The tip of the blade swept swiftly across Lan Anjiang’s thigh; Hu Yougui had drawn his knife and returned it to his boot in the blink of an eye.

Tong Jintai moved together with him — while the knife was being drawn, he reached over and pulled the cloth sheet from the kang, wound it a few times around his wrist, then clamped it over this wretch’s mouth, muffling his heart-rending screams.

A violent convulsion wracked him; this kind of pain was just a hair’s breadth from unconsciousness, but he couldn’t get there — there was only pain.

Lan Anjiang was, at heart, a spineless coward, the type who bullied the weak and feared the strong. He convulsed and struggled, tears and snot streaming down his face, even wetting himself. When he’d finally struggled himself into exhaustion and the vicious man let go of his neck, he cried out hoarsely:

“Spare me! Young master, spare me! Ancestors, spare me! There’s a cellar under our young master’s bed with over two hundred thousand strings of cash in it — the key is tied to our young master’s belt! Our madam’s private savings are all in the hidden compartment of her dressing case — this lowly one is just a servant who waits on others, I don’t have much worth offering any of you gentlemen — spare me…”

Before he’d even finished speaking, someone slapped his already agonized face crisply; for a moment he felt his head spin through the sky, and though it eventually landed back on his neck, it hurt as if it were tearing apart.

Chen Dazhong took out a fire striker and lit the candles in the room. Lan Anjiang was hauled up again and forced to kneel before the kang. Trembling with fear, he raised his head, and by the candlelight, broke into a cold sweat.

In the flickering candlelight, seven or eight fierce, murderous men sat or stood watching him, their faces expressionless, looking at him as if he were livestock not worth a copper — no, not even livestock. Perhaps they looked at him as though he were dust and weeds.

No — not even that. Nothing at all!

In the past, when he went to the human market to select girls for his master, he too had liked using that kind of gaze. That feeling of being able to arbitrarily control another person’s fate — let them die, they die; let them live, they live.

They looked like the attendants of the Hall of King Yama, each dressed in dark red — officials of some rank? Huh? No, no, this wasn’t the underworld — these were a group of men in the mortal world who held official positions!

Gods and Heaven above, what had happened? How had it brought soldiers to his door?

Lan Anjiang’s mind spun with wild thoughts; he was scared out of his wits, and his whole body went limp as he pleaded and tried to explain: “My lords, m-my lords, surely there’s been a mistake? This lowly one knows nothing at all, this lowly one is just a servant! This lowly one is nothing but someone who waits on others! Whatever the master of the house has done, this lowly one, this lowly one knows nothing about it! It’s, it’s an injustice…”

He tried to kowtow, but someone grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, so he could do nothing but beg with a mouth full of blood and a face full of tears.

The pain in his leg grew worse and worse; he wanted to faint, and just as his eyes narrowed, someone doused him full in the face with a ladle of cold water, jolting him awake.

He went limp again, only to find himself kneeling on the very cotton quilt that had originally been spread on the kang.

What did this mean?

Chen Dasheng watched him with an expressionless face, ceaselessly asking himself: Was this really the one? Was this really the one?

Yes, it was this man! He hadn’t been mistaken, hadn’t misidentified him.

This man had caused his entire family to be torn apart, separated forever between the living and the dead, and none of them had died an easy death.

For a whole day, the four brothers had all been agitated, and yet now that they were here, they no longer felt agitated — they only felt it was laughable. Too laughable.

Tonight he had led his men here wearing official uniforms; the entire way he hadn’t needed to hide, because he knew by heart the patrol routes of the guards in this capital — when the shifts changed, which day the routes changed, who was where, what path they patrolled.

He had switched night shifts at the south gate with Liu Daya, and now, at the south gate, only the quick-witted Yu Qingguan remained, keeping company with a few dummies propped up to look like men.

This method was crude but effective; no one dared play such tricks right under the Son of Heaven’s nose — but he dared.

Now he held great power in his grasp, bold enough to dare anything, yet back when his entire clan’s men had been taken, not one of them had dared break free of the ropes and run.

When his grandfather and father were alive, what they’d loved to say most was: our family, for generations, has always been honest people. Your great-grandfather was spat on in the face by someone, and he just wiped it off and walked away — he truly never held a grudge. You, you must not provoke others; be honest, be upright, live properly…

But down this long, hard road of struggle, he had already learned to reap men’s heads by day and eat and drink just the same by night. He advanced one step while watching three ahead, and now he had everything, didn’t he?

He had a wife he loved down to his very bones, the affection of his adoptive father, the trust of His Majesty, the respect of his colleagues — in power and cunning he lacked for nothing… but why had it all started in the first place?

It was simply… too painful to look back on!

Chen Dasheng slowly climbed down from the kang. He walked up to Lan Anjiang without even bending at the waist, lowering his eyes to look down at him, studying that swollen, agonized face.

His own eyes were clouded, full of pain, pleading as he looked up at him — he was thin and small, standing not even as tall as his shoulder. This time, Chen Dasheng studied that face carefully, thoroughly, and after a good while, finally reached out and gave him a crisp slap, saying: “Have you been to Yizhou or not.”

Lan Anjiang answered quickly: “No, no…”

Before he’d even finished, crack! Another slap knocked out a tooth.

Chen Dasheng’s slaps were not something to endure lightly — he struck with such skill that he could make it hurt exactly as much as he wanted, and knock out exactly which tooth he wanted.

Lan Anjiang’s face throbbed with agony; he wanted to scream, but the man behind him was quick — a hand clamped a cloth over his mouth the instant he tried, only loosening it once he’d finished. Lan Anjiang spat out an old tooth, his mouth full of blood, and began to weep. He tried to plead, and was slapped again.

“Think carefully. Have you been there or not!”

Another tooth spat out. Lan Anjiang took a long while to recover, then finally said: “Yes, yes, I’ve been…”

Crack!!

This slap landed hard, knocking out two teeth at once. Lan Anjiang’s head spun in confusion — he’d already said yes, so why, why was he still being hit?

He spat out a mouthful of blood from his torn tongue in agony, his body trembling as he wept and pleaded: “Young master, spare me, my lord, spare me, ancestors, spare me, this lowly one will say everything, I’ve been there, I’ve been there! This lowly one has been to Yizhou, truly I have!”

This time Chen Dasheng didn’t hit him; he simply wiped his fingers with a handkerchief in disgust as he asked: “When did you go? What did you go there for?”

Lan Anjiang swallowed a mouthful of blood and wept as he pleaded: “I, I don’t remember which year it was, that was back in the previous reign, my lord, which year was it, which year? Ah, right! It’s been seven or eight years, no, no, four or five?

I don’t remember clearly, none of that had anything to do with this lowly one, no one told this lowly one to go, how would this lowly one dare go on his own! It was our old master who gave this lowly one money and told this lowly one to go to Yizhou to buy people…”

Before he’d even finished, he took four more slaps across the face, left and right — this time it was Chen Dayi doing the hitting.

Chen Dasheng drew a breath: “Brother, don’t beat him to death.”

Lan Anjiang was knocked straight out. When he woke, he spat out half a mouthful of teeth, lying on the ground wanting to cry his fill, only to be flipped over by someone’s foot.

Chen Dazhong stepped down from the kang, planted his foot on Lan Anjiang’s fingers, and ground them left and right without regard for the pain, saying: “In a moment I’ll let you speak — tell me in detail, was it your old master who gave you money to go buy people in Yizhou?”

Lan Anjiang, his mouth covered, was in such agony his soul nearly left his body, yet he still couldn’t scream. He couldn’t even manage to pass out. Even now, he still couldn’t understand why he had to suffer like this.

And so he began to silently resent the Lan family — this man wanted him to explain everything in detail, so he thought: officials coming to interrogate him in the dead of night like this — the Lan family must have committed some great crime. His own life wasn’t worth much, but he still cherished it, so he’d stop worrying about anything else; he would surely have to atone through service now…

Beating a man like this was utterly meaningless — the man was filthy and disgusting; touching his flesh alone would make you want to retch.

The candlelight in the room was bright; the several candles that had been sitting unlit were all now lit.

Chen Dasheng sat cross-legged on the kang, listening with a numb expression as this wretch recounted: “…That year, the imperial troops passed through Ziye, and the officer conscripting men for the Tan family army came to our door. They said your Lan family is a wealthy household, so according to the household registry, send one hundred twenty men into the ranks…”

Chen Dayong, who had been silent all this while, suddenly cut in: “Who from the Tan family went?”

Lan Anjiang, already scared out of his wits, began trembling violently. He covered his face and pleaded: “My lords, this lowly one is just a servant, this lowly one doesn’t know anyone, doesn’t know who went, truly doesn’t know…”

Chen Dasheng looked up at his elder brother: “No need to ask him this. Conscription is an official duty — it can be looked into later.”

Chen Dayong’s temple throbbed a few times; he gritted his teeth and, suppressing his temper, nodded.

Someone pulled at Lan Anjiang’s hair: “Stop rambling, keep going. The Tan family wanted a hundred and twenty men — then what?”

This time he wasn’t struck, so Lan Anjiang let out a breath of relief and confessed: “Yes, yes, yes, that year the Tan family wanted men, and, and our family — no, the Lan family — what could we do? There was no way out… Later, the old master had someone take a great sum of money and go find the Tan family that very night to beg for leniency…”

Someone coughed, and this quick-witted wretch immediately covered his face and pleaded: “My lord, this lowly one doesn’t know who exactly he went to beg from within the Tan family, this lowly one only knows that three hundred thousand strings of cash were sent. That night when the old master came back he said, well, the young masters of the clan wouldn’t have to go after all, but we still had to make up the number of men according to the registry for the Tan family, and later… the old master gave the young master two hundred strings of cash, plus a thousand catties of grain, and told the young master to take men and go buy conscripts in the nearby area…”

Chen Dazhong looked up and cut him off: “This ‘young master’ you speak of — is that Lan Zili?”

Lan Anjiang nodded like he was pounding garlic: “Yes, yes, yes, that’s him, that’s him.” He wanted to crawl forward on his knees, but someone yanked him back by the hair onto the quilt. Trembling, he pleaded: “My lords, this lowly one truly knows nothing at all. The old master gave so much money and grain, but what the young master handed to this lowly one was, was only a hundred strings…”

He took another kick, and someone asked him: “Weren’t you told to buy people nearby?”

Lan Anjiang endured the pain and said: “Ancestors, you don’t understand — when a wealthy man makes his fortune away from home, or passes the imperial exams, he’s expected to return to his hometown to build bridges and pave roads. Ziye is the Lan family’s roots — their reputation there still matters.

Buy laborers nearby with a hundred strings? How could that ever be enough! Our young master pocketed the money and the grain, what could this lowly one do — later… this lowly one truly had no way out, so this lowly one took, took…”

Lan Anjiang, who had been quite honest up to this point, let his eyes dart for a moment, and the pause in his speech earned him another foot-long knife wound, sending him through another round of agony. The vicious man sitting on the kang mocked him: “Don’t play tricks. Speak.”

Lan Anjiang’s mind was scrambled with pain; it took a long while before he caught his breath enough to say: “Yes, yes, this lowly one will speak, this lowly one had no choice, with so little money, this lowly one, could only, only take two boys along and travel two hundred li to Yizhou, and, and just find some refugees to make up the number. As for, as for what crime our young master actually committed, this lowly one truly doesn’t know…”

So then — it seemed his own family had simply been fated for ruin.

Chen Dazhong tilted his face up slightly to look at the roof beam, drawing a deep breath to steady himself as distant memories churned and tormented his mind again and again.

Those Lan family servants cracking their whips, the battle banners on the field, the roar of the surrounding crowd like a black tide, the clatter of colliding armor, the sudden storm of arrows loosed from siege crossbows, the panic creeping across his elders’ weathered, furrowed faces — they had grown bolder and bolder out of sheer desperation, enduring day after day, no longer knowing what family or country even meant, having even set aside hatred, their minds fixed on one single thing: survive, just survive…

Now, seeing this man before him, the thousand cuts he had imagined in his mind couldn’t summon any real fervor. In the end, beneath all of this evil stood nothing but cowardice — a full one hundred twenty men, driven two hundred li and sold off by a mere dozen or so vicious servants with whips.

And along that entire road, not a single one of them had dared resist.

Chen Dasheng rested his hands on his crossed knees, his eyes gently closing.

Lan Anjiang’s mouth was gagged again; he no longer dared struggle as they bound him into a human stick and wrapped him inside the quilt beneath him.

Only now did Lan Anjiang understand why they’d spread a quilt beneath him — after tormenting him for so long, not a single trace or clue had been left in this room.

He had never seen, never even heard of such wicked men existing in this world.

He had no idea how much time passed before he heard that lead vicious man say: “Money is a fine thing, isn’t it, Little Seven…”

Someone knocked him unconscious.

From fainting to waking felt like the blink of an eye.

Someone was speaking; Lan Anjiang opened his eyes in a daze, feeling himself tightly bound, unable to move even a finger.

The weather was hot; wrapped in layers of cotton batting, he sweated profusely. The vicious men, afraid he might die, had dug a hole beneath the cart so his nose could poke through, face-down, to breathe freely.

He could see nothing, could only breathe rapidly through his nose. His body was wedged motionless between wooden planks. He listened quietly and heard a faint clinking of coins near his ear.

Lan Anjiang had carried his master’s money pouch for years — that had once been his favorite sound.

The cart swayed again, traveling a long distance before stopping. Lan Anjiang heard someone greeting another with an obsequious, flattering tone —

“Oh, Marquis Chen! Off to where?”

That familiar, mocking voice came through with a smile: “Ah, the old lady at home isn’t feeling well, so we’re taking your sister-in-law back to Qingfeng to have her looked at.”

“Ah, the weather this year has been terrible, so hot! The elders can’t bear to use ice, hard to get through it.”

“True enough. And you all — what’s this about?”

“Marquis Chen doesn’t know? Yesterday a big case broke out on Wenchang Street, and our lord sent us to assist at the city gates. Ah, waste of effort! That money can’t talk, and it all looks the same anyway — how would we ever find it? Wouldn’t you agree?”

Hearing this, Lan Anjiang’s body shuddered; he wanted to make some kind of noise, but could only breathe rapidly in and out, growing more and more desperate.

That vicious man was bold enough to even press further.

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Marquis Chen is busy with official duties every day, how would you have the leisure to bother with such trivial matters. Yanjing is vast — how many people die quietly every day? All small matters! I’ll tell you, this family was outsiders here, don’t know if they were foolish or what, didn’t even mind their surroundings, went about spending money carelessly in front of everyone at the market. Well, their steward turned black-hearted — drugged the whole family with incense one night, then worked with outside men to make off with over two hundred thousand strings from the household!”

Lan Anjiang’s eyes went wide with disbelief; inside he screamed, No! I didn’t do it! I’m right here! Help! This is unjust…

Heaven above, open your eyes and look! How can people in this world be so wicked! What’s the difference between these officials and bandits? Heavens, are you blind? What do you mean “worked with outside men”? I’ve been wronged, help me… If this charge were to stick…

Lan Anjiang suddenly felt all hope drain away, tears streaming from his clouded eyes. He struggled with everything he had, straining with all his strength to make some kind of noise, hoping to alert someone — but it was useless. The men binding him were professionals, and the cart swaggered brazenly right out of the city gate.

The whole way, it was never smooth — there were constant checks, yet no one ever thoroughly searched the cart; they didn’t even dare approach it. Lan Anjiang heard many strange forms of address.

General, Marquis Chen, Little Ancestor, Brother Feilian, Sir Vice Director… the more he heard, the more hopeless he became.

He finally stopped struggling, and found himself thinking of his wife back in Ziye, and his two sons… The madam had even said that if this year’s business went smoothly, she’d give the two maids who served her to his sons as wives when they returned.

If this charge of “working with outsiders” were to stick, his whole family would be doomed.

Lan Anjiang wept the entire way, weeping until he fainted, weeping until all hope was gone, from daytime clear through to that night — growing more and more hopeless with each passing hour.

Deep in the night, in an out-of-the-way corner of Baiquan Mountain, more than a dozen torches burned brightly. Lan Anjiang, barely alive, was dragged out of the cart and hauled all the way to a large pit.

He hadn’t had water or food for a whole day; the continuous mental torment and physical injury had left him half-mad, entirely at the mercy of others. He seemed to sense he was about to die, and in his daze he lifted his head — and by the light of the torches, was frightened out of his wits.

Spread before him on flat ground was a large piece of red cloth, upon which sat a number of spirit tablets.

He could read, and seeing those crude names written on the tablets — Chen Daniu, Chen Erniu — he felt a wave of confusion.

The three layers of gag stuffed in his mouth were removed, and he opened his mouth, calling out hoarsely to those around him in a hoarse voice: “Unjust… this is unjust…”

He thought his voice was loud, but it was really only a feeble struggle.

The old woman was carried up the mountain on someone’s back. Hearing the bound wretch in the pit dare to cry injustice, she took hold of her eldest grandson’s hand and walked slowly down into the pit, saying to the vicious man:

“They told me you’re surnamed Lan. Ah, wrong! All wrong!”

Who was this? Lan Anjiang couldn’t make sense of it at all, staring at the old woman in utter confusion, still kowtowing and crying: “Save, save me!”

The old woman only laughed and said: “Don’t let him speak. Everyone listen to me.”

And so, even this cry of injustice could not be voiced again.

The old woman spoke earnestly: “I always thought you were surnamed Jiang. I used to curse you all the time — I cursed your whole family to die, cursed your line to end, cursed you to be reborn as livestock in your next life, to be slaughtered at will by others… Who would have thought I was wrong all along. No wonder your retribution has only come today.”

Lan Anjiang stared at the wealthy, gold-and-silver-bedecked old woman before him in complete bewilderment.

Seeing his confusion, the old woman pointed at the spirit tablets and said: “Steward Jiang, you probably don’t know who they are, so let me tell you — those are flesh of my flesh, my sons, my grandsons. All of them were the ones you sent off to the battlefield, in Yizhou. Do you remember now?”

The old woman said this without any trace of anger in her voice.

Struck as if by thunder, his mind shattered, all his memories came flooding back — so it was this, it was Yizhou, ah? It was Yizhou!

This was vengeance come calling.

Lan Anjiang finally understood what was happening. He gathered every last ounce of courage and strength and began shaking his head violently — he wanted to explain, that he was only a steward following orders; he wanted to beg, wanted to plead for these people to spare his life… but no one wanted to hear him speak, not even a single word.

Seeing him like this, the old woman laughed. She looked at the spirit tablets, then pointed over there and said: “Scared now?”

Lan Anjiang nodded fiercely, kowtowing.

The old woman’s smile only widened. She said: “Actually, I ought to thank you. Do you know that, my sons and grandsons — I lost quite a few — but do you know, it was because of your helping hand that we lowly dirt farmers came to hold official rank!”

Lan Anjiang looked left and right, and saw a half-circle of official robes.

He tried to squirm toward the old woman, only to be kicked away by Chen Dazhong.

Chen Dayong brought a drum-stool for the old woman and helped her sit down. Leaning on her cane, she said to Lan Anjiang: “Do you see this cane? This was bestowed by His Majesty himself. His Majesty said my entire Chen family were loyal and devoted, and so he made me a Lady of Rank…”

Lan Anjiang shuddered, wanting to curl himself into a ball.

As if chatting idly with a neighbor, the old woman continued praising in good spirits: “Steward Jiang, this old woman really ought to thank you — if it weren’t for that sale of yours back then, my Chen family might well have starved to death fleeing famine. Even if we hadn’t starved, we’d have been the most helpless people in this world, with no roof over our heads and no ground to call our own — that should have been our fate. This old woman thanks you.”

Lan Anjiang couldn’t understand why this old woman was saying all this; his eyes only grew wider, already frightened past reason.

But the old woman only smiled more happily, slapping her thigh as she said: “Ah, who would have thought — if it weren’t for you, Steward, giving us that helping hand back then, my family wouldn’t have such a good life now! Truly. Now my eldest grandson — oh, that’s the one whose tablet is there, his son — and my second and third grandsons too, they’re all proper sixth-rank officials of the court. And the families they’ve married into are all official households too, their wives are all cultured and gracious, and very filial to me.”

The old woman set down her cane and pushed up her sleeve, revealing three gold bracelets on her wrinkled arm. She pointed to them: “This one with the inlaid gems was a gift from His Majesty himself. This one was from the Empress. This one, woven from gold thread, was from the Empress Dowager herself — it’s the most fashionable style in Yanjing right now!

That’s nothing, really, and it’s not just these few — I have several cabinets full of gold and silver jewelry, more than I could ever wear or spend. And on top of that, the palace sends cartloads of gifts to my house every festival. This old woman lives this well now — I owe it all to you.”

Lan Anjiang tilted his head back, his eyes gradually turning bloodshot.

The old woman pointed again at Chen Sanniu’s spirit tablet and said: “The most accomplished one was his son! That one made it big — you know Yu Qingling? He’s my adopted son now, and my grandson has been given to him as his heir son, adopted out to carry on his line. So now my grandson is the adopted son of a reigning county prince — my descendants will surely inherit the county prince’s title one day, a title of exceptional rank, do you understand? Ah, you country bumpkin, what would you have ever seen of such things? All this wealth and glory — you gave it to us. I ought to thank you…”

A particularly plump wild boar was led to the edge of the pit. Chen Dasheng looked at the boar for a moment, then looked at Lan Anjiang.

Lan Anjiang, under that gaze, felt his hair stand on end, uncertain whether to keep listening to the old woman boast of her riches or to worry about that vicious man turning on him with a blade.

He kept glancing back and forth, torn both ways, until he saw the vicious man draw his knife in a flash and, in an instant, chop off the boar’s head — blood spurting a foot high from its severed neck.

Lan Anjiang made a strange choking, gagging sound, retreating in terror to the edge of the pit. But the old woman stood up, walked step by step toward him, bent down, and said: “Steward Jiang, you’ve been so good to my family, I swear I’ll repay you. I’ll repay you — by having you reborn as livestock in your next life. Doesn’t that sound nice…”

The wild boar’s entrails were gutted and dumped at the bottom of the pit. Lan Anjiang was hauled up, and only then did he understand what this old woman intended to do.

In folk burial customs, it is the greatest taboo to be dressed in animal hide when buried — for whatever creature’s hide you wear, that is what you will be reborn as in the next life.

He could accept death, could accept paying with his life — but he did not want to be reborn as livestock.

He struggled with all the strength left in his body, but it was useless. Small and thin as he was, he was still too long — the vicious man folded his legs up against his body, and amid searing pain he was stuffed into the boar’s belly, watching helplessly as they sewed, stitch by stitch… until he could see nothing at all.

So this was really it? He was going to die?

Surely not.

Was this really happening?

Was he really going to die?

Lan Anjiang thought: what had he even lived his life for?

Faintly, he heard the last words of the mortal world — the old woman saying: “Steward Jiang, don’t be afraid, you’ll get through it eventually. This old body will have them wrap you in sixteen layers of hide. That’s how my Chen family does things — my family’s eight lives lost, so you’ll live sixteen lifetimes as livestock in return. That’s only fair.”

Lan Anjiang believed what she said. He didn’t wait to suffocate — he was frightened to death, alive, by the thought of what awaited him, life after life, generation after generation.

Once the last layer of earth had been packed down, Chen Dasheng carried his grandmother on his back and headed down the mountain.

As they walked, his grandmother murmured in his ear:

“My heart… feels so much more at ease now.”

Chen Dasheng bounced her gently: “Mm, that’s good then.”

But his grandmother asked again: “What about the Lan family?”

Chen Dasheng thought for a moment and said: “Whatever Grandmother says. However you want it, that’s how it’ll be.”

After a moment of silence, this old countrywoman who couldn’t read a single character said: “Never mind what others think — I’ve got my own scale weighing things in my heart! That family’s old master never meant things to turn out this way. Back in our days fleeing the famine, never mind the money — that thousand catties of grain alone could have bought plenty of people’s lives. It was someone else’s heart that turned rotten.”

“Mm!”

“Little rascal, let’s keep our hearts set straight down the middle — whatever’s right is right. Grandmother’s telling you — that Lan family’s eldest branch you mentioned, that’s our true enemy. Don’t you dare take revenge on the wrong person!”

“Ah, I won’t, Grandmother.”

“Little rascal.”

“Mm?”

“Tonight… Grandmother feels like I might get to see your grandfather…”