Fish, one picks the freshest to eat; horses, one selects the finest to ride; persimmons, one squeezes the softest to pick on.
They had clearly called all three of them over — so why was she the one being pushed forward?
Xiao Nanhui felt the dissatisfaction welling up inside her. She took half a grudging step, then her feet planted themselves firmly into the ground, refusing to go any further no matter what anyone said.
By all reason, a half-buried-in-the-ground old woman ought not to have had much in the way of intimidating power — yet for reasons she couldn’t quite name, the moment Xiao Nanhui looked at that withered face, a strange chill crept over her.
People truly do fear the unknown far more than they imagine.
Thinking of everything she had just experienced, as well as the unsettling conjecture lurking in the deepest corner of her heart, she swallowed and was just about to find some excuse to avoid this situation — when the man behind her suddenly stepped forward and blocked her.
“I’ll go first.”
The moment he moved, Ding Weixiang could no longer sit still either, and stepped two paces forward, placing himself between the man and his master.
“No — I’ll go first.”
Shen Yangyang knitted her brows, looking at the three strangely behaving people before her, the contempt in her voice making no effort at concealment.
“My grandmother practices the Heavenly Eye. She’ll only take a look at you — is all this really necessary?”
Of course it was necessary.
You say “just a look,” but is it ever really just a look?
Besides, there were plenty of people for whom “just two glances” had led to disaster. That attendant-cavalier official from the eastern district of Quecheng — he had done nothing more than ride past on horseback and spare two extra glances at the young woman called Qingqing up in the Wangchen Tower, and ever since the beginning of summer he hadn’t managed to make it back through his own front door, and just last month he was still making do at a relative’s house.
Xiao Nanhui shook her head repeatedly, grabbing hold of Su Wei’s waistband and pulling him backward.
She pulled for a while and found she couldn’t budge him at all. She looked up, and was met with his peculiar gaze.
“Though the hour is late, there’s no need to be in quite such a hurry — after all, there are still so many people here.”
Her face went red, and a flash of anger rose up — the kind that comes from good intentions being mistaken for bad ones. She was just about to scold this person for not knowing what was good for him, when he suddenly spread his five fingers wide and clasped her hand.
He had held her hand before, but never like this.
Xiao Nanhui instantly forgot her current predicament and the terrifying old woman who was just within arm’s reach. The flush that had just receded crept back up to the roots of her ears.
A calamity, this man was a true calamity.
In that one moment of distraction, the old woman’s clouded eyes had already swept past Ding Weixiang and settled upon the young gentleman standing behind him.
“May I ask, young sir — what is that upon your left wrist?”
His left wrist bore a string of Buddhist prayer beads, while his right hand was at this very moment holding hers.
His fingers still lightly stroked her palm, and his expression was one of gentle courtesy, as though he were the most proper and well-mannered of academy scholars.
“A family heirloom, nothing of any particular rarity. The old madam needn’t concern herself.”
The old woman was clearly unsatisfied with this answer.
“Relics of a high monk — to obtain even one or two is an extraordinary thing. How could you speak of it as nothing rare?”
A faint expression of well-measured surprise surfaced on the man’s face.
“The old madam recognizes this object? I have studied Buddhism since childhood, and know only that these prayer beads calm the mind — I hadn’t realized how rare they were supposed to be.”
When some people are determined to play dumb, what can you do about it?
The old woman fell into silence, her shriveled lips pressing tighter together, and it was a long moment before she spoke in a low, heavy voice.
“Since the young sir inclines his heart toward the dharma, does he believe in the existence of spirits and gods?”
“Having never witnessed them with my own eyes, I genuinely cannot speak of belief or disbelief.”
The old woman let out two sounds — it was unclear whether they were quiet laughter or quiet scorn.
“Some things, even if they cannot be seen today, cannot be said not to have existed in the past. You bear the Zhong Li surname, young sir — you ought to understand this.”
The other party clearly knew something. Despite knowing that the Zhong Li clan had long since ceased to exist in this world, she deliberately brought up old matters.
“Zhong Li is my mother’s family name. Regrettably, my mother passed away early, and it seems there were many stories she never told me. If the old madam is an old acquaintance of hers, why not offer some guidance to a junior? I would be most grateful.”
What a joke — if he truly didn’t understand the weight of the name Zhong Li, he would never have voluntarily announced it in Shen Yangyang’s presence earlier.
Standing to one side, Xiao Nanhui watched with equal parts admiration and amusement.
Following his earlier display of shamelessness, Tiancheng’s most noble emperor was now deploying another tactic by the name of “brazen audacity.”
The old woman clearly did not know the man’s true identity, and could only inwardly curse this impenetrable, unassailable scoundrel of a young gentleman.
“At my age, many things are difficult to remember clearly.”
The old woman finally withdrew that unseeing gaze of hers and came to stand before Xiao Nanhui.
Perhaps she had also discerned that among these three, the softest “persimmon” was this one.
But having witnessed that exchange just now, Xiao Nanhui was no longer as tense as she had been when she first arrived here.
She thought back to everything she had experienced that day in Seqiu’s Bie Meng cave.
What were spirits and gods but this? She had already seen what the most terrifying hell in this world looked like. Even if something truly were to happen, she could withstand it.
Yet before she could say a word, the other party’s hand emerged from beneath the cloak.
That hand was dry and vigorous, like an old vine, heading straight for the top of her head.
Wait — the others before her hadn’t been touched at all. Why, when it was her turn, had they switched to a direct ambush on her face? Wasn’t this bullying?
A martial practitioner’s instinct made her unconsciously lean backward, but the old woman’s hand seemed to extend and contract at will, instantly stretching out long, and with precision and force it clamped onto the very crown of her head.
It was a pair of dry and gaunt hands — she could almost feel the protruding knuckles and the hard old nails scraping across her scalp.
A chill crept from her brow up through her entire body. Xiao Nanhui exerted every ounce of strength she had to keep from wrenching free of that hand, letting it “run rampant” atop her head.
After what seemed like the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the hand finally left the top of her head, and a hoarse voice sounded from across from her.
“What a remarkably large head the young lady has.”
Xiao Nanhui was stunned.
All that groping and pawing — had it really been just to find out what size of a head sat atop her neck?
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, growing more and more bewildered by the situation at hand.
“Old madam, what exactly is it that you’re doing?”
The old woman said nothing, but waved her hand to indicate that she should extend one of her own hands, while she herself reached toward the bamboo basket on her back.
Xiao Nanhui noticed there was also a stick inside the basket — a long one, which didn’t look like an axe handle or the hilt of a woodcutter’s blade, but more like a walking cane of some sort, except that one end was covered by a patterned cloth so its full form could not be seen.
The basket was deep, and the old woman rummaged for a long while before slowly withdrawing her hand. She pinched a piece of maltose candy and gently placed it in Xiao Nanhui’s palm. Then she split open her toothless mouth and smiled at her.
“Have some candy.”
Xiao Nanhui momentarily forgot to close her hand.
Never once in all her years of growing up had she ever been given candy by an elder.
Other people had grandfathers and grandmothers — she had only Dujuan and Bolao.
She forgot her earlier dissatisfaction and was a little overwhelmed with gratitude, and just as she was hesitating over whether to eat that piece of candy, the person beside her, without any visible movement, collected the candy and slipped it into his sleeve.
She turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at her at all.
“Just how many of us came here today — have you managed to count us clearly, old madam?”
The old woman bent at the waist, that chill-inducing face of hers slowly tilting downward, half-submerging into shadow.
“When one gets old, one becomes both blind and overly suspicious, and must confirm many things personally before feeling at ease. Please don’t take offense, young sir. The hour is already late today — please follow me to the guest rooms and rest for a while. Tomorrow you may go to meet the family head.”
When the old woman had finished speaking, she signaled to the grey-clad guard holding the torch to lead the way ahead, while Shen Yangyang bowed and quietly withdrew.
Ding Weixiang followed after, and his master was close behind, just about to step forward — when he suddenly noticed that the woman beside him hadn’t moved.
He turned back to look at her, seeming to notice nothing at all amiss.
“What is it?”
Xiao Nanhui looked down at the hand holding hers, then looked up at that clear and innocent face, and very much wanted to sigh: you didn’t used to be like this.
But in the end she chose the path of peaceful moderation.
“My palm is sweaty.”
Yet the moment she spoke, she discovered that her voice could come out so very light and thin.
If Yaoyi heard her, he would suspect she’d been possessed by some female ghost.
Ding Weixiang, walking ahead, had clearly also heard, and his retreating silhouette quickened its pace several steps, deliberately putting some distance between itself and the two of them.
As the others were nearly out of sight, he finally released her hand.
Xiao Nanhui let out a long breath, spreading her five fingers wide and then curling them shut, working to wipe away that trace of coolness he had left on her palm.
“Let’s go quickly.”
Though she said “quickly,” quick was not truly possible.
Not only in the Shen household — in any great and proper manor’s courtyard, one simply could not walk rapidly.
She had rarely wandered into households with so many rules before, but counting Zou Mansion, Prince Kang’s traveling palace, Duke Xuanyuan’s mansion, and the Yulin retreat, she had developed quite an understanding of these winding, circuitous architectural layouts.
Though the sky was dim, she roughly estimated that their host did not intend to take them into the inner courtyard of the Shen household — which meant they had not yet passed the second gate.
The old woman walked very slowly, winding through the rocky cliff face and turning this way and that before finally entering a covered walkway.
At the end of the walkway was a decorated archway gate, and just as they were about to pass through it, a young woman dressed in plain clothes emerged from the inner courtyard accompanied by five or six half-grown children. Upon seeing the old woman, she immediately bowed respectfully.
Each of those children was as delicately carved as jade, dressed in fine clothes — yet at the sight of strangers, they appeared somewhat timid and confused. They bore none of the lively boldness of children from affluent families in the capital, and showed none of the mischievousness and clamor that children of their age ought to have had.
They were too refined, too quiet — like the molded dough figurines made in the Yugong noodle shop’s display window, their very rosy-cheeked blushes seeming carefully painted on.
Xiao Nanhui furrowed her brow slightly.
In the middle of the night like this — where were they being taken?
Five or six children followed the woman, bowing quietly, when a short and plump silhouette came hurrying around the corner from behind — a straggling girl who had fallen behind.
This last child was round and pudgy, her hair tied in a single bun, her chubby hand sneaking morsels of apricot into her mouth. She gave a fright upon suddenly seeing strangers, stumbled over her own feet, and fell flat on her face.
Xiao Nanhui stared blankly at the child, then without being able to help it, went forward and helped her up.
The little one raised her head. The corners of her mouth were stained golden-yellow with apricot juice, and her eyes held an empty, dazed expression.
Before she could look any more closely, the chubby child stuffed whatever was in her hand into Xiao Nanhui’s, twisted her bottom around, and went waddling off into the distance.
Xiao Nanhui looked down to discover a tiny straw-braided horse resting in her palm.
“What use is it, holding onto that? Throw it away.”
Xiao Nanhui stood up to find that the old woman had, at some unknown moment, arrived before her.
Yet instinctively, she simply did not want to throw away what was in her hand.
“It’s a child’s trinket — quite charming to look at.” She paused, then asked, “Are those children all members of the Shen family?”
“Strictly speaking, they do carry the Shen surname. But they cannot truly be considered members of the Shen family proper.” The old woman turned those lifeless eyes of hers, finally settling on her palm. “Does the young lady know what a straw dog is?”
A straw dog. A dog made of straw.
An offering used in ancient sacrificial rites.
So that straw-braided creature was not a horse at all — it was a dog.
“Bind straw to make a dog, use it in sacrifice, present it in a basket lined with embroidered cloth. Yet once the rites are over, it is discarded and trodden upon. Passersby walk over its head and spine; only woodcutters might pick it up to burn for cooking fires.”
“Straw dogs are to sacred rites as you all are to the divine — they are much the same. Used and then discarded, without the slightest hesitation or pity. This is the cruelty of it, and also its compelling quality.”
Thinking of the altars slathered in black oil on those stone walls, and of the blank-faced children she had just encountered, a rage that struck to the bone suddenly surged up within her.
“If you truly believe that people possess souls, how can you think that people are like straw dogs — existences to be used and discarded?!”
Her words carried anger, but upon reaching the old woman’s ears, they seemed unable to stir even a ripple.
“From the young lady’s build, she must come from a military background. Since you have served in the army, you ought to understand that war operates on the same principle. When those in positions of power make decisions about killing and conquest, have they ever considered the life and death of a single foot soldier?”
Xiao Nanhui was stopped cold, the straw dog in her hand crushed out of shape.
Not far away, the man stood beneath the archway gate, looking back at her, seeming to silently ask why she had not moved forward.
The old woman lowered her face again, as though she had never spoken those terrible words at all.
“Young lady — don’t dawdle.”
Before the hour of Yin had fully passed, daylight had not yet risen, and neither stars nor moon were visible.
On the eastern stretch of the main road near Quecheng, several soldiers of the Guangyao battalion stationed at the post-house were tossing mugwort into the fire to drive away the mosquitoes.
The hour before dawn was when people were most exhausted. Warring armies often chose this time to launch surprise attacks. But these were not wartime days, and the soldiers changing shifts grew careless, yawning openly even before their commanding officers without a hint of concealment.
The soldier on night duty was the company commander Zhao Youshan of the Ding-character sixth battalion. He had been patrolling this region near the capital for over ten years, and had stood so many watches like this that he could have managed with only one eye open without incident.
Half-dry mugwort burned and sent up a curl of smoke. He stared at that smoke in a daze, and after who knows how long, he suddenly reached out and shook awake the soldier dozing beside him.
The soldier, buried in a cloud of drowsiness, struggled to his feet, and after a moment heard the faint sound of a horse cart coming from the end of the road.
Zhao Youshan signaled him to check the road barrier and fence and ensure no one could break through this checkpoint, then calmly awaited the approaching party.
Before long, a dark shape appeared from the far end of the road.
It was an extremely dilapidated cart. The horse pulling it was nothing but skin and bones, and the cart behind it looked ready to fall apart at any moment. The driver wore a bamboo hat ringed with black gauze, and the pair of hands visible outside the hat were covered by rough cloth gloves.
Whatever this get-up was, it bore no resemblance to what a cart driver making a summer journey would ordinarily wear.
Zhao Youshan brought a few of his more experienced men forward. His right hand appeared to rest on his waistband, but in truth was touching his knife scabbard.
“Stop the cart. Where are you coming from, and where are you going?”
The cart had barely come to a halt before the straw-hatted driver coughed twice, and spoke in a voice as hoarse as if he hadn’t had a drop of water in three days.
“Responding to the official sir — this humble one is a farmer from a village ten li outside of Jiaosong County, on his way to Dawei Town to seek relatives.”
Dawei was a small town to the east of Quecheng. The town had few inhabitants, but relatives from surrounding counties visited frequently.
Zhao Youshan exchanged a glance, and a subordinate brought forward a torch freshly dipped in pine oil.
“Take off the hat — let me have a look at you.”
The driver froze in place for a moment before slowly raising his hand to remove the bamboo hat.
Zhao Youshan held the torch up close, wanting to get a clear look at the person’s face — and was suddenly hit by a wave of foul stench head-on. Even these battle-hardened veterans were driven back several steps.
In the firelight, the driver’s complexion was a dark, bluish-black, haggard-looking, with a trace of misery in his expression.
“This humble old man has no grain and no house; wife and daughter passed away the year before last. I’ve only been getting by relying on my son. But just a few days ago, a wealthy villager in the village took my son’s life — he was working as a stable hand. At first they refused to say so, but when the body began to rot and smell, they could no longer hide it and sent him over. Pitiful that this humble old man doesn’t even have a decent coffin, and has had to come looking for my maternal uncle to help, hoping there might be a place to lay him to rest.”
Zhao Youshan’s gaze moved to the cart bed behind the horse. On the planks was indeed a large wooden box crudely nailed together from boards; evidently in the hurry, the top plank had not been fully nailed down, and an unvarnished wooden interior was visible.
The other soldiers on the night watch had long since stopped wanting to go near, and only Zhao Youshan still managed to keep his composure.
He stepped a few paces back and retreated to a corner, pulling out a portrait he kept on his person and comparing it carefully against the man on the cart.
The portrait showed the Black Feather battalion’s lieutenant, Lu Songping, who had been missing for several months with no known whereabouts.
The military aide who had distributed this wanted notice had specifically warned them that this Lu lieutenant was exceptionally skilled — not only would capturing him alive be a near impossibility, even striking him dead in a single blow would be an extremely difficult undertaking, and one would have to be prepared for the possibility of dying trying. Every battalion had put up a reward for this, and even the notoriously tight-fisted Yanchi battalion had bitten the bullet and dug deep, placing their hopes on any nameless brave soul.
But reward money was reward money, and dying was dying.
Everyone knew that silver and gold were things you might have the luck to earn but no luck to spend. Setting aside those greenhorn recruits fresh to the army who were eager to make their mark, any veteran soldier who had held some rank and spent time in the military would want nothing more than to stay as far away from this kind of work as possible. If they spotted anyone armed or on horseback, they would keep fifty paces’ distance before calling out questions.
Zhao Youshan was one such person.
He had already firmly made up his mind: even if he noticed something wrong, he would absolutely not cause trouble on the spot. He’d prioritize his life. He would wait until the person had gone and then report the sighting. At worst he’d receive a military caning afterward — which was better than having his head removed and being sent directly to heaven.
But tonight, it was obvious that circumstances had not yet reached that point.
Zhao Youshan quietly let out a breath of relief, carefully put away the wanted notice, and nodded to his subordinates.
Several soldiers stepped forward to push aside the road barriers and clear the crossing.
Upon seeing this, the driver gave repeated thanks.
“Much obliged, official sir. Much obliged, official sir.”
Zhao Youshan waved his hand, wishing only that he would hurry and drive that reeking cart away.
The cart had been gone for a good long while before the night breeze dispersed some of that terrible smell.
The soldiers returned to the fire and piled on several bundles of mugwort with great feeling.
And just there beside the fence temporarily storing the mugwort, another portrait was pasted up.
Having been posted there for some time already, the portrait was covered in dust, and its corners were missing in several places.
But if one were to lean close and examine it carefully, one would start to notice with a shock that the person depicted in the portrait bore a seven- or eight-tenths resemblance to the gaunt man who had just driven past. Only the cart driver had seemed more haggard and hollowed out, his complexion dark and sunken, as though he had been dead for many days.
A night breeze arose, flipping up the lower half of the portrait that had folded over, and beneath could be seen three small characters: Zou Sifang.
The oppressive summer heat made the long night hard to endure, and the soldiers on night watch began to doze off again. Zhao Youshan stared at the fire, and suddenly realized something.
When the cart had left just now, the direction it had gone was not toward Dawei Town at all — it was toward the Shuxi Mountain on the outskirts of the city.
A country person who doesn’t know the roads — naturally there’d be some confusion and trouble.
Of course, these things were none of his concern. For the few copper coins he received each month, if he had to worry about things like this too, wasn’t that just making trouble for himself?
Zhao Youshan yawned. The day’s exhaustion washed over his body. He laid his saber crosswise at his waist and leaned against the fence, falling asleep.