When the scholarly middle-aged man heard the words “calamity of bloodshed,” he stopped and turned to look at Changmei with a smile: “Are you going to speak for a whole day then? I don’t have that much time.”

Changmei stood and walked up to the man, speaking seriously: “Your brow carries noble bearing, but also an air of shadow — as though you’ve encountered some troubling matter, or if not that, something that weighs on your mind.”

He said apologetically, “The truth is, just now I deliberately said that remark about sweet tofu pudding — it’s a habit from my days as a street fortune-teller, an old trick, and I couldn’t stop myself in time.”

The man said curiously, “How did you know that saying something about sweet tofu pudding would catch my attention?”

Changmei explained, “When I came in I could see you were already sitting there in a daze. You were looking at the bowl in front of you, but your eyes were wandering — clearly your mind was elsewhere. I noticed you while you didn’t notice me.”

“Then I saw you were eating sweet tofu pudding. Generally speaking, when someone is in that state, if I deliberately say something connected to them, it’s bound to catch their attention. After that it’s easy — I just say something about dark clouds gathering over your brow, and you’ll be drawn right in.”

The man reflected on this and said, “It seems no trade is simple. Your methods of observation and drawing people’s attention are quite remarkable.”

Changmei said, “Remarkable? It’s nothing more than a street-trickster’s trade. Still… this gentleman, you ought to take greater care when you go out.”

The man asked, “Have you truly seen something?”

Changmei said, “Whether I’ve seen something or not is not the important part. What matters is that if I don’t offer a word of warning, I’d feel I’d done something dishonest.”

The man asked, “Because you received my reading fee?”

Changmei shook his head. “I’d warn you even without payment.”

The man asked again, “Then how do you earn a living?”

Changmei said, “Which is why I’m nearly unable to make ends meet.”

The man laughed heartily. Then he seemed to think of something, and gestured toward the street outside: “I happen to have some business to attend to just now. Daoist, if you have some time, would you walk with me? I’ve enjoyed our conversation and haven’t yet had my fill.”

Changmei said, “I still need to look at a property.”

The man grew even more curious about this Daoist. He asked, “If you can barely make ends meet, where would you get the silver to buy a property? Properties in Jizhou City are worth their weight in gold these days — an ordinary residence would cost several hundred taels. You…”

Changmei said, “The silver is saved up. It’s the property that’s hard to find.”

The man said, “Which direction are you heading?”

Changmei pointed ahead: “That way.”

“That happens to be my way too. We can talk as we walk.”

The man made an inviting gesture. Changmei had no polite way to refuse, so the two walked side by side, talking the whole way, finding more and more to agree upon, with many views converging quite without premeditation.

“To have such insight while wandering the martial world — that is no small achievement, Daoist.”

The man said, “What you said just now, even some officials couldn’t see through it so clearly, let alone put it into words.”

Changmei quickly said, “We really mustn’t say such things carelessly.”

The man asked, “Are you afraid of officials?”

Changmei answered, “What subject of this realm isn’t afraid of officials?”

The man sighed: “But that’s wrong. If the common people were not afraid of officials but only respected and submitted to them, that would be a world at peace, a realm of true prosperity… As it stands, the people merely fear without respect — and beyond the fear, there is resentment kept hidden.”

He exhaled a long breath: “It is ill.”

Changmei said, “You speak too directly, Teacher — I cannot continue this conversation.”

The man said, “You need not be afraid to discuss these things with me — I’m not going to report you to the authorities… Daoist, since you wish to buy a residence in Jizhou, does that mean you can see that Jizhou will remain stable for some time?”

Changmei shook his head. “I can barely read a person’s face accurately — what qualification do I have to read the face of all under heaven?”

The man sighed, “You may have no qualification to read the face of all under heaven, yet in your words there is a heart that holds all under heaven. And in this realm, there are those who could indeed read the face of all under heaven, who could even grasp the very pulse of the realm — yet they idle away their positions, drift through their days, knowing only how to line their own pockets without a care for the welfare of the people!”

Changmei was startled. He thought: I absolutely cannot keep talking to this madman — if this continues, we’ll be edging into territory punishable by beheading. Why can’t people just have a normal conversation? Why say such reckless, taboo things?

This was no ordinary madman. Ordinary madmen didn’t dare say things like this.

“Did I frighten you?”

The middle-aged man noticed Changmei’s expression had changed and immediately asked.

Changmei gave an embarrassed smile and said, “I’m just a common person of little means. Please don’t say these things to me, Teacher — I can’t follow you there, and I don’t dare.”

The man sighed, “It is ill.”

This was the second time he had said those two words, and Changmei half wondered if he was talking about him.

Changmei clasped his hands in farewell: “The property I’m looking at is just nearby. If you have pressing matters, please go ahead — let us part ways here.”

The man made a sound of acknowledgment, seeming slightly disappointed in Changmei — but then thought again: these things he had said, what common person in all the realm would dare respond to them?

So he gave a slight nod and said, “Go on, then. Farewell.”

Changmei turned and walked into the alleyway. The day before he had learned of a family here who wanted to sell their residence and move away — apparently they had a son who would be going to the capital for the imperial examinations, and they had property there as well, so they simply planned to relocate and never return.

In this era of the Great Chu, the villages and townships were suffering grievously under the ravages of roving bandits. Those with money and influence fled to county towns; those in county towns fled to prefectural capitals; those in prefectural capitals fled to the imperial capital.

As he walked, Changmei was thinking that a family selling their home under these circumstances would probably be willing to accept a sharp reduction in price — after all, they weren’t coming back, and with the examination date drawing near they wouldn’t have much time to spare before they had to set out.

Perhaps the owners had already moved to the capital Daxing, and the one left behind to handle the sale was merely the household steward. It shouldn’t be too difficult to negotiate.

Just as he was thinking this, several brawny men suddenly appeared before him, blocking the path. Changmei had been lost in thought and hadn’t noticed until it was too late. He instinctively thought to back away — but behind him too, more brawny men had emerged to seal off the alley entrance.

“Good fellows…”

Changmei thought: surely he hadn’t inadvertently shown off his wealth? Logically it shouldn’t be so — Yan Qingzhi had sent him five hundred taels in bank notes, but he hadn’t told a single person about this, and indeed there was no one he could have told. So he shouldn’t have revealed anything.

Reassured that he hadn’t shown his wealth, he continued, “I am nothing but a poor and pedantic Daoist. Good fellows, if you’re looking to make a fortune, you’ve truly stopped the wrong man.”

“No, the right man.”

One of them stepped forward, looked Changmei up and down, and asked, “You’re Changmei the Daoist, aren’t you?”

Changmei immediately shook his head. “I’m not. Who is Changmei the Daoist?”

The man let out a cold laugh. “Still playing dumb?”

Changmei swore toward the sky, “If I’m deceiving you, may you all come to no good end.”

The man stepped forward and drove a kick into Changmei’s abdomen: “Stop pretending!”

Changmei’s martial skill wasn’t particularly strong, but after all those years wandering the martial world he was no innocent bystander. As the kick came in, Changmei grabbed the man’s ankle with both hands and lifted — the man went tumbling backward and crashed down.

Changmei immediately turned to try to grip the courtyard wall and escape, but those men weren’t about to give him that opportunity. One of those behind him came forward and kicked him off the wall.

Changmei winced in pain. As he hit the ground he grabbed a handful of earth and flung it outward — the men nearby caught it in their faces and eyes, and staggered back.

Changmei reached for more earth. A man coming from behind stomped on his hand with tremendous force — the bones ground under the pressure, the skin and flesh of his palm torn away in several patches.

“Still resisting!”

Another man came forward and drove a kick into the back of Changmei’s head. Changmei was no young man anymore — the kick sent a thunderous ringing through his skull, a wave of dizziness, and he pitched forward onto the ground.

“Get the sack — stuff him in and take him back.”

Changmei heard someone shout this, and then his vision went black, as though night had suddenly fallen. Then several more blows rained down on his head, beating him until his mind was barely coherent.

He was vaguely aware of being lifted by hands. He tried to struggle, but his body had no strength left; trussed inside the sack, there was nothing to push against.

“What are you doing!”

Just then, a fierce shout came from the alley entrance. But Changmei’s consciousness was already fading — those last several blows to his head had left only a roaring sound in his ears and a sensation of the earth spinning and sky collapsing.

Then came a burst of shouting and cursing — it sounded as though those men were telling the shouter to get out of the way, and shortly after that what seemed to be a fight broke out, with muffled grunts and cries of pain continuing steadily.

Not long after, Changmei finally recovered some sensation. The light returned to his eyes in a flash as the sack was opened — at that moment, the return of light felt to Changmei like emerging from hell back into the world of the living.

The middle-aged man had opened the sack, and when he saw that Changmei’s head had been beaten completely swollen, he could not suppress his fury: “To commit such violence in broad daylight — these men have truly cast the law aside!”

Several men standing around him, radiating a fierce and powerful bearing, with one of them stooping down to say, “Your Highness, how should these people be handled?”

The middle-aged man said, “Sending them to the magistrate will only see them released again to prey on others. Break all four of their limbs.”

“Yes!”

The men acknowledged the order and set to work, their methods both brutal and utterly practiced. They seized an arm and snapped it directly; a stomp shattered a leg bone. In short order, every one of the men who had blocked the path was left crippled.

“Are you all right?”

The middle-aged man asked.

Changmei opened his eyes and looked around, his vision swimming. He opened his mouth but didn’t know what he said, and then he lost consciousness again.

He wouldn’t have been knocked down so easily in his younger years — but he was getting on in age.

When Changmei next came to, he found himself inside a physician’s clinic. A doctor was applying medicine to his face, and seeing him awake said quietly, “Don’t move — let me treat your wounds.”

Changmei asked, “How did I end up here?”

The doctor replied, “People from Prince Yu’s estate brought you here. They said to look after you carefully. Who did you provoke? Since you have Prince’s estate people protecting you, who would still dare beat you up like this?”

Changmei thought carefully back over events and suddenly understood.

It turned out that middle-aged man was Prince Yu. No wonder he had such noble bearing about him. It was only embarrassing — he had warned the man about a calamity of bloodshed, and yet it was himself who had ended up with a beating. He tilted his head and noticed a bronze mirror nearby. He stretched his neck to look at his own reflection, then immediately pulled it back with a flinch.

Who was that pig-headed creature?

He thought to himself — no wonder the man’s face had seemed faintly and vaguely familiar. It was because it bore a slight resemblance to Xiahou Zuo.

“Where are the people from the Prince’s estate?”

He asked.

The doctor replied, “They’ve been gone quite a while.”

Changmei thought for a moment and asked, “Before they left, did they leave any instructions?”

The doctor shook his head. “Just said to look after you carefully. Nothing else.”

Changmei refused to give up and asked once more, “Did they settle the medical bill before they left?”

The doctor’s hand trembled.

He stared at Changmei as if at some strange creature, utterly at a loss for words.

—