A large ship, entirely black. At the bow flew a great banner, stretched taut by the river wind, embroidered with a cloud leopard.
Two men stood beside the flag.
One had eyes sharp as a leopard’s, copper-colored skin, wearing a plain black robe with white cloth wrapped around his arm—this was Xu Jiu, wearing mourning for Huo Ba.
The other man wore flowing black robes, but this time black gauze over white lining. As wind passed through, the gauze moved to reveal cloud patterns. The setting sun cast its long rays, dyeing these clouds with brilliant sunset colors. That face which only looked good upon a second glance—whether from the sunset glow or from emotion—showed warm color tinged with radiance. This person, needless to say, was the gentleman refined as jade—Yuan Cheng.
“Who exactly is Brother Mo’s employer?” Though his ears rang with the thunderous cheers for Hongyu, Xu Jiu was only interested in people.
“Why do you ask?” Yuan Cheng hadn’t happened upon this scene where even the river water seemed about to boil—rather, after hearing from Xu Jiu that Hongyu shipyard was challenging the Three Trials at Risheng, he’d deliberately timed his arrival for the final trial.
“If even a minor manager is this formidable, what must the employer be like?” Unable to imagine it, Xu Jiu furrowed his brow. “Lord Yuan, could it be imperial relatives?”
“If she’s capable, what does that have to do with her employer? In this world, those who can actually do things far exceed those who merely provide money—such people are everywhere.” As dusk rose and the wind turned cool, the radiance on Yuan Cheng’s face softened to warmth.
When the two-colored sail flipped through the air, the blood in his body had flipped with it. When Mo Zi smiled and clasped her fists in salute, his heart—which had always been blind to beauty—was shaken by her ease and grace.
So this was it—true beauty wasn’t a face that could make the moon hide or flowers feel ashamed, make fish sink or geese fall. Rather, it was a posture of unrestrained soaring, an exhilaration of wandering freely through heaven and earth. Standing on the water, completely soaked in embarrassment, hair scattered wildly in the wind, face smeared with mud—yet no one’s gaze could move from her smile, and everyone willingly hoarsened their throats roaring for her victory. She didn’t even have a trace of prideful expression, only radiating joy from her very bones. She stirred half the river surface to excitement, yet she herself was satisfied with the purest emotion gained from it.
Unlike Xu Jiu’s question, he wanted to ask—who exactly was she now?
Was she Song Mo Zi of Da Qiu? Or Song Mo Zi of Yuling?
To him, she seemed to be neither.
He hadn’t sent anyone to investigate her. Jin Yin had acted mysteriously to whet his appetite. Though he’d paid it no mind at the time, after returning he’d remembered something.
Three years ago, there had been unusual activity at Da Qiu’s borders. Holding a high position, greedy though he was, he never neglected matters that were his responsibility. He’d sent scouts to investigate. The news they brought back was that Da Qiu’s naval forces had high morale, with frequent drills on the river, while timber from various regions was being transported in massive quantities to the capital, all entering the shipyards. Naturally he took this seriously and sent more people to infiltrate the capital, but several batches went without return. Only one half-dead pigeon brought back half a torn note with three characters—Song Yu Zhi.
Originally he’d merely been following routine procedures, but Da Qiu’s side proved impenetrable, making him take it seriously. At first he thought this was a person’s name, but pursuing that lead yielded nothing. Then Nande’s old emperor suddenly fell ill, all affairs pressing down upon him, forcing him to set it aside. Two more years passed before the Yuling Emperor sent a diplomatic mission to visit, with the mission leader named Song Yu—immediately reviving his old memories. “Song Yu Zhi” wasn’t a name—Song Yu was.
Inquiring about Song Yu was easy. Originally just an ordinary craftsman in the Da Qiu palace, he’d suddenly displayed exquisite skills upon entering and been valued ever since. Afterward, he’d risen meteorically, wealth and honor coming as easily as plucking them from the air. Such claims naturally weren’t believed by Yuan Cheng, who possessed high natural talent and worked harder than anyone. He believed this Song Yu definitely hid secrets. The note said “Song Yu Zhi”—but “zhi” what?
Song Mo Zi’s name had been discovered during that investigation, listed alongside Song Yu’s eldest son Song Zhen and youngest daughter Song Doulü. But he hadn’t imagined Song Yu’s secret would relate to those two daughters—rather, Song Zhen’s rapid promotion had made him more certain father and son were hiding something. However, before he could investigate thoroughly, Da Qiu had attacked Yuling, and Nande’s old emperor had died, leading to his own house being raided and his exile.
He’d personally experienced Mo Zi’s boating skills. And hearing from Xu Jiu that the shipbuilding industry’s Three Trials hadn’t been fully passed by anyone in decades, naturally these trials were inseparable from shipbuilding technique. Just now, when a man had raised Mo Zi’s hand and shouted “Hongyu,” he’d become certain Mo Zi was the greatest contributor to successfully passing the trials.
This Mo Zi understood ships thoroughly, while Song Yu and Song Zhen were renowned for controlling Da Qiu’s shipyards. The common thread revolved around ships. So Mo Zi and Song Mo Zi were the same person, Song Mo Zi was the secret hidden by the Song father and son, and written in full the characters should read—Daughter of Song Yu. Everything fell into place.
Yuan Cheng didn’t need to investigate further—he’d already reached his conclusion. But whether Mo Zi or Song Mo Zi, just as with his previous attitude toward her mysterious identity, he was curious, but if Mo Zi didn’t speak of it, he didn’t care. However, at least he wouldn’t be surprised anymore that someone wanted her dead. With such talent, best if she could be used—if not, naturally one wouldn’t want others using her either. How could that not invite murderous intent? When Mo Zi said circumstances differed between then and now, she’d probably thought of this too.
In his view, Risheng’s several large ships were returning to port. He asked Xu Jiu, “Master Jiu, could you help me with one more favor?” The first favor had been borrowing passage on a Leopard Gang ship.
Xu Jiu wanted to build rapport with Yuan Cheng, so he agreed readily. “Lord Yuan, just say the word—Xu Jiu will do his utmost.”
Yuan Cheng gestured, and Huayi led several people forward, both men and women.
Now turning our attention to Mo Zi.
As soon as she boarded the ship, she felt dizzy and unsteady on her feet.
Zeng Hai kicked her while she was down, laughing. “Manager Mo, this is like strong wine hitting you with a delayed effect—a hero at first, then a bear afterward. Are you getting seasick?”
Chouyu deeply disliked this Zeng Hai and was about to retort sarcastically, but Mo Zi stopped him.
“The matter is finished—no need to make more of a scene.” She never voluntarily sought attention; challenging the Three Trials had been unavoidable.
In that situation, without performing to a certain level, she couldn’t gain recognition. If Hongyu couldn’t open, the ten-year contract would become a lifetime contract. Though her insistence on winning her own freedom might seem somewhat laughable to others, since she was confident about earning five thousand taels within a year, why not take the opportunity to firmly establish her independence? Outside, there were still people who wanted her life at any moment.
Thank heavens Min Song had shouted “Hongyu,” not “Brother Mo.” Hongyu could become famous—after all, nine out of ten people would be more interested in who the big boss was rather than the hired help. What she wanted was merely recognition from experts like Old Master Min.
“Mo San’er, I see your face is pale—has your old injury flared up?” Old Master Min asked with concern. “Let me have the ship’s physician examine you, how about it?”
Half of Mo Zi’s shoulder had already lost feeling, but she forced herself to endure. Being discovered as female—naturally she would admit it directly if found out, but if she had to expose it herself, she only wanted to tell people she trusted.
“Old Master Min, I’m just tired. May I go below to change clothes and rest?” She’d try Min family’s good medicine again—perhaps she’d wake up fine after a good sleep.
Old Master Min naturally agreed, having people prepare a cabin and clean clothes, urging Mo Zi and her four companions to go quickly.
As soon as Mo Zi turned the corner, her legs gave out and she couldn’t stand.
Feixia, who’d known something was wrong, quickly supported her from the side, his tone rarely reproachful. “Brother Mo, you’re being too stubborn. If internal injuries flare up, that’s a matter of losing your life.”
Zan Jin got a terrible fright. “Brother Mo, you can’t die!”
Mo Zi felt her whole body heating up, her heartbeat quickening, her chest tightening. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to prevent her vision from continuing to darken.
Chouyu swatted Zan Jin away like a fly, driving him toward a nearby cabin. “Go, go—don’t say unlucky things. I see your complexion isn’t so great either. Never mind Brother Mo, take care of yourself. Change your clothes, then circulate your energy and replenish your qi.”
Zan Jin was very reluctant, but because Mo Zi spoke up, he grudgingly went in with Chouyu and Shuishe.
“Feixia, I know my own injuries. I’m just really tired and want a good long sleep.” If physicians examined her injuries while unconscious, she didn’t mind—after all, out of sight, out of mind. But now while conscious, she really felt too embarrassed to let these brothers see. “How about this—if the ship reaches shore and I still haven’t woken, you can call for a physician however you like?”
Feixia laughed in exasperation but could only let her have her way.
Mo Zi entered her own room, applied medicine, changed into clean clothes, and collapsed on the bed, unable to sleep for a long time as her body alternated between cold and hot. When she finally managed to fall asleep, she had chaotic dreams—running and shouting all the way, burned by fire and pelted by ice, exhausted half to death. Only when coolness touched her forehead and sweet fragrant liquid flowed into her mouth did she feel more comfortable and sink into deep sleep.
When she woke again, she saw a familiar face and froze for a moment, then surveyed her surroundings. A very spacious room with simple but well-crafted furniture. This place was no longer the ship, but absolutely not some corrupt official’s home either.
“Luo Ying…” For a moment, she hesitated between asking “Where is this?” and “Why are you here?”
“Miss, it’s wonderful that you’ve awakened. Physician Hua truly is divine—he said you’d wake today, and you have.” Luo Ying wrung out a damp cloth and gently wiped Mo Zi’s face.
The coldness made Mo Zi shiver.
“You know it’s cold, which means your fever has broken.” The door curtain lifted as an elderly woman with graying hair entered. “Drink this bowl of medicine while it’s hot—if it cools, the medicinal effect will be halved.”
“You are—” Better to first ask who the other person was.
“I’m the one Lord Yuan invited last time to treat your injuries—that old man’s wife. My maiden name is Yang, my husband’s surname is Hua—call me whatever you like.” Yang Shi looked about sixty but moved with crisp efficiency. Ordinarily, people of this age in ancient times looked quite decrepit. This one had somewhat of a modern sixty-year-old’s later middle-aged appearance.
“Madam Hua, may I ask where this is? And why are you and Luo Ying here?” After drinking the medicine, Mo Zi asked both questions together.
“This is Risheng shipyard. My old man and I were again invited by Lord Yuan, and girl Luo Ying naturally came to care for you.” Yang Shi collected the medicine bowl and brought a small dish of preserved fruits. “You must wait a quarter-hour after medicine before eating—have some snacks first to fill your stomach.”
Mo Zi felt rather confused, momentarily thinking she was dreaming.
“Girl, though your constitution is good, you can’t exhaust it like this. An almost fatal injury, recuperated for barely over a month, then jumping down from midair. This time, though you were only unconscious for two days, without timely medicine, you couldn’t have been saved. My old man wants me to tell you—if there’s a next time, even if Lord Yuan sends thousand-year lingzhi, he won’t come. To avoid being unable to cure you and having Lord Yuan impeach him as a quack.” Yang Shi spoke with a chuckle.
Yuan Cheng, a mere teacher, could submit memorials impeaching people with such authority? Mo Zi felt foolish for a moment, thinking this.