When Dachu was first established, this city was designated as the capital, and the founding Emperor Taizu renamed it Ziyu City—meaning “purple qi comes from the east to command the realm”—to proclaim the imperial family’s nobility and legitimacy.

Later, the capital was renamed Daxing. Perhaps the descendants of Emperor Taizu had already sensed that the Dachu dynasty was like a sun sinking in the west, and so they changed the capital’s name, hoping that an auspicious name might herald a renewed flourishing of Dachu.

But no matter how auspicious a name, when the people behind it are not up to the task, the name becomes only a mockery.

Near the imperial city of Daxing stood a place called the Heroes’ Tower. The tower was as old as Dachu itself, having been renovated and rebuilt many times over the centuries, and having changed hands just as many times—it bore no resemblance to the original structure. Yet people had grown accustomed to its existence; if the Heroes’ Tower were to vanish one day, everyone would feel the loss, and feel it keenly.

Centuries ago, after the Dachu Emperor Taizu had fought his way through campaign after campaign to unify the realm, his personal guards were all granted titles and rewards. Among them, a guard named Wu Yuan told the Emperor: “I do not wish to be a general, nor do I wish to receive a noble title. I want to open a tavern in the capital, and I already have a name for it—the Heroes’ Tower.”

He explained that if ever the generals who had been enfeoffed across the realm came back to the capital, there would be a place to drink. For every man who had once fought, this would be like his own home—drinking their own wine, eating their own food, at ease in their hearts and warm within.

Emperor Taizu was deeply moved. He granted the request and bestowed ten thousand taels of silver. The Heroes’ Tower was personally overseen in its construction by the Minister of Works, and on the day it was completed, Taizu himself came to offer his congratulations.

Yet Wu Yuan never lived to see his old comrades—those generals enfeoffed across the realm—return. Though the Heroes’ Tower flourished in business thanks to Taizu’s blessing, Wu Yuan never smiled because business was good. On his deathbed he said: *Beyond life and death, there are no comrades; in the Heroes’ Tower, there are no heroes.*

Over a hundred years later, a relative of an empress forcibly seized the Heroes’ Tower and drove Wu Yuan’s descendants from the capital. The tower’s spirit was already wrong by then. A decade or so later, mismanaged into debt, the Heroes’ Tower was gambled away to a palace eunuch, and became for a time the subject of ridicule.

Several decades after that, the tower was seized again by another powerful strongman who considered renaming it, but when the new sign went up, the common people gathered outside and protested for days on end until the strongman had no choice but to restore the original name. People said afterward that those who had gathered outside the Heroes’ Tower were all descendants of the founding soldiers.

Of course this was only legend; whether it was so, no one could say anymore.

Many years after that, the Heroes’ Tower as it stood today was one of the properties belonging to the Yuwen family—which rather bore out Wu Yuan’s dying words. In the Heroes’ Tower there were no heroes; the walls were covered instead with verses written by men of letters commemorating those peerless heroes of old, and the people who now preened themselves on those verses had not the slightest connection to any hero’s line.

In one of the private rooms of the Heroes’ Tower, Crown Prince Yang Jing poured a cup of wine himself for Yao Wuhen—poured it full, so full it nearly spilled over the rim.

Yao Wuhen did not rise. He sat at his ease and watched the Crown Prince pour, his expression entirely unmoved—not even a flicker of satisfaction. He only watched in calm, because he knew that the Crown Prince himself was pouring this cup for him, and that was perfectly fitting. He was worthy of it.

“Everything has been arranged for your entry into the palace. Once you are inside, there will be someone to receive you.”

The Crown Prince raised the cup and said: “Yao Wuhen, I entrust all my hopes to you—and with them all of Dachu’s hopes. The realm under heaven, the multitude of common people—all of this I place in your hands. And so I should address you as *sir*, and ask you to accept this cup from me.”

Yao Wuhen still did not rise. He picked up the cup and drained it.

The Crown Prince’s close attendants bristled at Yao Wuhen’s manner, but Yang Jing himself showed no concern.

After sitting down, Yang Jing said: “The names and the map—you’ve committed them to memory?”

Yao Wuhen nodded.

The Crown Prince was silent for a moment, then continued: “I have already sent someone to Jizhou to pass a false message to Prince Yu—once he believes I am badly wounded he will raise his army. I have also bribed several men in the Surveillance Bureau to tell Liu Chongxin that Prince Yu is on the verge of rebellion. Liu Chongxin believed it without question and has already informed my father.”

He glanced at Yao Wuhen and went on: “Prince Wu was on his way back and had nearly reached Jingzhou territory—he would have been perfectly placed to command the outer defenses there. But I bribed a minor eunuch in the Surveillance Bureau to tell Liu Chongxin that Prince Yu’s forces were insufficient to pose a real threat, that defeating him would be no great difficulty, and that their own men should be given command of the campaign to earn the glory—and to boast of it before my father. Several days ago I received word that Liu Chongxin has already petitioned for an imperial decree, selecting one of his adopted sons, Grand General Tong Meng, as commander-in-chief to lead the army north, with Liu Chongxin personally serving as military overseer.”

“And so…”

Yang Jing rose and gave Yao Wuhen a full bow with cupped fists: “The time has come.”

Yao Wuhen still did not rise. He sat where he was and received the Crown Prince’s bow without ceremony.

The army was to muster at Juma City in Jingzhou—the site of the Jingzhou Grand Camp. Reliable intelligence indicated that once Tong Meng and Liu Chongxin had received the imperial decree, they had already set out for Juma City, with the Surveillance Bureau’s best operatives accompanying them as Liu Chongxin’s personal guard. This was an opportunity that came once in a thousand years.

Yang Jing said: “Sir goes to his death for Dachu’s sake. This world may not be beautiful, but it is still worth lingering in. The sacrifice you make, the grief you carry—I will hold it in my heart.”

Yao Wuhen said flatly: “I have no sacrifice to speak of, and no grief. This is what I do. In the beginning, life and death weighed on my mind constantly; with time it became a matter of indifference. I have no sacrifice and no grief. It is Your Highness who grieves—you are the one who can bring yourself to commit patricide. You are the one who is pitiable.”

“Insolent!”

One of Yang Jing’s trusted guards snarled, hand already on the hilt of his blade.

Yao Wuhen smiled with contempt. “You think I’ve offended your master, that your master has been insulted—so why don’t you go and kill someone? Your master calls a eunuch his godfather. When your master suffers that kind of humiliation, how is it that you dogs don’t bark?”

The guard went pale, the hand gripping his blade trembling faintly.

Yao Wuhen said: “That’s enough. Stop performing. If you dared to act—if you had that ability—would your master be sitting here calling me *sir*? I am no sir of any kind. I am just a killer whom everyone despises. The two oldest professions in this world are both lowly ones: one is prostitution and the other is assassination. I don’t have the grand sense of purpose Your Highness has given me, and I don’t deserve the lofty status he’s conferred on me. I am simply a man who kills. If you insist I have some aspiration, it is only to make a name for myself—the name of the world’s foremost assassin.”

Yao Wuhen looked at Yang Jing: “And what about the things I asked for?”

Yang Jing glanced back at the guard, who was caught between embarrassment and anger and needed a way out. He quickly released the hilt of his blade and turned to carry over the wooden chest beside him, opening it and stepping to one side—at last able to stand in the back with a clear conscience.

Yang Jing lifted from the chest a long blade and presented it to Yao Wuhen: “This blade is called Piye. Sir should know that this is a blade among blades—one of the most renowned.”

Yao Wuhen took the long blade. The moment he drew it from the scabbard, the sound rang out like a dragon’s cry.

Yang Jing then placed on the table a suit of fine, intricately woven chain armor: “Wear this beneath your outer garment—it will turn blades and swords. This is my own personal armor, and I give it to you today.”

He then produced a crossbow repeater, considerably smaller and more compact than the standard military issue, with bolts that were correspondingly smaller—like a row of nails, thirty in all. Small they were, but their power was no weaker than the standard issue, and they were far easier to conceal.

He said to Yao Wuhen: “The magazine holds thirty bolts. The last bolt pressed to the bottom is a signal arrow. Remember this carefully—do not lose count. When you reach your escape route, fire that last signal arrow into the sky, and my men will move to meet you.”

Yao Wuhen took the crossbow and clipped it to his belt.

Finally Yang Jing took out a set of clothes and laid them on the table: “These are the garments of an imperial attendant. You must wear them when you enter the palace.”

“Good.”

Yao Wuhen smiled slightly. “Your Highness has given me everything I asked for. What Your Highness wants, I will do everything in my power to obtain for you. If I succeed, then as Your Highness says, it is Your Highness’s fortune—and Dachu’s fortune. I know that if Your Highness becomes Emperor, he will be a wise ruler. Dachu has not had a conscientious and capable emperor for many years. But… if I do not succeed, it is because Your Highness’s fortune was not sufficient, and Dachu’s time has run out. Your Highness should then plan for the longer term—forget about saving the country or not saving it, find somewhere to hide, stay alive. Save yourself first.”

Crown Prince Yang Jing smiled bitterly. “Yao Wuhen, you should know—I see myself as the last hope of the imperial family. If I do not succeed, the imperial family will fall and Dachu will perish. What meaning would there be in preserving my own life? My desire to kill my father holds no grief—it is my desire to save Dachu that does.”

That the Crown Prince could say those two words—*kill my father*—so calmly was unexpected. Yao Wuhen was silent for a moment, then rose and gave a cupped-fist salute: “For that one sentence, I will return the bow.”

He asked: “Where is the person who will take me into the palace?”

“Waiting downstairs.”

Yang Jing said: “He is a man I have turned inside the Surveillance Bureau. All the way there he will tell you everything you need to know about entering the palace. Follow his arrangements and nothing will go wrong. The moment is tonight; he will tell you in advance.”

Yao Wuhen nodded, packed everything back into the chest, picked it up, and started toward the door. Yang Jing stood behind him and said: “I hope sir withdraws with his life intact.”

Yao Wuhen did not look back, made no response.

Withdraw with his life intact?

He had never entertained the thought himself.

At the doorway, Yao Wuhen suddenly stopped. He turned back and looked at Yang Jing. “That young woman who kept me company these past months—what is her name?”

Yang Jing paused, thought for a moment, and then replied: “A woman—why should it matter?”

Yao Wuhen said: “Your Highness, have someone watch over her. If she is with child, protect her. I need to leave something of myself behind.”

Yang Jing said: “Rest easy. If she is with child, I will ensure that she and the child are kept safe. But—after months together, still nothing?”

Yao Wuhen gave a self-deprecating smile and said: “Perhaps she is the problem. Perhaps I am.”

With that he stepped through the door.

Downstairs, a carriage was waiting. Standing beside it was a young eunuch who looked both anxious and afraid. When he saw Yao Wuhen approach, he asked quietly: “Mister Yao?”

Yao Wuhen nodded.

The young eunuch opened the carriage door and said urgently: “Get in quickly—don’t be seen. I’ve staked my entire life on you, Mister Yao.”

Yao Wuhen smiled. “What is your name?”

The young eunuch answered: “I am called Jing Tingming.”

Yao Wuhen said: “Tingming—*heeding fate*. You have a good fate ahead of you.”

—