Descending from the gate tower, she respectfully carried the blade behind her master. The yamen had many guards escorting prisoners, so she blended into the crowd moving forward. The weather was too good, with the sun so bright it was hard to keep one’s eyes open. The cloth strips binding her chest were hot and suffocating, making it difficult to breathe. Fortunately, there were only three criminals, so it wouldn’t take long. They could endure this heat, but could the Cabinet Ministers and Princes?

Standing on tiptoe to see, she noticed that canopies had been set up at the entrance of Henianlou. All the shops along the street had placed tables in front of their doors, and prepared wine, white rice, and steamed dishes—these were for sending off the criminals. The journey to the underworld might lack music, but it couldn’t lack food and wine. If a criminal was willing to eat a bite, that family would accumulate great virtue. The King of Hell would make a note in his ledger, and the family could hang red couplets and hold a celebration, even more lively than a wedding!

Henianlou was famous in the capital, not just for its authentic medicinal soups. When common people cursed others, they would blurt out, “Go to Henianlou to buy wound medicine!”—not a kind phrase. Caishikou was directly across from Henianlou. It was said that sometimes people knocked on their door at midnight to buy medicine. When asked what was bothering them, they would say their necks hurt—haunted. With a head-sized scar from a beheading, how could it not hurt? That’s why whenever criminals were executed, Henianlou’s clerks would rattle their abacuses at the door—clack-clack-clack—reportedly to ward off ghosts and evil.

Ding Yi’s group passed by the entrance, the abacus beads clattering painfully in her head. She turned her face away as if she could avoid it; just get past this section and it would be fine. During the hottest days of summer, staying in the sun too long could cause heatstroke.

The criminals were lined up from east to west, and the supervising officials had taken their seats under the large canopy. She looked up at the platform, her eyes dazzled by the sun, moving from brightness to darkness, unable to see clearly. She counted five people, all wearing court robes and hats. In the center was a Prince—Princes were above rank, and even the Shuntian Prefecture Governor had to flatter them. But “dragons give birth to nine types of offspring, each different.” One of them had an active head, frequently whispering with the officials beside him; another sat still as a mountain, completely motionless. Ding Yi secretly tugged at the corner of her mouth—such a person was either blind in eyes and heart or cast from molten iron.

As she was lost in thought, someone tugged at her sleeve from behind. Looking back, she saw a man dressed as an attendant who slipped a bottle into her hand, winking as he said: “This is Crane Top Blood. Find a chance to give it to Amba Lingwu.”

Crane Top Blood was a medicine unique to Henianlou, said to numb the entire body, making one insensitive to pain. Though the medicine was good, it couldn’t be used casually. Executioners had many taboos; any slip would instantly bring bad luck. She pitied those condemned to death but couldn’t break her master’s rules for them. She glanced toward the execution ground, pushed her hand forward, and said, “I’m sorry, but I mind my own business. I only hold the blade and don’t get involved in anything else.”

The man made a scoffing sound. Among all these people, he was the most idle. Asking him was giving him a face, but he didn’t appreciate it!

“Do you know who ordered this medicine? If you mess this up, you won’t be able to bear the consequences!”

She smiled upon hearing this. “It would mess up YOUR task, what does it have to do with me?”

The man was about to get angry when Wu Changgeng noticed and scolded in a suppressed voice, “What time is it now? Stop gossiping!”

She quickly ducked her head, leaving the man to stare helplessly. Her master asked what had happened, and she casually brushed it off with a few words, but inside she was uneasy. She felt a gaze following her, coming from the supervision platform under the large canopy. She became somewhat fearful—was this Crane Top Blood not requested by the mourning family? Or did Amba Lingwu have connections with some high official who was privately calling in a favor?

She dared not think further; the more she thought, the more anxious she became. From the southwest corner, conch shells began their mournful wail. The judicial secretary raised his voice to read out the crimes. At this point, she had no time to worry about such matters and quickly presented the demon-head blade to her master.

With a cinnabar mark confirming the order, they were ready to begin the beheading. As Xia Zhi passed in front of her, she quietly slipped a piece of ginger into his mouth—as her master had instructed earlier—first to give courage, second to clear the mind. Executioners’ skills varied greatly. The good ones controlled their strength precisely, severing the head without causing it to fall, making it easier for the family to collect and sew the body. As for a novice like Xia Zhi, one couldn’t hope for an elegant job—steady and reliable was the right approach. If the force wasn’t applied correctly and the blade got stuck in the neck, the karmic damage would be enormous.

As the third quarter of the noon hour approached, the executioners took their positions. The red cloth covering the great blade was removed, revealing two small red flowers on the blade’s back, contrasting strangely with the cold gleam of the blade itself. The common people who had come to watch, climbing trees and standing in high places while chattering and pointing, now fell silent. The timekeeper called out in a loud voice, “The auspicious time has arrived!” followed by another cannon blast. She faintly heard the whistle of the blade cutting through the air, then the muffled “thump-thump” sounds. The unstoppable fountains of blood quickly dyed the yellow earth around them red.

The separation of head from body looked somewhat strange. The previously wailing mourners were stunned by this sight, seemingly forgetting to cry, but suddenly coming to their senses, they erupted into even more heart-wrenching howls. Ding Yi could never bear to watch this scene. The dead were dead, but the living had to endure the pain and torment—having experienced it herself, it was like a nightmare she dared not recall.

After the yamen finished the executions, bodies without family to claim them would be taken to the western city for burial; those with family waiting to collect the remains were left unattended. Xia Zhi was now considered initiated into the profession. Though he couldn’t compare to the master, at least he had completed his duty successfully. However, this man showed little promise; after the execution, his legs trembled so much he could barely stand. He didn’t dare look back, his arm draped over Ding Yi’s shoulder, his teeth chattering.

Ding Yi quickly took out a fan to cool him. “Steady yourself, Senior Brother. It’s all over now.”

Xia Zhi leaned to one side with a mournful face, feeling nauseated at the sight of two drops of blood splattered on his cuff. Whimpering, he said: “I hate my parents! Even if they had to starve to death, they shouldn’t have sent me to learn this profession. What is this?” He spread his hands before her eyes. “Look, can you see? My hands are stained with blood. I won’t be able to sleep properly at night. Tonight, let’s keep each other company!”

She frowned and knocked his hands away. “Can’t you grow up a bit? Fussing like a woman! You’ve watched Master perform duties for seven or eight years, but when it’s your turn, you act like such a coward!”

“It’s not the same, not the same…”

She pushed him away. “Go back, wash up, and rest. You’re a master now. I still have work to do. Don’t complain to me—it won’t help!”

As an apprentice, cleaning the execution grounds was part of her duties. Standing under the hot sun, spreading dirt to cover blood, she was much busier than him.

Finding him on the way, she sent him off. The dignitaries on the supervision platform hadn’t dispersed yet, with guards crowded densely around the platform. She and several yamen runners carried mulberry branches to sweep the area, covering the bloodstains with pre-prepared sand. Flies buzzed in swarms around their ears. The ground was scorching, with waves of heat mixed with the smell of blood assaulting her nose—a truly unbearable stench.

As she was forcing herself through it, a man dressed as an imperial guard approached and called to her, coughing once before saying: “You! Put down your work. The Prince is summoning you. Follow me and kowtow!”

Ding Yi straightened up and looked around. Her master and senior disciple brother had returned to the yamen, leaving only her and a few menial workers. Being suddenly told that a Prince was summoning her, she suspected it was trouble from the earlier Crane Top Blood incident. Feeling somewhat timid but unable to refuse the order, she responded with a “Yes,” keeping her head down and hands at her sides, trotting quickly to the front of the supervision platform.

Caishikou wasn’t a large place, and the supervision platform occupied much of the road. It seemed people were about to disperse, with several splendid bamboo sedan chairs parked at both ends. Ding Yi didn’t dare raise her head to look, only hearing exchanges of courteous greetings, all in official language and formalities.

She remained silent, quietly waiting to the side. The guard went to report and returned shortly, immediately pulling her away. With an uncertain heart, she stumbled along, being dragged between two sedan chairs. The guard pushed her roughly, causing her to stagger. “Wait here. The Prince has questions for you shortly.”

She muttered, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just trying to ensure the duty went smoothly! Questions? What questions?”

In any case, danger seemed more likely than safety this time. Amba Lingwu’s head had already been cut off, yet this Prince was still being so persistent—not someone easily placated.

Peering over the sedan chair’s edge toward the platform, she saw it was already time for farewells with clasped hands. She recognized the Shuntian Prefecture Governor, but unfortunately, he had gone in the other direction—distant waters couldn’t save a nearby fire. She didn’t know which Prince had summoned her. She stole a glance and saw two teams of guards escorting the dragon’s descendant approaching. Her chest pounded violently, with a premonition of imminent disaster. At this moment, there was no time to think too much. A pair of gold-trimmed black boots entered her field of vision. She quickly stepped forward and, without waiting for anyone to speak, knelt and kowtowed. “This humble one, Mu Xiaoshu, pays respects to Your Highness.”

The voice that floated down from above carried a coldness that made one shiver even in the seventh month of summer. “You are Wu Changgeng’s disciple?” She answered affirmatively, but the Prince didn’t tell her to rise. With a fan waving vigorously in his hand, he said with a cold laugh: “I thought it would be someone with three heads and six arms, but it turns out to be a half-grown boy! You’re quite bold, daring to disobey my orders?”

With this type of imperial nobility, reasoning might not work. Better to honestly admit a mistake; perhaps that would succeed. So she kowtowed again and said: “Please understand Your Highness. This humble one did not know the medicine was sent by Your Highness. Had I been informed earlier, I would have certainly carried out your instructions properly.”

The messenger became displeased and objected from the side: “That’s not how you should put it. You didn’t even ask whose orders they were before immediately rejecting the person back to his grandmother’s house. Now that you see trouble, you’re trying to shift blame—not a chance!”

“I rejected YOU? Your mouth isn’t locked. The task wasn’t explained clearly, so it can’t be blamed on me.” After speaking, she bowed again to the Prince. “Your Highness, you are wise. This humble one is but a menial worker, not worthy of notice, and doesn’t dare to argue with you. If it had been your instruction, not just one dose of Crane Top Blood, even if it were Crane Top Wine, I would have poured it down his throat… Forgive my nonsense, Your Highness. You are merciful and couldn’t bear to see Master An suffer. Though we make our living in this profession, we are not without human feelings. But Your Highness may not know, there are many rules at the execution grounds. From the day I entered the profession, Master instructed me well. Using Crane Top Blood prevents blood circulation, trapping it all inside the body. As executioners, we aim for a good show. One stroke of the blade—BANG—blood spurts high…” She tilted her head, thinking, desperate to save her life, not even aware of what she was saying. Her family had fallen at the hands of the Yu-wen clan, so she had a natural fear of these yellow-belted nobles.

She paused, and there was no response from above. The black boots hadn’t moved. She felt that with enough luck, she might escape disaster—after all, her words had been quite reasonable. Unexpectedly, the Prince’s guard was unsatisfied and shouted: “The Prince was doing someone a favor. Now the task is unfulfilled, and he can’t give a proper account. You’ve damaged the Prince’s face, understand? The Prince’s face is precious—skinning you alive wouldn’t be enough to repay it. You’ve talked a wagonload, all about the difficulties of your executioners. Your difficulties—what the hell do they matter to others!”

Ding Yi couldn’t help shrinking back. “Don’t get angry. We can talk… I saw that although Master An had committed crimes, his backbone was very strong. He showed no fear at the execution ground. If given Crane Top Blood, he might not even appreciate it. When a person reaches this point, setting life and death aside, they don’t feel pain anymore, truly.”

Truly indeed—this boy simply doesn’t value his life! The Prince squeezed a few words through clenched teeth: “You speak with such certainty, yet I don’t believe you. Not until you die once will I know if these words are true.”

As soon as he finished speaking, several fierce guards pounced on her. In broad daylight, was this to be a wanton murder? Ding Yi’s mind buzzed, and she looked up in shock—what a Prince! A handsome face, but a heart soaked in poison. To take her life over such a small matter—”The Yu-wen family produces beasts”—these words were proven here.

The Prince was furious. Look at what? Daring to look back when death was imminent? Even if common people had a presentable face, they were still common people. Although the offense didn’t warrant death, beyond the legal code was the imperial family’s dignity, which could not be desecrated. Offending a Prince was enough to deserve being flayed alive.

He swept a glance left and right. “What are you waiting for? Drag him away! Notify Daxing County to collect the head. That’s settled.”

Ding Yi gasped. Would she die here today?

At this critical moment, a person emerged from behind the sedan chair. His tone was unlike the Prince’s impulsiveness, his pronunciation precise, his pace slow, but every word and phrase exuded efficiency: “In this heat, Seventh Brother, calm your anger. A mere menial worker—how is he worth such great fury?”