After the Ghost Festival, on a rare, leisurely afternoon, the autumn wind swept through the courtyard, leaves rustling softly.

In the training hall facing the courtyard, its floor laid with wooden planks, Ning Yi, dressed in a short training jacket, stood with hands on hips, working through a solemn, serious warm-up routine.

Off to the side, Xigua, having just returned from outside not long ago, had bathed and tied up her hair, and sat barefoot in a chair at the edge of the room, wearing a loose, comfortable light-blue top and a long skirt.

“I was hoping to spar with Old Eight this time I came by… Tizi and Old Du said he’d gotten even stronger lately… too bad you sent him off on an assignment…”

She drew her right leg up onto the chair, wrapping her arms around her knee, watching her formidable husband punching away vigorously on the other side of the room, chattering idly as she did. Ning Yi paid her rambling little mind.

“Hah! Ha! Hah! Hah!” Skipping through a series of nimble footwork, throwing a few interlocking punches — the whole routine, odd-looking by past standards but by now entirely unremarkable to Xigua, Hongti, and the rest — finally complete, the great master Ning Liheng planted himself in the center of the room. “You. Get up.”

“Huh?” Xigua blinked, pointed at herself, and after a moment finally got up from her seat, hopping forward two steps, eyes narrowing into crescents. “Oh.” She waved both hands, facing Ning Yi.

“I, Ning Liheng, and Hegemon Blade Liu Xigua, will engage in a fair contest.” The martial grandmaster Ning Liheng raised his right hand, gesturing toward Xigua.

“Uh…” Xigua blinked, then raised her own hand as well. “…I, Hegemon Blade Liu Xigua, and Heart Demon Ning Liheng, will engage in a fair contest.”

She thought for a moment, then spread both hands and struck the opening pose of “White Crane Spreads Its Wings.”

Real masters, of course, rarely opened a bout with something as clumsy-looking as White Crane Spreads Its Wings. The great grandmaster Ning Liheng felt genuinely insulted.

But his face remained expressionless, thoroughly mature about it.

“I’ve sent Old Eight — Qian Laoba — off to Jiangning.”

“Oh.” Xigua caught on, nodding. “Is he leading…”

Even as she spoke, the great grandmaster Ning Liheng abruptly surged forward, a sweeping leg lashing out toward Xigua, still balanced on one leg. Her body jerked, skirt flaring in midair as she flipped backward — but before she’d fully landed, Ning Yi was already charging in like a tiger, going to bowl her clean off her feet.

Xigua stepped back, grabbing hold of the great grandmaster’s collar with both hands. Under the tremendous momentum, the two of them spun around, wrestling each other, Xigua’s skirt flaring open like a lotus in full bloom as they whirled through three full turns before the great grandmaster Ning Liheng went tumbling away, rolling across the floor, catching himself with a hand pressed to the ground a good two zhang off, rising up somewhat dizzy but quickly steadying his vision. Thoroughly mature about it.

“You were supposed to take the second sweep, not throw yourself at me.”

She bounced lightly on her fists.

“Was worried I’d hurt you,” the great grandmaster Ning Liheng said, rolling his neck side to side. “This time it’s for real.”

“Oh.” Xigua nodded. “…So, Old Eight’s leading the team to Jiangning — Xiaohei and Yuwen went along too, I assume… what are you planning to do about He Wen?”

“On the political stage, I hold no particular grudge against him. Whether he ends up a friend or an enemy depends on how things develop.”

The great grandmaster Ning Liheng spoke as he settled into an offensive stance — having come up through the ranks among grandmasters himself, his form showed not a single flaw, radiating the full bearing of a true master. Xigua, meanwhile, struck a wild “turtle-fist” pose, looking every bit like some doomed pretender marked for slaughter.

“It really is about time someone went and sounded out his attitude. Honestly, nobody in the army has much goodwill toward him, especially after this whole heroes’ gathering business — everyone wants to go beat him up.”

“I think… Black Tiger Digs Out the Heart!” The grandmaster struck without warning, launching his attack.

“Turtle Climbs the Tree!” Xigua flung her arms open and leapt wildly, scaring her opponent back a step.

“Is that even a real move?”

“Can’t actually climb, so it’s more of a hop.” she explained.

“…When you put it that way, it actually makes sense.” Ning Yi nodded. “I figured you’d be more fond of He Wen, honestly. He was the one dividing up the land for the poor, after all.”

“Ideologically, sure, I don’t dislike him. But I’m also a woman, you know. Him taking liberties with people — that’s not okay.”

“— Monkey Steals the Peach!”

“Didn’t have anything to steal.”

In the room, the great grandmaster Ning Liheng surged forward; grandmaster Liu Xigua caught his hand and countered, the two of them trading blows in a rapid flurry, fists and feet cracking against each other. This time it was no longer Black Tiger versus Turtle-in-a-Tree — it had become a proper, disciplined exchange. Any ordinary master of the rivers and lakes watching would have found the sight genuinely nerve-wracking, for both grandmasters’ skill was formidable in the extreme, and for a moment they fought to a perfect standstill, locked in a rare, peak-level confrontation.

“He Wen’s grown too fast — holding this big gathering is his way of shoring up his own authority. Plenty’s bound to happen there…”

“If I get the chance, I’d like to go take a look at Jiangning myself — it’s your old hometown, after all…”

“Not this time — one wrong move there and it could turn into an absolute bloodbath… heh, your form’s pretty good.”

“Yuwen’s bringing a spear, right? I heard Old Lin’s going too… after you, after you.”

“…You’re out of breath…”

“Not just Old Lin — every faction’s going to send people this time. The martial artists are just actors on the stage — the real currents run deep underneath. Judging by how the Fairness Party’s five factions came up, if He Wen can’t hold things together… watch out for this punch!”

“…Dodged it.”

“If he can’t hold it together, the armies might just start fighting each other right there in Jiangning… it’s possible. Monkey Steals the Peach…”

“Didn’t get it.”

“Twin Dragons Emerge from the Sea!”

“Monkey Steals the Peach!”

“Black Tiger Digs Out the Heart!”

“Murder Your Own Husband — don’t you dare grab my skirt!”

“There’s no move called ‘Murder Your Own Husband,’ if you get hit you have to admit defeat…”

“Ah…”

The two of them descended into a chaotic turtle-fist brawl in the middle of the hall, and then Xigua let out a shriek, grabbing at her own skirt and starting to run — a ripping sound tore through the room. A moment later, the great grandmaster Ning Liheng had cornered his fellow grandmaster Liu Xigua against the wall and pinned her to the ground.

“You tore my stuff up on purpose…” Xigua thumped him once with her fist.

……

The great grandmaster Ning Liheng had won this fair contest, and lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath. Xigua lay on the ground beside him, arms spread wide, accepting the lesson of her defeat.

“It’ll be little Ji’s birthday in a couple of days,” she sighed softly. “Where do you think that boy’s gotten off to now?”

“…Knowing how much he loves a good crowd, Old Eight might just run into him in Jiangning.”

“You should’ve had him come with me — what if he runs into Old Lin, what then?”

“Old Eight’s leading a whole team, all top-notch fighters. If they run into him, they’re not going to lose.”

“You just said yourself it might turn into a battlefield…”

“I already told Old Eight — if he spots the little wretch, get him to run, or just grab him and drag him back.”

“I’m still worried…”

“You’re only worrying because you care too much… Even if it turns into a battlefield, that kid’s not exactly helpless. Don’t forget what he got up to with Brother Zheng Si back then, how many Jurchens he killed. He’s craftier than a rabbit — at the first sign of trouble, he’ll run…”

“A battlefield, though… doesn’t that worry you at all?”

Ning Yi rolled over too, and the two of them lay side by side, gazing up at the ceiling, sunlight spilling in through the doorway. After a while, he finally spoke.

“Boys always have to go out into the world eventually…” He thought about it. “It’s your fault, yours and Hongti’s, for teaching him martial arts.”

“Oh, and it’s not your fault at all, going on and on to him every day about being some legendary master of the martial world, how Zhou Tong swore brotherhood with you, how you killed Lu Tuo with a single palm strike…”

“Those things actually happened. Still your fault, both of you…”

The couple went back and forth, shifting the blame onto each other, bickering. After a while, they gave each other a light swat, and Xigua laughed, rolling over and climbing on top of Ning Yi. He frowned. “What are you doing…”

“One more round.”

“…Did I win, or did you.” Ning Yi sighed. “You have no sense of martial virtue.”

“You won. It’s my fault, mine and Tizi’s.”

The autumn wind drifted through the courtyard, leaves rustling softly, and their voices soon dissolved into scattered murmurs, blending into the mild autumn breeze.

……

That same autumn, over two thousand li away from Chengdu, the young man this couple worried over so much was traveling with his companions through Tongshan County in Jinghu North Circuit.

It had been over two months since he’d left Chengdu. His traveling companions remained the same group of scholars led by “Full of Promise” Lu Wenke, “Reverer of the Divine” Fan Heng, and “Cold-Faced Ingrate” Chen Junsheng, along with Wang Jiang and his daughter Wang Xiuniang, who had stuck with the group on account of their connection to Lu Wenke.

Born into an age of chaos, travel was never easy, and it was precisely for that reason that finding a handful of reliable companions to journey alongside was something to be treasured. Lu Wenke and the others cherished this bond just as much, and having traveled two or three thousand li together, taking in the sights and customs of each region along the way, over these past two-plus months they had grown steadily closer, until their bond felt almost like that of a family.

This wasn’t quite the picture of the outside world Ning Ji had imagined when he first set out, but it seemed that even in an age as chaotic as this, there was always some relatively safe road one could follow. Along the way they had heard word of mountain bandits, encountered some fairly troublesome petty officials, and even, while traveling along the southern bank of the Yangtze, caught distant glimpses of warships sailing north — it seemed fighting had already broken out up north — but no great calamity had actually crossed their path, and as a result, Ning Ji’s dreams of becoming a wandering hero of the rivers and lakes had, for a time, grown somewhat slack.

Before reaching Tongshan, they had first passed through Jinghu North Circuit, touring the relatively prosperous towns of Jiayu, Ezhou, and Chibi. This region had long been a contested battleground; it had suffered under Jurchen raids, and later been absorbed into Liu Guangshi’s holdings. After he’d gathered the strength of various local gentry, and with the Huaxia Army’s “support,” the cities here had regained something of their former prosperity. The war had already broken out north of the Yangtze by now, but the mood on the southern bank remained only mildly tense.

Lu Wenke and the other scholars, harboring ambitions of governing the realm, made a point of visiting sites that had suffered through past wars wherever they went, in addition to admiring scenic spots — gazing at the ruins left behind by Jurchen fires to steel their own resolve.

Past Jinghu North Circuit, they arrived at Tongshan County, right at the border between Jinghu North and Jiangnan West Circuits. Tongshan’s county seat was small, and having also suffered through the ravages of war, its walls still showed damage. But outside the county seat lay scenic sites like Mount Jiugong. When the Jurchens had swept through a couple of years earlier, local forces had put up little resistance, and most of the populace had fled into the mountains to hide, so beyond the burning of the county seat itself, there hadn’t been much loss of life. This year, though, with Liu Guangshi preparing for war, many able-bodied men had been conscripted here, and a distinct air of hardship hung over the streets and alleys.

South from Tongshan, into Jiangnan West Circuit, another three or four hundred li would bring them to Lu Wenke’s hometown of Hongzhou. He’d talked the whole way about wanting to put what he’d seen and learned in the Southwest to use once he got back to Hongzhou, but now that they’d made it this far, he wasn’t in any particular hurry to head straight home. The group spent two days touring Mount Jiugong, and also visited the site in Tongshan’s county seat where the Jurchens had once set fires. That afternoon, in a courtyard rented out at the inn, they set up a hotpot. Everyone pitched in setting the scene, preparing ingredients, composing poems — a thoroughly cheerful affair.

The inn had a newly renovated front, but it too had suffered damage during the war years. In the back courtyard stood a large scholar tree, scorched by fire, half-withered and half still thriving. With the height of golden autumn upon them, the leaves on the half-living tree had begun turning yellow, a striking and rather meaningful sight. Fan Heng, swaying his head back and forth, declared that the tree was much like the current state of the Wu Dynasty, and composed a couple of poems on the theme with great enthusiasm.

Lu Wenke and the others carried on discussing the state of the nation, with Chen Junsheng occasionally chiming in, still delivering his characteristically sharp, incisive remarks. A few servants in the courtyard had rigged up a canopy to keep off the falling leaves. Wang Jiang had gone out and bought a large quantity of ingredients, and was now preparing them together with his daughter Wang Xiuniang.

Ning Ji sat among the chattering scholars, listening to their idle talk, though his gaze kept drifting over toward Wang Xiuniang, who was slicing meat off to the side. Today, in preparation for this hotpot feast, the group had really splurged, buying two large slabs of meat, which Wang Xiuniang was now slicing thin under her knife — a sight that had Ning Ji practically twitching with anticipation. Once she’d finished slicing half of it, she came over laughing to greet everyone, reaching out with her greasy fingers to pinch Ning Ji’s cheek.

“Little Long, oh Little Long, always staring my way — could it be you’ve fallen for your big sister?”

Ning Ji didn’t bother rising to it. Beside him, Lu Wenke chimed in, “I think he’s fallen for the meat, more like.”

Having traveled together for over two months now, the group had long since settled into a shared understanding of Ning Ji’s enormous appetite and love of good food. Hearing Lu Wenke’s remark, Wang Xiuniang smiled gently. “Then we’ll make sure you get plenty later.” It wasn’t entirely clear whether she meant this for Lu Wenke or for Ning Ji.

Over the course of their travels together, something warm had indeed begun to grow between Lu Wenke and Wang Xiuniang. In truth, Lu Wenke was at just the age for such romantic entanglements, and with some family wealth behind him back in Hongzhou — while Wang Xiuniang, though youthful and vigorous, was of a station clearly beneath him. But feelings, as they say, spring up in even the hardest of hearts, and over these two-plus months of traveling together, faint threads of affection had naturally formed between the two of them.

Though Lu Wenke couldn’t take her as his primary wife, taking her as a concubine would pose no problem at all — and for a woman like Wang Xiuniang, a traveling performer of the rivers and lakes, so long as Lu Wenke proved reliable, this would count as a rather good match to settle into.

It wasn’t yet nightfall, and the group carried on roughhousing and joking, snacking on small treats. When the conversation turned to the local situation in Tongshan, Fan Heng — the middle-aged scholar who most loved lecturing Ning Ji with bits of knowledge — spoke up. “I went out and about yesterday. Little Long, do you remember that fortified manor of the Li family we passed on the road?”

“Mm, I remember.” Ning Ji nodded.

“I asked around a bit this morning. It turns out the greatest local clan around here, also the most formidable master of the rivers and lakes in the area, comes from that very Li family manor.”

Having traveled together for over two months now, Ning Ji’s secret love of good food was no secret anymore, and as a young boy with a genuine passion for martial tales, he’d never bothered to hide his enthusiasm too carefully either. Fan Heng and the others, though scholars themselves, had come to treat Ning Ji almost like a nephew worth cultivating, and given the looming backdrop of the Jiangning heroes’ gathering, they made a point of asking around about local rivers-and-lakes lore wherever they went.

He now spoke to the group with a grin. “As it turns out, this local master’s background is quite something. His father was a member of the Great Light Sect — one of its Dharma Protectors, in fact, nicknamed the ‘Monkey King,’ by the name of Li Ruoque. Don’t let the funny name fool you — the man’s skill was formidable. I hear he had techniques called things like Greater Monkey Fist, Lesser Monkey Fist…”

“White Ape Connecting Arms.” Ning Ji said.

“That’s right, and White Ape Connecting Arms Fist too,” Fan Heng continued. “This Li Ruoque made his name nearly twenty years ago, though back then his family holdings weren’t much to speak of — after all, before Jingping, the general climate of the times favored letters over martial skill. The Li family had an old feud with that heart demon from the Southwest, in fact — right before the heart demon killed the emperor, a great many masters of the Great Light Sect had gone up to the capital, and this ‘Monkey King’ Li Ruoque was one of the chief lieutenants under that ‘Forest-Piercing Northern Leg’ Lin Zongwu. He later died beneath the sweeping cavalry charge of the Huaxia Army — I suppose, in the end, a monkey just can’t outrun a horse…”

Fan Heng, being a scholar, held little particular respect for martial men, and he cracked this little joke with a chuckle. “After Li Ruoque died, the one who inherited the family business was a man named Li Yanfeng — his abilities, if anything, surpassed his father’s. After Li Ruoque’s death, he quickly made a name for himself and expanded the family holdings several times over, and then the Jurchen invasion swept down from the north. In an age of such chaos, it’s the rivers-and-lakes men who come out ahead — he quickly organized the local villagers to retreat into the mountains, and once they came back down, the Li family had, heh, become the foremost household in all of Tongshan.”

“These days, this Li Yanfeng is quite the favorite in front of General Liu Guangshi. He’s built up his fortified manor, organized local militia, following a path — you can probably guess it by now — modeled on the old hegemon blades of the Miao borderlands. I hear that for this war up north, he’s sent the Li family’s own retainers to report for duty under General Liu’s banner, while he himself has gone to serve as a deputy at the Jiangning heroes’ gathering… Little Long, if you make it to Jiangning, you might just get to meet him.”

He finished recounting what he’d learned, speaking with easy confidence. Chen Junsheng, off to the side, thought it over. “Speaking of which, I hear that Sect Leader Lin is planning to attend Jiangning as well — there must be something significant happening there.”

Lu Wenke nodded. “Over the past ten-odd years, that Great Light Sect leader is said to have been organizing resistance against the Jurchens up north the whole while, and I’d imagine the sect’s affairs down south have grown rather scattered as a result. If he now goes south and rallies everyone with a single call, all the great powers of this world will be drawn in once more. It really does sound like this Jiangning gathering will be quite the clash of dragons and tigers.”

“A chaotic situation like this isn’t exactly a good thing — someone Little Long’s age really shouldn’t go looking to get caught up in the excitement,” someone said, worried on Ning Ji’s behalf.

Fan Heng nodded in agreement.

Lu Wenke said, “Let’s just see how things develop for now. Once we reach Hongzhou in a while, I’ll have my family’s elders make some inquiries, ask around about what’s really going on with this Jiangning gathering. If there’s genuine danger, Little Long, you might as well stay in Hongzhou with us a while. You want to visit your old hometown too, after all — no need to rush it.”

Ning Ji had no intention of explaining himself to them, and simply scratched his cheek. “We’ll see.”

Chen Junsheng chuckled from the side, turning to Lu Wenke. “You should just say, ‘plenty of fatty meat guaranteed.'”

“Guaranteed, of course guaranteed.”

The group broke into laughter, and Ning Ji laughed along too. He liked this kind of atmosphere — though, of course, the people around him had no idea that a few pieces of fatty meat weren’t going to be enough to shake his resolve to reach Jiangning.

Amid the laughter, the setting sun spilled its golden light over the inn’s back courtyard, trees swaying overhead, leaves drifting down. As Wang Xiuniang came by carrying the food to set it out, the group took another round of jabs at Ning Ji’s expense — a fine, warm scene of harmony all around.

The next day was the nineteenth of the seventh month that year, a day the group set aside for rest. A few of the scholars slept in a little later than usual. In the morning, Wang Jiang and Wang Xiuniang took the opportunity to head into the county seat’s main street to perform for a bit of extra travel money — since her relationship with Lu Wenke had never been formally settled, the two of them had always continued supporting themselves this way, and Lu Wenke never tried to stop them.

The group sat around the inn discussing whether to go out for the afternoon. According to the innkeeper, the Li family manor wasn’t a closed-off place, and had quite the martial spirit about it — though many of its men had already crossed the river to fight, there were usually still people training within its walls, and travelers from the rivers and lakes, or passersby, were sometimes allowed in to watch, even to spar. Going to take a look seemed harmless enough.

By noon, right around mealtime, the street outside had grown unusually quiet instead. Suddenly, someone came rushing into the inn, covered head to toe in blood, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Help! Save me!”

The group had been sitting in the main hall of the inn playing cards. At the sight of this, Ning Ji darted forward in an instant, catching the man and quickly assessing his injuries. Wang Jiang, meanwhile, was already running toward the group of scholars: “Help! Help me… save Xiuniang…”

Even as he spoke, several men dressed like yamen runners came bursting into the inn as well, one of them shouting: “The scoundrel struck someone and fled — seize him!”

Someone had already raised a set of iron chains, pointing them toward Lu Wenke and the others, who were rising to their feet from the main hall. “Nobody move! Anyone who moves will be treated as an accomplice to the criminal!”