Liu Mao had a chaotic nightmare. In his dream, his nephew Ma San lay in a pool of blood while the murderer, Lion Luo Chengye, first showed panic in his eyes, then shouted loudly about violent mobs resisting the law, calling his subordinate constables to drag the barely breathing Ma San up from the ground.
The dozen or so companions at his side could only stand by helplessly. When officials were making arrests and enforcing the law, no matter how fierce they were, they couldn’t openly resist, or it would be treason. Half an hour later, Ma San died on the road to the county yamen.
At Ma San’s funeral, Liu Mao cut his palm and swore in blood to avenge his nephew, reaching an agreement with the elders to take over the entire operation in Xiagui County.
That mad dog Luo Chengye was clearly a martial world figure who used martial world methods, but he possessed the official status of a captain, allowing him to operate in both legal and illegal circles, doing whatever he pleased. Liu Mao had put considerable thought into how to take revenge. He had his men lure Luo Chengye to brothels and gambling houses for entertainment, observing his habits, finally deciding to use gambling to drag him down.
Within a year, Luo Chengye owed enormous debts. He could default on money owed to the underworld, but wealthy households with status weren’t so easy to deal with. People who had been coerced and enticed into lending him huge sums repeatedly reported Luo Chengye to the county yamen, giving his superiors endless headaches. Seeing Luo Chengye’s legitimate status becoming precarious, once he lost his captain’s title, he would immediately be no different from any common bandit. It would take just one last straw, and revenge would be within reach.
Who could have expected the sudden pearl theft and murder case in Xiagui County? Luo Chengye, on death’s door, went to report to the King of Hell ahead of schedule, but Liu Mao himself had fallen into an even deeper quagmire. In the dragnet operation to catch the murderer, all his subordinates’ illicit businesses were penetrated and destroyed. If it were only financial losses, gritting his teeth and enduring this storm would allow him to rise again.
But days later, his biological son Liu Ping was arrested and was now enduring torture in prison. In his nightmare, all the bloody, mangled images transformed into his son.
Could that helpless last resort allow Liu Ping to walk out of the county yamen alive?…
Old people sleep lightly. Liu Mao turned over and woke up, covering his chest and coughing dryly a few times. He called for the maidservant warming his feet to bring water, but no one answered.
“Worthless slave! Are you all dead asleep?!”
He called out twice more, loud enough that even the courtyard should have heard, but still no one responded. Liu Mao became angry, got up and viciously kicked the maidservant sleeping on the footstool. She rolled to the ground like someone who had fainted. Liu Mao’s anger gradually turned to alarm. He jumped up, drew the ring-pommel sword from beside his bed, and strode barefoot to the door, only to see the night watch companions lying scattered throughout the courtyard, their fate unknown.
Among these stiff bodies on the ground, a lean figure in blue robes stood upright and distinct in the courtyard, silently staring at him. In the profound silence, cold white moonlight poured down. This person had his back to the moon, his face half-bright and half-dark, unclear to see, with only glimpses of sharp eyes and brows visible—surprisingly young, like a youth who had just reached full height.
The visitor was barehanded, carrying no weapons, yet Liu Mao’s alarm instantly turned to ice-cold fear. He felt his hand gripping the sword hilt trembling, his internal organs contracting tightly from panic.
“Who are you?!”
“Sun family shop, blue-robed servant.” The blue-robed figure spoke the contents of the flying knife message word by word.
What Liu Mao feared most had happened. He instinctively lied: “It wasn’t me… we didn’t report you!”
The blue-robed figure laughed contemptuously: “Whether you admit it or not doesn’t matter. I’m not an official—I don’t need your confession and signature. You broke underworld rules by pointing me out, so you should have expected me to come calling.”
Liu Mao felt cold sweat had already soaked through his undergarments. He thought of Liu Ping in prison, of his ambitious aspirations in old age, of his pride in designing Luo Chengye’s downfall… but it all seemed to be ending tonight.
The old man’s mouth went dry, his voice hoarse as he explained: “The yamen arrested my son and tortured him for confession… I didn’t mean to… I was forced… just wanted to buy some time…”
The blue-robed figure’s voice was cold as ice striking jade: “Everyone has difficulties. You also know the yamen’s hands are the blackest and most ruthless. Think about what fate awaits those I care about if they’re implicated.”
Liu Mao’s mind flashed with the image of that noble young woman from the Sun family shop. The breath of death crept up his limbs like vines, making him unable to move. One wrong step, every step wrong—perhaps when he made his report, he shouldn’t have been vague but should have directly named the Blue Shirt Guest. Perhaps that might have left a thread of hope.
“Someone spoke a good word for you, so I won’t take your head. Kill yourself to keep your corpse intact.”
The blue-robed figure offered the only mercy, like a final command from an underworld messenger. Liu Mao knew he could hardly escape death tonight. If he struggled with his sword, he would only end up decapitated. He stiffly raised the ring-pommel sword to his own throat.
A hissing sound of spurting blood foam like a gentle breeze passed by. Moments later, the Liu residence courtyard returned to its original silence.
When Yang Xingjian woke at dawn, he found several more hairs on his pillow. In recent days, even sleeping with his hair bound in a headscarf rather than loose couldn’t control the hair loss trend. The toil and exhaustion of this past month, the mind-wracking struggles, had left this middle-aged scholar in his forties feeling utterly drained.
Yang Xingjian never imagined that after finally escaping that blue-robed villain and rescuing the princess, they would be implicated by him again and confined in the Xiagui county magistrate’s home, facing non-violent interrogations from time to time, even having bloody things like severed heads brought out to intimidate the princess. Yang Xingjian had tried several times to write to Prince Shao for help, but was stopped by Bao Lang each time. Youzhou was a barbarous frontier—distant water couldn’t quench immediate thirst.
The blue-robed man had escaped. Yang Xingjian speculated that Bao Lang’s first purpose in keeping them here was to share the blame for losing Cui Keyu’s treasure, and the second was the princess herself.
The princess was currently quite interested in solving the case, naively believing that as long as they solved the pearl theft and murder case, they could smoothly escape their confinement. Yang Xingjian could only smile bitterly. The princess, living in the deep palace and ignorant of worldly affairs, couldn’t detect that Bao Lang’s gaze toward her had become quite explicit.
Human hearts were treacherous. A beautiful young woman stripped of imperial protection was like a child openly carrying treasure through the marketplace. Having just escaped the threat of an evil servant, now came an aggressive military commissioner. He was just a minor official in green robes, without purple or crimson rank insignia, unable to contact his master—how could he protect the princess and escape this predicament?
If dealing with the likes of Wu Zhiyuan, his silver tongue could always muddy the waters. But against someone like Bao Lang, a military man with harsh methods, Yang Xingjian felt quite powerless.
The Noble Consort had passed away, and the most important person to Prince Shao was this little sister. Bringing her back safe and sound would be a remarkable achievement. But if she survived mortal danger only to face new troubles, he would never be able to return to Prince Shao’s residence.
The more he thought, the more despairing he became. Yang Xingjian brushed the fallen hair from his shoulders, sighing while adjusting his headscarf. After checking in the mirror that his appearance was proper, he walked out of the bedroom with heavy steps, only to see two male servants sent by Wu Zhiyuan lying unconscious on the ground, sitting or sprawled.
Yang Xingjian was shocked. Gathering his courage, he felt them—their skin was still warm. He immediately lifted his robes and rushed upstairs, seeing the two maidservants serving the princess also lying in the corridor. Yang Xingjian’s heart pounded like a startled horse—he didn’t know if the princess had already met with disaster.
“Princess… Fangxie! Fangxie! Fangxie!”
Author’s Note: Here are some reference materials: “Social Life History of Sui and Tang Five Dynasties,” “Living in the Great Tang,” “Tang Dynasty Institutions and Regulations,” “Alternative Tang Dynasty: Analyzing History Through Food,” “New Explorations of Tang Law,” “Chinese Costume: Tang Dynasty Women,” “Chinese Ancient Material Culture Series,” “Seeing All Chang’an Flowers in One Day,” “Tang Dynasty Society and Gender Culture,” “The Golden Peaches of Samarkand,” “Daily Life of Tang People,” “Princess Taiping and Her Era,” “Women of the Five Dynasties Under Social Change,” “Tang Fiction and Folk Custom Research,” “Youyang Zazu,” “Noble and Lowly—Fate Atlas of Tang Princesses,” “Tang Night Banquet—Dietary Life of Tang People,” “Tang Society Overview,” “Tang Dynasty Slave System,” “Research on Urban Lower Classes in Tang, Five Dynasties and Early Song,” “Nine-Colored Deer—Life Journey of Tang Dynasty Female Taoists,” “Song Dynasty Price Research.”
Including but not limited to these—the books are scattered and some are temporarily misplaced.