The weather was fine on the ninth day of the second month. By the time the sun hung high at midday, the last patch of snow on Shuxi Mountain had melted away.
The mountain was a few degrees colder than the city below. The shaded corners beneath eaves and before hall doors still held a layer of frost, and if one wasn’t paying attention, a step could send a person sliding. In ordinary years, once the first month was past, few people came to the temple to burn incense, and with the temple already short-handed, no one had the leisure to clear it away. Everyone simply walked with care.
But today the courtyard was clearly different from any other day — not just the thin frost on the ground, but even the layer of dust on the leaves had been wiped clean.
Li Suyu was crouching among a great cluster of lilacs, her embroidered slippers resting on a small square of handkerchief, both hands carefully holding up her skirt hem.
“Miss, you’ve been crouching here for nearly an hour. If the sun sets and we haven’t made it back, the master is going to scold us.”
The round-eyed, slender-browed little maidservant stood at her side with a look of suffering, both feet already entirely numb from crouching.
“Wait a little longer. I’m certain I didn’t see wrong just now — it was definitely those two.” Li Suyu bit her nails with urgency, her eyes darting back and forth to look outside. “I went to such trouble coming here. If I don’t see what’s going on between those two clearly, I’m not leaving!”
The early spring in Quecheng was colder than expected. The hand warmer they had filled with charcoal before leaving that morning was long since cold, and now felt like a block of ice.
The little maidservant rubbed her slightly numb hands — pitying both herself and her mistress.
“If you ask me, he’s not a fool either. If he truly wanted to meet someone secretly, would he really choose a day like today, with this many people and eyes everywhere?”
Li Suyu was so absorbed in her surveillance that she had gone half-numb with cold and barely noticed.
“What do you know? This is called catching a fish in muddy water — it’s precisely because there are so many people that no one notices. It is harder to be discovered.” As she spoke, she suddenly felt this phrasing seemed to confirm her beloved’s secret rendezvous with someone else, and quickly added a few words in haste: “Of course, Lieutenant Lv — he’s not that kind of person—”
The maidservant quietly rolled her eyes.
She truly could not see what was good about that narrow-eyed, thin-faced Lieutenant Lu, that her mistress — born and raised in the household of the Grand Court Master, a girl who had learned etiquette and propriety from childhood — would lower herself to chase him all the way to this desolate mountain and wilderness.
Today was the day His Majesty had arranged a plum-blossom banquet at this temple, to celebrate the good fortune of the newly enfeoffed Xiu Yuan King, Su Yuan. There were no small number of carriages from various households parked at the mountain gate, which served as a sort of cover — otherwise she would never have had the courage to slip out of the house with her mistress like this.
Right now the plum trees were in their full bloom. In a few more days, when the weather truly warmed, the blossoms would begin to fall and the leaves to sprout.
Blush-white, vine-yellow, pale ink, and crimson-red — the flower branches all wove together, and truly they were more brilliant and dazzling, more captivating, than the most precious relics and treasures in this temple.
What a pity that Li Suyu was in no mood for plum blossoms at all.
She kept watch near the plum tree not far away — the one with gnarled, dragon-coiling branches whose blossoms were red as fresh blood — yet her gaze never landed on the flowers, only circled the tree’s perimeter.
There were many plum trees here, but the Reflecting Water Pavilion plum was the only one of its kind.
She refused to believe it: if a young man and a young woman truly meant to have a secret rendezvous, surely they would come to see this plum tree?
From not far away came faint voices and footsteps, drawing gradually closer. She immediately stared wide-eyed and pricked up her ears.
Shortly, an elderly man with completely white hair and beard emerged from behind the moon-shaped gate, followed by two middle-aged men dressed as military officials.
Li Suyu’s face could not conceal her disappointment. She gestured to her maidservant not to make a sound.
The elder in front did not notice the “ambush” nearby, and went straight for the Reflecting Water Pavilion plum. He looked at the flowers, admired them, then leaned in to breathe in the plum fragrance, his expression one of ease and contentment.
“This flower is a rare find — yet both generals are standing so far away. You face battle without fear, so surely you’re not afraid of these flowers?”
Grand General Sun Zhuo and Yan Guang exchanged a glance, both still somewhat ill at ease.
“In reply to the Prime Minister — this subordinate is a rough man and does not understand flower-appreciation. I’m happy enough just to look from here.”
“What is there to understand about flower appreciation? It is nothing but the joy of the heart.”
Bai Zhaoyu’s posture was no longer as upright as it had been in years past, yet he seemed somehow more refreshed and spirited than two years ago. He deliberately lowered his voice and drew those two stiff figures in, with an air of mystery:
“There are probably only two such trees in all of Chizhou. This one was originally at the Xuanyuan Prince’s mansion — I’m told His Majesty had it dug up from the mansion and brought here himself. A plum tree that has just been transplanted usually takes some vitality out of it, yet it bloomed in its very first spring. Would you not say that’s remarkable?”
Yan Guang nodded along, not paying it much real attention, though he did cast a glance or two at the tree.
Sun Zhuo somehow found himself thinking a little more, and a note of puzzlement crossed his brows.
“If it’s this precious, why give it to a temple like this? Could it be that something has been stirring on the Mei family’s side, and this is a way of blowing wind in advance?”
The old Prime Minister gave a light chuckle, clearly not intending to discuss it further.
“Who knows. The mind of our current ruler is far harder to read than the last one’s was.”
A silence fell over the garden. After a long while, Bai Zhaoyu picked up the thread of conversation again.
“General Yan, the young ladies of your household should all have come of age by now, should they not? I heard that Lieutenant Lu of the Black Feather Battalion was at your residence again yesterday — I wonder if it is—”
“It is not!”
Bai Zhaoyu had not yet finished when Yan Guang cut him off with indignation.
At the very thought of that yin-yang, scheming, shadow-of-a-person trying to court his daughter, his blood rose to his head — but with the old Prime Minister right there, he truly could not say anything too harsh. He let it out in a cold snort.
“He is the favorite at His Majesty’s side these days. How would my Yan Wing Battalion dare to form a bond with the Black Feather Battalion?”
The old Prime Minister was amused. He had clearly detected something rather out of the ordinary in this straightforward general’s reaction.
But for the moment he had no desire to press further. For the younger generation, there was still plenty of time ahead.
He looked to the left and right — no one nearby — and raised his hand to pluck one Reflecting Water Pavilion blossom, tucking it swiftly into his sleeve. Then he cleared his throat to signal the two behind him not to say a word.
Sun Zhuo and Yan Guang looked at each other and smiled wryly, and after a moment’s hesitation could only follow along.
When the three figures had moved off into the distance, Li Suyu could contain herself no longer, and nearly leapt out from among the lilacs.
“Why did he go looking for Yan Chunhua again?!”
“No, no, miss — lower your voice!” The maidservant used all her strength to press her mistress back. “Wasn’t it just said that he only went to General Yan’s house? Maybe he was just there to see the General — they are both military men, so isn’t it perfectly normal for them to visit each other?”
“Did you see the General’s reaction just now? It is definitely not that simple.” Li Suyu did not know what she was recalling, but her voice had gone slightly strange. “What do you know? Ma Yueyuan told me with his own mouth that the two of them might have known each other long before. They must have gotten entangled when they were both still in Bijiang, and now it’s too complicated to explain.”
Just as she was sinking into self-pity, a voice suddenly rang out directly overhead.
“What are you doing crouching down there, benefactress?”
Mistress and maidservant were both startled. Looking up, they saw a little novice monk with a smooth shaved head peering down at them.
Seeing it was a small child, Li Suyu instantly found her composure again, and let her face go stern.
“I am a guest. Does a guest not have the right to stroll through the garden? Is this how Yongye Temple treats its guests?”
“I’ve seen plenty of guests, but I’ve never seen a guest trample the flower beds and crouch there refusing to come out.”
Li Suyu was not usually such an overbearing person, and instantly felt her face go hot. Just as she wanted no further quarrel with the other party, the little novice monk tilted his head to the side, his eyes lighting up, and asked in a deliberately hushed voice:
“Could it be you can’t find the privy?”
Li Suyu’s face instantly turned a deep red from a mixture of embarrassment and fury. She scrambled out of the lilac bushes in a matter of seconds, not caring whether her precious raw-silk jacket had been snagged, and hurried away with her little maidservant.
The monks in this temple — every last one of them seemed to have a cunning streak. This one in particular was impossibly difficult to handle. Surely they weren’t all out to make her life miserable on purpose?
Li Suyu fumed to herself, retreating rapidly. As she turned the corner of the corridor, she was not paying attention and walked straight into a solid figure. The other person did not budge even slightly; she was the one who went flying.
She had lived a sheltered life from childhood — let alone taking a fall, even a scratch on a finger had been enough for her to cry half the day. Now that she was older she still dreaded pain, and the collision left her feeling utterly aggrieved at once.
The maidservant, arriving a step behind, was horrified. She helped her mistress up, and the two of them glared furiously at the “culprit” — who turned out to be another pair of master and servant.
Both were young men, each with a round face. Yet somehow they both had beady little eyes that gave them an air of shameless cunning. Their clothes were of decent material but garish in color combination, and from head to toe they radiated a distinctly street-market atmosphere. One glance told her they were not from a household of any standing — surely some merchant family from the city that had recently come into money.
Li Suyu withdrew her gaze. She pressed back the two tears of pain that were threatening to spill, and the moment she rose to her feet had already recovered her bearing as a young lady of quality.
“This is a temple — how can you walk around charging forward like this? Next time you collide with someone else, don’t count on them being as reasonable as I am.”
With that, she looked no more at that oddly-behaving pair of master and servant, shook her sleeves, and left in quick strides.
“Miss! Wait for me — what do we do now?”
The maidservant scurried behind, truly at a loss for what the situation was, and had barely opened her mouth when her mistress fired back:
“Go back? After coming all this way, how can we just go back like that?!”
Li Suyu felt stifled and bedraggled, and she looked toward the direction of the main hall not far away, unwilling to give up.
“Tell me — is this temple good for praying for a match? Do you think it works?”
The maidservant was startled, and felt instinctively that something about this was not right.
“Miss, I’ve heard this main hall was only just rebuilt at the start of the year. It may not be open yet. Don’t let those shiny new tiles fool you — they’re bound to be less efficacious than the old worn ones. The spiritual power surely won’t be as strong, so the divination slips we’d better not draw—”
She went on at considerable length, trying to dissuade her, but her mistress only grew more stubborn the more she was urged against it. She seemed determined to get an answer for herself today, whatever it took. Even an answer from the Buddha would do.
“After today I likely won’t be able to leave the house for the better part of a year. Pretend I’ve lost my mind for a moment, and just let me draw one — all right?”
The maidservant’s face clouded with anxiety.
Drawing divination slips — whether it came out auspicious was another matter entirely. If it came out inauspicious, going home meant another round of chaos and commotion. She could already picture it.
Li Suyu looked at her maidservant, reading the other’s thoughts perfectly. She took her by the hand with great sincerity.
“Jin He, you’ve followed me since we were small — and there’s no one else in the household I can speak my heart to but you. Someone else in your position would certainly never help me with something like today’s errand. So tell me — are you or are you not on my side?”
The maidservant looked at her young mistress’s straightforward, anxious eyes, and nodded vigorously before she could stop herself.
“I’m on your side, of course — of course I’m on your side!”
“Good.”
Her goal achieved, Li Suyu said nothing more. She grabbed Jin He’s hand and headed straight for the main hall.
Through the meditation rooms and down a hundred-odd steps of the covered walkway, a newly rebuilt golden-roofed treasure hall came into view.
The hall was finished grandly on all sides, yet the area around it was empty and somehow desolate. She did not know whether it was because the rebuilding after the disaster was incomplete, or because there was something wrong with the feng shui to begin with — what else would explain a temple’s main hall being struck by lightning?
Li Suyu stared blankly at the entrance to the main hall. Just as she was about to go up the steps, a blue-clad man suddenly appeared in front of her, one arm stretched out to bar the way.
“The Buddha statue in this main hall has not yet been gilded. Benefactress, please come back another day.”
He had appeared without a sound, startling the young woman and her maidservant both. After a moment they recovered.
“Never mind that. I am not particular about these things.”
When a good thing had been this hard to come by, Li Suyu’s stubbornness was roused — she had the fearless air of someone who would stop at nothing, and lifted her foot to push past. Watching the guard’s brow furrow as he was about to step in, Jin He shot in from the side in a single burst of speed and flung herself straight into the blue-clad guard’s arms.
“Da Zhuang! Da Zhuang, is it you?! So many years and you’ve grown so tall—”
The guard’s hand was already on his sword. The veins on the back of his hand stood out.
“Let go—”
But the little maidservant, as timid and as stubborn as she was, released her arms in one instant only to wrap them right back around his legs.
“No — no! You can’t go off to another place and forget me just like that. You said you’d wait for me to get my release papers and then marry me—”
The blue-clad guard had no choice. With an iron face, dragging and pushing, he steered the girl toward the exit.
Jin He, clever girl, winked at Li Suyu, who understood at once. She immediately gathered up her skirt and headed for the half-open hall door.
The half-open, towering hall door creaked as she pushed it. A puff of fine dust greeted her. She coughed twice and looked around.
In the center of the main hall, the gilded-silk-and-sandalwood Buddha statue was still unfinished. The sutra banners all around had already been hung, but the incense table was without offerings, and the oil lamps unlit.
She sniffled, and furrowed her brow in puzzlement.
Aside from a smell of timber, how was it that there was also a scent of Yunye Fresh and the freshly roasted goose from Xinheng’s?
Weren’t the monks here each and every one supposed to be vegetarians, free from wine and worldly pleasures? How could there be—
Before she had sorted out that question, her gaze was drawn to something beneath the incense table.
It was a freshly lacquered divination-slip container, with bamboo slips arranged inside it neatly and evenly — it looked as though they had only just been placed there.
Li Suyu’s heart beat faster.
The statue isn’t finished, but the slip container is already out. I’ve heard that Yongye Temple is especially efficacious for dispelling bad karma. Praying for a match ought to be no different, right? Earlier, didn’t Lieutenant Lu and Yan Chunhua seem to have come from the direction of the main hall?
Recalling that the two figures she had spotted earlier seemed to have come exactly from the main hall’s direction, the guesses in her heart grew ever more certain.
The fingers clutching her skirt clenched — then loosened — then clenched again, and at last she summoned her resolve and went forward to take the slip container.
She had never drawn a divination slip before, only watched others do it. She shook the container for quite a while before a single slip rolled out. She snatched it up eagerly and looked — and on the plain slip face were a few small characters.
Forty-ninth slip. A slip of the lowest fortune.
Li Suyu’s two pretty brows, previously upturned in cheerful anticipation, sagged in an instant. Her face went long to match.
Did temples these days put the fortune verdict directly on the slip itself?
“That wretched Jin He — why didn’t she stop me just now?! And now I’ve drawn a slip of the lowest fortune for no reason at all—”
What was one to do after drawing an inauspicious slip? Li Suyu could have wished to fly back to the city on a cloud and find a fortune-teller to interpret it for her, but right now all she could do was stand there staring at the bamboo slip — reluctant to hold onto it, but afraid to simply throw it away.
“The lowest fortune has only this one slip — and somehow the benefactress has drawn it.”
A voice emerged from behind one of the sutra banners — a woman’s voice, slightly hoarse, sounding a little lacking in vigor.
Li Suyu had not expected anyone else to be in this empty main hall, and was startled first, then immediately embarrassed. She lowered her head and said nothing.
“What was it you sought to divine?”
The girl hesitated, then said quietly:
“A matter of the heart…”
“If benefactress doesn’t mind, bring the slip here for me to have a look.”
Li Suyu wavered for a moment, then reluctantly passed the bamboo slip over.
A hand reached out from behind the sutra banner and took it.
She caught a glimpse — it was a hand with firm, defined knuckles and slender, capable fingers. She could not fathom how someone with such a hand could have that kind of voice.
“You are a monk here? No — a nun?”
The girl seemed briefly to have forgotten about her earlier misfortune, and her naturally bright voice couldn’t hide the curiosity. “What do you make of it?”
The next moment the sound of the bamboo slip being returned to the container rang out, and the slip flew back from behind the banner — landing precisely in the container without touching the sides.
She had expected that voice to sound frail, yet the movement was crisp and clean.
“Such a tiresome thing — why look at it at all?”
Li Suyu was taken aback, and then a little indignant.
“You — how could you throw it back without my permission? If the bad omen has fallen on me, where am I to go to demand justice?”
“Slow down.” That voice was calm and unhurried as ever. “This whole business of drawing slips — believe and they have power; don’t believe, and they have none.”
The girl was half convinced: “So — it’s not an accurate reading?”
The voice behind the banner was quiet for a moment. When it spoke again, it had recovered its listless quality.
“If benefactress doesn’t object, let me offer you a few words instead.”
Li Suyu hesitated, then glanced all around.
There was still no sign of the blue-clad guard. No one else in the main hall. She carefully edged forward, and lowered her voice.
“Go ahead then.”
The voice behind the banner cleared its throat.
“Leave this worn-out temple behind. Go straight to the person in your heart — don’t let anyone you meet along the way stop you. The very first thing you say to that person — ask whether he has feelings for you. If he says yes, choose an auspicious date and marry. If he says no—”
She looked anxious, and pressed at once:
“If he says no — what should I do?”
“Then cut that cord completely, and make haste to find someone worthy of your trust.”
Li Suyu’s expression fell. She was clearly twelve thousand times dissatisfied with this answer.
“True feelings — how could they just be cut off at will? You don’t understand the warmth or coldness of it. Standing there speaking is easy when you’re not the one suffering.”
“Right now I am lying down as I speak to you — my waist is not suffering at all.” That voice was unruffled, and even carried a trace of laughter. “Some answers are simply sitting right there in front of you. Whether you look at them today, or in a month, or in ten years — they don’t change. What is real cannot be made false; what is false cannot be made real. Don’t deceive yourself.”
Li Suyu lowered her head again, her voice dropping with it.
“But I really do like him so much. If he rejects me, I will never love anyone again in this lifetime.”
“How old are you, that you would speak of a whole lifetime? Besides, nine times out of ten life goes against one’s wishes. If you truly cannot find your destined person, you must still live well on your own. Face your own heart with honesty — be a little kinder and more patient to those around you — cherish every day they are beside you, and don’t wait until you’ve lost them to feel regret.”
Li Suyu was startled. Without thinking, she looked toward the hall entrance. Outside, there was still no sign of the blue-clad guard or her little maidservant.
The voice behind the banner dropped lower, sounding a little tired now.
“And one more thing, most important of all: from now on, do not go asking random people to interpret your divination slips.”
Random? When had she been random about it? Surely the person behind the banner was not one of the temple’s people? She didn’t recall hearing that Yongye Temple had any nuns—
Li Suyu’s suspicion flared. She was just about to step forward and lift the banner when a rapid sound of footsteps approached from outside the hall doors, drawing steadily closer.
“Benefactress, please wait.”
She stopped and turned around. An even-featured monk was walking quickly toward her.
This monk was quite fair-complexioned, far easier on the eyes than the little novice monk she had encountered in the courtyard — only there was a scar on his face, which looked rather alarming.
“This little monk is Yikong, the abbot of this temple. I wonder if there is anything this little monk can help the benefactress with.”
Li Suyu thought it over, and gave a rapid account of what had just happened.
But the monk’s attention landed on something else entirely. After asking for details about the slip, his expression paused of its own accord — and then he sighed quietly.
“The last time someone drew that slip was three years ago.”
So not only was it a wretched omen — it was a wretched omen that came only once in three years.
Li Suyu asked with little hope:
“And what became of that person? Did it come true?”
“That person, afterward…”
Suddenly, a cough came from behind the sutra banner — this time, a man’s voice.
Yikong’s unfinished expression froze right where it was. In the next moment, he had already resumed his ordinary look.
“That, this little monk would not know.”
Li Suyu’s face fell with disappointment. The slip in her hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She looked back at the Buddha statue in the main hall and fell into quiet thought.
Yikong stepped forward and spoke a few gentle words of comfort as he walked the girl slowly out of the main hall.
The main hall quieted again. No one knew how much time had passed before a languid voice finally stirred from behind the sutra banner.
“Since when does madam know how to interpret divination slips?”
The woman gave a few sheepish laughs.
“A little, just a little.”
The man paused, and then said with meaning:
“If you knew whose family she was from, you might not have been so agreeable.”
The woman followed up at once:
“Whose family?”
“Her father is the Grand Court Master, Li Li — the one who at the time urged me to open a new round of imperial selection and take in fine women aplenty.”
The man finished speaking and waited with ease for the woman’s response — but instead she found a different angle and came straight for his weak point.
“How is it that you know every family’s daughter? Hmph — you must have been all too eager to take them into the palace back then.”
The man sighed.
When old debts were dug up, there would be no end to them. If they were going to start accounting, Cui Xingyao had been sent into the city by her own hand. He was deeply aggrieved. Truly deeply aggrieved.
But knowing that woman’s temperament all too well, he saw that the “provocation” had failed, and suddenly changed tack. His voice carried a note of wounded grievance.
“Last night when you were strolling the courtyard, you were looking only at the flowers. You didn’t spare me a single glance.” Saying this, his voice sank of its own accord. “Had I known, I would not have told him that day that you would be coming here.”
The woman was instantly at a loss for words.
She had barely gotten in a few complaints, and now she was the one being blamed. Truly a thief crying thief.
History was supposed to have praised him as radiant as the moon and wind, with the breadth to embrace all under heaven. In truth he was a thick-skinned, petty dead ghost.
She cleared her throat and put on an air of earnestness.
“Today I saw many old friends. Only he could not come. You should not be hard on him.”
“Hard on him? If I truly started to be hard on him, you would not be able to bear it.”
The man finished speaking, and all that could be heard was the sound of fabric brushing fabric, something heavy landing, and a startled exclamation from the woman — and then the low laughter of two people.
“Was this trip back a happy one? Are you satisfied?”
The woman said nothing, responding with something unheard, and the man gave a deep, contented sigh.
“The carriage is ready — we’ll set out tonight—”
“Oh, by the way — where was that Bai family child?”
The man was interrupted, and clearly not very pleased.
“I had Jiang Fei take people to drop him at the Andao Academy. Zong Hao will be his teacher — one stiff and proper, one besotted and foolish, a fitting pair.”
“And Hao Bai’s side—”
“If you make one more excuse, I’ll harness Jixiang and send him to the camp to pull the supply cart.”
Seeing that the man was beginning to look genuinely a little displeased, the woman restrained herself considerably, and coaxed in a laughing tone:
“All right, all right, not another word. Yikong’s tea is astringent and unpleasant, and you haven’t touched a drop. What if I go find Zhu Yu and ask for some water—”
One hand reached out and half-lifted the sutra banner, and the woman in red-belted attire was just about to step out — when the tall, slender figure from behind caught her up into his arms.
The sutra banner fell softly back into place, and hid everything once more.
“What’s the hurry?” That low, slightly hoarse male voice carried a trace of a smile, and in an instant it had warmth — like the first thaw of early spring, ice and snow dissolving into the air. “You and I still have a long, long time ahead.”
Epilogue: Beside the Foundered Ship (Part 1)
Lou County county officer Li Si Yue was carrying half a roasted chicken and two liang of yellow wine, making his way to the dungeon.
It wasn’t his turn to be on duty today, but hearing that the two smugglers caught yesterday — who had been selling imperial goods — still hadn’t confessed, he had a mind to come and have a look.
After more than twenty years in service, he could handle murderers and arsonists. How could he not handle a couple of petty thieves?
In the dungeon, the old guard Wang was dozing over his oil lamp. Seeing Li Si Yue arrive, he rubbed his hands together and hurried over. Li Si Yue knew he wasn’t truly coming to greet him, but the half-chicken in his hand — and laughed and spat at him.
“You’ve been asking questions half the day and can’t make any sense of it, and you’ve got the nerve to come for chicken?”
Old Wang had a thick skin and said nothing in return. He accepted the chicken with a grin, tore off a drumstick and passed it to Li Si Yue, then bit into the neck himself, and whispered his report as he chewed.
“I’ve already had someone look into it. That’s definitely something only the palace would have. Don’t let their looks fool you — those two don’t look like petty criminals, but who’s to say they’re not playing dumb. I heard they kept a low profile when they checked into the inn — only showed their hand after they settled in at Wangchen Tower. Maybe they know where that stolen goods came from and are feeling guilty—”
Li Si Yue grew impatient and spat out half a bone.
“Did they confess?”
“Just say those things are theirs and won’t admit to anything else.”
“Hmph. With the evidence piled so high, what is there not to admit to.”
“Maybe they’re planning something underhanded.”
Li Si Yue gave a cold snort, wiped the grease off his hands on his jacket, picked up the willow-switch whip from the nearby rack, and waved at Old Wang to keep quiet. He crept up to the innermost cell.
He had plenty of experience with dealing with small-time criminals — he knew that putting troublemakers in a cell together sometimes produced unexpected results. A few steps from the cell and he could already hear something.
The first to speak was a woman’s voice — so they were a pair of male-and-female thieves after all.
“Why is Dan Jiangfei taking so long with this? It doesn’t matter if the two of us sit here and go stale, but if this delays things, what do we do?”
“What’s the rush? Now that we’re here, let’s just settle in.”
The woman shook her head, and then stared at the person beside her with a hint of curiosity.
“You seem to rather like it in here — the way it’s all pitch-black, doesn’t it remind you a little of your Yuanming Hall?”
“Yuanming Hall?” The man beside her seemed to recall something and suddenly laughed. “A little, I suppose. Xu You used to gossip about it in private, saying that going to early morning court was like visiting a dungeon. Back then I never imagined that one day I’d get to experience it in person…”
Not far away, Li Si Yue stood just outside the cell, arms folded, watching.
He’d seen plenty of prisoners — the raging kind, the stupid-playing kind, the wailing kind — every variety. But he’d never seen anyone this relaxed and at ease in conversation.
The woman in particular had a look of complete confidence, blowing the two wisps of loose hair from her face, and leaning close to the man’s ear to whisper something — the two of them laughing softly together.
What did they think his dungeon was? A teahouse?
Li Si Yue’s temper flared. He had come here today with no intention of getting involved in this matter, but seeing it now felt like he had no choice. He went and grabbed the keys in a few quick steps, unlocked the cell and walked in.
Both people stopped talking at once, and looked up at him with entirely innocent expressions.
“Officer, when might this misunderstanding be cleared up so we can be released?”
Li Si Yue spread the confiscated items out in front of them.
“Misunderstanding? You call this a misunderstanding?”
Xiao Nanhui smiled — and as she smiled, a hint of genuine grievance came over her.
Back in the day, even when she’d had an arrow shot into her for being mistaken for a Southern Qiang spy, she had never felt this wronged.
“Officer, those things genuinely belong to the two of us. Fine, you won’t give them back. But why are you still holding us?”
Li Si Yue picked up the sword.
“This sword is yours?”
Xiao Nanhui nodded quickly.
“It’s mine.”
“Where did you get it?”
She thought, and answered honestly.
“My master gave it to me.”
Li Si Yue picked up the jade pendant next.
“This jade pendant is yours?”
The young man beside her nodded along.
“It is mine.”
“And where did you get it?”
The man thought for a moment and answered honestly as well.
“A family heirloom.”
Ha!
Li Si Yue slammed his hand on the table. He had considered himself to have seen plenty of shameless people, but never any this shameless.
Theft was one thing, but how could anyone tell lies like this without their face going red or their breath catching?
“This sword was cast from the Six-Unity Mixed-Heaven iron — never mind that no private forge has been allowed to fire such a furnace, even the raw material would be worth a thousand in gold. And this jade pendant — though it’s only half of it, it’s clearly a thumb-ring pendant. You think this is a cabbage from the east market? A family heirloom?” Li Si Yue grew more outraged the more he spoke, and his thick lips let fly a volley of spit. “This is yours? Why not say the golden-roofed palace in Quecheng — along with the emperor inside it — belongs to you too?!”
Xiao Nanhui was just about to argue back when that last line brought her up short — and she choked on her own spit, dissolving into a cough.
The man beside her quietly patted her back. The two of them seemed at a loss for words.
Li Si Yue felt immensely satisfied — he considered himself to have spoken with point and penetration in every sentence, having left those two speechless. He folded his arms with a considerable sense of achievement.
“You two come clean, and maybe you’ll suffer a little less.”
Xiao Nanhui fell silent.
She wasn’t silent on purpose — she simply didn’t know what to confess.
The oil-soaked willow switch came down on the ground with a crack. Li Si Yue’s patience was exhausted.
“I offer you good wine and you won’t drink it — you’ll only drink the bad!”
He raised the whip — and in that instant the woman seated on the ground changed. But the whip ultimately never came down. She heard a rushing sound of footsteps and opened her clenched fist, slowly.
“Stop!”
The old cell door was pushed open, and a man in a scarlet official robe strode in, giving Li Si Yue a thorough dressing-down from start to finish.
“You ignored the three-month salary deduction last time and still haven’t learned your lesson. Apparently you don’t take me, your county captain, seriously — how many words of what I said did you actually hear? Until everything is investigated, no corporal punishment is to be used. Can’t you understand plain speech, or has age ruined your hearing?!”
Li Si Yue’s dignity was suffering, and he stood there unable to get a word in.
The young county captain pointed toward the cell door.
“Out.”
Li Si Yue bowed stiffly, stepped out, and then stopped again three or four steps from the cell door — unwilling to let it go — and turned to peek back.
Inside the cell, a moment of quiet fell. But the woman, who had barely reacted even at the threat of a lashing, suddenly stood up, eyes wide open, staring straight at the county captain.
That face had taken on somewhat more of a worldly look than before, no doubt from years navigating officialdom — but those eyes, carrying their characteristic mix of melancholy and a trace of ingenuousness, were unchanged.
She asked cautiously:
“Young master Jia?”
Jia Han was also stunned.
The dungeon’s light was dim, and the two figures on the ground had been sitting in shadow. At first he had hardly dared to be certain — but when the torch was brought closer, his eyes lit up with excitement too.
“Benefactress?”
Even his voice trembled a little. He never could have imagined he would encounter in this place the woman who had appeared and vanished like a ghost in the desert all those years ago.
In the next instant, the torch moved to the side and revealed the man’s face — and he faltered again.
“Great Benefactor?”
Xiao Nanhui was not pleased.
How had the gratitude gotten divided so unevenly? He was the Great Benefactor and she was just the regular benefactor? She had given so much — where exactly was she smaller? She was not smaller anywhere!
Su Wei had evidently noticed her mood, and looked at her with something between amusement and indulgence.
“Young master Jia did first make my acquaintance — we were kindred spirits found in the Gobi desert.”
She finally recalled what Jia Han had told her that day about his “desert wonder,” and knowing this person had been quite taken with that zither music, she was too tired to pursue the matter.
“How is Tian Wei Er? Is she well?”
“Well, wonderfully well.” Jia Han nodded eagerly. The lines at his eyes, already forming, curved soft and glad with joy. “She had her first-year birthday celebration at the house not long ago — what a lively and happy occasion it was. All of this is thanks to you, benefactress. I was lax in managing my staff, and you have been put through trouble for nothing—”
Xiao Nanhui looked at Jia Han’s considerably rounder face, and could see that the official road this person had walked over the past few years had been reasonably smooth. Born of a merchant family and still managing to rise to a minor post like this — that took diligence. And beyond diligence, there was some measure of ambition as well. Given time, he might well become a pillar of worth.
The man beside her clearly shared her assessment, and responded lightly:
“County Captain need not stand on ceremony. Perhaps it was simply that your life was not meant to end there — and that you were destined for some greater achievement. Meeting you again today, it truly is so.”
Jia Han, his heart already full of respect, did not catch the peculiarity in the other’s etiquette just then.
“I wonder why the two of you have come to be in this place…”
The moment had finally arrived to address the real matter. Xiao Nanhui pulled Jia Han close and whispered rapidly in his ear:
“Earlier we went to that newly opened Wangchen Tower — we had intended to look into something there—”
The lower her voice sank, the more Jia Han’s expression shifted — one moment flushing red, the next going pale, in a lively spectacle of changes.
“In short, that is why our identities were mistaken.”
The woman finally finished her account and summed it up with a sweep of her hand, in that breezy manner of hers.
Jia Han stood rooted to the spot as though struck by lightning, mouth half-open. He looked from her to the man, and his knees began to buckle — he was nearly kneeling when she shot out a hand and caught him.
“County Captain — mind your step.”
Jia Han finally came back to himself, understanding why the two of them had sat in the dungeon without revealing their identities — though his voice was inevitably a little tense.
“Then — I wonder if there is anything this subordinate might do to help the two of you. Please, don’t hesitate to say.”
“There is indeed one thing I need to ask you about.”
“Benefactress, please speak.”
Xiao Nanhui gestured for him to lean closer, then half-covered her mouth and lowered her voice.
“Can you take me to see the river deity of the Ju River?”
* * *
Lou County in Li Zhou — land of fish and rice.
Rolling gentle hills and blue-green peaks, dense with lakes and marshes. Year after year, mild rains had nurtured this land tenderly, and even in a small township or village, people lived at ease and with plenty.
The sun tilted westward. The small punts returning from the Ju River surface expertly turned into the branching waterways, going door to door peddling the fresh river shrimp just hauled aboard. Flocks of water birds rustled in a great sweep behind the boats — every one of them fat and sleek with good eating.
Xiao Nanhui looked out the window, and her chopsticks came down again with force.
The freshly plated bass fillets were gone by half in an instant. This was already the third fish of the evening.
Jia Han sat nearby watching with a somewhat dazed expression, wondering whether to call for another fish. The woman finally set her chopsticks down and wiped her mouth with a measure of contentment.
“This body is simply not what it used to be — really no appetite at all. To think I’ve traveled to quite a few prefectures and counties, and somehow never knew there was a place this pleasant.”
Jia Han didn’t know how to respond to that. The man beside her remained composed, and reached over to lift away a small fish bone from the corner of the woman’s mouth.
“Li Zhou hasn’t seen warfare in many years. It’s only natural you haven’t come.”
Xiao Nanhui’s mind was elsewhere, and she was clearly still a little restless.
Not far away on the river, that painted boat had turned direction once again, the colorful cloth and paper flowers hanging all around it swaying with the movement, obscuring what was happening inside.
“It’s been nearly half an hour of watching — how is there still no movement?”
Jia Han, hearing this, put on a serious expression and gave his report.
“I’ve heard from informants that after sunset the painted boat will cruise along the waterways on either side and solicit business from the inns. Apart from the occasional drunk boat passenger falling into the water, there has been nothing unusual — it is only after dark falls completely that it takes distinguished guests to see the river deity.”
Xiao Nanhui had spent years alongside Yaoyi and immediately caught a faint whiff of something off.
“Solicit business? What business?”
The question was so direct it left the county captain a little embarrassed.
“That kind of business.”
Xiao Nanhui understood. She glanced at Jia Han and felt a slight urge to laugh — along with a touch of envy for Tian Wei Er.
She turned to look at the man beside her who was unhurriedly peeling shrimp, and put on an expression of feigned puzzlement.
“Do you know what kind of business it is?”
Su Wei set a small pile of peeled shrimp in front of the woman, answered without changing expression:
“Houses of pleasure, establishments of wind and moon — trade in entertainment, wine, and meat.”
The woman said nothing, gave a little huff, and turned her head away.
The person peeling shrimp blinked with studied innocence, and slowly deflected the blame.
“I had no knowledge of it before — it was all your doing that opened my eyes.”
The half-turned face that had not been seen didn’t know what it had recalled, and was tinged with a flush of embarrassment. Before the moment could stretch further, however, the painted boat in the distance finally drifted lazily closer — rescuing her from her undeserved predicament.
“It’s finally here.”
The sky had just turned dusk-dark. The river’s color seemed to gradually grow murky, blending with the gray sky into one flat expanse.
The painted boat had at last wound its way to rest beside the riverside pavilion. The gangplank lowered. Two young girls appeared — one on each side of the bow — looking no older than sixteen or seventeen. They were a pair of twin sisters.
The two had none of the fawning manner common to those of their trade. On the contrary, they gave off a cool and aloof air that made people all the more curious.
Xiao Nanhui fished from inside her collar a paper flower and some banknotes, prepared well in advance, and handed them across.
“We have an urgent matter on which we wish to consult your master. Would your master be willing to receive guests today?”
The two young girls looked the three of them over from head to foot, then accepted the items without a trace of expression. They searched all three carefully — finding no weapons — and then stepped respectfully aside.
“We respectfully welcome our three honored guests to the upper level private room.”
Epilogue: Beside the Foundered Ship (Part 2)
Yuan Sanniang had been watching the hired hand Old Zheng from across the upper-level private room for nearly half an hour.
Old Zheng had a pockmarked face. He was probably not yet fifty, though he looked well past sixty. That face, always slightly unkempt, was today unusually blank — he was staring with swollen, unblinking eyes at the private room not far away.
This Old Zheng had only been on the boat for six months, claiming to have done this trade before. He knew how to handle himself around guests, and one could find no fault with him. He did not look like someone who had never seen the world — so why did he seem somewhat out of his depth today?
Either he had his eye on a tip, or on someone else’s private valuables. Those were the only tricks up his sleeve.
So Yuan Sanniang thought, and she stepped up to the second floor. Before he could react, she grabbed him and pulled him to a less visible spot.
“Look at you — shallow as a puddle. You’ve probably never seen an official bigger than a county magistrate, have you? You have the nerve to make such a spectacle of yourself. If every single person on my boat were as greedy and lazy as you, how would I ever do business?!”
Old Zheng kept his head bowed and said nothing, only raising his eyelids occasionally to glance back toward the private room.
Yuan Sanniang was so exasperated she almost laughed. She looked back behind her.
“I’d like to see what great deity could possibly be worth your—”
Half the sentence died in her throat. Her face froze with it. Both eyes fixed unblinking on the second private room from the window.
The man in the private room was dressed in moon-white — simply elegant — with nothing but a jade hairpin to adorn him from head to toe. His arms were long and slender, body angled half to the side, gaze not resting on the alluring figures of the dancing girls at center stage. His left hand idly plucked at the zither table — and the notes that came out had a way of making souls stray involuntarily.
She was staring in a trance when a face drifted slowly into the center of her line of sight — the woman seated beside him.
The woman wore no expression at all as she looked at her — and she used a pair of cheeks stuffed round and full to block the man’s face entirely from view.
Yuan Sanniang felt an inexplicable prickle of guilt. She was just about to look away, when in the next instant the man pulled the woman into his arms, and then pointed at his own lips — apparently gesturing for the woman to peel a segment of mandarin and feed it to him. The woman with a grin peeled open a segment of juice-plump citrus flesh, then held it just a hairsbreadth from his lips and stopped — turned her head, and stuffed every last bit into her own mouth. Her face then fell, and she shoved the man aside, stood up, and left. The man, seeing this, set the zither table aside, rose and followed. The evening river wind lifted his moon-white robes, making his figure softer and more willowy even than the slender willows on both banks.
The two figures left the private room and went to the deck. Yuan Sanniang’s gaze clung like a cobweb as they moved — from inside to outside, from one side to the other — until both silhouettes vanished into the night at the bow of the ship. Only then did she snap back to herself with a start.
She slapped her face hard.
What was happening? Surely the river deity of the Ju River hadn’t truly manifested?
She had been in this trade for more than ten years. What kind of person hadn’t she seen? How could she have lost her composure like this? It must be that extra cup of osmanthus wine she’d had this evening that had muddled her head.
Yuan Sanniang shook her head. When she turned back around, Old Zheng had already vanished. She cursed under her breath and headed quickly toward the ship’s small kitchen.
Tonight’s business could not go wrong.
On deck, Xiao Nanhui caught sight of Yuan Sanniang’s departing figure from the corner of her eye and finally dropped the mandarin she had been squeezing flat. She looked carefully left and right.
The man’s voice rose from behind her.
“Upset?”
“Don’t make a scene.”
She deliberately refused to look at him, as though deep in some critically important business that left no room for distraction.
But the person behind her clearly wasn’t so easy to dismiss, and deployed his full repertoire of playing the wounded and pitiful.
“She wanted to look at me — what could I do? If you’re not happy about it, next time I’ll keep my face hidden. If that still doesn’t work, you can lock me in the inn—”
Xiao Nanhui knew that if she didn’t do something, the other party was going to thoroughly pin the guilt of callousness and injustice on her in no time at all.
She spun around in a flash, raised her hand and covered the man’s lips — signaling him to be quiet.
Somehow, the noisy sounds of strings, drums, and laughter that had filled the air just a moment ago vanished entirely. The atmosphere turned still in an instant, with only the sound of river water lapping against the hull.
She gently peered out from behind the drifting gauze curtain. What she saw: the private rooms that had been lively with song and dance just moments ago now showed not a single musician or dancer. The banqueting guests had slumped forward onto their tables — as though still immersed in merriment one moment, and in the next sunk into a deep, heavy sleep.
She instinctively covered her nose and mouth, but after careful sniffing she detected nothing unusual.
From a corner of the private room came some stirring — a portly man with a jade belt around his waist and a young woman wearing a veiled hat. Watching those two, she finally understood: not all private rooms were the same.
Only the honored guests who had given a paper flower had drunk the clear and untainted spirits. As for the rest — something had apparently been added to theirs.
Xiao Nanhui was still piecing it together when Jia Han crept over from the other side of the bow.
“Is it starting?”
She was about to say something when she suddenly realized she still had her hand pressed over someone’s mouth. She quickly lowered her hand. The person glanced at her but said nothing — and raised one finger to touch the corner of his lips.
Jia Han looked from her to that quietly composed man, and then all at once seemed to understand something. He stumbled half a step backward.
The two of them at this moment were in unusually perfect accord. Without a word between them, one going left and one going right, they moved past him and headed forward side by side.
“It’s starting — let’s go.”
Jia Han took a deep breath, and after a long moment, followed.
The painted boat had come to rest on the river at some point, surrounded by pitch black on all sides — it was nearly impossible to tell water from shore. Only a single lantern at the bow and the round moon above were mirrored against each other.
In the lamplight, the twin girls followed behind Yuan Sanniang. The two of them held between them a half-person-tall paper boat, and carefully set it into the river.
There was no wind tonight. The river was calm. The paper boat rocked with the current but did not drift far. On the boat, dimly lit, sat something half-transparent — dark as river water, nearly the same color.
Yuan Sanniang then led several attendants in straw raincoats and masks in a chanting ritual at the river’s edge, which gave way to a melodious, indistinct singing.
Xiao Nanhui watched with no particular clarity, and finally couldn’t help asking the “expert” beside her in a low voice:
“What is she chanting? Scriptures? Incantations? Ritual prayers?”
Su Wei paused, and answered honestly:
“Cannot make it out.”
If even he couldn’t make it out, who else could? It was probably just made-up babble.
Three or four parts of the tension in her chest eased. But beside her, Jia Han didn’t know enough to see through the act, and remained troubled.
“These painted boats are all registered under the official pleasure-houses, and there’s been no real trouble before. Had it not been for the two of you raising it, I truly would not have connected it to the river deity affair. Who would have thought today, looking at it like this—”
Xiao Nanhui waved her hand to signal Jia Han not to say any more, and to watch what unfolded.
She had squatted on surveillance for a few days before trailing them here — she absolutely could not fumble it at the last moment.
That baffling ceremony finally ended. Yuan Sanniang gestured for the first honored guest to come forward.
“What troubles does the honored guest wish to bring before the master?”
The portly man whispered in the purple-clad girl’s ear. The pink-clad girl lifted her brush and set down a line of elegant small script on a crimson letter to one side.
The man finished speaking, then at the two girls’ gesture, retrieved three cloth pouches from the box behind him and placed them one by one into the paper boat on the water.
Xiao Nanhui narrowed her eyes to look closely. She was not surprised to see the glint of gold peeking out from those pouches.
The person beside her had evidently seen it as well, and the hand that had been holding hers tightly all this while slowly released.
No one understood those hidden matters better than the two of them. Whether the deity was from the mountain, the river, or somewhere else entirely — gold was something none of them liked. What they wanted was far more precious than gold.
But what stood before them now was clearly not that kind of thing.
The portly man stepped back. The veiled young woman came forward in turn, and went through the same procedure — even more lavishly so. The paper boat grew heavier and heavier, already taking on water by half, spinning involuntarily on the river.
Finally, the purple-clad girl gestured for the next person to come forward.
“What troubles does the honored guest wish to bring before the master?”
Xiao Nanhui thought for a moment, stepped forward to stand beside her, and asked with great politeness:
“I’d like to ask — what part of the world does this master of yours come from?”
The purple-clad girl did not move. The pink-clad girl behind her did not move either. Both stared at her with jet-black pupils.
Finally, Yuan Sanniang acted. She snatched up the oil lantern at the bow of the boat and hurled it with perfect aim at the paper boat. The lantern shattered, and the boat’s hull caught the flame — along with the oil — and blazed up in an instant, becoming a fireball. It then exploded with a bang, sparks flying outward in all directions.
Xiao Nanhui wrapped an arm around the person beside her and ducked down to avoid it. Jia Han, with no one to look out for him, was a step too slow — the hem of his robe caught a little, and he quickly patted it out.
In the chaos, Yuan Sanniang vanished in an instant. The remaining girls and attendants fled in all directions, but with no oil lantern on the painted boat anymore, it was pitch black — and the screaming and trampling rose one over another.
In the confusion, Xiao Nanhui ushered her person to safety inside the ship’s cabin, told Jia Han to proceed according to their earlier plan, and withdrew. Jia Han went to the stern and gave a shout. County officers and officials who had been lying in ambush on the riverbank lit their torches — several fast boats emerged from the reeds at the riverside and rapidly closed in on the painted boat.
Out on the water, it was naturally secretive for doing business, but if something went wrong, escape was equally difficult. Right now Yuan Sanniang was a turtle in a jar — given a little time, there was no fear of failing to catch her.
But for some reason, Xiao Nanhui felt in her gut that something was still off.
She was in the middle of her thoughts when the whole boat lurched, the hull tilting sharply to one side. A tremendous cracking sound rose from the depths of the ship’s cabin, followed by more voices in panic.
Not possibly — were they going to bring everyone down together?
She could sit still no longer. She rose to go investigate, and was grabbed at once.
She turned. A man in moon-white studied her with dark, deep eyes.
“What are you going to do?”
She looked at Su Wei’s expression and realized something. She patted his shoulder soothingly.
“I think something’s off — I’m going to see who scuttled the boat. You stay here — Jia Han’s people will be here any moment.”
But the other party clearly had other thoughts. The warmth in his voice dropped to nothing.
“Jia Han brought thirty or forty people — does it need you? Do you know your way around this painted boat? Is your swimming strong? When we crossed the great ford at Dalong back then — wouldn’t it have been simpler to just let you swim across?”
She was a little tongue-tied, but seeing the man’s sharp and stern expression found it oddly out of place.
“I’m not that useless — when we fled from Bijiang, I carried Wu Xiaoliu on my back and waded through the frozen river—”
Another heavy cracking sound rang out, and the floorboards tilted even more sharply. The musicians and dancers who had hidden somewhere came rushing up to the deck in a great rush. In the turmoil the whole world was lurching left and right.
The hand on her arm did not let go — in fact gripped tighter. Xiao Nanhui was also startled by the painted boat’s fragility. She began to worry about the person beside her, and decided to get him to somewhere safe before doing anything else.
She took his hand and kicked aside the small tables and furniture rolling about the floor, roughly shoved through the disoriented crowd, and headed for higher ground.
She could see Jia Han not far ahead. She had just opened her mouth to call out when a figure suddenly crawled out of the narrow door of the lower hold.
The person seemed to be in great haste — stumbled out a few steps before finally looking up, and met Xiao Nanhui face to face — equally startled.
The passage out of the ship’s cabin here was narrow, only enough for one person. Both of them could have passed if one simply stepped back half a pace, and she truly had no desire to make trouble for whatever small hired hand or servant was on this boat. She only wanted to find Yuan Sanniang as fast as possible. So she stepped forward first, intending to squeeze past.
But the pockmarked hired hand, for some reason unknown, suddenly pulled a fish-gutting knife from under his jacket and lunged straight at the person behind her.
Xiao Nanhui moved on instinct. She pulled Su Wei aside and barely dodged the blow. But the man then lunged again, recklessly.
This time, she showed no mercy.
Jiajia had been warm against her back plate for long enough — it was time to meet the wind.
The slim, narrow blade emerged from the collar at the back of her neck. It deflected the attack cleanly and precisely, then twisted around and drove the sword’s hilt into the man’s flank three inches below the ribs.
The man stumbled back half a step, coughing a few times before raising his head. And then his gaze, once again, fell upon the man behind her.
The instant she grasped the other party’s intent, a wildness she had not felt in a long time surged up from the crown of her head.
She recognized that feeling. That was her killing intent.
After all they had been through, she had become more tolerant and at ease. But there was one thing she still could not tolerate — someone raising a blade toward him.
Getting to where they were today had not been easy. If someone wanted to destroy that — she could not let them live.
The moment the man charged at her again, Jiajia became a streak of light that pierced through his throat.
The hired hand clutched his neck, stumbled to the railing, and in the moment before he fell overboard, his two gray-white eyes still stared hard at her.
The splash of water rang out, and the river swallowed the body in an instant.
Jia Han’s boats finally arrived. Yuan Sanniang and her hands, who had hesitated and refused to abandon the ship to flee, were caught in one sweep. Everyone returned to shore. By then the painted boat was more than half sunken into the river.
Jia Han’s people were still patrolling the river surface, convinced that the “river deity” would never leave behind the gold in that paper boat. But the sky was beginning to lighten faintly, and still they had come up empty.
The dark river surface showed nothing unusual. Not even a fish surfacing for air could be seen. Just when Jia Han was about to order a return, movement came from the river at last.
“Got him!”
In an instant every eye turned toward the river. Three or four officers were seen pushing a black, waterlogged figure toward shore.
The “river deity” of the Ju River had come ashore.
Like a shrimp caught in a net, a bass hooked on a line, a turtle flipped off its plate — bound with no dignity and thrown onto the dock.
Yuan Sanniang had at first staunchly denied any knowledge of the river deity affair. But when she saw the last loose end caught, she caved — while still refusing to admit fleeing the sinking boat for what it was, only claiming she did a fringe sort of business and had harmed no one.
Everyone had been up all night and was exhausted. Only Xiao Nanhui looked sharp-eyed and alert — she looked like she could keep going without sleep for three more days and nights.
“You tell me everything honestly, and maybe you’ll suffer a little less.”
She had served an informal apprenticeship in the dungeon these past few days, and had absorbed quite a bit from Li Si Yue — her interrogation now ran smoothly from one line to the next.
The short man with an eight-strand mustache was already somewhat deflated, and no longer had the heart to repeat his well-worn declaration for the hundredth time.
“My lady, I’ve told you — and you don’t believe a word of it. Will you please let the officials take me — can’t you?”
Xiao Nanhui had her own plan. She wasn’t going to let anyone go until she had gotten everything clear.
“Then what did you want those boys and girls for before?! Speak — were you going to—”
“Wronged — truly wronged, woman warrior!” Eight-strand mustache had barely enough energy left to even beg for mercy — practically whimpering. “Just three little beggar-children — I paid three whole silver pieces to hire them for the act. Didn’t lay a finger on them.”
“Hired children for the act? You’re a fraud pulling a spirit-summoning scam — why would you need three toddlers in on it?”
“It’s the truth — if you don’t believe me, send someone to find those three little devils and ask them yourself. It may not be any great famous deity, but I’m still playing a god. If I don’t do something convincing, who’s going to believe me — who’s going to listen to me? You need something real.”
Xiao Nanhui looked the man over.
Apart from being genuinely a decent swimmer, she truly could not see what else he had going for him. But that was precisely why the question lodged deeper in her mind.
“If you can’t produce results, no matter how lively your human sacrifices or ghost rituals, no one would believe you.”
Eight-strand mustache shifted his eyes guiltily and after a long while said in a small voice:
“That wasn’t me — it was someone else.”
Her arms slowly came down. Her voice went quiet and heavy.
“What person?”
“You know the Shen family? What prestige they once had — and then who’d have thought, early this year they met with disaster. People say it was at the order of the one in the palace. He said he’d escaped from the Shen family’s household in Huozhou as a servant—”
Xiao Nanhui’s expression shifted, and her eyes went sharp and hard.
“Where is he?!”
Eight-strand mustache was frightened into a stammer. After a moment he extended one finger and pointed at the river behind him.
“He — he was killed by you with one stroke just now!”
In Xiao Nanhui’s mind flashed the image of the pockmarked hired hand and his strange behavior. She finally began to understand some of what had happened. But not far away on the river, the tilted painted boat had been entirely swallowed by the water — only a few torn paper flowers still floated on the surface.
She and Su Wei exchanged a glance. He had already understood what she was thinking.
“You say it was he who helped you play the river deity — how did he help?”
Eight-strand mustache looked at the composed young gentleman asking him, instinctively wanted to bluff through it, but was immediately glared back down by the fierce woman beside him. He reluctantly confessed:
“I couldn’t say for certain how he helped. He just seemed to have a bit of foreknowledge — he could divine small things with remarkable accuracy. He didn’t like to show his face, and wanted to make some real money. So he came to me with the idea, I thought it could work, and we ran with the river deity scheme—”
“Did he have anything he hid — the kind of thing he wouldn’t let you near?”
“Seems like he did. A small porcelain bottle, just the size of a palm. But he kept it on him at all times, absolutely would not let anyone else touch it. I only caught a glimpse of it from a distance — never knew what was inside.”
Xiao Nanhui studied that wretched-looking “river deity,” and felt he probably wasn’t lying.
She knew all too well what kind of people the Shen family were. If they wanted to hide a secret, they would never let an outsider know.
Only now, perhaps, no one would ever know what had been inside that bottle.
* * *
The sun rose. The bank of the Ju River was busy again, looking no different from any other day.
The great boat heading north to Hu Ling set sail today. Passengers were coming and going, and the market beside it was doing a brisk trade.
Xiao Nanhui bought a good number of things as usual. Just before boarding, she suddenly remembered something. She quickly said a few words to Su Wei and rushed back into the market.
Half a quarter-hour later she returned to the dock — and saw no sign of him.
At first she assumed he had gotten a little bored and wandered off to look around. But thinking about it more carefully, he had never shown much interest in anything in particular. Even when traveling a hundred li, he could sit alone in the carriage perfectly still the whole way.
Could he have gotten into some kind of trouble?
Though someone had always been quietly smoothing things along the whole journey, there was no guarantee against every possible slip. Getting thrown into the county dungeon was proof enough of that.
He was far more calm and intelligent than her, but he didn’t understand the treachery of the world, and had far less experience navigating it. If it was just some ordinary pickpocket, that was one thing — but if—
She didn’t dare think further. Her steps grew longer and faster, and she plunged into the market, searching stall by stall.
She didn’t know how long had passed before sweat beaded at her temples. She finally spotted him when she turned to look back.
Three or four lanes away, he was standing quietly beside a fortune-teller’s stall. The moon-white hem of his trousers was soaked halfway up.
She pushed through the crowd, forcing her way to him, and grabbed his arm urgently.
“You snuck off on your own without telling me — do you know how long I looked for you?”
He didn’t answer right away.
He had actually spotted her earlier — her frantic running around, that look of anxiety on her face.
But he hadn’t called out.
He watched her quietly for a moment, then said slowly:
“Actually, when you passed by the fish-gutting stall just now, I already saw you.”
Xiao Nanhui paused, and for a moment couldn’t quite process this.
But she was straightforward and direct, and it only took the blink of an eye for her to come up with a perfectly reasonable explanation.
She raised one eyebrow and pushed the mandarins she had just bought into his hands.
“I get it—”
It was just payback from the time on the river, when she had been sulking about Yuan Sanniang and refused to feed him the mandarin, wasn’t it.
But the man’s jet-black eyes looked at her — and in them was a hidden ache, of a kind she hadn’t seen in a long time.
She hadn’t gotten a clear look at what that ache was before she was pulled into his arms.
“No — you don’t understand.”
The agony of that month-long ordeal years ago — so like a living hell — still sometimes jolted him awake in the night, and he would not settle until he had reached out and found her hand.
This wasn’t fair.
The torment he had once suffered, she would never understand. Even if it was just one ten-thousandth of that torment — he wanted to see, just once, what she looked like when she couldn’t find him, when she was afraid of losing him.
She truly was baffled, and a little amused, and instinctively reached up to pat his back.
“What’s the matter with you—”
But the next moment he released her, and by the time he looked at her again, he had already returned to normal.
“Ding Weixiang’s side sent another letter.”
He changed the subject, and she truly forgot to press further. She quickly took the letter case and opened it with practiced hands, scanning quickly through it.
“Over here in Zhangzhou there are three informant reports — saying that below Wuxi Mountain a fox spirit has taken human form and travels a thousand li each night, snatching beautiful young wives. This one doesn’t seem right to me — more like a serial seducer. And there’s also this one—”
She spoke on for a while, and then noticed it had gone rather too quiet. She looked up.
“Are you listening to me?”
The man was helping himself to a mandarin, calm and composed. He nodded without particular urgency.
“I’m listening.”
Xiao Nanhui read on for a while more, and he was still focused on eating. Not the slightest intention of engaging.
She truly could not stand it anymore, and snatched the remaining half-mandarin from his hands and stuffed every bit into her own mouth.
“Who’s the descendant of the Qiu family here — you or me?! The emperor is never in a hurry — but the eunuch—”
Halfway through she suddenly felt something was wrong. She stopped herself short.
But he was already laughing. His eyes and brows alive and dancing, and the orange-red juice of the mandarin brightened the curve of his lips.
“Who is the emperor? And who is the eunuch?”
She had gone half-mad with exasperation and blurted without thinking:
“You’re the emperor, and you’re the eunuch too!”
He took no shame in it — took it as a point of pride, even.
“A husband and wife sharing the same boat — and you can’t even swim well. There’s no other choice. As for your husband — he doesn’t mind at all. Only I’m afraid that if you shout it so loudly, my wife—”
“You — you — you!”
When it came to the measure of one’s brazenness, she truly still had a great deal of room for cultivation.
“The boat is about to leave.”
The woman had been building up to a comeback — to no avail — and let it go. She pulled the man along and hurried toward the dock. In the water, a pair of shadows flashed past, startling a drowsing flock of water birds into flight.
Beside the foundered ship, a white sail passed slowly by.
The boat moved on through the water, further and further, until it disappeared at the edge of sky and water.