Yandu observed its nighttime curfew, yet the streets weren’t silent — countless homes still had their lights burning, with children’s laughter and playful shouting drifting sparsely from far to near. Two streets away from the Ningshu Lute House stood Old Zhang’s Soup Shop, which had opened its doors even after curfew. Chen Dasheng had, earlier that day, sent someone with two strings of coins to buy a couple of servings of sheep offal and a sheep carcass, entrusting them to Old Man Zhang to simmer all day, waiting for curfew to fall so they could all gather and eat together.
They’d planned it nicely enough, but the weather didn’t cooperate. After curfew fell, rain began to pour, and by nightfall, with black clouds blotting out the moon, the rain turned into an unrelenting downpour of thunder and lightning, shaking all of Yandu.
Still, it didn’t stop them from eating.
Old Man Zhang hung up two bright, wind-resistant lanterns and even set up an oilcloth awning at the shop entrance. The brothers of the Long Blade Bureau sat beneath it, eating their fill of the fragrant offal simmering in the white broth, tearing off pieces of sesame flatbread toasted over the charcoal fire beside them, eating as much as they liked.
At this hour, being able to eat piping-hot mutton soup in Yandu was an indescribable feeling. Though the soup was the same soup as always, somehow it tasted different tonight.
It was a kind of privilege — vague, yet capable of breaking through the confines of power — the freedom to eat whatever, whenever one pleased.
The rain grew heavier and heavier. Jiu Si Tang had deployed its full forces, shadows in straw raincoats and bamboo hats slipping secretly out from every alley, moving quickly in groups past the awning. Chen Dasheng and the others held their large bowls, slurping their hot soup, watching the spectacle unfold.
Occasionally someone would flash a fierce glare their way, and these shameless men would even call out to them: “Come, have a bowl, hot and free, come on?”
Truly shameless, that lot.
Later, one group passed by, and finally someone stopped and stepped under the awning. Only once he removed his bamboo hat did Chen Dasheng recognize him — it was Xie Wuhao.
Chen Dasheng greeted him with a smile. “Oy, Commander Xie, busy tonight?”
Xie Wuhao hung his raincoat and hat to one side, sniffed, and sighed as he exhaled a breath of damp air. “Busy — we’re the ones out here suffering and risking our necks, unlike you lot enjoying such a comfortable life. Tch, you really know how to live well.”
Coming from the martial world by background, he had a bold, straightforward temperament, and without waiting for Chen Dasheng to invite him, he simply grabbed a large bowl himself and handed it to Old Man Zhang, glancing at the lantern bearing the shop’s family name before saying with a grin, “Trouble you, Old Zhang — I’m partial to liver, give me plenty of it.”
Chen Dasheng chuckled and made room on the bench. Once Xie Wuhao settled down with his heaping bowl of mutton soup, he took a slurp of the hot broth first and exclaimed, “Delicious!”
Chen Dasheng and the others laughed. Yu Qingguan even found a piece of flatbread toasted golden-brown on both sides and personally tore it up, dropping it into Xie Wuhao’s soup. “Delicious doesn’t even begin to cover it — this has been simmering all day. Not to brag, but if you’re talking about soup broth, nowhere in all of Yandu does it as authentically as Old Zhang’s — true northern flavor.”
Xie Wuhao thanked him, lowered his head and shoveled down a few mouthfuls, and after downing half the bowl of hot soup, working up a good sweat, he finally looked up and said, “Now that hits the spot! I used to love this too, but it was such a shame — that old soup used to cost ten coins a bowl, and the bowl was so shallow you could barely scoop out a few pieces of liver. Plus I hate sheep throat meat, which they always love throwing in, so every time I’d end up leaving half the bowl uneaten. Now I’ve finally learned my lesson — I’ll pick a good day, rain or snow, and come order up a whole pot, let my brothers enjoy it too. Ah, trouble you for one more bowl, old man, all liver this time.”
Old Man Zhang smiled and walked out from behind the pot, taking the bowl with both hands, and indeed scooped him half a bowl of liver. As he ladled the broth, the old man said, “If you gentlemen enjoy it, you needn’t come all the way to my humble shop — it’s the same everywhere. Things are different now compared to the previous dynasty. Back then, all trades and goods had their own designated districts, and those of us cooking soup were crammed together, none daring to cross the line. The rent for shop space and all those trivial expenses made it genuinely hard to make a living — who would dare use good ingredients? You’d lose your capital investment. But now, what generosity His Majesty shows — we’re free to buy and sell throughout the streets and markets as we please. This shop of mine is inherited family property, so I don’t even pay rent, and with fewer losses, naturally I can put more effort into the flavor. That’s how it is for me, and it’s the same for everyone else too.”
Presenting the soup with both hands, the little old man went on to ask, “My lords, there’s been talk in the streets lately that our old Earl is putting down the rebellion clear out west — once peace comes to the realm, will these streets finally be free of curfew?”
Chen Dasheng and the others were regulars at this soup stall, and over time the old man had grown bold enough to speak so freely with them. Xie Wuhao kept drinking his soup, while Chen Dasheng thought it over carefully before answering the old man seriously, “If peace comes to the realm, there naturally won’t be any curfew — that’s the same principle in every dynasty.”
Great Liang, two years into its founding, had its court ministers and His Majesty following the old path of past founding dynasties — lightening the burden of labor service, encouraging land reclamation, developing agriculture, allowing loans and easing restrictions on the buying and selling of people — except this dynasty had added one new measure: beginning to collect commercial taxes while also encouraging trade and industry, which greatly eased the burden on farmers.
Great Liang’s vitality was recovering rapidly, thanks to trade flowing freely in all directions, and with the common people now having spare coin, naturally they hoped Yandu, this great capital, would one day be free of curfew altogether.
Chen Dasheng’s answer had been deliberately vague, but Old Man Zhang chose to believe only the good in it. He stood by the pot and bowed toward the palace, then reached out and added another half-ladle of liver to the still-silent Xie Wuhao’s bowl.
Both Xie Wuhao and Chen Dasheng had hearty appetites, and the two of them competed against each other, downing five large bowls each, plus four or five sesame flatbreads besides.
Just as they were secretly measuring each other’s appetite, Old Man Zhang cautiously asked, “My lord officials — I heard, I heard there’s a traitorous official at court?”
Xie Wuhao had just taken a mouthful of soup, and at these words sprayed it right back out, coughing for a good while before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and asking, “Old man, where did you hear such a thing?”
Old Man Zhang glanced around, then finally gritted his teeth and said cautiously, “I see you gentlemen must hold some rank, so let me just ask — you both look kind and good-natured, and I’m just an ignorant old man with no worldly knowledge, so if I’ve said something wrong, please forgive an old fool — just treat it as if I’d let out a fart, and don’t hold it against me.”
Chen Dasheng smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine, old man, go ahead and ask.”
Hearing this, Old Man Zhang finally spoke carefully. “I don’t dare hide it from you, my lords — these past few days all of Yandu has been buzzing with talk that our Lord She Qingtian, because he spoke up for us common folk, was framed by traitorous officials at court, and they say his position’s been stripped and he’s been thrown into prison, just waiting for autumn execution! Heh! Just when things were starting to look bright, wicked ministers rise up to cause chaos again. That Lord She’s family has been honest and upright for three generations — isn’t this a grave injustice against him?”
Xie Wuhao couldn’t hold it in any longer — he burst out laughing, patted Chen Dasheng on the shoulder, and stood up, walking to the roadside where he gathered up the hem of his robe and swept every remaining flatbread from beside the stove into it. Still unwilling to admit defeat, he took a bite, mumbling indistinctly, “Today, today, many thanks — I’ll treat you back another day.”
Chen Dasheng stood to see him off, smiling. “Commander Xie, do be careful — we’ve crossed paths with that Qingbuyi many times, and she’s truly formidable.”
Xie Wuhao swallowed his mouthful of flatbread, looked out at the curtain of rain for a long moment, then said, “Our Commander says that in an age like this, if the martial world is allowed to drift free forever, then even the strongest flame will eventually be snuffed out. Let the slanderers chatter away, let them praise us to our faces and curse us behind our backs — my generation has no regrets, and your foster father has no regrets either. Isn’t that right, Lord Chen?”
Chen Dasheng nodded. “Just so. It’s dangerous ahead — do take care, Commander Xie.”
Xie Wuhao took another big bite of flatbread and left with great flair, walking all the way to a secluded corner before finally leaning against a wall, unable to hold back any longer, and retching violently onto the ground. Straightening up, he peeked back to check — seeing the men of the Long Blade Bureau still eating leisurely under the awning, he cursed bitterly under his breath, “Damn it, still eating? Rice buckets, I lost!”
With that, he rubbed his stomach and shuffled off into the distance.
Chen Dasheng, of course, had no idea Xie Wuhao harbored any sense of rivalry with him. In truth, among the young people of similar age in Yandu these days — himself, Chang Lianfang, Zheng Aman, Li Jinggui, Tang Jiuyuan, and Xie Wuhao among others — they were all considered the outstanding young talents of their generation.
Chen Dasheng himself had no interest in such comparisons, though others clearly did.
After eating a while longer, the entire pot of old soup was finally emptied down to the last drop. Chen Dasheng set down his bowl and, looking at the empty pot with some regret, said to Old Man Zhang, “Old sir, don’t worry too much on Lord She’s account. Lord She has rendered great service to the court, and His Majesty and the other ministers understand this better than anyone.
I’ve heard that Lord She himself wishes to do more for the common people, but as everyone in the realm already knows, his health took a serious blow, and he can no longer endure attending court every single day. His Majesty, out of concern for him, let him step down. I… my information isn’t entirely certain either. But before long, there’s bound to be some kind of reward or recognition coming down, and the truth will come to light for all to see. You just keep tending to your business here in the streets day by day — ordinary slander like this, just let it pass, no need to take it to heart…”
Hearing this, Old Man Zhang felt completely relieved, and even walked outside the awning to bow reverently toward the imperial palace once more.
This nation truly couldn’t afford another setback.
The old man came back, settled by the stove, tending the fire while chatting cheerfully with Chen Dasheng about the latest happenings around the neighborhood. Just as the conversation was getting lively, everyone spotted a familiar white shadow streak across the sky. Chen Dasheng abruptly stood, gave a light wave of his hand, and Yu Qingguan and the others rose at once — extinguishing the lanterns, dampening the stove ashes, smothering the charcoal fire, and packing away Old Man Zhang’s entire stall into his house in no time at all.
Reaching out, he handed the old man a piece of broken silver as a reward. Yu Qingguan made a hushing gesture at the thoroughly alarmed old man. “Go on back inside and sleep soundly, sir. Whatever noise you hear, don’t come out.”
A muffled peal of thunder rumbled across the sky. The gate closed, shutting away Old Man Zhang’s frightened face.
Sure enough, this was Yandu — after that streak of white passed overhead, the countless lit windows of the city seemed to dim one cluster at a time, as if by silent agreement, gradually sinking into darkness.
Chen Dasheng and his brothers put on their straw raincoats and bamboo hats, then leapt up onto the rooftops as well. From a distance, they could already see the roof of the lute house engaged in open battle, the flash of clashing metal catching their eyes again and again.
Guan Si’er couldn’t sit still, crouching beside Chen Dasheng and sighing. “Boss, honestly, if we weren’t men of the court, I’d want to go help that old nun. Thinking about our dead brothers, even flaying Tan Shiyuan alive a thousand times wouldn’t satisfy me.”
Ma Ergu shoved him and said coolly, “Just watch the show.”
But Guan Si’er kept looking at Chen Dasheng expectantly. “Brother, you think the seven of us went up there, how long could we hold out?”
Chen Dasheng didn’t answer the question directly. Instead, he looked around and said, “The old hermits hold the center, Jiu Si Tang forms the inner ring, the Five Wards Cavalry to the east, the Patrol Censor to the south, and all twenty-seven offices covering the north with their own men on guard — our Emperor really does think highly of people. The entire west side is left to just the seven of us. If Qingbuyi loses in a moment, how am I supposed to tell her the west side here is riddled with holes like a sieve…”
This question was far too complicated, and for a moment no one said a word, simply watching the sparks fly in the distance, the constant clash of weapons carrying over to them — they realized it had been far too long since they’d had the chance to really let loose and fight like this.
From somewhere over there, an old, weathered voice threatened, “Qingbuyi! Out of respect for your ancestors, this old man is giving you a chance to live — will you still refuse to surrender…ah…”
A scream cut through the air, followed by the massive crash of some unlucky rooftop collapsing.
Chen Dasheng took a breath, then suddenly laughed. “I want to buy this woman a drink.”
Someone muttered, “She’s a nun, though.”
Yu Qingguan looked around and said, “Xiao Liu, Xiao Qi and I will go take a look up front. If there’s an opportunity, we’ll try to guide her our way.”
Chen Dasheng pulled off the raincoat he was wearing and handed it to him. “Use your judgment — none of them are any good. Your life is precious to me — I’d be heartbroken to lose even a single hair of yours.”
Yu Qingguan chuckled lightly, wrapped the extra raincoat around himself, and together with Guan Si’er and Hu Yougui, melted into the curtain of rain.
Not long after they left, a flash of lightning split the sky, and standing at his high vantage point, Chen Dasheng could suddenly see half of Yandu laid bare in the brief light.
In that flash, a circle of elderly fighters, each wielding their own weapon, had Qingbuyi surrounded like a great ring closing in. Qingbuyi leapt into the air, wielding her sword with controlled energy, deflecting every attack that came at her from all sides.
Another half-circle of sparks flew.
A massive crack of thunder rolled across the night sky, and Yandu was once more swallowed in darkness, curtain after curtain of driving rain pouring down from above.
Ma Ergu, watching this single scene, sighed. “Brother, you know, after all the suffering we went through, working out just a little bit of life-saving skill by studying what she showed us — I used to look down on it, thinking these martial world types were all just flashy show. If we hadn’t run into that nun last year… ah, well, a person really does need to see more of the world.”
Tong Jintai chuckled. “Why bring that up now? A person’s got to know contentment. See that up there?” He pointed skyward. “Thunder’s rolling — better watch out or Heaven might strike you down for your ingratitude. Just surviving is already good fortune. You think everyone’s this formidable? I’ve chatted with the Jiu Si Tang folks before, and there’s no shortage of famous names in the martial world among that lot — but if you’re talking about the most fearsome women in all of Great Liang, it’s ‘Qing of the South, Huai of the North.’ Qing of the South is this very nun. But our own Qingfeng’s Baiquan Mountain has Grandma Yushu — she could take down someone like Qingbuyi with just two fingers, believe it or not?”
“Don’t believe it — go bring Grandma Yushu here and let’s see her poke someone dead!”
The two of them always loved to argue with each other — whatever one said, the other would inevitably take the opposite side.
Chen Dasheng sneezed and shivered.
Ma Ergu clicked his tongue, feigning disdain. “Hearing is deceiving, seeing is believing. Until you’ve watched them actually fight, all this talk of yours means nothing.”
Just as the two of them were starting up their argument again, another flash of lightning lit the sky, and in that instant, Qingbuyi, suspended in mid-air in her white robes, was now entirely soaked in blood. Only four or five opponents remained facing her — but the terrifying part was that outside the circle of combat, the men of Jiu Si Tang stood packed densely along the surrounding rooftops.
Those figures stood silently in the night, all wearing straw raincoats and bamboo hats, holding gleaming weapons, motionless as statues.
The lightning passed, and the sky cracked again with another peal of thunder. The night grew darker still, the rain pouring down in torrents.
Tong Jintai sniffed. “Scared the hell out of me!”
Chen Dasheng reached behind his waist, pulled out two bundles, and tossed them to his brothers. “Go on over, use your judgment.”
Ma Ergu and the others took the bundles, nodded, turned, and leapt down into the night. Once they’d gone some distance, Chen Dasheng also jumped down from the roof, retrieved several tall and short wooden stakes he’d hidden away earlier, set them up on the rooftop, and dressed each one in a prepared straw raincoat and bamboo hat — from a distance, it looked exactly as though seven men still stood guard on the roof.
In the midst of the fierce battle, Qingbuyi took an Emei piercer through her right shoulder. One old hermit lay dead before Tan Shiyuan, his face twisted in fury. Qingbuyi had no intention of surviving this — she fought with reckless abandon, a life-or-death style of combat. The old hermits, being paid mercenaries, had held back somewhat, but once Qingbuyi truly began killing without regard for consequence, the hermits finally unleashed their full strength, and both sides suffered heavy losses.
Tan Shiyuan turned to flee, but Qingbuyi, with her back to him, forced him into a corner. She raised her hand and struck, driving the entire Emei piercer from her own body straight into Tan Shiyuan’s.
Tan Shiyuan let out a great scream of agony. “Let me go, let me go — spare my sister-in-law! Spare her! Think of my brother, think of how good you two once were to each other — whenever you came to my camp, I always looked the other way, didn’t I! Sister-in-law, sister-in-law! My son, my son calls you mother now…”
Eyes red with killing intent, Qingbuyi sneered coldly. “My whole life has been nothing but a joke — where would I ever have gotten a son!”
She struck again with resolve — the Emei piercer had a finger-ring in its middle, and it tore straight through her own body before plunging entirely into Tan Shiyuan’s.
Tan Shiyuan howled in unbearable pain, and not daring to thrash about with the piercer still lodged in him, collapsed to the ground, screaming skyward in agony.
His beast-like wailing cut through the rain-soaked night sky. Having fulfilled her vow that night, Qingbuyi called out into the darkness, “I’m wounded today — this poor nun will return in a month’s time…”
Someone shouted, “You’ve killed a man, and you still think you can leave?!”
Once more the unbroken clash of steel and shower of sparks resumed. Qingbuyi, sword in one hand, traded a few more blows with the remaining old hermits before being struck down from the rooftop by an opponent’s mace.
A few more flashes of lightning followed. Xie Wuhao looked at the other commanders present and finally sighed, waving a hand. “Let’s go, time to clean up. We need her alive.”
In an instant, the men of Jiu Si Tang converged on Qinshe from every direction, like black dumplings dropping ceaselessly into a boiling pot.
In all her life, Qingbuyi had never suffered such punishment. Two sword wounds on her back, an Emei piercer clean through her shoulder that had nearly struck her pipa bone — she was covered in blood from head to toe, yet felt no pain, only the bitter cold of the rainy night. The blood couldn’t stay on her body, washed away instantly by the pounding rain, slowly rinsed into a stream of crimson on the ground.
More and more people closed in. Qingbuyi, clutching her shoulder, wandered through the small alleys, her consciousness growing hazier by the moment. She thought to herself — could this really be where her life ended?
Later, she didn’t even know where she’d ended up, but suddenly felt a warmth as someone draped a raincoat over her shoulders and murmured in her ear, “Don’t be afraid, Master — I’m here to save you. Come with me…”
She wanted to break free of everyone, find some place with no one around, and die there in private — best to rot away quickly, decompose, turn to ash and dust before anyone found her, so as not to bring shame upon Qinshe, upon her ancestors.
But suddenly, someone wanted to lead her away?
Lead her where?
Who was this person? Could it be someone her father had sent?
With even the faintest thread of hope for survival, even a false one, Qingbuyi didn’t resist. She let herself be led, racing through the rainy night, all the way to a cellar. Inside the cellar was a hidden passage, and Qingbuyi crawled after the figure ahead of her. After crawling several dozen meters, then climbing upward for a while longer, they finally pushed aside a covering of straw and emerged through an opening. Qingbuyi steadied herself, looked around, and startled.
The man struck a fire-starter and lit an oil lamp — this turned out to be a dim, dilapidated prison cell.
Qingbuyi raised her sword to the man’s throat. He laughed and turned around. “Don’t be afraid, Master. Think about it — is there anywhere in this world safer than a dungeon belonging to the Imperial Guard offices?”
Qingbuyi studied his face, caked with fresh mud and still dripping water, frowned, and glanced around. She noticed fresh straw piled in the corner of the cell, with a full set of bedding laid atop it, and beside that sat a water jug and a bundle of dry rations. She finally lowered her weapon, and leaning against the wall while clutching her shoulder, asked, “You — who are you?”
The man didn’t tell her who he was, but reached into his robe and pulled out a bottle of medicine, tossing it to Qingbuyi. “Don’t ask, I won’t tell you anyway. Just rest well, Master. Everything you need has already been prepared for you. This place has been abandoned for a long time — the Sentry’s twenty-eight offices rarely make arrests these days, so this place has stayed locked up. Rest and recover carefully, Master. I’d wager that right now, all through Yandu, this is the only place you could actually sleep safe and sound. Come tomorrow, you can return to face the martial world once more.”
He finished speaking and turned to climb back down into the tunnel. After crawling a few steps, he heard Qingbuyi ask from behind him, “Are you an enemy of Tan Shiyuan’s?”
The man simply said, “What business is it of yours who I am? This place is yours now, Master.”
The sound of his crawling grew fainter and fainter. Once alone, Qingbuyi finally allowed herself to feel the pain. She leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, and suddenly a jet of blood burst from her mouth. After spitting it out, she stared at the medicine bottle in her hand for a long moment, then finally bit the stopper open with her teeth and tilted her head back, swallowing several pills…
Down below, the men of Jiu Si Tang were still scrambling all over searching. Chen Dasheng stood quietly on the rooftop, watching the spectacle. Beside him, the straw-raincoat-clad wooden stakes had, one by one, been replaced by real men. By the time Guan Si’er returned, having changed clothes, he crouched on the roof beside Chen Dasheng and grinned. “Boss, mission accomplished, no shame brought upon it.”
Chen Dasheng reached out and gripped his hand in the rain. “Alive?”
Guan Si’er nodded. “Yep. Could live to be ten thousand years old.”
“That’s a turtle, not a person.”
“Heh, just kidding. Alright, let’s stop watching too — or we’ll end up with Jiu Si Tang holding a grudge against the Long Blade Bureau.”
Chen Dasheng agreed wholeheartedly. He took a breath, drew his saber from his waist, and slashed it through the rain-soaked air. “Brothers, let’s move — time to get to work for the boss.”
With that, the group leapt down from the rooftop and joined the men of Jiu Si Tang, scrambling all over the city alongside them.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t run far before a woman burst out from a nearby residence. She stumbled toward them, and without hesitation dropped to her knees, preparing to throw her arms around Guan Si’er and wail.
But Guan Si’er, careless as ever, had just changed his trousers and hadn’t tightened his waistband properly — the woman ended up yanking his pants clean off, exposing two rather pale, sturdy legs.
Ge Sansu had thrown all caution to the wind tonight. Breaking through the old women’s efforts to stop her, she’d run straight for the back door, and once she’d flung it open, she’d bolted out recklessly, with no regard for anything, throwing herself at the first person she saw and wailing, “Help, help me, kind sir! My uncle’s trying to poison my whole family to steal our fortune! Hic!”
This was the first time the young woman had ever seen a man’s bare legs like this — and, huh, there was even hair on them? She hiccupped, then stared blankly at the man before her. “Help! Hic!”
Guan Si’er sucked in a sharp breath of cold air, thinking to himself: well, that’s it, I’m ruined.