On the seventh day of the fifth month, the long-silent Zou Mansion finally had cause for celebration.

The Zou master had awakened. Aside from some weakness and a few bedsores that had developed during his incapacitation, he was, remarkably, in no serious danger.

Watching Zou Sifang go from half-dead to coherent speech in the span of a single day, Zhao Shi was beside herself with joy; even some of her earlier resentment seemed to have lifted. “I would not have expected a physician as young as you to possess such impressive medical skill. Has your family ever kept a clinic? I don’t think I’ve heard of you before.”

Hao Bai wore a rather self-satisfied expression, and his tongue began to loosen: “Ah, Madam may not be aware — my family’s physicians and I only practice medicine; we keep no clinic. Additionally, there is an ancestral precept we follow: to treat only those who are gravely ill and near death. So we have always traveled from place to place and never settled anywhere for long.”

In truth, though he favored white clothing, he was by nature a bright-eyed and dark-browed young man, with an open, sunlit quality to his youth. In high spirits now, he was even more radiant and animated; Zhao Shi, long accustomed to looking at the old Zou master, rarely encountered young men like this, and while her attention had been elsewhere at first, she had now recovered her focus — and found a faint flush rising to her cheeks.

“I see — it is I who was remiss at the outset; please don’t take it to heart, Doctor. After a pause, Zhao Shi added, “The master has awakened, but I still feel somewhat unsettled. If the Doctor could remain at the mansion for a few days, it would be best — both to keep a closer eye on his condition, and to allow me time to prepare a proper gift in thanks for saving his life.”

“Ha ha ha ha — of course, of course! Madam, you have toiled and worried so much through all of this — you look worn and thin, dear Madam. Why not go and take a proper bath and freshen yourself up, drive off these days of bad air? Leave the master to me; I still have a few matters I need to address with him in person.”

Zhao Shi was only too eager to escape this room saturated with the smell of illness, and she stepped back with a demure bow of thanks: “Then I will trouble you, Doctor—”

Zhao Shi left two of her maids to assist Hao Bai, and hurried back to her own quarters to rest.

When Hao Bai pushed open the door and entered, Zou Sifang was being tended to by his servants while he had his meal.

Having made a trip to the very gates of the underworld, Zou Sifang had gained a profound appreciation for the pleasures of being alive, and was now thoroughly absorbed in the joy of his renewed existence. On his left was a cup of shark fin and swallow’s nest; on his right, a bowl of ganoderma and bear’s paw — as though terrified that one moment’s inattention might see him lose consciousness again, and with it, all the delicacies of this world.

Hao Bai walked over and, without drawing attention to it, slid the half-finished swallow’s nest aside. “The master has only just begun to recover. You must not eat too much of these nourishing things — the heat could rise to the head and block the heart.”

Only then did Zou Sifang pause his eating, though his eyes lingered on the bowl. “Surely just a few spoonfuls wouldn’t do any harm?”

Hao Bai smiled — revealing a row of very white teeth — and instructed the maids standing nearby: “All of you go and see how the master’s medicine is coming along. I need to take his pulse, and it is not convenient to have others present.”

The maids exchanged glances among themselves, recognizing this physician as an authority not to be trifled with; Zou Sifang also offered no objection, and so they had no grounds to linger and duly withdrew.

The room now held only Hao Bai and Zou Sifang. Zou Sifang was no fool; he spoke first and directly: “I owe you no small debt for my recovery, Doctor. The silver will not be wanting. If you have other requests as well, speak them all now.”

Seeing that the other man was being so candid, Hao Bai abandoned any intention of talking in circles. “Does the master know whose fortune he has to thank for escaping this calamity?”

Zou Sifang had not expected Hao Bai to open with this. He rolled his eyes from side to side, unable to discern what the man was actually getting at. “Naturally, I have the Doctor to thank.”

Hao Bai shook his head. “I have the skill to heal people, but if there is no medicine to begin with, even the most golden of hands can do nothing.”

“Doctor, there is no need for false modesty. I understand that one of the ingredients in the antidote — the Buddha bone relic — is exceedingly rare. For you to obtain it within a single day already speaks to exceptional ability.”

Hao Bai gave an affected sigh. “A relic of that kind — how could an ordinary person come to possess it? I will not deceive the master: the one who gave me the relic is the true world-renouncing master. It seems he foresaw all of this far in advance, which is how I was able to obtain the catalyst in a single day.”

At this, Zou Sifang was finally somewhat taken aback. “You mean to say there is a person who foresaw my illness and deliberately had the medicine sent to you?”

Hao Bai nodded gravely. “Precisely. And in addition to the relic, that person had certain words he wished me to convey to the master.” At this point he deliberately lowered his voice. “That master specifically instructed me that no outsiders should be present at the time of delivery, lest someone else influence the master’s thinking.”

Having spent many years in commerce, Zou Sifang had accumulated a fair degree of faith in the workings of the divine and the Buddhas; he propped himself up, half-risen, and gestured for Hao Bai to quickly say his piece.

Hao Bai cleared his throat and delivered the most critical line.

“The master said: the calamity that has befallen the master this time is due, in truth, to having taken something that ought not to have been taken.”

Zou Sifang’s expression changed immediately upon hearing this; he fixed Hao Bai with a look of wounded outrage. “You — you dare pry into the affairs of my household? What exactly are your intentions?”

Hao Bai had anticipated that Zou Sifang would respond with exactly this kind of indignant fury and kept his own composure. “What is the master saying? Yesterday, Madam brought people to make a scene at the Xiong Family’s door, and by now there are probably very few people in this city who don’t know the master has come into possession of a valuable jade. I had no need to pry.”

Zou Sifang knew the facts were as stated; he could not really lay that at anyone else’s feet, though he still felt some reluctance to concede: “That is my household’s affair, and of no concern to the Doctor.”

Hao Bai could see the man was already softening and pressed on with earnest conviction: “It is precisely because it is of no concern to me that what I say serves no personal interest of my own. The object currently in the master’s hands may be precious, but it is also a source of danger. If it is not dealt with promptly, then even having narrowly escaped with one’s life this time, there will be no escaping further peril.”

Zou Sifang, who was fundamentally afraid of death, felt his already poor complexion grow worse still.

With unhurried deliberation, Hao Bai reached into the fruit bowl nearby and drew out three pieces of fruit, turned them in his hand for a moment, and then arranged them one by one along the edge of Zou Sifang’s bed.

“Though the Zou family is wealthy, it holds no political power. The powerful and established figures in Huozhou have formed a world unto themselves, into which outsiders find it difficult to enter — what is needed is something to open the door. The Zhuming Festival is precisely that opportunity. Though nominally the festival’s sacrificial offerings are a civic tradition, the Shen Family watches closely each year, and will personally receive any household that makes a significant offering — both to preserve their own face and to take stock of any new influential families worth cultivating. If the master is willing to offer the jade, then the glory of this year’s Zhuming Festival will all belong to the Zou Family. This is the first matter.”

“The second: commerce hinges on harmony. News of the master’s illness in recent days has likely already spread far and wide; there will inevitably be those who spread word that the Zou family’s business has wronged the natural order. Mouths grow on the bodies of others, and there is no controlling what is said — it will inevitably affect those who buy medicine year after year. When people purchase goods, what they are buying is peace of mind. The Zhuming Festival is an occasion to make offerings to the divine; if the master were to publicly offer his acquired jade to the gods, it would counteract the recent unpleasant talk, silence those who have been wagging their tongues, and be of nothing but benefit to the Zou family’s business.”

“The third and most important point: the master must understand — an innocent man is guilty only when he carries a treasure. Though what exactly this object is remains to be confirmed, its whereabouts are by now known to all. One cannot imagine how many schemes — open and covert — will be set in motion as a result. One misstep and disaster is at the door. Those who seek to buy the jade at a high price are largely unwilling to make a spectacle of themselves or reveal their true identities; even if a transaction is completed and the jade changes hands, the outside world may not know of it, and the master would remain an exposed target in plain sight — unable to cry out in grievance, unable to argue his case, truly trapped with no way out.”

The scene of Zhongli Jing delivering these words to him was still vivid in his mind — he had said not to leave out a single word, which was clearly because he trusted Hao Bai’s mouth about as far as he could throw him. Hao Bai had rehearsed this many times over; now, delivering it in one unbroken flow, it carried something of the other man’s quality when he had first spoken it — a relentless, interlocking persuasiveness that allowed no room to push back.

Zou Sifang’s haggard face grew ever more silent under this barrage of words.

He might be avaricious and obstinate, but he was by no means a man of slow wit — proof enough being that the Zou family business had not collapsed in his hands. The young man’s every word struck exactly at the nail already driving itself deeper in his heart.

Did he truly not know the Xiong Family’s intentions? The so-called offering of the treasure had simply been a matter of passing along what one could not swallow — and a thing so scalding in the hand that one could not hold it either — until it ended up in his hands.

And now, here he was, nearly having paid for it with his life.

“When two benefits contend, choose the greater; when two harms contend, choose the lesser. I have faithfully discharged my duty and conveyed the message. As for what course to take — that decision rests entirely with the master.”

Xiao Nanhui lay on her back on the bench, staring at a gecko on the ceiling.

She had been lying there without moving for approximately half an hour.

Her back ached terribly. Xiao Nanhui shifted slightly to one side — and his figure walked straight into her field of vision.

Zhongli Jing was seated on the daybed slightly ahead of her and to the side, eyes closed in what appeared to be meditation, also utterly motionless for the past half hour. If it weren’t for the occasional sound of his breathing, she might genuinely have thought herself alone in the room.

What a peculiar atmosphere this was.

Xiao Nanhui gave a long, silent groan in her heart.

Half an hour prior, Ding Weixiang had gone out to listen for news of whether Hao Bai had succeeded; Bolao, who was always suspicious of him, had gone along. By the time she had noticed what was happening, the room had settled into this configuration.

It had been quite a few hours since the previous day’s discussion about the Zhuming Festival, and the moment Xiao Nanhui closed her eyes, the sound of that man calling her name was in her ears. Never mind the fact that the man himself was now hovering right in front of her eyes.

In truth, she had sensed quite early on that Zhongli Jing was the same person she had encountered at Yongye Temple that day — and with that recognition came a faint psychological preparation for the possibility that he already knew her identity. But knowing was one thing; saying it aloud was quite another. The man had now made it plainly clear he had hold of her by the tail, yet she had not gotten so much as a single hair off of him.

The jianghu is a treacherous place.

Xiao Nanhui shivered inwardly and turned over, quietly praying that this person was not an adversary of Qinghuai Marquis Mansion.

And if — if he truly were an adversary?

Then kill him?

The thought surfaced, and Xiao Nanhui was startled by it herself. She was no stranger to taking lives — but outside of a battlefield, she had never directed killing intent at any particular person. The man sharing this room with her had no martial ability to speak of; his personal guard was out and had no idea when he would return. If she wanted to act now, he would likely be entirely unable to resist.

And yet — for some reason — Xiao Nanhui still felt a quiet, creeping unease.

This unease came from a person’s instinctive sense of danger. Sometimes the most harmless-looking people are the most dangerous of all.

“You need not worry. You and I are travelers on the same road — we are not adversaries.”

Zhongli Jing’s voice startled her; the man had spoken as though he could see straight through her thoughts.

She rolled herself upright from the bench in a single motion, poured a cup of water from the teapot, and used the action to cover whatever might have showed on her face. “Empty words give me nothing to trust.”

A slender hand reached out and picked up the cup she had just filled. Its owner drank the water in a single draught, then set the cup back on the table.

“You have no other choice.”

I do.

Killing you is one such choice.

Xiao Nanhui stared at the empty cup and ran her tongue across the back of her teeth. Her fingers moved of their own accord toward the underside of the table’s edge — she had hidden a dagger there when she first moved in.

Should she stake the entire Marquis Mansion on this gamble?

Just then, a faint sound came from the ceiling.

A soft thud.

The gecko that had been clinging to the beam overhead dropped without warning — landing directly on the table between the two of them.

It scrabbled in frantic confusion among the teacup and teapot for a moment, then abruptly severed a section of its own tail, and fled.

This sudden, entirely unexpected scene broke Xiao Nanhui’s train of thought. She stared in somewhat stunned silence at the still-twitching half-tail on the table — and then, to her surprise, the person sitting across from her laughed.

“You see — even a small gecko knows to cut off its tail to survive. People are the same.”

Xiao Nanhui’s tone was not friendly. “What do you mean by that?”

The smile still lingered at the corners of Zhongli Jing’s mouth, making it impossible to tell how much of what he said next was sincere and how much was performance. “Naturally I mean the matter of Zou Sifang. What else did you think?”

Xiao Nanhui said nothing.

What had she thought? She would never admit it: for one brief moment just now, though her hand had clearly been on the blade, she’d had the uncanny sensation that it was she who was the fish on the cutting board.