Amid the night, lamplight flickered in disarray, the marketplace loud with noise.

At the Silver Bridge Ward night market, amid the intermingling of voices, the banners for “Bamboo Records Branch” and “Miracle Cures” had already been raised. On the peddler’s cart converted from a carriage, all sorts of goods were laid out in dazzling variety — heart-guarding mirrors looted from battlefields, small blades of antique design, gold and silver necklaces of uncertain purity, jewelry, jade pendants, finely carved wooden boxes, all mixed together with needles and thread, old books, and various miscellaneous texts.

A tall, handsome young man was attending to a female customer who’d wandered over, holding a folding fan and trying to sell her both a dagger and a novel.

“…In truth, born into such troubled times, even a woman ought to have some means of protecting herself. And if a woman happens to know martial arts as well, that only makes her all the more admirable and worthy of respect. Take, for instance, the most famous heroine of Jiangnan in recent years — Yan Jiuniang, devoted to country and people, yielding nothing to any man. It was only after coming to Fuzhou that I learned her deeds have already been recorded by Master Songshan and are already circulating. It’s truly heartening… If you’re so inclined, miss, this book here is well worth taking home to read. And besides, the very short sword the heroine wields in this book is exactly this blade I’m holding…”

“This… it’s this short, isn’t it more of a dagger?”

“No, this is a short sword. Would you mind lending me a strand of your hair, so you can see the edge of the blade…”

The two of them chatted and haggled back and forth at the stall, and after a while, another young woman who’d been watching nearby came over. “Sir, may I ask… is this story of Yan Jiuniang really true?”

She received a smiling reply from the refined young man. “Of course, it’s true, truly, truly true.”

“Ah, I had no idea…” The young woman blushed under the young man’s smile.

The busy peddler’s stall stood next to the stand of the heavyset rice-cake woman, and beyond that lay stalls for fried fish, fermented rice wine, small clay figurines, and sugar figures, while across the street stood some larger storefronts. Of all of them, the liveliest by far was a nearby establishment selling wine, ice cream, shaved ice, and various snacks — Xiang’s Snack House. Every night, this shop, with its rather grand storefront, packed its ground floor with customers, bustling and lively.

Wu had long sold cold treats even in summer, but back when ice-making technology hadn’t yet matured, the cold drinks sold by large shops in places like Bian Liang during the summer had all come from ice stored since winter by wealthy households — a rare and expensive commodity at the time. In more recent years, as Bamboo Records had spread its operations everywhere, the technology for making ice using saltpeter had been refined and matured. Here in Fuzhou, in order to promote the development of saltpeter production, gunpowder, and related technologies, Jun Wu had heavily promoted supporting commercial industries, and by now, on the sweltering, humid nights of Fuzhou, at the very least the price of ice had dropped to a level ordinary people could occasionally afford.

Leaving Qu Longjun at the stall to charm women out of their money, Ning Ji wandered around scouting the area, eventually making his way to the crowded main hall of Xiang’s Snack House to drink something cold and eavesdrop on all sorts of underworld gossip. After a good while, he came trotting back with a bowl of ice cream, letting Qu Longjun eat the goat-milk treat while telling her about the local news from Fuzhou.

“Heh heh heh.” He said with great relish, “That little emperor of Fuzhou, turns out he’s a lecher too.”

The ice cream was fairly similar to the ice cream of later ages, only it melted faster in this environment. Qu Longjun took a couple of dainty bites with her little spoon, then looked up. “…Huh?”

“Heh heh heh… I just heard over there, the emperor’s been picking out a wife lately… no, picking concubines. Apparently it’s caused quite a stir, got a lot of people worked up…”

“So why does picking concubines make him a lecher?” Qu Longjun asked, taking another bite.

“Isn’t that always how it goes in the stories — an emperor picking concubines is no different from forcibly seizing women from ordinary families! And besides, the Wu dynasty’s fortunes are practically bankrupt already, and here he comes to Fuzhou talking about revitalizing the realm, even naming his own reign era ‘Zhenxing,’ and in the blink of an eye he’s out picking a wife — hmph, isn’t that exactly the mark of a lecher!”

“No, what I meant was, why are you so happy about it, and also, why did you say he’s ‘also’ a lecher? Who was the first lecher, then?”

Qu Longjun, dressed as a man, looked refined and scholarly from a distance, but up close, one could see the cunning glint in her eyes and the fox-like, adorable curl of her smile. Ning Ji blinked, momentarily stunned, before catching on to her teasing. “You… you’re… you’re trying to start a rebellion, aren’t you, you…”

His voice had barely risen when the heavyset woman at the rice cake stand nearby poked her head over. “Huh! Who’s starting a rebellion?”

Ning Ji turned around. “None of your business!”

“Hmph!” The woman gave a token show of defiance and retreated back.

“Not angry, not angry…” Ning Ji raised both hands to his chest, then slowly lowered them down toward his dantian, glaring at Qu Longjun, who opened her fan and laughed softly. “I’m a lecher, fine — I’m a five-foot demon of lust!”

“Say that again and I’ll smack you!”

“Then go smack me back home, not out here in public.”

“You…”

Ning Ji wanted to point out that this wasn’t really about where the smacking happened, but Qu Longjun was shameless enough that for a moment he just stood there with his mouth open, then turned his head away, feeling his face grow hot.

Qu Longjun laughed and sat down beside him, leaning against him, her expression calm as she went on eating her ice cream.

Amid the noisy night market, people came and went.

After sitting like that for a while, Ning Ji found something else to talk about.

“Hey, you know, we put up this Bamboo Records Branch sign so boldly, how come nobody’s come looking for trouble over it?”

“I don’t know either.” Qu Longjun tilted her head, playing dumb, then after a moment spoke again.

“Though, let me guess… I hear relations between the Zhenxing court here in Fujian and the southwest have always been rather ambiguous. According to rumor, the current Emperor and the Princess Imperial were, apparently, once taught by Master Ning himself…”

“That part’s true.” Ning Ji nodded.

“So that’s what makes this whole thing complicated. Back when it happened, everyone in Wu saw Master Ning’s killing of the emperor as a great and unforgivable act of treason — but whether out of hatred or fear, people here still have to acknowledge just how formidable he is. As for the current Emperor, having been taught by Master Ning, a lot of people probably expect him to have some of Master Ning’s own ability, but that’s not something that can be said openly — the Emperor represents the legitimate line of Wu, and in name, he and Master Ning are meant to be sworn enemies… so it all ends up a tangle of gratitude and grudges. His attitude toward the southwest can’t really be openly praised, but he doesn’t want to badmouth it either.”

“Mm, I remember his father supposedly once said he wanted good relations with the southwest, and then some minister at court smashed his own head against a pillar and died over it.”

“Right, so since it can’t be praised openly, and he doesn’t want to curse it either, the official stance toward the southwest ends up being: pretend not to see it. All the way here, we’ve seen people bring up the southwest everywhere — sometimes cursing it, like old eunuch Dai Mengwei’s crowd, sometimes borrowing its name to puff themselves up, like the Fair Party does. But here, when it comes to the southwest, it seems to have become something people would rather not mention, would rather not talk about at all. Ordinary people probably know about the Huaxia Army, but as for Bamboo Records in the southwest, the newspapers here probably barely mention it at all — I doubt most ordinary people even know.”

“…I see. But… surely somebody must know, eventually?”

“A couple of people have given us extra looks these past two days, but for some reason, they haven’t said anything strange. I suppose the attitude from above must be a rather peculiar one.”

“Mm-hm.”

With Qu Longjun’s explanation, Ning Ji finally had a rough picture of the situation. Putting up this treasonous banner hadn’t actually been part of some deep, calculated plan — it had purely been a whim at the time, something that had struck him as having a nice ring to it. Now, knowing that the banner might not be entirely appropriate, he still couldn’t think of any inspiration for how to change it. He mused to himself, marveling at just how vast the world truly was — this journey of three thousand li through mountains and rivers, every place wearing a completely different face — and thought that this whole business of running away from home had, after all, been the most correct decision he’d ever made.

They sold their wares at the night market, and by the time night grew deep, they drove the carriage home together, bickering and playing around with each other along the way.

Having spent so much time together and now with their own home, Qu Longjun no longer carried the slight reserve and timidity she used to have, and Ning Ji discovered her nature was, in fact, far from reserved at all. She had read widely and had genuine talents of her own — proficient in the zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, paper-cutting, and poetry — appearing calm and gentle when quiet, but also capable of showing real inner joy when lively. Occasionally, Ning Ji even found himself blushing and at a loss for words at her unrestrained remarks — though, of course, he rather enjoyed that feeling too, if he was honest.

Once the nighttime stall business got underway, on days without rain the two of them began going out to explore the surrounding area during the day. They “inspected” several of the bigger markets, toured the Three Lanes and Seven Alleys, sampled all kinds of street snacks, climbed Wushan, and carved “Long Aotian and Sun Wukong Were Here” into a rock near Daoshan Pavilion. Ning Ji began to think that this life of sightseeing and leisure was actually rather pleasant, his old ambitions fading away, and his usual urge to go looking for excitement had, for the time being, sunk to its lowest point ever.

He had even begun, quite rationally, to consider whether he ought to take down the troublesome “Bamboo Records Branch” banner.

On the nineteenth of the fifth month, the fifth day the two of them had set up their stall in Silver Bridge Ward, Qu Longjun was diligently working the crowd, luring in passing female customers who looked like they might have money, while Ning Ji wandered around nearby, close enough to keep an eye on the stall, eating and drinking as he went. Around the hour of the dog, a disturbance seemed to break out in a district not far from Silver Bridge Ward, and nearby constables began sounding the warning gong. A moment later, through the night, Ning Ji faintly heard a shout: “…where do you think you’re running…”

The voice sounded young, but the internal energy behind it was already remarkably deep and vast. Ning Ji felt his blood stir inside him — under normal circumstances, he’d absolutely have gone over to see who this young expert capable of such a voice might be. But this time, he simply returned to the area near their stall and signaled to Qu Longjun that there was nothing to be alarmed about.

The disturbance continued for a while in the distance, apparently some kind of manhunt for a group of criminals. Ning Ji, standing nearby, couldn’t get a good look at what was happening, and it wasn’t until the fierce-looking Chen Hua of the Return-to-Peace League passed by that Ning Ji grabbed him by the collar. “What’s going on, what’s going on?”

Though he’d roughed the man up on their first meeting, Ning Ji was skilled enough in martial arts and easygoing enough in temperament that things hadn’t turned sour between them — on the first day he’d given the man a show of force, and by the second day he’d taken him out for a bowl of sour plum soup, and the two had since become “sworn brothers” of a sort. Right now, it was clear Chen Hua had come running over after watching the commotion from a distance, and being grabbed by Ning Ji, he instantly put on a grin. “Ah, Brother Sun.”

“So what’s going on?”

“Making arrests, a brawl, gang trouble, my goodness, all fierce people, all of them…”

“Fierce people… and your Return-to-Peace League didn’t get involved?”

“Now, Brother Sun, what are you saying — our Return-to-Peace League, look, we’re just here to make a living. ‘Return’ means going home, ‘Peace’ means safety, as the saying goes…”

“Alright, alright, get to the point.” The moment Ning Ji heard him start reciting slogans, he got a headache. “Someone earlier was shouting at the top of their lungs — what was that about?”

“Ah, now this one’s a big deal, Brother Sun…” Chen Hua walked over, dragged a stool over from a nearby stall, and sat down. “General Yue Fei — I’ve mentioned him to you before, right?”

“Mm.” Ning Ji sat down too.

“General Yue’s daughter — I’ve mentioned her to you too, right?”

“Mm… but that voice just now was a man’s.”

“Well then, General Yue’s son — I’ve mentioned him to you too…”

“You son of a—”

“Hey, don’t hit me, don’t hit me, Brother Sun, isn’t this exactly what I told you about the other day?” Chen Hua laughed. “At the end of the fourth month, remember, that big incident happened in Hou Guan County — some group of villains, they say, framed a soldier named Zhong Ergui — of course, whether it was really a frame-up, who knows, but General Yue’s two children insist it was. They went to the Fuzhou prefecture to cry out for justice, drove the prefect there half out of his mind. On the other hand, the two siblings started rounding up people around the city — and by the middle of this month, plenty of outside underworld toughs who’d wandered into town have already been caught by these two. Talk about relentless, like a pair of avenging spirits, real demons from hell, that’s what they are…”

“So tonight is…”

“Isn’t it obvious, someone’s been targeted? Ah, this time the sister’s not here, just that little tyrant Yue Yun. Brother Sun, let me tell you, it’s not that I, Chen Hua, want to stir up trouble, but even though you’ve got some strength on you, that Yue Yun — his arms are thicker than your legs, he could probably shove a house right over with his bare hands… Look, I told you before, at the end of last year, the two siblings had an arena challenge match here in Fuzhou, and they beat every single opponent in the city without a single loss — the sister’s fierce, uses a spear but usually holds back a bit; the brother fights with his fists, and, tsk tsk, everyone he hit ended up with a black eye and crying like a wounded ghost… Ah, anyway, times are hard for everyone these days…”

“You lot all went back to the Return-to-Peace League, what’s hard about that, nobody’s after you…”

“That’s not so certain either, Brother Sun, though I’ve got no great ambitions myself, but the business higher up, I can’t say much about it — it’s the kind of thing where you’re always licking blood off the edge of a knife, one way or another…”

Chen Hua was needling him a bit, but on matters of martial skill Ning Ji stayed perfectly calm, showing no reaction at all to his bragging about Yue Yun. The two of them chatted a bit more before Chen Hua finally left, and Ning Ji went back to the stall and told Qu Longjun what he’d learned.

Qu Longjun, currently playing the role of the great martial hero “Long Aotian,” and spending her days using tales of heroines to sell daggers to unsuspecting customers, found herself genuinely curious after hearing all this. “I wonder just how skilled this Yue Yinping really is.”

Ning Ji thought it over. “If I actually fought her for real, I’d guess it’d be about fifty-fifty.”

He’d heard a few remarks from the older generation about this pair of the general’s children back in the day. Coming from a family with a strong martial tradition, their skills were, among people their age, close to the very peak — roughly on the level of people like Yichu and Heini, by his rough estimate. Back then he’d been suppressed by his age and couldn’t have beaten them, but after a year of traveling and all the hardship he’d been through in Jiangning, his physical strength had grown considerably, and if it really came down to a fight now, he probably wouldn’t be too far behind.

The two of them chatted idly for a while, not thinking any of this had much to do with them. But before long, a great and unexpected turn of events came crashing in, without warning.

Past the hour of the dog, the disturbance in the distance had temporarily died down, with some constables having made arrests, apparently now heading back from the direction of Gold and Silver Bridge. As various reports trickled in, some said there had been a major manhunt out there, and that some fugitives might still be at large, slipping through the net. Ning Ji decided not to go wandering off for more food and drink, and instead stayed behind the stall with Qu Longjun, keeping watch.

At the third quarter of the hour of the dog, a furtive figure slipped through the crowd, heading deeper into Silver Bridge Ward — for some reason, though the man’s steps looked perfectly ordinary on close inspection, Ning Ji instinctively felt there was something sneaky about him. He gave the man a few extra glances.

The man’s gaze, too, was sweeping over his surroundings. Just as he was about to pass right by the peddler’s cart, he suddenly stopped for no apparent reason, the furtive air about him vanishing for a moment.

He looked up at the banner-pole atop the cart, studied it, then took a few steps back, hands instinctively going to his hips, his expression puzzled.

Ning Ji, craning his neck from behind the cart, was watching the man too, and their gazes met for a moment, both hesitant, startled, and disbelieving. The man lowered his hands from his hips and began narrowing his eyes, walking toward them.

Ning Ji ducked down a notch in an instant, revealing only half his head, and the next moment even that half-head vanished, as he crouched down completely behind the cart. But the figure squeezed through the gap between the cart and the rice cake stand and came in after him.

“…B-bamboo Records Branch?”

The man leaned his head in, staring straight at Ning Ji crouched behind the cart. The corner of Ning Ji’s mouth twitched slightly as he glared back at the man’s face with resentment. At that moment, Qu Longjun’s figure suddenly stepped in front of Ning Ji. “Sir, please leave.”

The visitor said, “Get out of the way.”

Ning Ji tugged at Qu Longjun’s hand. “It’s fine.”

“…Impossible. Don’t scare me, old man…” After Qu Longjun stepped aside, the figure squeezed through the gap like a gecko, crawled up close to Ning Ji, and, still narrowing his eyes to study Ning Ji’s face, said, “You… you….. what are you doing…” He then reached out a hand as if to pinch Ning Ji’s cheek.

Ning Ji threw a punch straight at him.

There was a loud smack, and the man’s head snapped to the side, blood trickling from his nose. He clutched his nose and crouched down, staring back at Ning Ji. “Ah, this isn’t a dream, you… you, why are you here…”

“I should be asking you that.” Ning Ji said, keeping his voice down. “Zuo Xingzhou, you damn dog, what are you doing here!”

“I, I…” The man called Zuo Xingzhou pointed at himself, hesitated for a moment. “I really can’t say — but what the hell are you doing here, no wait — the question is how did you end up here, this doesn’t add up at all…”

“My name is Sun Wukong!”

“…Huh?”

“I go by Sun Wukong now!” Ning Ji jabbed a finger at himself, keeping his voice low. “I’m traveling the realm, sightseeing. I never expected to run into you. I have nothing to do with the southwest.”

“Ah — you’re flying a giant Bamboo Records banner and telling me you have nothing to do with the southwest! If it weren’t for that banner, who would’ve even noticed you…”

“Ah!” Ning Ji clutched his head. “I knew it, I should have taken this stupid banner down ages ago—”

The two of them crouched together, minds turning to mush for a moment. In this state of confusion, Zuo Xingzhou seemed to remember something and turned, climbing up the edge of the stall to peer out, lowering his voice further as he did. “Oh, right! I… I’m not going by Zuo Xingzhou either, I go by Zhou Xing now — Xing as in the god Xingtian.”

“What kind of alias is that? You just flipped your name around backward and call that a disguise?” Ning Ji instinctively glanced outside too. “…Wait, that’s not right, if you’re here you shouldn’t need an alias — and what’s with this sneaky, furtive act you’ve got going on?”

“You’re the one being sneaky and furtive here, who’s being sneaky.” Zuo Xingzhou glanced sideways at Ning Ji, also crouching there peeking out, then looked at himself doing the exact same thing, and his expression twisted with conflict before he shook his head hard and sighed. “Ugh! Forget it, I can’t explain it to you right now… I’m the villain in this situation currently, don’t ruin my plans.”

“Some villain you are, as if you’ve even got any real plans going! Anyway, while we’re at it, don’t go telling anyone about my business either, understand? Not a word to anyone.”

Zuo Xingzhou crouched there thinking it over, then finally turned his head and studied Ning Ji carefully. He had already calmed down, his gaze now carrying a complicated sort of scrutiny. “Tell who? Say what?… Right, but seriously, how did you end up here? Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is?”

“What’s dangerous about this place, where’s the danger.”

“This place isn’t dangerous, but you are — dangerous, I mean.”

“Get out of here!”

“…Can’t.”

“Don’t you have some evil scheme to carry out? If you don’t get out, I’ll strangle you!”

“Can’t do that either.” The man said seriously. “I do have business here, but I’m not doing it anymore. I can’t leave until I’ve got a clear picture of your situation. Does this cart of yours have a box or crate — can I fit inside it? Let me hide in there…”

“I… damn it… you absolute bastard…”

Ning Ji ground his teeth, wishing he could lunge over and bite the man to death, but there was nothing to be done.

Years ago, Zuo Duanyou had sent a number of children from his household to Xiaocang River, and later on to the southwest. This Zuo Xingzhou had been the youngest among the group of “exchange students,” but he had a wild streak, a rare case of a real fighter among the Zuo family’s children. Though he was a few years older than Ning Ji, the group of unruly kids had spent plenty of time together — blowing up outhouses, forming factions for mock war games that always ended in group brawls — sometimes as allies, sometimes as enemies.

They knew each other far too well. There was no threatening this man into leaving.

The two of them crouched there together, sneaking glances around, at a standoff for a good long while, until Ning Ji finally settled down.

“Fine, if you won’t leave, you won’t leave… So tell me, what exactly were you planning to do here?”

“…Originally, the plan was to pick a fight with Yue Yun. Looks like that’ll have to wait for another day now.”

“A fight with Yue Yun… where?”

“Right around here… he should be arriving soon.”

“Around here…”

Both of them knew each other well enough by now that, hearing this, Ning Ji nodded, already understanding.

“Got it. You dog, so you’ve been working undercover here all along…”