This person who called himself Seventh had now said “you’re nothing special” twice. But would Li Diudiu care?

He truly didn’t care even a little bit.

What Changmei Daoren often told Li Diudiu was this: if you let everything anyone says get to you, then more and more people will come to say things to you — precisely because you care. As for those who don’t care, who would bother going to gossip at them?

The kind-hearted always come to say something like “it doesn’t matter.” The malicious always come to say something, putting on a show of concern, but really wanting to watch you make a fool of yourself.

Stirring up trouble is more or less like that.

“Where are you staying?”

Seventh asked.

Li Diudiu shook his head. “Don’t want to say.”

Seventh was taken aback. He thought to himself that this young man was rather straightforward — he didn’t even bother making up an excuse, just gave him a flat “don’t want to say.”

He organized his thoughts and then, in a tone he himself considered quite patient, said: “I’ve been sent by my elder brother to protect you. If you don’t tell me where you’re staying, I have no way to keep you fully safe.”

Li Diudiu said: “Thank you.”

Seventh was taken aback again. He felt this person was truly difficult to communicate with. He was already someone who disliked communicating with others — he found it tiring. Now Li Diudiu had inexplicably produced a “thank you” and nothing else, which made him feel even more tired.

“What do you mean, ‘thank you’?”

he asked.

Li Diudiu answered in an equally patient tone: “Thank you generally has two meanings. One is a sincere expression of gratitude. The other is a polite way of expressing gratitude.”

What sort of temperament did the Seventh Chief of Yanshan Camp have? Anything he found bothersome he ignored; anyone he found bothersome he paid no attention to. Right now he found this young man in front of him very bothersome.

Because he felt the fellow had just said something completely useless — as useless as it gets.

“I’m here to protect you!”

The Seventh Chief repeated himself once more, with added emphasis.

Li Diudiu still replied with the same two words.

“Thank you.”

And then turned and walked away.

The Seventh Chief watched the fellow’s retreating figure and suddenly understood: the person’s meaning had actually been quite polite — he hadn’t directly said “I don’t need it.”

Under normal circumstances, Seventh would have long since shaken his head and left. Need me or not, fine by me if you don’t. But this time was different — this was something his elder brother had personally instructed him to do, and he had never done anything his elder brother asked him to do poorly. Moreover, his elder brother had said this was a matter of a life-saving debt of gratitude.

Seventh fell silent for a moment and decided to follow along. If you won’t say, then I’ll just watch for myself.

But right at that moment he faintly heard the softest of sounds coming from the direction of the inn. He immediately slipped into the shadows. Not long after, several dark figures flew past along the street — evidently his confrontation with the young man had still alarmed the people Tian Zhanyuan had in the inn.

He and Tian Zhanyuan had entered Jizhou City in close succession, Seventh arriving first, but alone — all eighteen of his men had been left outside the city. His original intention was to enter first and assess the situation himself. If the checkpoints were tight, there was no need to have his brothers all come in and take the risk.

After entering the city, he had found a tea stall near the city gate and sat down to observe the inspection of arrivals. Before long he watched a merchant caravan come in, and among them he recognized several men — they were Tian Zhanyuan’s subordinates.

In that instant, Seventh knew who had betrayed his elder brother.

He followed the caravan from a distance to the inn and, once he confirmed Tian Zhanyuan had checked in, returned outside the city to instruct his men to get back to Yanshan Camp as quickly as possible and report to the First Chief.

For safety’s sake, he sent all eighteen men back — three to a group, six groups, departing separately via different directions and different routes.

This news was too important; he had to be careful.

Once that was arranged, he returned to Jizhou City, found lodging not far from the inn where Tian Zhanyuan was staying, and only came out after deep night had fallen, intending to see what exactly Tian Zhanyuan was up to. That was when he was startled by a fart — thin but absolutely potent.

Lurking in the shadows and watching those several figures fly past, Seventh’s first instinct was to disable all of them. But just as he was about to move, he thought better of it — that would alert the snake, and Tian Zhanyuan would do nothing and flee Jizhou City.

What he didn’t know was that Tian Zhanyuan had come under the pretext of seeking medical treatment for his wife, and even if Seventh sent men back, his elder brother Yu Chaozong wouldn’t quite believe that Tian Zhanyuan had come to Jizhou City with ulterior motives.

He quietly tailed those few people from behind, and only once he confirmed they hadn’t found the young man did he return to his own inn.

Though he wasn’t sure exactly where the young man was staying, the general vicinity wouldn’t be far off — sooner or later they would meet again. Except…

When Seventh sat in his room and recalled the scene just now, he realized the fellow hadn’t removed his mask the whole time, and he himself had forgotten to ask him to. He had no idea whatsoever what the person looked like.

He slapped the table in frustration, though he didn’t dare use any force.

Then it dawned on him: that young man had been on guard from beginning to end — never removing his mask, not saying where he lived, not even willing to talk much.

Seventh thought it over carefully. It wasn’t really the young man’s fault. He himself wouldn’t casually trust a stranger either, especially a stranger who was capable of killing people.

He had thought he’d finally found the person and could breathe a temporary sigh of relief, but now he realized he still had no idea who the person was.

—

Li Diudiu returned to where they were staying. As expected, his master and Mr. Yan had not yet gone to sleep. The fire in the sitting room was still burning strong. His master and Mr. Yan were drinking tea and chatting. If Li Diudiu hadn’t come back tonight, those two probably wouldn’t have slept at all.

Li Diudiu walked in and took off the face covering, tossing it casually — it landed draped over the coat rack, its face-side happened to be facing toward Yan Qingzhi. Yan Qingzhi stood up and went over to adjust it, turning the big white teeth to face the wall instead.

Li Diudiu sat down and poured a big mouthful of water, then said: “They are indeed people from Yanshan Camp, and at least a hundred have come. I thought it over — beating all of them up would be very tiring, so I came back.”

Changmei Daoren looked toward Mr. Yan and explained: “This sort of bragging… it’s definitely not something I taught him. At most he picked it up on his own from watching others — absorbed it through constant exposure.”

Yan Qingzhi smiled, then looked toward Li Diudiu and asked: “A hundred men — did they come in carrying weapons?”

Li Diudiu gave an affirmative sound: “Not only swords and blades, but also repeating crossbows and bows and arrows. I don’t know how those bastards at the city gate ever let them in.”

Yan Qingzhi sighed: “Give enough silver, and letting people in — or out — is easy.”

The officialdom of Dachu was like this nowadays. One or two people behaving this way was called poor discipline; everyone behaving this way was simply called poor culture.

“Do you have a plan?” Yan Qingzhi asked Li Diudiu.

Li Diudiu nodded: “I do.”

Yan Qingzhi asked again: “What is it?”

Li Diudiu answered: “Sleep first.”

Changmei Daoren hastily explained again: “This habit of being insufferable — that’s probably also not something I taught.”

Yan Qingzhi said: “The way you keep explaining, Daoist, I’m starting to think all his cockiness is something I taught him.”

Changmei Daoren thought about it and felt he couldn’t really blame Mr. Yan, so he nodded and said: “Let’s say half and half between the two of us.”

Yan Qingzhi: “…”

—

Early the next morning, when Yan Qingzhi got up to wash, he found that Li Diudiu had already boiled noodles in the kitchen. Making dumplings hadn’t worked out, but noodles were relatively simple.

Li Diudiu saw Mr. Yan get up and called a greeting through the window, saying breakfast would be ready soon.

Before long, Li Diudiu set the food on the table — two bowls and one basin. Mr. Yan and Changmei Daoren naturally divided the two bowls between themselves, one each, while Li Diudiu just as naturally pulled the basin in front of himself.

“In a little while, Mr. Yan should rest at home. We two will head out for a bit.”

Changmei Daoren said this between bites.

Yan Qingzhi said: “Why not go together? Another person means more help.”

Changmei smiled: “The two of us going out won’t have any problems. We’re just scouting out the enemy’s situation so we can plan our tactics.”

Yan Qingzhi said: “Those people from last night have already seen both of you. Won’t you be recognized if you go out?”

Changmei Daoren smiled: “We master and disciple travel the rivers and lakes — we have plenty of tricks.”

—

The three finished breakfast. Changmei Daoren took out all those tools of his trade — the means by which he made a living — and mixed something together in a small basin, the way one kneads dough, until the result looked rather like dough at a glance. Yan Qingzhi watched curiously but didn’t interrupt, just watched quietly.

Once Changmei Daoren had mixed it, he sat before the bronze mirror and began daubing and painting his face — applying that sticky substance and then drawing lines on top with a brush.

After roughly a quarter of an hour, Yan Qingzhi watched a completely unfamiliar person emerge. Changmei Daoren had transformed into a middle-aged man with a sallow, waxen complexion. Unless you stared very carefully, there wasn’t a single flaw to be found.

“Remarkable skill.”

Yan Qingzhi couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration.

Changmei Daoren smiled: “It’s nothing remarkable — just the tricks of deceiving and swindling in the rivers and lakes. But any method that isn’t used for harm isn’t a bad method, even if it isn’t a good one.”

Heard roughly, this sounded like meaningless chatter. But if you thought about it carefully, there seemed to be a great truth hidden inside.

Yan Qingzhi asked: “And what about Li Chi? How does he disguise himself?”

Just at that moment Li Chi came out from the inner room and replied: “I’m naturally beautiful — I don’t need disguise.”

Yan Qingzhi turned around and recoiled a step in fright.

Li Diudiu had come out wearing a long dress, his face powdered and rouged, his hair done up in a young girl’s style. At first glance it wasn’t quite so infuriating — but once you thought about it, it was. If it weren’t for Mr. Yan knowing Li Diudiu far too well, he might have thought it was passable.

But right now he just felt Li Diudiu was truly, profoundly infuriating — almost to the point of being unable to hold back from striking him.

Yan Qingzhi finally understood why Changmei Daoren had said neither of them would be recognized. Two people like this — even if he ran into them face to face on the street, he wouldn’t recognize them as Changmei and Li Chi.

“Mr. Yan, please just rest. We’ll be back before noon.”

Li Diudiu said this, then hugged a pipa to his chest and strode out — those few strides were like a whirlwind sweeping past. Changmei Daoren immediately coughed a few times, and only then did Li Diudiu realize. He quickly shortened his steps and deliberately swiveled his hips as he walked.

Yan Qingzhi buried his face in his hands.

Was this truly the most outstanding disciple he had encountered in his many years of teaching? He must have gone blind.

Changmei Daoren leaned on a walking stick and hugged an erhu, feigning great frailty as he went out the door.

These two people walking out — how would one tell whether they were male or female…

Yan Qingzhi watched them leave, feeling a measure of emotion in his heart. These kinds of tricks — he would certainly have looked down on them in the past, but he didn’t know why, now that he had witnessed them in person, he actually felt a degree of respect.

Particularly that line Changmei Daoren had said — it gave him much to ponder.

Whatever the method, if it isn’t used for harm, it is not a bad method.

As if driven by some invisible force, he drifted to the bronze mirror, looked down at the things Changmei Daoren had left on the table, fell silent for a moment, then sat down as if moved by that same invisible force, and began dabbing and painting his own face…

—