Lin Sui’an was chewing on slices of fresh sea bass sashimi, one leg drawn up, elbow propped on her knee, thumb pressed against her temple where a dull ache throbbed. Outside the waterside pavilion, the sky was a melancholy shade of pale violet, and clumps of fire-red clouds hung like lead weights pressing down on her chest.
Looking back now at what had happened, she could pick out any number of details that should have been telltale signs — when he had fought with the others, he hadn’t used Jin Ruo’s signature ground-hugging, clinging combat style. Jin Ruo loved wine and snacking; he would never sneeze at the smell of alcohol. And when he’d spoken with her, his voice was identical, but the tone was noticeably more distant —
Lin Sui’an’s mood soured further. Truly, the experienced hunter gets pecked in the eye by an old bird.
Jin Ruo fared even worse. He had first gone back to the area outside Westwind Pawnshop and combed through it like a tracker hound for two hours. When he returned to the estate, he didn’t touch his refreshments, skipped dinner, and sat with his measuring string tracing footprints and impressions, working out calculations on paper — all while clawing his own hair into a spectacularly furious mess, and muttering curses under his breath.
“You dare use my face to deceive people! You dare run cons on the Pure Gate’s turf! Yun Zhong Yue, if I cannot strip the skin right off of you, I swear I am no longer a man!”
Yi Ta stirred the magic tea brewing in the kettle, occasionally leaning over to check Jin Ruo’s calculations. Fang Ke had simply pulled up a seat beside Jin Ruo and was watching with careful attention, his expression as though attending an academic symposium.
“The flesh can be altered, but the bone structure is harder to change. Disguise arts may be talked up to legendary levels in the jianghu, but in most cases they can only create a face from nothing — turning oneself into a stranger. For this person to have dared take on your appearance, and to have fooled both Hua Yitang and Lin Sui’an — could it be that his natural bone structure is already remarkably similar to yours?”
“I’ve seen him. His bones can shrink. He can turn into a woman.” Yi Ta demonstrated with enthusiastic gestures.
Fang Ke’s eyes lit up. “That such a remarkable person exists in this world — if I could examine his skeleton, I would die with no regrets.”
Jin Ruo said, “Don’t worry, Master Fang. Within seven days I will capture him, and then I’ll take apart his skeleton and pull out every one of his tendons.”
“If possible, leave the body intact.”
“I’ll do my best!”
This exchange between the two of them cheered Lin Sui’an up again. She pictured Yun Zhong Yue lying on the examination table, screaming in terror at Fang Ke, and felt genuinely better. She looked out toward the waterside pavilion and found herself wondering why Hua Yitang still hadn’t come for dinner.
From the moment they’d arrived back from the West Market, Hua Yitang had been wearing a dark expression, head bobbing with the jolts of the carriage like a sulking ornament, and the moment they entered the estate, he had bolted back to his own quarters in a great hurry, dragging Mu Xia along with him. Lin Sui’an glanced at the sky. Hua Yitang had been shut in his room for nearly two hours. Could he be doing the same as Jin Ruo — devising a trap to capture Yun Zhong Yue?
Lin Sui’an began to seriously calculate the likelihood of successfully capturing Yun Zhong Yue if the three of them joined forces. After all, only by catching Yun Zhong Yue could they retrieve the scroll —
Suddenly, outside the waterside pavilion, a delicate fragrance drifted in on a haze of rosy light. Lin Sui’an jerked her head up and was stunned to see Hua Yitang arrive, enveloped in the last glow of sunset, fanning himself and executing a slow, graceful spin before striking a posture of elegant, effortless distinction. “Well? What do you think?”
Lin Sui’an said, “What?”
Mu Xia immediately stepped forward to offer a grand introduction. “Fourth Young Master is dressed today in the Autumn Moon Translucent Tunic, paired with the Mountains and Rivers boots, the Dream-of-the-Old-Song hairpin, the Self-Content Fan, and most remarkably, today’s signature fragrance — named ‘Ten years, a solitary sword, ten thousand li, straight up into the wind and smoke’ — the newest creation from the Hua Family’s master perfumer.”
Lin Sui’an’s eyelid twitched. Good heavens — his hair was sleek and lustrous, his skin luminously fair with a pink undertone, and even his fingernails emitted a pink, crystalline glow. She couldn’t help but put her hand to her forehead. “Don’t tell me you’ve been soaking in a bath for two hours.”
“Of course not — there was also an hour for combing the hair, choosing the clothes, matching the fan, and selecting the fragrance.” Hua Yitang smiled. “We got covered in flour today, then rolled around on the ground — covered in dust, which was quite undignified. Naturally one must have a thorough wash and tidy up.”
Lin Sui’an pressed her hand to her forehead. She had clearly been thinking too hard.
Jin Ruo couldn’t bear it. “Hey, surname Hua — can you do anything useful?!”
Hua Yitang smoothed his sleeves, strolled over, and settled into his seat. He lifted his teacup and took a small sip. “As the foremost playboy of Yangdu, maintaining a graceful appearance and an impeccable bearing at all times is my most essential function!”
This time it wasn’t just Jin Ruo — even Fang Ke rolled his eyes in unison.
“Now that the essential matters are attended to, there’s no harm in attending to some smaller ones.” Hua Yitang tapped his fan. Mu Xia immediately had the servants clear away the food and fruit from his table and replace them with the four implements of scholarly writing, while an incense burner of mind-clearing fragrance was set out.
Seeing him make these preparations, everyone was startled. Lin Sui’an grasped a possibility and stared at him. “Don’t tell me that after one single glance, you can reproduce the entire content of that scroll from memory.”
Jin Ruo: “What?!”
Fang Ke’s breath caught.
Hua Yitang languidly dipped the brush tip of his wolf-hair brush in ink to saturate it fully. “I’m no immortal. That scroll has two hundred and seventy-three pages, and I only had it open for less than ten breaths — I can recall a few pages at most.”
At that, everyone was overwhelmed with delighted surprise, and all came crowding around Hua Yitang’s table, staring at him like a cluster of country bumpkins gawking at a turtle’s egg. Only Mu Xia showed the proper bearing of a seasoned attendant, kneeling to one side in unhurried calm and beginning to grind the ink for Hua Yitang.
Hua Yitang glanced up from beneath his lashes, smiling. “Oh my, with all of you staring at me like this, Hua is feeling rather bashful.”
Fang Ke said, “Less talk. Get on with it.”
Hua Yitang choked, and looked toward Lin Sui’an. “The contents of this scroll may be somewhat difficult for a woman to look upon. Would you prefer —”
Lin Sui’an said, “Stop stalling. Draw.”
She had lived two lifetimes — what was there she hadn’t seen?!
Hua Yitang gave an uncomfortable little cough, closed his eyes, and drew a long, slow breath. When his eyes opened again, his gaze had settled and deepened to the color of ink — the same quality as the sharp, taut tip of the wolf-hair brush as it touched the snow-white paper simultaneously.
The incense burner in the brazier cast a faint, shifting light. The wisps of smoke, like time drawn into threads, curled around Hua Yitang’s slender fingers and pale wrists. In the moment of the first stroke, the quality of the air around him changed entirely. The arrogance and ostentation fell away, replaced by something desolate and indistinct. His brushwork was painstaking and composed, and from his hand poured an endless stream of fine, intricate lines — not as if they were being drawn, but as though they had simply always been there.
Without noticing it, Lin Sui’an had stopped breathing. The others seemed to have forgotten about breathing altogether. The entire waterside pavilion became frightfully still, with only the movement of the lake water outside, which had gone from reflecting the orange-red of the setting sun to the deep blue of dusk beginning to fall, and then finally to darkness entire.
Servants moved in quietly, lit the candles, and moved out quietly again. In the moment when the silent light spread across the waterside pavilion, every expression on every face was illuminated with perfect clarity — Mu Xia and Yi Ta’s shock, Jin Ruo’s anger, Fang Ke’s cold stillness, and the brief, faint gleam of desolate emotion that passed through Hua Yitang’s pupils and was gone.
Lin Sui’an caught the faint note of bitter astringency buried beneath the incense. She suddenly understood: Hua Yitang had not gone off to bathe and change his clothes for the sake of vanity. He’d done it because he knew that what he was about to reproduce from memory was too brutal to face lightly. The ritual bath and fresh garments were simply a way of bringing his mind to stillness beforehand.
When the first thread of moonlight fell across the incense burner, Hua Yitang’s brush stopped. He let out a soft exhalation, brush poised, head tilted upward, his long neck as though he were offering a prayer of some kind. Then that quality of detachment and distance that had gathered around him lifted all at once. His fingers began to tremble violently. His face went a frightening shade of white. He looked at Lin Sui’an, a scorching red light flooding the rims of his eyes, and said quietly, “This is all I can remember —”
Lin Sui’an nodded. “You’ve worked hard.”
The corner of Hua Yitang’s mouth tugged, as though he meant to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. He closed his eyes with exhaustion. His body swayed faintly, like a tumbling doll. Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo rose simultaneously, flanking him from both sides. Hua Yitang’s body listed to one side, and his head came to rest on Lin Sui’an’s shoulder. He breathed out a long, long, slow breath.
Lin Sui’an felt something roiling like a boiling pot in her chest. The scent of Hua Yitang’s hair was a faint fragrance of fruit wood, and it helped her heart slowly settle. She looked down at the pages he had just reproduced from memory — twenty in total, all illustrations, with only a small amount of written text.
In truth, from the very first glimpse she’d had of the scroll in Westwind Pawnshop, she had harbored a suspicion — but it wasn’t until Hua Yitang completed the first page of his reproduction that she dared confirm it.
That entire scroll, from beginning to end, was composed entirely of erotic illustrations.
Not the sort of titillating, pleasurable kind that circulated in the common streets, made for entertainment. The artistic style of this scroll was peculiar and dark, and rather than stirring any improper thoughts, it sent a chill crawling down one’s spine.
The images were extraordinarily detailed and vivid. The figures in particular were rendered with clear, distinct facial features, prominent physical characteristics, and hair ornament details so precise they had been depicted in full. Across every erotic illustration, there was a single fixed central figure, always in the dominant position. The secondary figures in each image differed, some male and some female, more male than female. Along the far left edge of each illustration ran a column of text following the same consistent format, such as:
[The seventh day of the seventh month, third year of Guiyun. At the Nirvana Villa. A long and intimate exchange with Lord Xing Lan on the couch. The experience was sublime and exquisite. Have accordingly preserved his manner and bearing for the record.]
[The twentieth day of the tenth month, third year of Guiyun. At the Nirvana Villa. A night of conversation through hand-to-hand games with Lord Maoshan. The body is well and the heart is content. Have accordingly preserved his world-commanding appearance for the record.]
[The sixth day of the first month, fourth year of Guiyun. At the Phoenix Tree Villa. Composed poetry and discussed literature with Lord Ye Xi. The gains were considerable. Have accordingly preserved his expression of deep absorption for the record.]
And so on.
Lin Sui’an summed it up: time, place, subject, and — for heaven’s sake — his personal impressions. The trouble was that the people depicted in these illustrations truly looked —
Fang Ke said, “The expressions and postures of the figures are far too realistic. It’s as if —”
“These illustrations were not created from imagination,” Hua Yitang said suddenly. “They were drawn by an artist working from living subjects in the actual scene.”
Lin Sui’an’s mind rang out. She understood: this scroll was another version of a compromising record — documented from life.
Hua Yitang’s left hand closed around Lin Sui’an’s wrist. His fingers were ice-cold and still trembling faintly, as though drawing warmth from her. He slowly straightened up, and his right hand pointed to the unambiguous central figure present in every illustration. “This person is Jiang Yongshou, the previous head of the Taiyuan Jiang Family — and Jiang Dongyi’s father. He died suddenly ten years ago at the age of seventy-four. The Taiyuan Jiang Family has always kept the circumstances of his death shrouded in secrecy.”
Everyone drew a sharp breath at once.
Lin Sui’an’s mind erupted in a volley of startled exclamations. Could it be that this Jiang Yongshou had died of excessive physical exertion?!
“This man fancied himself a great libertine in his lifetime, so the existence of such a scroll is not particularly surprising,” said Hua Yitang. “The real issue lies with the other person in this image.” He pulled out one of the illustrations and tapped it. “This man’s name is Ling Xiuzhu. He was from the Ying County Ling Family. In terms of seniority, he would be considered Ling Liulang’s great-uncle on the family tree. He was accomplished in both civil and martial pursuits, and in his generation he was the most promising young man in the Ling Family. Thirty years ago, he died without explanation. At the time of his death he held the rank of seventh-grade adjutant and was only eighteen years old.”
A dead silence fell over the waterside pavilion. Everyone’s expressions drained of color. For a moment, no one knew how to respond.
Hua Yitang’s hands were shaking more violently. Lin Sui’an could not bear to watch. She placed her other hand over his, and patted it gently in a gesture of comfort. Hua Yitang’s trembling eased somewhat. He drew a deep breath and pulled out two more illustrations. “This person’s name is Wan Leyi. She was the younger sister of the former head of the Wan Family of Qingzhou, and she was celebrated for her skill in mounted archery — a true heroine of exceptional caliber. Thirty-one years ago, she died suddenly and without warning. The cause of death was never established.” He then pointed to the other illustration. “This person is Xiang Jiang. Twenty years ago he became the martial arts top-scorer in the imperial examination. He was young and full of promise, but at some point he suddenly went mad — and a few years later he hanged himself. It was considered a notable unsolved mystery of the era.”
Jin Ruo swallowed. “Are you saying that the people in these illustrations — including Jiang Yongshou himself — all died under suspicious circumstances?!”
“Look at these three people here,” said Fang Ke, pointing to figures in the images. “All of them have their eyes tightly shut and their limbs limp. It’s apparent that they had no consciousness at the time.”
Jin Ruo’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying — none of them consented?!”
Fang Ke said, “Perhaps it was drink. Perhaps drugs were administered. It is impossible to say.”
Another silence fell over the group. The content revealed by this scroll had gone far beyond what anyone had imagined. Despite the extreme shock, everyone’s expressions remained, remarkably, outwardly composed.
“You said earlier that the scroll has two hundred and seventy-three pages — meaning there are two hundred and seventy-three victims?!” Lin Sui’an asked Hua Yitang quietly. “Can you identify the other people?”
Hua Yitang said, “Apart from these three, there is only one more I recognize — and you’ve all met this person.”
He drew out an illustration and laid it flat on the table. This time, Jiang Yongshou was visibly aged in the image, and the other figure was a young boy — his eyes were open, the corners of them torn, his mouth gaping, and even through the paper one could feel the profound terror and agony etched into his very bones. Along the left side was written:
[The first day of the sixth month, eighteenth year of Fenghuan. At the Twelve Villa. Tasting the joy of being with my son for the first time, a flavor supremely exquisite. Have accordingly recorded it to celebrate my son’s birthday. May my son carry forward this ancestral wisdom, make it flourish and prosper, that the vital essence may be fortified and the right way perpetuated.]
Jin Ruo covered her mouth. Fang Ke’s brow creased deeply. Lin Sui’an felt her stomach heave with wave after wave of nausea.
They all recognized him. The young boy in the illustration was Jiang Dongyi.
“Jiang Yongshou is worse than a beast! Worse than swine! Worse than dog filth!” Jin Ruo slammed the table in fury.
Fang Ke said, “What kind of incomprehensible nonsense has this man written — ‘carry forward, make it flourish, perpetuate the right way’ — is he out of his mind?!”
“He is indeed unwell,” said Hua Yitang. He released Lin Sui’an’s wrist and spread out another sheet of paper. He picked up the brush and continued writing. “Sick in the heart, and sick in the head.”
This time his writing was much slower, as though the reproduction from memory had already used up every last bit of his strength. The brushstrokes wavered, the characters tilted to one side. After a long interval, he set the brush down. “This is the text from the scroll’s first page — likely extracted from some other source. I regret that I don’t know its origin.”
On the paper was a peculiar passage: [The source of all vital essence lies in the vast star charts of the cosmos. It is the constant way of heaven. Applied through proper methods, one may absorb the movements of the star charts and draw upon the limitless wellspring of the universe. Yin and yang have their order; yang and yin their virtue. Martial prowess is the essence of yang. By drawing it into one’s own body, power is increased and longevity extended. This is the right way.]
Lin Sui’an: “……”
With her tragically limited ability to read classical Chinese, she could barely make sense of it.
Jin Ruo said, “What does it mean?”
Mu Xia said, “It means: people who are skilled in martial arts, whether male or female, carry within their bodies the power of the cosmic star charts. If one can draw this power into oneself, it can not only strengthen one’s fortunes but also extend one’s life.”
Fang Ke said, “Simply put: it is the bedroom arts of absorbing yang to replenish yin — no, what he’s doing is absorbing martial essence to replenish fate, and absorbing vital energy to extend his life.”
Jin Ruo turned aside. “I’m going to be sick.”
Lin Sui’an recalled the look in Jiang Dongyi’s eyes the day he had looked at her and Ling Zhiyan, and dense, prickling gooseflesh rose across her skin.
So she hadn’t been imagining things that day. It was clear that Jiang Dongyi had been intending to subject the two of them to —
“Fourth Young Master!” Mu Xia suddenly cried out in alarm. Hua Yitang’s forehead came down and struck the wooden table with a dull thud. He was unconscious.
Mini Skit — A Lighthearted Interlude
Hua Yitang’s mouth tugged at the corners — he seemed to want to smile, but couldn’t manage it. He closed his eyes in exhaustion. His body swayed faintly, like a tumbling doll. Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo rose simultaneously, flanking him from both sides. Hua Yitang listed to one side, and his head came to rest on Lin Sui’an’s shoulder. He breathed out a long, long sigh.
From Lin Sui’an’s perspective: Ah, look at this frail, helpless playboy who clearly never gets enough exercise.
From Jin Ruo’s perspective: This Hua fellow just shook off his hand at top speed, and on top of that secretly slapped him across the face — hard enough to feel like he’d been kicked by a donkey. That hurt!
From Hua Yitang’s perspective: This Jin Ruo child truly has no situational awareness whatsoever. Hopeless, utterly hopeless.