It was deep in the night. The back wall of the Zou County Magistrate’s residence was perfectly still; an old crow perched on the privet tree inside the courtyard wall, dozing peacefully.

A gust of night wind passed — and into that stillness came the first hint of movement.

The old crow was startled awake. It turned its head, and where a moment ago there had been nothing but bare wall-top, a head had appeared. The crow gave two sharp cries and flew away.

The head was wrapped in a peach-red handkerchief, through which two large eyes blinked. A low curse was muttered: “Wretched bird.” The head’s owner cocked an ear and held still for a moment; detecting nothing unusual, she gave a signal to the person still at the base of the wall.

Shortly after, another head appeared atop the wall — this one wrapped in a jade-green handkerchief. The voice that came with it was plainly hesitant. “Are you sure this is all right?”

The red handkerchief replied with full conviction: “Years of experience moving through the jianghu tells me that a face covering is simply to keep people from seeing your face. The color doesn’t matter.”

The green handkerchief still wavered. “But—”

Before the word was out, the red handkerchief had already vaulted over into the county magistrate’s compound — light as a swallow.

The green handkerchief had no choice but to follow.

The Zou Mansion was a genuine inner compound, vast and deep. It had been designed from the beginning in the style favored by ancient nobility, with large and small courtyards and pavilions interlocking in elaborate complexity — large enough to house a hundred people, each entirely undisturbed by the others.

The master of the Zou household also had a particular fondness for the garden aesthetic of Wancheng, and had spent considerable silver on artificial rockeries and landscaped scenery. The potted plants and greenery throughout the garden had been arranged with great care, and numerous covered walkways and decorative screens had been constructed according to what was described as an auspicious feng shui formation. Generously speaking, one might call it “a new scene at every ten paces.” Put less generously: a labyrinth of traps.

The night itself draped this great garden in flickering ghost-shadows; and amid all that inky darkness, a pale, shifting white suddenly appeared. The white moved slowly along a corridor — and because it had no light, the figure nearly walked into a pillar more than once, and nearly missed a step and stumbled more than once besides.

At last, this blob of white arrived before the master’s chamber door. It peered furtively in all directions, then slipped silently inside.

The moment the creaking wooden door closed behind him, Hao Bai immediately tore the damp cloth from his face, drew a deep breath, pressed a hand to his wildly pounding heart, and crept on tiptoe into the inner room.

This was the chamber Zou Sifang had occupied before he fell ill. Hao Bai had not been in this room during the day; he had no idea what the interior looked like, and if he wished to avoid lighting a lamp and waking anyone, he would simply have to feel his way through.

He examined every object he could reach, lifting even the heavy burnt-porcelain flower vases for a look. He went through each drawer, opened every multi-compartment box one by one, and after the better part of an hour was already gasping and exhausted from his labors. It was clearly his first time at this sort of rummaging enterprise, and he had very little idea what he was doing.

He leaned against the wall to catch his breath, then steeled himself to keep searching — when he raised his head and saw a silhouette projected on the window lattice.

Black against the darkness. The outline of a person.

He was so frightened his soul nearly left his body. He lurched backward, lost his footing, and collided with the cabinet behind him. Before he could react, he watched helplessly as a bronze basin the size of a washbasin wobbled on the cabinet’s edge — and fell.

Clang.

A thunderous crash reverberated through the room.

A moment later, lights flared instantly in the western annex; voices could be heard approaching.

The silhouette on the window lattice had vanished without a trace. Hao Bai moaned inwardly, with no time to tidy the scene. He fled through the door.

Not far from the western annex, inside a rockery garden, a speck of jade-green and a speck of peach-red wove their way through the mossy streams and artificial scenery, moving swiftly.

“Did you hear something just now?”

“Maybe — you tell me first: where exactly are we?”

Xiao Nanhui felt the handkerchief pressed against her face growing stuffier by the moment. How could something filched from a pleasure house have such poor ventilation?

They had been circling this garden for a good while and could not find their way out.

Bolao finally lost patience and hissed under her breath: “Didn’t you study the map? How are we still lost?”

She looked about on all sides, equally at a loss. “I did study it — but the map didn’t have this many rocks.”

Bolao was a quick-tempered person; turning in circles had already made her irritable. “Nonsense! Rocks are rocks and buildings are buildings — how could you have misread them?”

Xiao Nanhui snapped back: “It’s pitch black out here — what in the world can you see clearly?! I said to study the layout properly from the wall before climbing in, and you simply wouldn’t listen!”

“Looking now isn’t too late.”

With that, Bolao leaped into the air and caught hold of the pine tree beside the artificial rockery; in a few bounds she was perched on the roof of a nearby building, one hand shading her eyes as she scanned in all directions.

Xiao Nanhui was not as light-footed and genuinely dared not risk caving in a roof tile by following her up. All she could do was fret anxiously below.

“Hey, can you see yet?”

Bolao did not answer. The Zou Mansion at night was evidently not as quiet as one might have imagined. Just as Bolao was beginning to wonder if she had been mistaken, a dark shadow flashed past not far from her very eyes — swift as a wisp of smoke.

Bolao froze, then immediately dropped back down.

She moved to meet her — about to demand an explanation — when Bolao clapped a hand over her mouth and said in the smallest possible voice: “There’s someone else here.”

Her eyes went wide, and the very next moment she saw that dark figure skim over the rockery and vanish.

Then torchlight flared not far away, and the muffled voices of the Zou Mansion’s guards filtered over.

“Looks like they went that way. You few — check the annex. The rest of you, come with me.”

Xiao Nanhui and Bolao exchanged a look and took to their heels.

The Zou Family’s guards were evidently not ordinary hired muscle — their skills would have been considered exceptional even in the jianghu. Add to that the two women’s unfamiliarity with the grounds, and they could feel the pursuing footsteps growing ever closer.

Bolao stopped and spoke with exaggerated gravity: “We need to split up. You go that way, I’ll go this way. See you later.”

See you later? See you where?

Before Xiao Nanhui could react, the other person had already put ten paces between them in an instant.

Which is to say: master and servant, birds of the same wood — when disaster strikes, each flies in its own direction.

Xiao Nanhui glared fiercely at Bolao’s agile little figure as it vanished at speed, then picked another path and ran for her life.

The months of consecutive rain had left the ground soft; footprints pressed easily into the mud and loose sand. Xiao Nanhui looked around, chose a path paved with green flagstones, and stripped the handkerchief from her face and tossed it onto another path to buy herself some time.

She ran along that path for a short while and caught sight of a cluttered courtyard — millstones and grinding stones heaped in all directions, neat stacks of firewood piled beneath the eaves. It was the Zou household’s kitchen quarters.

The moonlight tonight was clear and bright; even without torchlight she could make out her surroundings. Xiao Nanhui spotted what looked like a square wooden hatch on the flagstone ground — likely a vegetable cellar. The guards’ voices sounded as though they were closing in. In that moment of urgency she felt her way to the hatch and wrenched it open; sure enough, there was a space beneath.

She had no time to think. She dropped straight in.

The moment her feet touched the ground, she sensed the warm breath of another person against her — and her heart tightened at once. She was just about to strike when the tip of her nose caught a familiar scent, one that no rotting cabbage leaves could quite smother.

A little moonlight filtered down. She looked up — and met the faintly surprised eyes of Zhongli Jing.

Truly, in this life, one encounters people in the most unexpected places.

Muffled footsteps were already drifting overhead; Xiao Nanhui had no time to deliberate. She gave the person in front of her a firm push inward.

“Squeeze over, please.”

With that, she reached up and yanked the wooden hatch shut above her. Darkness swallowed them whole in an instant; only slivers of moonlight passed through the cracks between the boards.

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer, steady and measured — the tread of a trained fighter. She held her breath; Zhongli Jing’s breathing, too, fell quiet.

Then the wooden hatch above was suddenly pulled open, revealing a square, anxious face.

“Master, your subordinate has come late—”

Xiao Nanhui stretched her lips into a friendly smile and stared, wide-eyed, at an equally wide-eyed Ding Weixiang.

Ding Weixiang, all in black, made no effort to soften his tone. “Why are you in here?”

She was equally short with him. “That’s what I should be asking you.”

Ding Weixiang glanced at Zhongli Jing, who had been crowded into the corner of the root cellar, and clenched his jaw. “Because my master is in here.”

More voices drifted over from nearby, sounding thoroughly chaotic. Ding Weixiang vaulted himself down into the vegetable cellar and shut the wooden hatch above him in one motion.

The air went still once more. All three of them stood with ears pricked, listening to the commotion outside.

Sure enough, footsteps sounded again — this time more than one pair, distinctly scattered and disorderly.

The footsteps halted directly above the hatch. There seemed to be even the faint sound of labored breathing.

Xiao Nanhui found this puzzling. A moment ago she had thought the guards of the Zou household quite capable, yet now they seemed thoroughly spent — panting like this after only a short chase.

She was still mulling this over when a voice came through the wooden planks.

“W-what do we do now? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have run — I’m not a thief, so why on earth did I run…”

Hm. That voice sounds rather familiar.

Another voice followed — this one still more familiar, laced with barely contained exasperation: “Who told you to run? I was getting away just fine, and then you had to follow me — in that white outfit of all things—”

She rubbed her head, feeling a rather peculiar sensation — and then she stood up and threw the wooden hatch open with a single motion.

Standing there in the moonlight, frozen like two stupefied deer, were none other than Hao Bai and Bolao.

Xiao Nanhui kept her face expressionless and beckoned. “Care to squeeze in?”

The mansion guards, torches in hand, had charged ahead in hot pursuit — only to find the two intruder figures vanishing into thin air just ahead of them.

The one leading the group held the light and searched carefully in all directions, and presently found something caught on a nearby branch.

A jade-green handkerchief.

He raised it to his nose — a faint scent of a woman’s face powder.

“Elder brother, this must have been left by those two thieves. Shall we present it to the Madam and let her decide what to do?”

The leader clearly had other ideas. He lowered his voice and beckoned the others close. “I don’t think that was a thief.”

The others exchanged glances. “If not a thief, then who?”

“Tell me this: what thief covers their face with a young lady’s handkerchief?”

The others nodded, thinking this reasonable. Their leader continued his analysis.

“I hear that a little while back the master became completely infatuated with a songstress named Feiyan from Wangchen Tower and had reserved two private rooms quite early on — he was originally going to go there and listen to her perform tonight.”

“Come to think of it, that does sound right. The whole affair was being kept secret from the First Madam — and then, before he ever made it there, he collapsed.”

“How very strange. Could it be some kind of enchantment?”

“Oh — do you suppose those two from just now might have been…?”

The men stared at the handkerchief, their expressions shifting and unreadable.

“So…” Someone in the darkness — it was unclear who — was the first to break the uncanny silence. “Does anyone have a fire-starter?”

A rustling of searching through pockets, and then into the impenetrable black came a small snap of flame.

Five people were crammed into the cramped cellar; everyone was somewhat disheveled — everyone, that is, except Zhongli Jing, who still appeared to be seated beside some lofty mountain stream, his composure entirely intact.

Xiao Nanhui was currently perched on several heads of cabbage, and she found the sight rather irritating. “I had thought Brother Zhongli to be the very picture of elegant detachment. It seems he too engages in this sort of pilfering and sneaking about.”

Zhongli Jing’s expression remained largely unchanged, as though he was entirely unbothered by Xiao Nanhui’s barbs. Ding Weixiang, beside him, produced a small, elegant candle and lit it with the fire-flint in his hand. “My master and I merely happened to be passing by. Please do not misunderstand, Young Master Yao.”

Happened to be passing by. You call this happening to be passing by?

She was genuinely staggered by the man’s brazenness.

Hao Bai, seated on a pile of radishes, jumped in hastily: “I was entrusted to examine Zou Sifang’s illness. I also ask Young Master Yao not to misunderstand.”

By candlelight she could see that the white powder had entirely disappeared from his face, revealing the naturally dark complexion beneath. Freed of the powder, he was rather more pleasant to look at than before.

“Hold on.” Bolao cut in coldly. “You say you came to examine Zou Sifang’s illness — but what kind of illness requires sneaking into someone’s room in the dead of night?”

Hao Bai was clearly no match for Ding Weixiang when it came to bald-faced prevarication, and he stumbled a little. “I — I left something behind during today’s examination, and just now I was going to retrieve it.” Having said this he seemed to realize something and quickly turned the question around. “Come to think of it — what were you doing just now?”

Bolao could not be bothered with Hao Bai; Hao Bai then turned his gaze on Xiao Nanhui, who braced herself and forced a smile, trying to move quickly past the subject. “Actually—”

“Might I ask whether everyone present has come to Huozhou regarding the matter of the treasure jade?”

When this person chose to remain silent, no one noticed; when he opened his mouth, it sent a shiver through you.

Though he had not actually uttered the words “secret seal,” what he meant was perfectly clear.

Xiao Nanhui’s face went red with the effort of suppressing a response, and she finally squeezed out a few words: “Not at all, not at all — it’s all a misunderstanding.”

Hao Bai’s expression was also a spectacle of emotions — caught between admitting and denying — and in the end he could only muster a feeble retort: “Whether it is or isn’t, what concern is that of yours?”

Zhongli Jing did not look up at either of them. He only extended one finger and lightly tested the flame atop the candle. The tiny flame swayed within an inch of his fingertip, casting shadows all around.

“At present, Mu Er He is filled with skilled individuals — every one of them drawn, I suspect, by the legendary tale of the Qu Family’s jade authentication. Neither of you needs to feel awkward about it. We could discuss a collaboration.”

There is a trap here — there is absolutely a trap here.

That was her first thought; and Hao Bai’s expression was equally wary.

“How would this collaboration work? There are three parties here, yet there is only one piece of jade. Are we to smash it into three pieces and divide it up?”

“Though I am not a merchant, I do understand something of how commerce works. Everything in this world has a value that allows it to be exchanged for something else. When a transaction fails to come together, it is almost always because the price offered has not met expectations — not because the object itself is beyond negotiation. The same is true of this jade. If either of you seeks the jade for wealth, then when the time comes you need only name a price. If you seek it for other reasons, we may discuss those as well. I trust that given your respective capabilities, you will not come out at a loss.”

Zhongli Jing spoke at his unhurried pace and paused for a moment before changing direction. “But all of that is a matter for later. The jade is not yet in any of our hands, so any anxieties at this stage are rather premature.”

Though this speech could not be said to be fully airtight in its reasoning, it was enough to stir three or four parts of genuine interest.

Whatever anyone thought, if the object ultimately ended up in someone else’s hands, all the planning done now would amount to nothing.

Ding Weixiang raised an eyebrow and glanced at the two of them dithering, inwardly shaking his head, and closed his eyes again.

As though he could not see the two people’s uncertain expressions at all, the man continued in his unhurried manner: “Zou Sifang has taken ill; I assume, Doctor Hao, you have already determined the cause?”

Hao Bai nodded. “What of it?”

“Can it be treated?”

This stopped Hao Bai cold. He held his breath trapped in his throat. Xiao Nanhui watched from the side and found herself suppressing a flicker of amusement. So there really was someone whose gift was making people look foolish.

Hao Bai choked for a moment, but ultimately decided he had to defend his medical abilities. “Treating Zou Sifang requires one particular medicinal catalyst. This catalyst would not be easy to obtain; without it, even the most brilliant medicine has no ground to stand on.”

“The catalyst the doctor speaks of — would it be a Buddha bone relic?”

At these words, Hao Bai’s eyes went as wide as two copper bells. “You — you — you—”

“It doesn’t matter how I know. What matters is that this medicinal catalyst is something I can provide. Consider it a small token of my sincerity.”

She sensed something was off. “The Buddha bone relic is such a precious thing — you would be willing to part with it?”

“I am willing to offer assistance because Zou Sifang must remain alive. Only if he lives can the jade be produced, and only then can the subsequent maneuvering be carried out.”

Bolao was somewhat dismissive. “Even if he were to die, as long as the object is still there, it would sooner or later be turned up by someone.”

Zhongli Jing nodded. “You are right. But I wonder whether any of you managed to turn it up just now?”

Bolao received the pointed remark and turned her face away with a huff.

The instigator of it all spoke on in his unhurried way, drawing everything together: “From the bearing and manner of speech of those present, I believe you are all people of some standing, well acquainted with the value of time and the wisdom of sooner rather than later. I am willing to offer this Buddha bone relic in exchange for the assistance of those present. If this endeavor succeeds, we may, as I said, negotiate further at that time.”

No matter how fine the jade, it was still an inanimate object; living people required living means to move things forward.

Having more helping hands might well be better than she and Bolao creeping about night after night. And at present, the hardest obstacle was Zou Sifang’s condition; if the man died, it would truly become a dead end.

As they say: when the soldiers come, meet them with soldiers; when the flood comes, raise the dam. Once the secret seal was in hand, it would come down to each person’s own abilities — he would have no way to go back on his word.

On the other side of the cellar, Hao Bai’s expression also played through many permutations, clearly weighing the risks in his own mind.

The wavering candlelight sank lower and lower. Finally, the wick flickered and broke — and the only pinprick of light in the darkness went out.

Xiao Nanhui’s voice and Hao Bai’s voice rose at almost the exact same moment.

“We shall do as you say.”

From the darkness came a low, quiet laugh — like a faint breeze brushing past Xiao Nanhui’s ear.

“Excellent.”