The thief’s name was Shan Dalang. Thirty-two years old, he made his living delivering and selling water, and lived at No. 20 Nanchao Lane. By sheer coincidence, he was the only water carrier in the Hua residence’s entry-and-exit register who lived on Nanchao Lane. Jin Ruo had needed only half a shichen to lock in on the target and make a perfect capture.

Yicheng County Office was clearly quite unaccustomed to such an efficient mode of work. By the time Hua Yitang, Lin Sui’an, and Yun Zhong Yue arrived on the scene, Magistrate Song was still looking dazed.

Shan Dalang was dark-complexioned and fairly sturdy in build, but at this moment he was weeping like a three-year-old child — kneeling in the courtyard, bound up like a rice dumpling, with snot and tears dragging down his face in long strings. “Don’t kill me, don’t kill me! I confess everything — it was all me, I stole it all — please, good gentlemen, spare my miserable life, ahhhhh!”

Shan Dalang’s house had only two side chambers: a bedroom and a storage room. The constables carried the contents of the storage room out one item at a time and arranged them neatly in the courtyard, compiling a list. Each item recorded required someone to call it aloud — this was regulation, officially known as “announcing evidence,” meaning that everything was done openly and honestly to prevent anyone from privately pocketing items of evidence.

“One muddy, malodorous sock —”

“One louse-infested hairpiece —”

“One notched meat cleaver —”

“One clean-washed dog food bowl —”

“One ripe-smelling chamber pot —”

“Half a cured ham —”

“One blackened water pouch —”

“Half a pair of mildewed trousers —”

“One jar of gone-sour salted vegetables —”

“One perfume-scented belly band —”

“One worm-riddled pair of grass sandals —”

In no time at all, the courtyard was nearly full — every kind of miscellaneous junk imaginable, stinking and sour, the collective odor a force that could shake the heavens and move the ghosts.

Yita and the Four Saints retreated as far away as possible, all five of their long faces crumpled into miserable bitter-orange shapes — probably the most expressive the Four Saints had ever been.

Magistrate Song’s brow was furrowed deeply enough to trap a mosquito. Yun Zhong Yue pinched his nose. Hua Yitang pressed close to Lin Sui’an’s side and fanned himself at high speed, effectively using his fan as an air purifier.

Magistrate Song raised his sleeve over his nose and mouth and bellowed, “Shan Dalang — why did you steal these — these things?!”

Shan Dalang wept: “I — I just liked those things. I couldn’t control my own hands. I didn’t want to hurt anyone — I just wanted to take them home and look at them, and then I’d feel better —”

Lin Sui’an: Good lord — it’s an obsessive collector.

Hua Yitang: “Why did you pretend to be Yun Zhong Yue?”

Shan Dalang cried even harder. “I had heard of the name of the world’s greatest thief — a figure as elusive as a dragon seen in the clouds. I dreamed of becoming Yun Zhong Yue all my life — but now I’ll never get another chance — wahhhhhh —”

So this small-time thief had made Yun Zhong Yue into his idol of dreams!

Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang looked sideways in unison. Even through the human-skin mask, they could see that Yun Zhong Yue’s mouth was curling with rage.

At last, the final two constables crawled out of the storage room, sweating from head to toe, and reported: “Everything’s been brought out.”

Hua Yitang let out a startled “Hm?” and gathered up his robe hem to trot over. Ignoring the smell, he stretched his neck and peered into the storage room.

Lin Sui’an walked slowly among the stolen items and turned a few circles. She picked up the only water pouch — which was likely the one Tian Guicheng had lost. The body was made of water-buffalo leather with a brass mouth and a cork stopper, roughly a chi in length overall, half a chi at its widest, shaped like an oversized comma. The pouch was empty, no water inside, very light in hand — nothing about it appeared different from an ordinary water pouch.

Tian Guicheng had been a Yinsi grave-robber, and his collection was filled with priceless burial artifacts. Why would he have any particular attachment to this completely unremarkable water pouch? There had to be some special reason.

Lin Sui’an turned it over and examined it several times. Sure enough, she found a marking at the mouth of the pouch — about the size of a fingertip, carved with considerable precision. It had a head, a tail, a body, and four limbs — it looked like the totem of some kind of animal —

“Found it!” Jin Ruo came bounding out of the other side chamber. “Hua fellow — this must be your missing clothing!”

Jin Ruo held in both hands an exquisite lacquer box, its surface painted with vivid peonies, the center of each blossom set with glittering pearls.

“What kind of garment could possibly warrant such an expensive lacquer box?” Jin Ruo flipped open the lid, drew out the contents, and shook them open with a flourish —

Hua Yitang’s face drained of color. “Wait —”

In the bright moonlight, a crimson gauze robe billowed in the breeze — thin as cicada wings, soft as a dream’s rosy glow. At its cuffs and hems were embroidered translucent peonies that seemed to bloom with fragrance, pouring sweetness into the air and smothering every trace of the foul odors beneath.

Everyone went still. A single garment had utterly bewitched them all — their hearts beat faster, their faces grew warm.

Lin Sui’an’s mind gave a chime, and she finally remembered — the last time she had seen a robe of this exact kind was in the underground chamber in Cheng County, Qingzhou. Hua Yitang’s exact words at the time had been:

“Lingwan Mirror gauze robe… a garment worn against the skin… used mostly to deepen bonds of affection between…”

Lin Sui’an was stunned. She suddenly understood Hua Yitang’s obsession with this garment.

In the split second of her distraction, a hand suddenly darted out of nowhere and snatched the water pouch from Lin Sui’an’s grip. Lin Sui’an snapped back to her senses with a jolt, and she saw Yun Zhong Yue’s feet generating lotus-like phantom steps beneath him — three layered afterimages blooming outward — as he burst through the door and fled.

Lin Sui’an felt a nameless fury shoot straight to her head. She drew her blade and took to the air in pursuit.

Hua Yitang seized the moment to snatch back the Lingwan Mirror gauze robe and stuff it into the lacquer box. The rest of the room jolted back to awareness and raced out in a stampede. Two silhouettes could be seen in the moonlight — leaping across rooftops, flashing and dancing in battle: the dark green sword-light flickering like ghost-eyes, six layers of lotus phantom-forms weaving like specters, moving so fast that no individual strike or defense could be discerned.

The constables stared slack-jawed. Magistrate Song’s chin hit the floor. “Mon — monsters —”

Lin Sui’an had not had a proper, full-hearted fight for quite some time — and certainly not against anyone as evenly matched as Yun Zhong Yue. Her long-dormant fighting spirit was roused and blazed hotter with every exchange, her mind growing sharper and clearer with each clash. In barely ten moves, she had unraveled the full logic of Yun Zhong Yue’s entire behavior in Yicheng.

“You didn’t come to Yicheng because someone was impersonating you. You came because you were looking for something.” Lin Sui’an drove out three consecutive strikes of the “Blade-Cauldron Grief-Sever” chain slash, her words faster than her blade.

Yun Zhong Yue stumbled back three great paces. Six phantom-forms became five. “Lin Niangzi is wrong — I came to Yicheng to see you — ow!”

Lin Sui’an reversed and sent out a sweeping slash, using the Miao-blade technique of Wu Chun — the angle was treacherous, the strike’s force formidable and wholly unexpected. Yun Zhong Yue barely managed to dodge halfway. The blade-wind sheared past the tip of his nose, and the human-skin mask shattered into four pieces and scattered in all directions like a torn rag. Yun Zhong Yue sucked in a sharp breath, his airborne feet crossing and pressing off each other for leverage, his robes flying into a whirlwind — and in an instant, he had switched to his silver mask.

“Lin Sui’an — you’re fighting for real?!”

“You came looking for something that was a burial object. Unfortunately, it had already been stolen by a Yinsi grave-robber.” Lin Sui’an’s blade light did not slow, nor did her words. “You traced the Yinsi man and tracked him to Yicheng, only to discover that the things in his home had also been stolen — by a thief who was impersonating your name.”

Yun Zhong Yue had no breath left to reply. At this point Lin Sui’an had switched attacking methods — her blade technique unhurried and flexible yet heavy and enduring, like the famous and notoriously difficult “Entangling Silk Sword” style — a tangle of silk that could not be split or torn, trapping him firmly in a cage of blade light.

Yun Zhong Yue’s sweat began to drip along the edge of his mask.

Lin Sui’an knew she had guessed correctly to seven or eight parts. She pressed on. “It happened that we were passing through Yicheng, and you simply appeared to stir up the muddy waters, help the thief succeed, and then use our efforts to find the thief’s lair — and thereby recover what you were looking for.”

As she finished speaking, Lin Sui’an changed her technique in an instant — Twin Dragons Emerging from the Sea, combined with the footwork of Swift Wind Shaking Autumn Leaves, striking from left and right in four rapid simultaneous blows — shattering Yun Zhong Yue’s four phantom-forms until only a single, solitary true figure remained drifting in the moonlight.

Yun Zhong Yue let out a sigh. A phantom afterimage flashed, closing toward Lin Sui’an’s blade. The edge of Qian Jing drew a thin, fine line of blood across Yun Zhong Yue’s neck.

This gave Lin Sui’an a tremendous shock. She had only intended to capture him — never to take his life. With a shudder, she pulled back the blade. “Are you trying to die?!”

In the single instant she withdrew, the silver mask before her eyes suddenly loomed large. The tip of Lin Sui’an’s nose nearly grazed the cold surface of the mask.

She looked into the eyes hidden behind Yun Zhong Yue’s mask — like two cups of clear wine beneath the first snow of winter, cold yet intoxicating.

“Lin Sui’an — you still owe me three favors.” The voice flashed past her ear and vanished. In no more than a heartbeat, Yun Zhong Yue had drifted to the high ridge of the rooftop. The moonlight played across his billowing robes — a great black bird in flight.

“Let me go. Consider it repaying one of those favors.”

Lin Sui’an drew a slow, steady breath. “And if I don’t let you go — what then?”

“The fish dies and the net breaks. We both go down together.”

“Very well. Go.”

Yun Zhong Yue tilted his head. “Are you not toying with me?”

“I am,” Lin Sui’an said, sheathing her blade and raising an eyebrow with a smile. “You have been playing us for fools all evening. If I didn’t tease you a little and get a few moves in, I would be the one at a loss, wouldn’t I?”

Yun Zhong Yue’s body seemed to go rigid. For a long moment, no words came. Then a snow-white boot came flying straight at them — and Hua Yitang’s thunderous voice set the entire street buzzing: “Go eat dog shit! Get lost!”

Yun Zhong Yue’s chest heaved several times. He raised a fist toward Lin Sui’an, then — with a single spin — dissolved into a wisp of smoke in the moonlight and was gone.

Lin Sui’an gazed up at the moon, genuinely puzzled.

What on earth was so special about that battered old water pouch — that Yun Zhong Yue would go to such lengths for it?

At the second quarter of the hour of Chenzheng, Fangke rose from bed.

He washed, dressed, and stepped outside. He had intended to take a stroll in the rear garden, but found it piled with earth and rubble, with a line of guards carrying dirt and shouldering iron spades heading toward the firewood shed. Curious, Fangke followed along to look. The firewood shed had half-collapsed, and a great pit had opened up in its place, behind which ran a drainage trench more than five chi deep, stretching quite a long way — around the stable, through the pickled vegetable cellar. The outer wall had also been demolished, with the excavation extending out into the street.

Guards and servants were filling in the pit and laying new bricks in an emergency repair. The residents of the lane were gathered in twos and threes to watch, whispering among themselves.

“Heard that Yun Zhong Yue went to the Hua residence last night to steal something, and the Hua Family’s Fourth Young Master caught him right in the act.”

“You mean the same Yun Zhong Yue who stole old Chen’s socks, the Ma family’s meat cleaver, Aunt Zhang’s salted vegetable jar, and Lu the estate owner’s belly band?”

“That’s him!”

“Wait, wait — I heard that the one they caught last night was an impostor, not the real Yun Zhong Yue.”

“What? Then who was it?”

“Shan Dalang — the water carrier! He dug a tunnel that connected the entire Hua residence.”

“Good heavens, it was him — I’ve bought water from him before. Never would have guessed.”

“Who’d have thought!”

“Remarkable — Magistrate Song has been trying to catch this person for months and couldn’t. The Hua Family’s Fourth Young Master solved it in a single night and caught both criminal and evidence — truly worthy of being called the Tang Kingdom’s greatest detective!”

“I heard from a neighbor on Nanchao Lane that they saw with their own eyes Lin Niangzi and Yun Zhong Yue fighting three hundred rounds on the rooftops last night — the battle was so spectacular the very sky and earth changed color, beautiful beyond words!”

“You’re talking about Lin Niangzi the Master of Qian Jing from Qingmen?”

“Isn’t that obvious? Under all heaven, who else could make Yun Zhong Yue feel threatened?”

“Wait — didn’t they say Shan Dalang was the impostor? So how did Lin Niangzi end up fighting the real Yun Zhong Yue?”

“Word is that the real Yun Zhong Yue was furious about Shan Dalang parading around under his name, and came to Yicheng specifically to settle accounts with him — but happened to run into Lin Niangzi, and so the fight broke out.”

“Was the real Yun Zhong Yue caught, then?”

“Ha — if he could be caught that easily, would they still call him the world’s greatest thief? He got away.”

“What a shame…”

Fangke raised an eyebrow. Both hands tucked into his sleeves, he strolled unhurriedly back to the rear garden, passed through the covered walkway, and stepped into the dining hall. Yita came toward him bearing a cup of dark, smoky tea. Fangke took the teacup and settled into his usual seat.

On his left, Hua Yitang sat with a pair of enormous black rings under his eyes. Across the table, Lin Sui’an was yawning repeatedly. Jin Ruo was dozing off with a steamed bun in his mouth. The Four Saints looked bleary-eyed. Even Mu Xia had a slightly hollow look about him.

Fangke took a sip of tea and let out a cold laugh. “So — you burned oil and candles and stayed up an entire night, and Yun Zhong Yue played you all for fools in the end?”

Everyone looked over at once, their expressions radiating wounded reproach.

Lin Sui’an pressed a hand to her forehead: Doctor Fang, you really know how to fan the flames.

“I’m exhausted — I’m going back to sleep!” Jin Ruo wobbled to his feet. “Hua fellow — one day’s rest. We set off again tomorrow.”

Hua Yitang waved a limp hand.

Jin Ruo stumbled off yawning. The Four Saints drifted after him. Yita fell asleep in her chair. Mu Xia dozed beside the brazier.

Only Lin Sui’an, Hua Yitang, and Fangke remained awake in the dining hall — though that was not entirely accurate either. Lin Sui’an glanced at Fangke. Doctor Fang had already hugged his teacup to his chest, leaned into the cushions, and closed his eyes — evidently infected by the room’s dense concentration of drowsiness.

Lin Sui’an thought for a moment. This seemed like a rare opportunity, and there were some things better said sooner rather than later. Left alone too long, they might harden into a psychological habit. With this in mind, she picked up her chair and moved it close to Hua Yitang’s side, then tapped him on the shoulder.

Hua Yitang, who had been staring at a steamed bun in a daze, gave a start, turned around, and found Lin Sui’an sitting unexpectedly close. He sat bolt upright at once. “Wha — what is it?”

Hua Yitang’s eyes were truly beautiful — even after a sleepless night, the whites were bright and clear. Lin Sui’an looked at them and felt an ache rising in her chest. She hesitated for a long moment and opened her mouth with great difficulty. “About that Lingwan Mirror gauze robe of yours —”

Hua Yitang felt a wave of heat shoot from his toes straight to the crown of his head, flushing his whole being crimson. “That — that that that robe it’s it’s it’s — please don’t don’t don’t misunderstand —”

Lin Sui’an knitted her brows and patted Hua Yitang on the shoulder. “There’s no need to explain — I understand you!”

Hua Yitang’s heartbeat abruptly stalled. A long pause. “You — understand?”

Lin Sui’an nodded gravely.

The corners of Hua Yitang’s mouth unconsciously pulled wider and wider. The stars shining in his eyes practically leaped toward Lin Sui’an’s face. “You truly understand?”

Lin Sui’an: “Only — I think this matter should not be rushed. It is best to proceed gradually.”

Hua Yitang nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, yes — proceed gradually. Gradually is best.”

“If you like wearing it, begin by wearing it on the inside, with everything wrapped tightly over it. Others shouldn’t be able to see it.”

“Yes, yes, yes — outsiders certainly must not see.”

“At first, wearing it for several days in a row is fine.”

Hua Yitang gulped. “Several — days in a row?” The last syllable came out on a completely changed pitch.

“Once you’ve grown accustomed over time, you can wear it once every other day.”

Hua Yitang gulped again. “Once every other day… that — that isn’t entirely out of the question —”

Lin Sui’an hadn’t heard those last few words at all. With perfect earnestness, she counted on her fingers. “Then once every three to five days, then once every seven or eight days — gradually reducing the frequency. Once you can completely shed the dependency and the heart-sickness is healed, there will be no need to wear it at all.”

Hua Yitang froze. The smile vanished from his face. The stars in his eyes went out. After a long silence: “Lin Sui’an — what do you think I had this Lingwan Mirror gauze robe made for?”

Lin Sui’an let out a heavy sigh and chose her words carefully. “I understand — psychological wounds from childhood are very difficult to heal, and often accompany a person for life, influencing their behavior and habits. You suffered a great catastrophe in childhood, and as a result you developed a particular psychological dependency on magnificent clothing. In truth, there is nothing wrong with it — it is a kind of self-administered psychological healing.”

Hua Yitang’s eye twitched sharply. His expression cracked.

“I know that ever since you first saw the Lingwan Mirror gauze robe in the underground chamber at Cheng County, you have been unable to put it out of your mind, longing to wear it and find some measure of security… well… it doesn’t matter. If you wish to wear it, then wear it — only the robe’s design is rather startling to the world, so wearing it on the inside is more appropriate.”

Hua Yitang leaned backward and went limp in his chair, a look of profound existential despair on his face.

Lin Sui’an saw this and felt the weight on her heart grow heavier still. “That you were willing to trust me with what happened in your childhood — I will certainly help you heal your heart-sickness!”

Hua Yitang looked at Lin Sui’an with helpless, rueful eyes. “I have indeed fallen ill with heart-sickness. And only you can heal it.”

Lin Sui’an was delighted. “Then we’re partners! Together through it all!”

Hua Yitang’s body swayed. His forehead knocked against the table with a dull thud. A tuft of his hair stuck straight up and trembled in the morning breeze.

Lin Sui’an was very satisfied with the result of this heart-to-heart. She patted Hua Yitang on the shoulder, picked up a pastry, ate it as she walked, and went back to her room to sleep.

Hua Yitang lay face-down on the table, petrified.

Fangke opened his eyes. He slowly set down his teacup, stood, and walked out of the dining hall. Waves of laughter floated back in on the wind: “Hahahahaha —”

Yita jolted awake, looked around in bewilderment. “Doctor Fang — laughing out loud — for the first time — very happy?”

Mu Xia refilled Hua Yitang’s teacup and said earnestly, “Fourth Young Master, do not lose heart.”

Hua Yitang buried his face in the table. “I haven’t lost heart.”

“Perhaps… Fourth Young Master could just say it plainly.”

“I’m afraid of frightening her…”

“Still, proceeding gradually may truly be the wisest course…”

Mu Xia felt like weeping: Keep “proceeding gradually” like this, Fourth Young Master, and you’ll be “gradually proceeding” into middle age…

Side Story

A carrier pigeon letter from Mu Xia to Hua Yihuan:

Honorable Master, I write this letter in hopes it finds you well:

Since our first encounter in Yangdu, Fourth Young Master has been captivated by Lin Niangzi at first sight. In the months they have traveled together, side by side through every trial, Fourth Young Master’s feelings have grown ever deeper and more difficult to uproot. Regrettably, Lin Niangzi’s heart has yet to turn toward matters of affection. Fourth Young Master pines with longing and falls ill from it, visibly thinning by the day. Mu Xia has exhausted every effort to assist, yet the way forward is steep and progress painfully slow.

Mu Xia’s heart is deeply anxious and hopes to receive the Master’s wisdom, a guiding word or two.

With the greatest urgency!

Respectfully, Mu Xia