The bailiff heard that Ming Huashang planned to help Ming Huazhang, and very nearly rolled his eyes and passed out. Ming Huazhang was walking fast, and nearly collided with Ren Yao and Jiang Ling coming in through the door.
Jiang Ling waved his arms to keep his balance, startled. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
Ming Huashang came running up from behind, saw them, and immediately said, “Good that you’re here — we’re going to investigate someone. Don’t go in, just come with us now.”
Jiang Ling had barely processed what was happening before he was being dragged away. Even at a considerable distance, one could still hear his voice: “Wait — I haven’t eaten!”
A young man in a blue robe rode along the street, glancing frequently to either side, his expression carrying a trace of urgency. He saw, far ahead, someone at a roadside stall waving to him. His body relaxed slightly, and his expression became unhurried at once. He dismounted with measured ease and strolled toward the stall. Upon seeing it, he looked notably disdainful. “What are you doing here?”
Ming Huashang laughed. “Brother Xie, you’re here. We guessed you hadn’t eaten yet, so we brought you a warm sweet osmanthus drink — still hot. Try it.”
Xie Jichuan’s aesthetic sensibilities meant he was thoroughly opposed to sitting at a roadside stall. But the drink on the table smelled quite good, so he reluctantly pulled up the hem of his robes, placed a handkerchief on the bench, and sat down with great condescension.
Ming Huashang asked, “Brother Xie, they make particularly good wontons here — would you like to try some?”
Across the table, Jiang Ling had finished an entire bowl of broth, thud after thud. Xie Jichuan looked openly disgusted, pulled his gaze away, and said imperiously: “No.”
Ming Huazhang said mildly, “Stop being so proud. There’s a lot to do today — if you miss this place, you may not get anything to eat.”
Xie Jichuan remained unmoved, and said breezily, “Not hungry.”
Ming Huashang’s eyes darted back and forth, unsure whether to order something for Xie Jichuan. Ming Huazhang was not in the habit of coddling this sort of behavior. He turned back to Ming Huashang and said, “Ignore him. Let him starve.”
Xie Jichuan sipped his sweet osmanthus drink without the slightest concern. “What are you all doing here?”
“Investigating a case.” Ming Huazhang was brief. “Black Tiger is dead.”
Xie Jichuan’s pupils shifted slightly — he was clearly somewhat taken aback. “Dead?”
“Yes.” Ming Huazhang exhaled, his tone wry without quite being self-mocking. “Dead, and with such convenient timing as well. I’d been thinking that Black Tiger’s testimony wasn’t particularly important, but here he’s dead after just one night. I know the people in the prison — they’re capable of throwing their weight around, but killing someone is beyond their nerve. I have a constant feeling that there is more to this than it seems. He must have known something important.”
Xie Jichuan asked, “Did he say anything?”
Ming Huashang took out the confession record and passed it to Xie Jichuan. “Before he died, he confessed that for years he had been acting on the orders of the Shengde Trading Company’s Steward Yan Jingcheng.”
Xie Jichuan took the testimony, glanced at the Shengde Pawnshop across the street, and seemed to understand. “So you’ve come looking for Yan Jingcheng?”
“Yes.” Ming Huazhang gave a quiet sigh. “But when we went to Yan’s residence, his household staff said he had already gone out. We came to the shop, and the clerks said he hadn’t come in today. I was going to try the next of his establishments, but Jiang Ling couldn’t take the hunger any longer, so we came here first.”
Xie Jichuan shifted his gaze. Across the table, Jiang Ling was eating with a face flushed with satisfaction, looking reluctant to stop. Xie Jichuan withdrew his gaze with distaste and asked, “Could it be that he received word and is deliberately avoiding us?”
“What does he have to hide?” Ming Huazhang tapped the table slowly with a finger, lost in thought. “He has dominated Chang’an for years. I’m nothing but a newly appointed Deputy Magistrate of the Jing Zhao Prefecture. Has he any need to avoid me? Or — does Black Tiger’s death have something to do with him, and his guilt has made him hide?”
Xie Jichuan slowly sipped his sweet osmanthus drink. “Should I report to the Crown Prince and ask him to deploy more northern garrison troops? We could search Yan’s residence and all of his establishments directly.”
Ming Huazhang slowly shook his head. “If his absence is simply a coincidence, we’d have no justification; if he truly has something to conceal, moving with so much fanfare would tip him off and drive him into hiding.”
Ming Huashang then interjected: “If he is deliberately evading the authorities, so many people would be feeding him information that we would never track him down faster than he can hide. Perhaps we should try a different angle — what if the visitors were not officials, but customers?”
Ming Huazhang’s eyes shifted slightly. He had caught her meaning. “You mean to say…”
Ming Huashang nodded. “Strike in the east, attack in the west.”
Jiang Ling was in the middle of eating a pastry when he felt all eyes suddenly fall on him. He looked up blankly and found that for some reason, all four people at the table were looking at him.
·
West Market. Shengde Medicinal Hall.
A clerk was in the middle of updating the ledger when a group of three walked in. At the front was a young man with red lips and fair complexion, handsome as jade, holding a gold-and-jade-inlaid fan. Behind him followed two young women — one lively and charming, one bold and spirited — both carrying themselves with the poise of young ladies from prominent families. At this moment, however, they were both following dutifully behind the young man, speaking deferentially: “Young Master, please slow down — mind the step.”
The clerk’s eyes lit up at once. To keep attendants of such bearing, the visitor must be extraordinarily wealthy. The clerk immediately put on a broad smile and greeted him warmly: “Young Master, how may this humble shop serve you?”
Jiang Ling held his chin high and slowly fanned himself, cursing inwardly — who fans himself in this cold? And if he absolutely had to play-act, couldn’t they at least have given him a paper fan? Carrying a fan covered in gold and jade around the streets, swaggering about intimidating commoners — that was terribly vulgar; real young noble scions simply didn’t behave this way.
Seeing that Jiang Ling had said nothing for a while, Ming Huashang spoke up for him: “This is the young heir of the Marquis Jiang’an’s household. He heard that your Shengde Medicinal Hall has miraculous elixirs, and has come to take a look. Bring out everything you have for longevity and health preservation — price is no concern. Don’t you dare disappoint the young heir’s filial devotion.”
When the clerk heard that this was actually the young heir of a marquis’s household, he immediately bowed deeply. “Of course. Young Heir, please wait a moment — this clerk will go and fetch the medicines at once.”
Word that the young heir of the Marquis Jiang’an’s household had arrived swept through the entire hall in moments. Every clerk came out. They crowded around Jiang Ling, enthusiastically presenting various lingzhi mushrooms and rare herbs. Jiang Ling tapped at them with the fan’s handle, looking dissatisfied. “Is this all there is?”
Ren Yao, watching Jiang Ling with his nose pointing at the ceiling, had to use every ounce of self-control to keep from rolling her eyes. Ming Huashang, on the other hand, was entirely in character, exclaiming dramatically: “Outrageous! A small shop like this daring to fob off the young heir! Bring your steward out here — the young heir has graced you with his presence, and your steward has yet to appear. Is the Marquis Jiang’an’s household beneath his notice?”
Jiang Ling swung his gleaming fan and said “hmm” slowly, while inwardly cursing this group of so-called loyal companions.
The reputation wasn’t even his own, and they ransacked it without a second thought. Last time it was a trip to the pleasure quarter; this time it was a medicine shop — and it was still the same. Any time something humiliating needed doing, they pushed him forward.
Truly, knowing them had been quite the blessing for him.
The clerks were thrown into confusion by Ming Huashang’s sudden burst of fury. A person with the air of a manager hastily said: “Young Heir, please don’t be angry — this shop would never dare disrespect you. Whatever you want, we’ll send someone to find it at once. Once it’s ready, we’ll personally deliver it to the Marquis Jiang’an’s household.”
Jiang Ling heard that they were now proposing to deliver to his home, and thought: please, no — not agitating his father any further was the greatest act of filial piety he could offer. Jiang Ling closed the fan with an imperious snap and said coldly, “Who do you think you are, speaking to me? I’ve never been treated with such disrespect in my entire life. Where is your steward? Am I supposed to go invite him myself?”
The manager’s face stiffened. He leaned over and said something quietly to a clerk, then turned back to Jiang Ling with a full smile. “Our apologies — Steward Yan happened to be at one of our other shops today and is not here at present. Young Heir, please wait a moment — this clerk will go and summon the steward right away.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t dare otherwise.” Jiang Ling consented with magnanimous condescension, scanning the staff of the medicinal hall with a slant of his eyes. “And are you planning to make the young heir stand?”
The manager snapped to attention and called for tea. The staff surged around Jiang Ling and escorted him toward a private guest room. Jiang Ling was nothing if not born to play the pampered young master — his performance was impeccable. He ordered everyone around in circles, including his two so-called attendants: “What are you standing there for? Can’t you see I’m hot? Fan me.”
Ming Huashang actually startled before realizing Jiang Ling was addressing her. Ren Yao looked Jiang Ling up and down with a cool, languid glance, smiled, picked up the fan, and said, “I’m stronger — I’ll do it.”
Jiang Ling looked at the way Ren Yao was holding the fan and felt an inexplicable dread — he genuinely feared Ren Yao would swing it straight into the back of his head. He kept his nose in the air and said, “You’re clumsy — I don’t need you. Let her do it. You — pour the tea. Do you have no sense at all?”
Ren Yao balled her fist so tightly her knuckles cracked. She was already imagining punching him in the nose. Ming Huashang laughed softly and pressed Ren Yao’s hand down. “Sister, let me. You go and pour tea for the Young Heir.”
From within Ming Huashang’s gentle, delicate tone, Jiang Ling somehow heard distinct traces of menace.
Inside the private guest room, Jiang Ling held court in the center of attention — calling out orders, pointing left and right, keeping Ren Yao and Ming Huashang at his beck and call, having the time of his life. Nobody noticed as two shadows dropped silently into an unoccupied corner. Ming Huazhang made a hand gesture toward Xie Jichuan: “You search the front. I’ll take the back.”
Xie Jichuan nodded, pressed himself to the wall, and vanished like a shadow with swift, silent steps. The manager and all the clerks had been drawn away by Jiang Ling, and the back storehouse was completely unguarded. Ming Huazhang moved with light, nimble efficiency, slipping through blind spots in the sightlines until he slid easily into the storeroom.
The storeroom was secured with a padlock and chain — though this level of lock was as good as nothing to Ming Huazhang. He drew a thin strip of iron wire from his wristguard and picked at the keyhole for a moment until the lock clicked open. He pressed a hand under the lock to catch it, gently pushed the door open a sliver, and slipped through sideways. The door swung back to its original position — to anyone outside, the chain appeared undisturbed. It was hard to imagine that someone had just passed through.
Inside the storeroom, all manner of medicinal ingredients and preparation tools were stored, looking no different from any ordinary pharmacy. But Ming Huazhang did not believe it was as simple as it seemed. He lit a fire-starter and held it in his mouth, moving swiftly and silently through the shelves.
After some searching, he noticed a wooden box — old and battered in appearance, yet its surface without a trace of dust. Ming Huazhang approached carefully and inserted a dagger along the seam of the lid. From the resistance he could judge that the contents were paper.
Ming Huazhang’s thinking crystallized. This seemingly abandoned box was in truth the most important object in the entire storeroom. He immediately took out his tools and began picking the lock — far more precise than the copper padlock on the outer door. Ming Huazhang listened carefully for the position of the tumblers, then applied a precise, sudden force with his fingers. In the darkness came a barely audible click, and the lock opened.
Ming Huazhang held the fire-starter close and opened the box. Just as he had expected — inside were the black-market ledger books. He scanned quickly through a few pages, confirmed what they were, and then slipped all of the account books into his sleeve. In their place he inserted new blank books of identical height and weight, so that unless someone opened and inspected them, they would never notice the switch.
Up at the front, Jiang Ling was still playing the imperious young master, making the staff run every which way. He was beginning to feel genuinely uncomfortable — and then, from outside, came a familiar birdcall.
All three of them recognized the signal’s meaning. Jiang Ling maintained his insufferable persona and said, irritably, “How much longer do I have to wait? Where is your steward?”
The manager was also deeply troubled, smiling apologetically as he explained. “Normally, the Steward is always making his rounds between our shops. Today, for some reason, he’s nowhere to be found. I’ve checked all the places Steward Yan usually visits, and can’t locate him. He’s likely been held up by something. If the Young Heir has any instructions, please feel free to leave them — I’ll relay everything to the Steward when he returns.”
Given how attentive Yan Jingcheng was to people of influence, there was no way he would not know who Jiang Ling was. Jiang Ling had been here for so long, and Yan Jingcheng still had not appeared. That was highly abnormal.
Ming Huashang discreetly tugged the corner of Jiang Ling’s robe. He took the hint and said with bad-tempered resignation, “Fine — I’ll come back another day. How irritating.”
The manager gave a thousand and one thanks as he escorted Jiang Ling out. Jiang Ling walked down the street with the gait of someone who acknowledged no one’s existence, two attendants meekly trailing behind. The moment they passed out of sight of the Shengde Medicinal Hall, Jiang Ling’s knees practically buckled. He turned and immediately began fanning the two “attendants.” “Ladies, you’ve worked hard. You both know that for the sake of the mission, I had to put on that performance… actually, I didn’t want to either.”
Jiang Ling’s eyes were round, black, and shining with sincerity, the very picture of earnestness. Ren Yao let out a cold chuckle and slowly cracked her knuckles. “So you’re saying we were honoured to serve you?”
“Not at all.” Jiang Ling shook his head with great solemnity. “If you’re willing, I could perhaps condescend to—ah!”
Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan dropped down from the tree without so much as a glance at the violence taking place a short distance away. Even Ming Huashang wore the air of someone entirely uninvolved. She asked, “How did it go? Any results?”
Ming Huazhang nodded and drew a few account books from his sleeve. “These should be the black-market ledgers. I didn’t have time to examine them carefully.”
Ming Huashang immediately took them and flipped through a few pages, brow creasing tightly. “What is all of this?”
The ledgers contained no numbers, no text — only a series of circular and linear symbols. Ming Huashang puzzled over them for a while and came up completely empty. She looked up to find Xie Jichuan standing nearby at his ease, hands clasped in his sleeves, and inspiration struck. She held the ledger out to him with a winning smile. “Scholar Xie, Brother Xie — have a look at this for us, please.”
Xie Jichuan took the ledger with affected reluctance, examined it for a moment, and said, “This appears to be a private cipher of their own devising — what medicine was traded, what year, how much it sold for, all recorded using agreed-upon symbols.”
Yan Jingcheng needed the ledgers to manage his accounts, yet couldn’t afford to leave evidence against himself. So he had come up with this approach — even if the books fell into the wrong hands by accident, they would reveal nothing. Ming Huashang asked eagerly: “Can you decipher it?”
Xie Jichuan turned to the next page, scanned two lines, and closed it with a casual air. “It’s not especially difficult — given enough time, it can be worked out. I have other things to do, and no intention of wasting my—”
Before he could finish, Ming Huashang had already pressed the ledgers into Xie Jichuan’s hands and said with wide-eyed admiration, “Brother Xie, you’re truly remarkable — just a few pages and you already have a direction! A cipher this complex — I’d only trust your analysis. Please — this is entirely in your hands.”
Ming Huazhang stood to one side, brushed his sleeve, and said nothing.
Xie Jichuan had been intending to refuse doing something this time-consuming and pointless, but found himself gradually losing his bearings under wave after wave of Ming Huashang’s flattery, and somehow ended up accepting the ledgers. “Well — given how troubled you seem, I’ll help you out just this once.”
Ming Huazhang continued to stand to one side. He brushed his sleeve again. Still said nothing. Ming Huashang, having completed her stream of compliments on autopilot, finally sensed that something was a little off.
She blinked, and found herself inexplicably reluctant to directly address Ming Huazhang. She let out an awkward laugh and eventually remembered Jiang Ling, who had been taking a thorough beating for some time. She hauled him into the conversation as a way of lifting the mood. “Sister Ren, the mission comes first — let him off this time. Even with Jiang Ling putting on a performance that thoroughly that, Yan Jingcheng still didn’t appear — that’s not normal at all.”
Jiang Ling frowned, very dissatisfied with this characterization. “What kind of language is that? Wasn’t it you lot who asked me to do it? I haven’t even blamed you for ruining my reputation.”
Ming Huazhang told himself the bigger picture mattered, swallowed his private discontent, and said, “There are two possible explanations. One — he already knew this was a trap and refused to take the bait. If so, someone inside the Jing Zhao Prefecture must be passing information to him. Two — as the manager said, he was genuinely occupied elsewhere and the staff truly couldn’t find him.”
Ming Huashang furrowed her brow, finding this hard to understand. “He’s so obsessed with reputation and money — what could possibly be more important to him than securing a connection to the Marquis Jiang’an’s household?”
Ming Huazhang was just about to speak when a tremendous explosion rang out from behind them. People on the street erupted in alarm, everyone spinning around toward the source of the sound.
Ming Huazhang’s expression changed instantly. He rushed to the main thoroughfare. Ming Huashang hurried after him, looked up, and saw beyond the city walls a column of black smoke rising in a roaring column, streaking across the clear blue sky like a crack splitting the world open.
In Chang’an, the third explosion had occurred.