It was only now that Gù Cóngcháo understood — this person, and this whole situation, were not quite right. The teahouse manager he’d taken for a small-time schemer was more than just cunning. He was genuinely rotten. The kind of rotten that, for the sake of money, cheats people without even checking who they are. The kind of rotten that fears nothing, not even death. That was what recklessness truly looked like.

So Gù Cóngcháo decided it was time to give this little nobody named Xiāo Wéi’ān a taste of life’s harshness.

“Here’s what I suggest,” Gù Cóngcháo said, smiling pleasantly. “Five hundred taels won’t make much difference anyway. Why don’t you come with me to our trading house, and I’ll give you three thousand taels outright. In exchange, you behave yourself from here on and stop causing problems.”

“Deal!”

Xiāo Wéi’ān didn’t hesitate for a moment. This man, it seemed, would do anything for money — including walk into obvious danger without a second thought.

Gù Cóngcháo led Xiāo Wéi’ān out of the teahouse and into a carriage, heading straight down the main street.

Xiāo Wéi’ān asked where the trading house was; Gù Cóngcháo said he’d see when they got there.

At that very moment, Lù Chónglóu’s carriage passed in front of the teahouse. He glanced out the window, noticed the signboard was gone, and told the driver to stop.

“Shall we buy some tea, my lord?”

“No,” said Lù Chónglóu. “It just struck me as odd.”

He stepped down and went inside, his driver following.

Meanwhile, Gù Cóngcháo’s carriage looped through several turns in Cháng’ān’s streets before finally stopping in a quiet patch of the southern city.

Gù Cóngcháo stepped out first and looked around, satisfied. It would do.

Cháng’ān was still new, and many sections of the city were undeveloped. The south in particular had very few residents. The Imperial Palace lay to the north, so most officials’ residences clustered in the northern quarters. Those who preferred livelier surroundings settled near the East and West Markets. The south was the most sparsely populated, still dotted with large stretches of open ground.

Here there was a grove of trees — the city plans had originally called for a park to be built.

“Get out, Manager Xiāo.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān climbed down and looked around, visibly confused. Then he asked: “Your trading house is in a graveyard?”

That comment sent Gù Cóngcháo’s temper flaring. He’d been wanting to do this for ages, and with a deserted spot and no witnesses, he didn’t hold back — he stepped forward and kicked Xiāo Wéi’ān squarely in the stomach.

Xiāo Wéi’ān didn’t dodge it. He let out a yelp, clutched his abdomen, and doubled over.

Gù Cóngcháo followed up with a kick to the shoulder, knocking Xiāo Wéi’ān backward.

He strode forward, raising his foot to stamp on Xiāo Wéi’ān’s chest —

Crack. Xiāo Wéi’ān’s hand shot up and caught the sole of Gù Cóngcháo’s boot.

“Two hits is plenty,” Xiāo Wéi’ān said. “Don’t push it.”

He looked up calmly. “I’ve had some training.”

Gù Cóngcháo, incensed, turned to Wáng Jìntíng who’d been watching from the side: “Get over here and help me beat this wretch!”

Wáng Jìntíng rolled up his sleeves, broke a branch from a nearby tree, and came forward.

Seeing this, Xiāo Wéi’ān got to his feet. Gù Cóngcháo threw a punch at his face — Xiāo Wéi’ān sidestepped it cleanly, then countered with one punch directly into Gù Cóngcháo’s stomach. Gù Cóngcháo bent double with a howl, clutching his belly, now the one crouching in pain.

Wáng Jìntíng, seeing his colleague hit, raised the branch — and in the same instant saw Xiāo Wéi’ān’s fist already in front of his face.

Oh no.

He realized too late that this man had been playing the fool. His martial ability was anything but ordinary.

Gù Cóngcháo and Wáng Jìntíng were both close confidants of Guān Mò, but neither was a martial expert — a bit above average, maybe, but no more.

As the fist hurtled toward Wáng Jìntíng’s face, he braced himself —

And then someone called out: “Hey! What’s going on!”

Wáng Jìntíng opened his eyes. In the distance, several men were emerging from the grove, still fastening their trousers.

In that same instant, Xiāo Wéi’ān dropped to his knees with a thud, yanked every banknote from his own coat, and shoved them all into Wáng Jìntíng’s hands.

Then he started knocking his head against the ground, wailing: “Don’t kill me, don’t kill me! You’ve already taken all my money — please don’t kill me to silence a witness!”

Wáng Jìntíng stood there completely stunned. He wanted to explain — truly, he wanted to — because the men emerging from the grove were wearing the embroidered uniforms of the Judicial Bureau.

“What kind of nerve does it take,” the man in front was muttering, still adjusting his belt, “to pull this kind of thing in broad daylight in Cháng’ān?”

It was a squad leader of the Judicial Bureau, and he did not look pleased.

“Barely got my trousers down out there — didn’t even manage to squeeze anything out — and you lot go and startle me.”

“My lord!” Wáng Jìntíng cried. “This is all a misunderstanding! This man is framing us — we never laid a hand on him, we never meant to kill him!”

Xiāo Wéi’ān, kneeling behind Wáng Jìntíng, was blocked from the officers’ view. He looked up at Wáng Jìntíng, grinned — and then drove his own fist straight into his nose.

Blood fountained out.

“Help, my lords, help!” He scrambled toward the Judicial Bureau men on his hands and knees. “They kidnapped me, robbed me of all my silver, and now they want to kill me to cover it up! My lords, please, I beg you!”

The squad leader stared at Xiāo Wéi’ān’s blood-soaked face, and for a moment forgot himself enough to lower his voice: “My lord — you’re playing this for real, aren’t you?”

Fortunately he’d spoken softly. Wáng Jìntíng and Gù Cóngcháo hadn’t heard.

“Seize them!”

The squad leader pointed. His officers moved in and locked Gù Cóngcháo and Wáng Jìntíng in chains without a word.

As they were taken away, the squad leader glanced around, then pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to Xiāo Wéi’ān. “My lord — wipe your face. Still gushing.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān took it, wiped his nose, and shot the man a glare. “My lord? What ‘my lord’? I’m a teahouse manager right now. Don’t forget that.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the squad leader said hastily. “The lord is a manager. A manager with a nose still pouring blood.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān glared at him again and held out his wrists. “Lock me up too. I’m also a suspect right now. Don’t let anyone notice.”

—

That evening. Zuìlínglóng.

Guān Mò sat in his private tea room, staring at the empty seat across from him, feeling a genuine pang of loss.

Such a fine girl, given away like that to that wooden block Lù Chónglóu. What a waste.

He lifted his teacup and took a sip. Then something occurred to him, and he called toward the door: “Where have Gù Cóngcháo and Wáng Jìntíng gotten to? I haven’t seen them all day.”

His man said they hadn’t been spotted either.

Just then, the handmaid Yuè’ér came rushing in, ran all the way up to the third floor, and burst through the door panting.

“My lord, something may have gone wrong. The young lady is asking for you.”

Guān Mò’s brow creased. “Why come here? Haven’t I made it clear she’s not to come to this place?”

“Something has truly happened,” Yuè’ér said between breaths. “The young lady dared not make decisions on her own and sent me to find you quietly.”

“What happened?”

“Sir Gù and Sir Wáng have both gone missing. And the old manager of the teahouse they bought is missing too.”

Guān Mò made a dismissive sound. “Missing is missing. What’s so serious about that? I’ll have someone look into it. Go on back.”

“There’s more,” Yuè’ér said. “Lù Chónglóu came to the teahouse today. He and the young lady talked for over an hour. She has certain matters she can’t decide alone, and with Sir Gù and Sir Wáng gone, she sent me to ask for your guidance.”

Guān Mò was quiet for a moment, then stood. “Go ahead. I’ll change and follow.”

He dressed in plain commoner’s clothes, no brocade, and slipped out through Zuìlínglóng’s back door, stepping into a carriage heading toward the West Market.

He asked Yuè’ér what Lù Chónglóu and Zhāo Shīshī had discussed. She said they’d fallen into deep conversation about the classics of tea, talked over an hour, and that Lù Chónglóu had even made plans to return the next day.

The young lady couldn’t settle on what to do, and with nowhere to go, had asked for his instructions.

Guān Mò felt quietly pleased. So Lù Chónglóu’s weakness isn’t beauty alone — it’s the art of tea combined with beauty. Choosing Zhāo Shīshī was the right call.

The carriage reached the teahouse by the back entrance. Yuè’ér led him through the rear door and directly up to the second floor.

Inside, Guān Mò sent everyone else to wait in the hall and shut the door behind him.

“What exactly happened?”

Guān Mò sat down and asked.

Zhāo Shīshī seemed rattled, her words coming haltingly. She described Lù Chónglóu’s visit, and explained that Xiāo Wéi’ān had angered Gù Cóngcháo and Wáng Jìntíng, who had taken him away, and none of the three had returned.

Guān Mò said: “Those three can wait. I’ll have people find them.”

Then he lowered his voice and laid out his instructions to Zhāo Shīshī in exhaustive detail — how she should handle tomorrow’s visit, what to say, when and how to use her looks if necessary, what to do step by step afterward. He covered every angle, leaving nothing to chance.

Whenever she had a question, she asked, and he explained again more thoroughly.

When he was finished, Guān Mò rose to leave. He looked at Zhāo Shīshī: “If you succeed in bringing Lù Chónglóu down, I will give you your freedom. I’ll give you a large sum besides, enough for you and your family to settle somewhere quietly and live in comfort for the rest of your lives.”

Zhāo Shīshī nodded.

Then she asked quietly: “Have the lords heard everything clearly?”

A voice came from the rafters.

“Every word. Frankly — astonishing.”

A shadow dropped from the ceiling. The figure that landed was wearing the uniform of a Judicial Bureau Chief Officer.

Guān Mò lurched with shock and spun for the door. He yanked it open — and came face to face with a man in black brocade standing just outside.

He looked scholarly, gentle, the picture of a learned and mild-mannered reader. And yet the moment Guān Mò saw him, ice flooded down his spine, straight to the back of his skull.

“Zhāng… Zhāng Dàren?”

Zhāng Tāng smiled.

That smile nearly stopped Guān Mò’s heart. He stumbled backward several steps.

“Strictly speaking, I should have left Cháng’ān today to catch up with the Chancellor on his provincial tour.”

Zhāng Tāng spoke without the slightest hurry. “But just as I was about to leave, a case came in. Kidnapping, and suspected murder to silence a witness. If it were a minor case I wouldn’t have come myself — but the silver involved runs into several thousand taels, and the suspects both hold official titles.”

He smiled. “Coming here — doesn’t that make sense?”

—