The reason Li Diudiu dared bring this mysterious stranger back to his home was that he had come to believe this person truly meant him no harm.

Even though the man hadn’t stepped in to help directly while Li Diudiu was dealing with the mountain bandits, Li Diudiu had sensed it — every time he made a move, the figure in the shadows had been right there with him, appearing with precise timing at exactly the positions that would have been hardest for Li Diudiu to guard. If the man had wanted to strike him down, Li Diudiu would have been wounded by now, if not worse.

In that moment Li Diudiu had understood: this person was moving in parallel with him, positioning himself wherever protection was needed. He was watching over him.

And then there was the moment the man set his coin pouch at that woman’s feet. That was when Li Diudiu decided — they were the same kind of person.

“Good sir,” Li Diudiu said as they walked, “what’s your name?”

The Seventh Chief shook his head. “No one knows my name except the Boss. And I should tell you directly — I’m not one for beating around the bush — we’re not close enough yet for me to tell you.”

Li Diudiu nodded. “That is direct.”

The Seventh Chief was not someone who found it easy to talk to people. He and the type of people like Li Diudiu and Changmei Daoren — the kind who could chat endlessly for a whole day and night without stopping — were entirely different creatures.

If there was money to be made, those two could go two days and two nights without pausing.

The Seventh Chief, on the other hand, was the type who would find it a little strange if someone offered him money just to sit and talk. He didn’t much enjoy conversation either — he felt exchanging words with people was a waste of time. If he had that time, he’d rather have a drink and then sleep.

Even his sleeping was different from other people. Most people want to sleep somewhere comfortable. He, when he’d had too much to drink, liked to climb trees and sleep in the branches. The people of Yanshan Camp always said that after a few too many he’d vanish — appearing here and disappearing there, impossible to pin down. In truth he’d just climbed a tree.

The Seventh Chief felt that saying nothing was awkward, and turned the possibilities over and over in his head — what should he say? What should he ask? And would too many questions make the other person feel put out?

He was still turning this over when they arrived at Li Diudiu’s door. At that point he figured — well, I didn’t say anything all the way here, might as well not bother now.

Li Diudiu knocked at the door in a particular way — a coded pattern agreed upon with his master, to keep from startling him or Sir Yan into thinking a stranger had come: nine soft knocks, then one firm.

The Seventh Chief caught the rhythm immediately, and ultimately couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Nine light, one heavy?”

Li Diudiu: “…”

He looked over at the Seventh Chief. “You didn’t even ask my name, but you asked about *that*…”

The Seventh Chief thought about it. That was true enough.

The door was pulled open from inside. Changmei Daoren’s expression visibly relaxed the moment he saw Li Diudiu.

“And this is…?”

Changmei saw the middle-aged man of about thirty walking alongside Li Diudiu and asked.

Li Diudiu replied: “Found him.”

The Seventh Chief gave a small start.

Sir Yan had already come over as well. He took in the blood covering Li Diudiu from head to toe and his face changed. He pointed at Li Diudiu’s body. Li Diudiu shook his head: “I’m not hurt.”

Sir Yan let out a breath, then looked toward the Seventh Chief: “Thank you for your help.”

The Seventh Chief replied: “I didn’t help.”

Before long, Li Diudiu had bathed and changed clothes. When he came back to the main room, he found the three of them sitting there in a silence so thick it was almost visible.

The Seventh Chief sat and drank his tea in slow, steady sips without speaking, without looking at either of the other two.

Li Diudiu came out and smiled. “The tea isn’t very good, but make do with it for now. Let me see what we have — I’ll put something together and we can have a late meal.”

The Seventh Chief gave a small nod. “It really isn’t good.”

Li Diudiu: “…”

Li Diudiu went to the kitchen to see what could be managed. He wasn’t particularly skilled at cooking, but then — no matter how poor the talent, there’s no getting around the value of study. And anyone who keeps at it long enough will eventually learn a simple truth: some limitations can’t be overcome by effort alone.

Fortunately, Li Diudiu wasn’t limited. Simple dishes were manageable enough once he thought them through — a stir-fried egg here, some sliced pork there — nothing impressive, but workable.

After about half a quarter-hour, Li Diudiu carried several dishes into the room. The three people sitting there still hadn’t exchanged a word, each drinking their own tea in silence.

Changmei Daoren had tried once or twice to start a conversation, but found this person had absolutely no intention of talking with anyone.

The food reached the table. Li Diudiu opened two jugs of wine and was about to pour a cup for each of them. The Seventh Chief reached out and took one entire jug for himself — and without bothering with a cup, lifted it toward his mouth.

The jug was already at his lips. He stopped.

He set it back down.

Li Diudiu asked: “Something wrong?”

The Seventh Chief shook his head without answering.

Li Diudiu wondered — was the wine not to his taste?

He asked again: “The wine doesn’t suit you? It’s not expensive, I admit…”

The Seventh Chief: “I could tell it wasn’t expensive from the smell.”

Li Diudiu: “…”

Deeply awkward.

Fortunately the Seventh Chief added something this time, which eased the awkwardness — slightly.

“I promised the Boss. No drinking for a year.”

He picked up a bowl of white rice, added some dishes, and began to eat. After two bites he pushed the dishes aside and continued with plain rice only.

Li Diudiu decided not to ask — he already had a sense of what the answer would be.

Changmei Daoren was also feeling the discomfort. He ate a few bites alongside everyone else and looked over at Li Diudiu. “Your cooking has improved quite a bit. Not that it’s especially good, but…”

The Seventh Chief said: “It’s quite bad.”

Li Diudiu very nearly said: *See yourself out.*

Sir Yan, though, let out a quiet laugh. He actually found this strange man’s manner rather agreeable — the kind of person who says what he thinks without winding around it. That type was often easier to deal with than the ones who never spoke plainly.

“I’m full.”

The Seventh Chief stood, then finally looked at Li Diudiu and asked the question he should have asked from the start. “What’s your name?”

Li Diudiu answered: “I’m Li Chi — the *chi* of ‘sweeping across the sky.’ I study at the Four Pages Academy, in the Jia Division—”

He hadn’t finished speaking before the Seventh Chief was already out of the room.

“Got it.”

Then the man sprang upward and was simply gone.

Sir Yan looked at Li Diudiu: “This… candid gentleman — where exactly does he come from?”

Li Diudiu answered: “He was sent by the Boss of Yanshan Camp, Yu Chaozong, to protect me. At first I had some doubts about his identity, but tonight he was in the shadows watching over me the entire time, so I believe it now.”

Yan Qingzhi nodded. “Word is that Yu Chaozong — the so-called Heavenly King — is a man who repays every kindness and keeps his word above all else. That’s why people across the jianghu respect him. If this man was sent by him, he shouldn’t mean us any harm.”

Changmei Daoren quietly sighed. He genuinely did not want Li Diudiu to have any connection with people from Yanshan Camp.

In his view, outlaws were outlaws, bandits were bandits. Even if the world called someone a Heavenly King — did that make it so? At the end of the day, he was still a great bandit chief. A rebel army occupying their mountain stronghold — that kind of company could ruin Li Diudiu’s prospects.

And what, in Changmei Daoren’s eyes, did real prospects look like? Entering government service, of course. Even if the Dachu court had rotted to its core, even if the Dachu realm had decayed to such an extent — he still felt that was the proper path.

At the very least, if he truly couldn’t enter government service after finishing his studies, he could do as Sir Yan did and become a teacher. At least such a person is respected.

He genuinely felt that Li Diudiu could not afford to mix with rebel armies and men of the jianghu. That road was self-ruin.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say something harsh and direct to Li Diudiu — he was afraid the boy would resent him for it.

And so the suffering fell on himself alone.

“I’m full. I’m going to rest.”

Tonight’s experiences had been too much for Changmei Daoren to absorb. He could not yet make his peace with the realization that his disciple had started becoming a man of the jianghu. The fighting at the entrance to the Temple of Confucius had left him feeling as though he no longer recognized the boy he had raised.

Once Changmei Daoren left the room, Sir Yan lowered his voice: “Your master may not be very happy about you having ties to people from the jianghu. He looks a little… disappointed.”

Li Diudiu nodded. “I know.”

Sir Yan said: “Your master is getting older. It’s better to accommodate him in most things.”

Li Diudiu nodded again: “I understand.”

Sir Yan was quiet for a moment, then asked him something.

“Why didn’t you think to go and notify Xiahou Zuo?”

Li Diudiu didn’t answer right away. He picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks, then put it down with a sigh. “Actually, let’s not eat anymore… Sir, the reason I didn’t tell Xiahou Zuo was because I wanted to see whether I could resolve things on my own.”

Sir Yan made a sound of acknowledgment.

He understood.

However remarkable your friends, in the end you have only yourself to rely on. If you yourself are worthless, even the most formidable friend can give you wealth — but they cannot keep you alive. And once you’ve depended on others for too long, you become useless.

“Understood.”

Sir Yan stood and stretched. “I won’t ask what you did tonight. But… try to keep things like this to a minimum in the future.”

Li Diudiu bowed his head. “Don’t worry, sir. Unless there’s no other option, I won’t.”

Sir Yan nodded. He looked at the food on the table.

“It really wasn’t good.”

Then he left.

Li Diudiu thought to himself — that strange, enigmatic figure corrupted both of you that quickly, did he? Life is hard.

Back in his own room at his inn, the Seventh Chief lay in bed unable to find any trace of sleep. He closed his eyes, but his mind was far too alive. He replayed every move Li Chi had made that night from beginning to end. The more carefully he examined the details, the clearer they became — and the clearer they became, the more unsettling he found Li Chi.

After a long while, he sat up, took out paper and brush, and wrote a letter — planning to have his men carry it back to the Boss once they returned.

The letter was short. Only a few dozen words.

The gist of it was: Boss… by whatever means necessary, you must find a way to bring Li Chi to Yanshan. He must become one of the Green Banner Army.

Once the letter was written, he tucked it close to his chest and calculated how long before his men would return. His thoughts were simply too animated for sleep, and so he sat there turning everything over in his mind through the night.

The next morning, Sir Yan rose and washed. He glanced over at Li Diudiu, who was in the courtyard holding a deep horse stance. He walked over and stood beside him.

“Extend both arms straight out to the sides.”

Li Diudiu assumed this was Sir Yan about to instruct him in his martial training, and obediently stretched his arms wide.

Sir Yan nodded with satisfaction, then draped his towel over Li Diudiu’s arms.

Li Diudiu: “…”

Changmei Daoren shuffled out from inside with a yawn, took in the scene, and nodded approvingly. “A nice basin stand.”

Yan Qingzhi considered this thoughtfully. “A basin?”

Then he repositioned Li Diudiu’s arms from straight out to the sides to straight forward, and set a basin of water on top of them.

He nodded with satisfaction. “That does work nicely.”

Li Diudiu: “…”

—