“What does Young Mistress Luo plan to do next?” Lin Sui’an poured Luo Kou a cup of water and set it before her.

Luo Kou was still in her mourning whites, her face all the paler for it, with only her eyes startlingly dark.

“To win back the position of family head, of course.” Meng Man said sharply.

Luo Kou said nothing, but the hatred in her eyes spoke for itself.

Lin Sui’an quietly sighed.

Seven days had passed since the mourning hall episode. Luo Shichuan’s coffin had been laid to rest without further incident. With Mu Zhong acting as mediator and reviewing the accounts, it was confirmed that Luo Liulang’s ledgers were indeed problematic. Combined with Lin Sui’an’s intervention, the clan members’ plan to expel Luo Kou had failed. Luo Kou retained the Luo compound, the few shops registered under Luo Shichuan’s name, and two merchant convoys. Meng Man was stripped of the steward position but not driven out of the Luo clan. Luo Liulang did not succeed in taking the position of head of household — instead, an older, steadier member of the clan was chosen for the role. In plain terms, this was simply the result of factional compromise within the clan.

This was the best outcome Lin Sui’an had dared to hope for.

“Since the first year of the Xuanqi reign, the Tang Kingdom has permitted women to sit for the imperial examinations and enter government service — twenty years now. There are also women in civilian life who helm commercial houses and lead merchant convoys, and a woman serving as head of a clan household has precedent.” Luo Kou’s voice trembled. “I once naively believed this was simply how things should be — but now I see the world shows women no recognition, only harshness. They stripped me of the right to inherit the position of family head because I am a woman. That is deeply unjust!”

Lin Sui’an’s heart sank. The very thing she had feared was unfolding before her.

Earlier, she had used rather extreme means to ignite Luo Kou’s will to live. Now she could see the result: Luo Kou had spirit, but it had produced a side effect called resentment.

“Who told you that your inability to inherit the position of family head was because of your sex?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Luo Kou caught Meng Man’s eye from the corner of hers, then straightened her spine and said, voice edged with anger, “Is it not?!”

“If Kou’er were a man, would the Luo clan members have dared treat her so?” Meng Man demanded.

Lin Sui’an: “Sir Meng Man is also a man — and also had no winning hand.”

Meng Man’s expression twitched in that characteristic way again — the barely-contained grimace — “I am only the master’s adopted son. I am not in the clan registry.”

Lin Sui’an frowned. “You are both right that standing in this world is immeasurably harder for a woman than for a man. But looking at the facts as they are: even if Kou’er were a man, even if she could hold the position of family head for now, without the power to genuinely control the entirety of the Luo clan, those wolf-natured kinsmen would not tolerate her for long.”

Luo Kou: “How do you know I could not hold the position?!”

“If you truly had that strength, they could not take the Luo clan from you — man or woman.” Lin Sui’an spoke steadily. “The world is inherently unjust. There are those who judge by rank, those who judge by wealth, those who judge by virtue, those who judge by strength. If you see only the inequality between men and women, if all your energy goes into raging at the world’s injustice toward women, into blaming heaven and cursing your fate — then what will you be left with beyond a belly full of bitterness? What good will any of it do you?”

Luo Kou was struck silent.

“Are we to let them seize the Luo clan?! Let them continue to insult us?!” Meng Man said. “Lin Niangzi, what you’ve said is nothing but useless moralizing — it helps us not at all!” He grabbed Luo Kou’s arm. “Kou’er, let’s go!”

Luo Kou rose in a daze, then suddenly came back to herself. She gently pulled her arm free, drew a breath, and bowed her head toward Lin Sui’an. “Lin Niangzi saved us in the mourning hall. Kou’er will never forget it.”

Lin Sui’an inclined her head and watched the two of them depart, then sighed again. She shifted from the formal kneeling posture to sitting cross-legged and rubbed her calves, silently cursing this world and its absence of sofas.

“The Luo young lady at least said a word of thanks, but that Meng Man doesn’t seem particularly grateful.” Mu Zhong drifted into the room and sat cross-legged as well. “I have a feeling the way he looks at you is rather—”

Lin Sui’an sipped her plain water. “He probably hates me.”

Mu Zhong stroked his mountain-peak beard. “Ah, so Lin Niangzi knows.”

“If Master Luo had not saved me, Luo Kou would never have met Su Chengxian. If Luo Kou had never met Su Chengxian, Master Luo would never have died.” Lin Sui’an said. “By that logic, I am the source of it all.”

“That sounds exactly like what the Luo clan was saying to smear the young mistress earlier,” Mu Zhong said with some surprise. “You skewered them for it just then — how can you not see through it when it’s about yourself?”

Lin Sui’an laughed at her own expense. “It’s not that I can’t see through it. It’s that everyone else in the world will think this way. I can hardly go around scolding every single one of them — I’d die of exhaustion.”

Mu Zhong fell unexpectedly quiet. After a long moment he said, “Ten years ago I worked on a case involving a serial assault predator. During the interrogation, the criminal not only refused to confess — he turned around and blamed the victims, claiming these women had been immodest in dress and manner, that they’d clearly been inviting it, that they had only themselves to blame. At the time, one person jumped up and blistered him at the top of his lungs, saying that the only reason crimes of assault exist is that there are criminals who commit assault — and that beyond that, any argument is worthless.” Here Mu Zhong gave a sudden laugh. “He went on cursing for a full quarter-hour. Everyone present was utterly stunned.”

Lin Sui’an stared.

“For his outburst in the hearing hall, he was punished for misconduct — beaten with the discipline rod — and couldn’t get out of bed for ten days.”

Lin Sui’an: “Beat— ahem — Sir Mu means… corporal punishment?”

Mu Zhong raised his hand. “Trousers down, paddled on the backside with a rod.”

“…”

“He was six years old at the time.”

Whatever expression crossed Lin Sui’an’s face at that moment must have been remarkable — Mu Zhong laughed until he was doubled over, and it took him some time to compose himself. He shook his head. “I thought there was only one person in the world quite like that. Never imagined that ten years later I’d meet another one exactly the same.”

Lin Sui’an’s face gave an involuntary twitch.

Mu Zhong wasn’t referring to her, was he?

“It’s strange — you and he look nothing alike, and yet you feel very much alike.” Mu Zhong mused. “If there’s an opportunity, I’d very much like to introduce you two.”

“Please spare me — I couldn’t handle someone like that.” Lin Sui’an waved her hands emphatically.

Mu Zhong looked genuinely disappointed.

“Has Sir Mu’s inquiry turned up anything?” Lin Sui’an steered back to the matter at hand.

Mu Zhong’s expression sobered. He lowered his voice. “As I expected — the five shops under Luo Shichuan’s name have all turned a profit for three consecutive years, and the two convoys have sound reputations as well. By comparison, though the other clan members’ shops are greater in number, they have all suffered losses to varying degrees and have been subsidized by the surplus from Luo Shichuan’s operations. The other convoys are unwieldy in size, disorganized in personnel, and difficult to manage. While Luo Shichuan was alive, these problems could have been resolved with time — but now…”

Lin Sui’an: “Meaning if Luo Kou were to split away from the clan right now, it would look on the surface as if she’d gotten the worse end of the deal — but in reality she’d have come out ahead?”

Mu Zhong nodded. Lin Sui’an relaxed slightly.

“Does Lin Niangzi want to tell the young mistress?” Mu Zhong asked.

Lin Sui’an: “It would be more credible coming from Sir Mu.”

Mu Zhong nodded, then regarded Lin Sui’an with a slightly odd expression. “I’ve had a question for some time — you and the Luo family are neither kin nor old acquaintances. Why have you gone to so much trouble for them?”

Lin Sui’an paused, then answered, “Because Master Luo showed me kindness.”

Mu Zhong’s expression shifted to something more solemn. He clasped his hands in a respectful salute. “Lin Niangzi is a person of great principle!”

*

“Principle — ha.” Lin Sui’an sat on the doorstep and laughed to herself. “I wasn’t born with that particular quality.”

The autumn night was cool, colored clouds chasing the moon. The wind was high, sifting through the treetops like fine comb-teeth through shadow, and the familiar rustling made Lin Sui’an think of a world ablaze with neon lights.

The person she had been before crossing over had found managing her own affairs trouble enough. She’d been a nine-nine-six wage slave — surviving was already a luxury. She had no energy for anyone else’s problems. Even horrific crime reports in the news barely warranted a repost — at most she’d click a thumbs-up on a comment she agreed with, and only ever from a secondary account under an alias.

Keep your head down, don’t make waves — the practical creed for self-preservation. Go with the flow, bend with the wind — the antidote to anxiety.

For Lin Sui’an, the memories of those people the Luo merchant convoy had helped existed only in the pages of the original owner’s diary — she had no personal stake in the Luo family, and her initial impression of them had not been good. Handing over the diary had been done for the original owner’s sake, not hers. If anything, she had always felt more like a bystander, with no wish to become too entangled — right up until Luo Shichuan died in the sealed room.

This time it was different from the tragedies that existed only in news reports and words on a screen. This time it had happened right in front of her eyes, real and immediate: Luo Shichuan’s blood, Su Chengxian’s corpse, Luo Kou’s tears, Meng Man’s screams, the Luo clan members’ faces — all of it living, warm, and full of breath.

At first it was to clear her own name. Then it was curiosity about the truth of the case. And then — intervening in the mourning hall — perhaps that had been simply because—

“I couldn’t stand it,” Lin Sui’an murmured to herself.

She wasn’t a champion of justice, and she had far too little patience for martyrdom. If she were being fully honest, everything she had done was for herself — if there was any other reason she could name—

Lin Sui’an touched the blade at her knee. The rough texture of the scabbard grazed her palm and sent a faint, tingling shiver through her skin.

In this world she had finally found something she could rely on.

She drew the blade. In the dim moonlight, the pale green edge, mottled like old mold, caught the cold glow and looked like the pupil of a poisoned, supernatural eye — yet to her, this was the only sense of safety she had.

“Better than the old world, isn’t it?” Lin Sui’an spun the blade in a slow flourish, feeling the muscles of her arm contract and release. “At last, I have something that is truly mine.”

“Qian Jing is not yours!” A voice came from above. “It’s mine!”

A rush of fabric — a figure dropped from the darkness like an enormous black bat.

Lin Sui’an recognized the newcomer at a glance. All arms and legs, like a tall bamboo pole, still in his nighttime traveling clothes with the face-wrap still on, as though he wanted to make sure she had no trouble identifying him — it was the very assassin from her first night after crossing over.

A familiar face appearing in the middle of a late-night bout of brooding — Lin Sui’an’s mood lifted considerably.

“Oh, you’re here.” She greeted him as if greeting an old acquaintance. “Have you eaten?”

The assassin flew into a rage and hacked at her with his blade. This time his speed was even slower in Lin Sui’an’s eyes. She planted her foot and slid her whole body sideways; his blade bit into the doorstep, leaving a fresh gash in the wood. Before he could pull it back, Lin Sui’an had launched off the ground. Qian Jing’s ghostly green light swept toward the assassin’s neck.

He bent and twisted his head in a barely-enough dodge, retreated rapidly, and before he could recover, Lin Sui’an was already following — her body turned in the air like a fish rolling in water, blindingly fast, the blade-force ferocious. Qian Jing’s green edge conjured a sweeping beauty in the moonlight, like light shimmering across water, and carried its frigid gust straight at the assassin’s throat.

【Slit the throat, blood ten zhang, the King of the Underworld raises his beckoning banner.】

A string of characters leapt into her mind out of nowhere. The familiar, unsettling shudder spread across her entire body. Lin Sui’an felt her whole frame heat up, a nameless exhilaration welling from somewhere inside — the blade-wind split the skin of the assassin’s throat, sending a bright spray of crimson droplets flying.

He was about to die!

She was about to kill someone!

At that razor-thin moment, Lin Sui’an’s left palm slammed into her right shoulder. She spun herself through four or five rotations before arresting her momentum, her body barely under her control. Only when the surging, exhilarated shudder receded from her shoulder back into the tips of her fingers did the trembling stop.

Lin Sui’an broke out in a cold sweat. Before, she had only suspected — now she was nearly certain: the bloodthirsty shuddering sensation must have been coming from Qian Jing.

The assassin was sitting on the ground clutching his neck; blood seeped between his fingers. Both his eyes had gone round as copper bells — whether from shock or something else, he was shaking even harder than she was.

“Were — were — were you just now taming — taming — taming Qian Jing?! Are — are — are — are you even human?!”

Lin Sui’an: “…”

What did he mean she wasn’t human?

The assassin scrambled to his feet, backing away with conspicuous caution. “You — you — you — you just used the skill from the Ten Purity Treatise, didn’t you?!”

The Ten Purity Treatise? What was that?

Another important piece of the puzzle — apparently?

Lin Sui’an felt a jolt of surprise inwardly but let nothing show. “Look who underestimated whom. You know of the Ten Purity Treatise as well?”

Whatever Lin Sui’an said must have hit a nerve, because the assassin — ignoring the blood still seeping from his neck — jumped up and shouted two or three things along the lines of “just you wait, Qian Jing and the Ten Purity Treatise are both mine and I will never let this stand,” then turned into a giant gibbon and launched himself into the trees, vanishing into the darkness with a series of leaps.

Broken twigs and scattered leaves rained down. Lin Sui’an watched with a mix of exasperation and amusement. She had no idea whether lightness skills were a feature of this world, but at the very least, this bamboo pole’s lightness skills were quite poor.

Though the tall bamboo pole had shown up twice with hostile intent, it was odd — Lin Sui’an found she harbored no real dislike for him. He’d arrived both times bearing gifts, in a sense. The first visit had revealed Qian Jing’s importance; the second had introduced two key terms: “taming Qian Jing” and “the Ten Purity Treatise” — practically a dedicated messenger delivering clues.

And by his phrasing just now, the moves she had used were likely from the Ten Purity Treatise. Lin Sui’an reflected — could the inexplicable phrases that surfaced in her mind be passages from that treatise? In other words, the Ten Purity Treatise had been residing in the original owner’s bodily memory all along.

Every time her body lost control had followed one of those character-phrases appearing. Putting the pieces together: the Ten Purity Treatise might be precisely the key to taming Qian Jing.

“Interesting.” Lin Sui’an sheathed the blade, and smiled. “Welcome back anytime.”