would become the head constable.

Of course, this head constable position was not a proper, official one — it was only an “acting head constable,” which was to say temporary, liable to be replaced at any time. When Wu Zhengqing stepped in as acting judicial adjutant, Wu Da as head constable had been little more than Wu Zhengqing’s yes-man, barely scraping by on the dignity of his fellow constable brothers.

In Wu Da’s fifth month as head constable, Yidu received an important visitor: Hua the Fourth of the Hua clan of Yangdu — the illustrious Number One Wastrel of Yangdu — who, in something of a miracle, had been elevated from a county commandant post in Chengxian, Qingzhou, to serve as Yidu Prefecture’s judicial adjutant.

When the transfer order arrived, Prefect Chi and Chief Secretary Xia were overjoyed — they congratulated each other and deliberated for several evenings, arriving at a decision: to invite Lin Sui’an, who had traveled to Yidu alongside Judicial Adjutant Hua, to serve as Yidu Prefecture’s head constable.

Wu Da knew then that his days as “acting head constable” were finished.

The Hua clan’s Lin Niangzi: active in the jianghu for fewer than two years, yet had defeated numerous renowned fighters, including but not limited to the Yangdu river bandit Dong Chao, the leader of the Jiang clan of Taiyuan’s Golden Wing Guard Jiang Chen, Taiyuan’s fierce tiger Jiang Dongyi, the number-one foreign fighter in Guangdu’s foreign quarter and proprietor of the Nanxiang Gambling Den Berk Bu, and most recently the abbot of the Dragon God Temple in Qingzhou, Xuanqing Shanren, along with over a hundred of his subordinates. Her combat prowess had no equal anywhere in the jianghu.

Wu Da had assumed jianghu rumors always exaggerated somewhat — until one day, standing on Jinli Main Street, he witnessed Lin Sui’an’s battle with the leader of the Ascending Immortal Sect, Ximen Yang. His jaw dropped in astonishment.

With skills like hers, never mind serving as mere Yidu Prefecture head constable — she could easily go to the Eastern Capital and become a general.

Wu Da had even thought to himself that getting to serve as a mere constable under Lin Niangzi wouldn’t be bad at all.

Yet Lin Niangzi seemed to have no interest in the position of head constable whatsoever, and Prefect Chi and Chief Secretary Xia seemed to have forgotten as well — not a word was spoken about it. With one urgent case arriving after another, the matter was simply set aside.

Strangely enough, this Judicial Adjutant Hua had seen fit to entrust Wu Da with important responsibilities — putting him in charge of the basic rounds of interviews and fact-finding for two major cases. It was the first time Wu Da felt that being head constable was actually somewhat interesting. More importantly, Judicial Adjutant Hua was extraordinarily generous — he would periodically send Mu Xia and little Yita over with food to look after them, always the finest dishes from Zhangyi Tower, each meal worth a month’s wages for the entire team. The brothers ate so well their cheeks glowed, and they put their whole hearts into any case that passed through Judicial Adjutant Hua’s hands.

Early that morning, Old Zhang the prison warden had brought Wu Da a piece of news. The moment he heard it, Wu Da’s instincts told him it was not simple — it ought to be reported to Judicial Adjutant Hua. But he waited and waited at the judicial office, and not only did Judicial Adjutant Hua and Lin Niangzi fail to appear, Director Ling was also absent — and as for Prefect Chi and Chief Secretary Xia, word had come out first thing that morning that they had both fallen ill from exhaustion and would be resting for three days.

Wu Da couldn’t wait any longer. He made haste to the Hua clan’s ninety-nine-room mansion.

The Hua clan’s manservants were extremely courteous. One led Wu Da all the way to the back garden — and inside the garden was actually a lake, which left Wu Da thoroughly astonished.

The viewing pavilion by the lakeside was called the Carved Railing Pavilion. Wu Da did not find Judicial Adjutant Hua, Lin Niangzi, or Ling Zhiyan — only Lin Niangzi’s disciple: Jin Ruo.

Jin Ruo, Vice-Master of the Jingmen Sect, whose skills in tracking and investigation had reached a consummate level. Beyond that, Wu Da’s impression of him could be summed up in two words: glutton.

True to form, Jin Ruo was still eating. More than a dozen varieties of pastries and snacks covered the table — a dazzling spread filling the air with fragrance. Wu Da hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, and at the smell, his stomach let out a low growl.

“Constable Wu, come have a seat and eat something first,” Jin Ruo called out warmly, one hand holding a steamed bun and the other waving a white sugar cake. “Wait just a moment — I’ll be done soon.”

Wu Da was flattered into accepting, sat down, and bit into a steamed bun — his mouth flooded with richness. The Hua clan’s cooks truly were something else — incomparably good.

Seated across from Jin Ruo was Gan Hongying, Altar Master of the Jingmen Sect’s Yidu chapter. She was holding a ledger and rattling off a string of peculiar numbers at high speed — Wu Da didn’t understand them, and assumed they must be some kind of specialized cipher used within the sect. Jin Ruo was chewing his steamed bun and listening very carefully, occasionally issuing orders in rapid, decisive tones.

It was the first time Wu Da had witnessed the bearing of a Jingmen Sect vice-master in Jin Ruo.

He was indeed worthy of being Lin Niangzi’s disciple. A true hero rising from youth.

Gan Hongying’s report lasted approximately a quarter of an hour. She swiftly put away the ledger and continued: “In accordance with the Vice-Master’s instructions, yesterday we sent the antidote formula for Dragon God Fruit — as prescribed by Physician Fang — to all the major clans. A copy was also sent to the residence of Adjutant Wu. According to the brothers’ reports back, only the Liu clan of the East City, the Qian clan of the North City, the Sun clan, the Xu clan of the South City, and the Zhou clan have purchased White Blossom Tea from our shop. The Wu clan of the South City, the Su clan of Suizhou, the Wang clan of the North City, and the Ma clan of the East City have none of them ever visited the Hua clan’s tea shop or tea house.”

Jin Ruo raised an eyebrow. “White Blossom Tea is the most critical medicinal catalyst for the Dragon God Fruit antidote. Are they not buying White Blossom Tea because they’re dead pigs who aren’t afraid of boiling water?”

Gan Hongying: “Word is they obtained White Blossom Tea through other channels — and at a price reportedly one-tenth cheaper than ours at the Jingmen Sect.”

Jin Ruo took another bite of the steamed bun. “Counterfeit White Blossom Tea?”

“Nine chances out of ten.”

“Who made it?”

“In all of Yidu, there are only two large clans that deal in tea — the Yidu Hua clan and the Ma clan of the South City.” Gan Hongying said. “The Ma clan, like the Wang clan, is closely aligned with the Su clan of Suizhou.”

“Look into it carefully.”

“Yes.”

“There is one more matter I find rather suspicious.” Gan Hongying lowered her voice. “Last night, after Judicial Adjutant Hua and Lin Niangzi left the Fangyuan Gambling Den, Wuling Alliance Master Wu Chun secretly met with Ascending Immortal Sect leader Ximen Yang, Duck Traders’ Gate Master Feng Qiao, Crane Immortal School Master Che Song, and Yellow Nine House Master Huang Tian — they held a private meeting for more than two hours and didn’t leave until daybreak.”

Jin Ruo swigged his mutton soup in large gulps. “Keep a close watch. Report the moment there’s any sign of movement.”

“Yes.”

Jin Ruo thought for a moment, then felt something was off. He turned to Wu Da. “Constable Wu — when the Wu clan’s cloth business was sealed earlier, wasn’t Duck Traders’ Gate Master Feng Qiao arrested and taken to the prison?”

Wu Da cupped his hands in a salute. “At the time, Feng Qiao confessed quite a bit about the Wu clan’s dirty dealings to protect himself — that counted as something of a contribution. After Judicial Adjutant Wu’s sentence came down, Duck Traders’ Gate paid a substantial ransom fee on top of it to have Feng Qiao released.”

At that, Wu Da furrowed his brow. “This morning, the prison warden was organizing and filing Feng Qiao’s confessions when he came across one entry that seemed rather suspicious. That’s exactly what I came to report to Judicial Adjutant Hua.”

Jin Ruo perked up with interest. “Suspicious in what way?”

Wu Da turned the situation over in his mind, weighing up the relationship between Hua Yitang and Jin Ruo, and decided to speak plainly. “Feng Qiao stated that the Wu clan had previously established several charitable houses in the outskirts of the city to take in vagrants — but in reality, they were using those vagrants to run errands for them.”

Jin Ruo shot Gan Hongying a quick look. Gan Hongying also looked mildly startled — evidently the Jingmen Sect had known nothing of this either.

“Run what errands?” Jin Ruo asked.

“Beyond Wanli Bridge, east of the New South Market, five li north of Xuanzhong Temple — the Wu clan built a charitable mortuary there to collect and inter the remains of the unfortunate souls who had died homeless and unburied out in the open. The Duck Traders’ Gate frequently sent the charitable house vagrants to help with the digging and burial. The strange thing was —” Wu Da lowered his voice — “at certain times, the Wu clan would have certain nameless bodies outfitted with fine coffins. Neither the vagrants nor anyone from the Duck Traders’ Gate ever saw what those bodies looked like — the coffins were all sealed shut and buried directly.”

“Where were those nameless bodies interred?”

A chilling voice rose from directly behind the three of them. All three started with a cry of “Aiyoh,” their hearts nearly leaping straight out of their mouths.

Fangke, draped in a blood-red robe that hung vast and loose on his frame, with a face white as chalk and eyes ringed in coal-black, drifted forward as if his feet had no bones — his mouth splitting into a grin. “Nothing better to do anyway. Let’s go take a look.”

In Qiuyue Tea House, Ling Zhiyan sat in squirming discomfort.

In order not to alert anyone, Ling Zhiyan had come without identifying himself, intending to move about in plain clothes and investigate discreetly. But he had never anticipated that more than ninety percent of Qiuyue Tea House’s customers would be women — ranging in age from girls of thirteen or fourteen to women of fifty or sixty — every figure and complexion distinct, each possessed of a different kind of grace. The whole space rang with the clear, bright laughter of women. And it was not only the customers — half the attendants were women, and more than eighty percent of the tea servers were women as well. Look in any direction, and he was the only male customer.

No wonder, when he had mentioned this morning that he wanted to come to Qiuyue Tea House to investigate, Jin Ruo had immediately thrown himself on the floor in a fit of play-acting, claimed he had an upset stomach, and refused to come along no matter what — the awkwardness here was even more acute than Hongxiang Quarter.

Fortunately, the women were all absorbed in their own conversations and hadn’t paid Ling Zhiyan too much attention. The problem was the seat the attendant had assigned him: right by the window facing the street — and every passerby looked in with considerable curiosity, adding a word or two of commentary as they went.

“Look — there’s a handsome young man sitting inside Qiuyue Tea House.”

“It’s not like Qiuyue Tea House has any written rule saying it won’t serve male customers.”

“That may be true, but anyone from around here knows the custom — Qiuyue Tea House caters mostly to women; men are generally not welcome.”

“That unspoken rule only works to stop upright, law-abiding folks like us. Just a few days ago I saw those Ma clan fellows and their crowd of young scoundrels walk right into Qiuyue Tea House — and they didn’t come out for quite a while.”

“Wealthy clan sons — money talks. However aloof Qiuyue Tea House fancies itself, it can’t afford to turn money away.”

“This young man looks like a stranger. Must be from out of town — doesn’t know the customs.”

“Ha, look — the young man’s face is going red.”

Ling Zhiyan pulled his sleeve up to wipe the sweat from his forehead, thinking to himself that Yidu’s heat and humidity really were unbearable, and raised his hand to summon a tea server. “Is Madam Xue available to see me now?”

The tea server was a young woman of fifteen or sixteen, with large, bright eyes that made one slow circuit of Ling Zhiyan’s face before settling into a smile that reached the surface but not the heart. “As I said before — Madam Xue is very busy. If you wish to see her, you must book three days in advance.”

Ling Zhiyan pressed his palms together in a bow. “I only have a few words I’d like to ask Madam Xue — it won’t take much of her time at all.”

The tea server’s pleasant expression vanished in an instant. She suddenly raised her voice to a shout: “Someone is causing trouble! We’ve got another one making trouble!”

At that shout, every woman in the tea house swung her gaze over in unison. Tea servers, tea brewers, errand boys from the kitchen — even the kitchen staff came rushing out, all converging on Ling Zhiyan in a bristling, indignant mob. Ling Zhiyan rose in alarm. “Is there some misunderstanding, everyone?”

“Did the Ma clan’s shameless gang send you here to cause problems?” the female tea brewers demanded, waving their arms furiously.

Ling Zhiyan was taken aback. “I have no acquaintance with any Ma clan — I am in fact —”

He hadn’t finished the sentence before he was cut off again. Female customers surged forward, glaring at him from all sides.

“Madam Xue will never bow to your Ma clan! No matter how many times you come, it makes no difference!”

“You’re not welcome here — get out!”

Ling Zhiyan wiped at his sweat. “Everyone really is mistaken — my surname is Ling, and I am —”

“Look at you, thick brows and bright eyes — you look like a decent person. Who would have thought you’d be a lackey of the Ma clan!”

“A proper seven-foot man doing such a shameless errand — the disgrace of it!”

“Out!”

“Out!!”

Ling Zhiyan of the Ling clan of Xingyang — known throughout the Tang nation as an honest man, weak with words — faced the crowd of women pressing in from all sides, condemning him with a thousand fingers pointing and a thousand voices raised. He was truly unable to defend himself in any way. His face burned crimson as he covered it with his sleeve and backed up step by step until he was on the verge of reversing right out the door — when his heel caught on the door sill and he stumbled, lurching backward. Just then, swift as thought, a hand steadied his elbow.

Ling Zhiyan’s hairs rose all over his body without quite knowing why. He spun around sharply — and saw Hua Yimeng in the sunlight, vivid and beautiful as a rambling rose in full bloom.

“Sixth Young Master Ling,” Hua Yimeng said with a smile, “how is it you’ve managed to be bullied again?”

The blood vessels in Ling Zhiyan’s face exploded all at once. “I — I — I am not — not — not — not being —” He froze, then saw someone else.

Qu Hui stood behind Hua Yimeng, her upper body in the shadow of the eaves, her expression unreadable.

“Red Fragrant Quarter, Shuitian Street, Number 40, Duan Jiu’s House.” Lin Sui’an read the newly posted operating hours on the sign by the door. “Opens at the third quarter-mark of the Shen hour. We’ve come too early.”

“Ahem.” Hua Yitang cleared his throat. “Actually, I could have come alone.”

Lin Sui’an shook her head firmly. “Of course you can’t come alone.”

Hua Yitang froze, and his heart began pounding wildly. “You — you wouldn’t by chance be — jeal — jealous —”

Lin Sui’an patted Hua Yitang’s shoulder. “As they say — what belongs to a partnership must be enjoyed together!”

“Hm?”

“Yidu is said to have the greatest abundance of beautiful women in the entire Tang nation. If I didn’t get to meet even one or two, wouldn’t the whole trip have been wasted?”

Hua Yitang let out a long, heavy sigh. He really had been reading too much into things.

Lin Sui’an straightened her clothes and raised her hand — knock, knock, knock. Shortly after, the door creaked open and a young manservant’s head appeared. He was in his early twenties — sallow-faced, flat-nosed, small-eyed, short-browed. He was the same person Jin Ruo had described the day before: someone you could actually have a conversation with.

Hua Yitang wasted no words. He tossed out a pouch of gold leaf coins, snapped his fan open, and smiled. “Please tell Madam Duan that Hua the Fourth of the Hua family requests to see her.”

The manservant received the gold leaf coins with flustered reverence and went trotting merrily inside. In less time than it takes to drink half a cup of tea, he came back out — with a long face, and pushed the gold leaf coins back. “Madam Duan says she is feeling unwell today and is not receiving visitors.”

Hua Yitang’s face, beyond his control, gave one hard twitch. Evidently the Number One Wastrel of Yangdu had no experience receiving a refusal at the door — least of all the kind that came from a pleasure house.

Lin Sui’an stared in disbelief — this was the first time she had ever watched Hua Yitang’s invincible gold-coin strategy fail.

“If Madam Duan doesn’t wish to see a visitor — would she be willing to see a friend?” A soft, gentle voice rose from behind them. Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang turned simultaneously to see Liu Qingxi standing beneath the dappled tree shadows, a book satchel in hand, smiling quietly at them.

Mini Theater

At the Hua clan’s ninety-nine-room mansion, Mu Xia quietly set aside Hua Yitang’s love poem and replaced it with a clay statue of the Matchmaker God he had fetched from Dacisi Temple first thing that morning. He set up an offering table, laid out incense, and began to pray in earnest.

Yita tilted her head. “Does it work?”

Mu Xia sighed. “Things have come to this point — all that can be done is to do one’s best and leave the rest to Heaven.”

Yita nodded, understanding only about half. “Mu Xia. Formidable!”

Three storylines running at once — which one interests you all the most? Hehe.