Yue Yun hadn’t had much contact with Zuo Wenxuan in the past.

Because of their childhood experiences and the ties between their fathers’ generation, the Yue siblings had generally grown quite close with the Zuo family members who’d returned from the Southwest, and soon after arriving in Fuzhou, the Zuo family had made several visits to exchange with the Beiwei Army, with both sides coming to regard each other as comrades from the same trench.

But of course, that overall closeness aside, there were naturally differences and variations in compatibility between individuals. Yue Yun, for instance, got along better with the more sociable Zuo Wenhuai and the more easygoing, boisterous Zuo Xingzhou. As for the team leader Zuo Wenxuan, Yue Yun had, out of curiosity, tried striking up conversation with him early on, but found the man reserved in temperament, even carrying an air not unlike that of Master Li Pin. Yue Yun regarded him with a mixture of respect and wariness — the two of them held no ill will toward each other, but they’d never had much to say to one another either.

He’d once complained privately to Zuo Xingzhou: “Whenever Big Brother Wenxuan looks at me, I always feel like he’s calling me an idiot in his head.”

Zuo Xingzhou had nodded along in agreement, adding: “I think you are too.”

Whatever his personal feelings, Yue Yun knew Zuo Wenxuan to be a steady, dependable man, and if he’d come looking for him now, it was surely for something serious. It was already evening. Yue Yun didn’t stay home for dinner, but mounted his horse right away and rode toward the place where the Zuo family was temporarily staying.

By the time he reached the Zuo family compound, the sun was slowly being swallowed by the city wall to the west. Some of the Zuo family members had already finished dinner, and greeted Yue Yun’s sudden arrival, a few teasing him about which bandit’s den he’d been holed up in lately. Yue Yun brushed them off with a few sheepish chuckles, then was led to a study in the inner courtyard, piled high with all manner of documents.

Zuo Wenxuan, in his spectacles, was sorting through some papers. After asking whether Yue Yun had eaten, he had someone bring over a few flatcakes and poured him a large mug of tea. Yue Yun wolfed down a few bites, and once Zuo Wenxuan had finished going through his documents, he came over and sat down, without much further small talk. “Have you seen Xingzhou recently?”

Yue Yun’s heart sank.

He thought carefully for a moment. “After the fight at Yinqiao Ward, I saw him once — the morning of the twenty-first of the fifth month. Haven’t seen him since… has something happened to him?”

“It’s not certain yet,” Zuo Wenxuan said, adjusting his glasses. “Have you told anyone else about the act you two were putting on?”

“…I mentioned it privately to my sister — not the specifics, but if she wanted to guess, she might be able to.”

“Miss Yue knows how to weigh matters — she should be able to keep it confidential,” Zuo Wenxuan said. “Still, if it’s convenient, I may need to trouble you to go over things with her together, to see whether Xingzhou’s business might have slipped out somewhere unintentionally.”

“Sure, no problem.” As a man who’d come up through the battlefield, Yue Yun understood the gravity of a matter like this and didn’t waste words. Having agreed, he gritted his teeth and asked, “Left… has something happened to Xingzhou? Has he… been exposed?”

“No need to worry just yet.” Zuo Wenxuan patted the back of his hand, then stood, walked to one side, and brought back a document. “As I see it, exposure isn’t the most likely possibility, though it does need to be considered.”

Yue Yun opened the document — a report from the Ministry of Justice. The handwriting was messy enough that he had some trouble at first, but scanning straight through, he didn’t immediately spot the names “Zuo Xingzhou” or “Zhou Xing.”

“According to the earlier arrangement, Xingzhou left a message on the twenty-second saying he’d possibly found a trace of the enemy and was about to try to infiltrate. This kind of operation of his relies on improvisation by nature, so going several days without word wouldn’t necessarily mean much. But because of the heightened alertness toward the martial world lately, I’ve kept up communication with the Ministry of Justice — any particularly vicious clashes or unusual deaths get passed to me. So this morning, I saw a name.” Zuo Wenxuan pointed at the paper in front of Yue Yun. “‘Tiger Shark’ Zhan Yunhai.”

“Tiger Shark…”

“The one who suddenly stepped in to back Xingzhou that night you were putting on your act — ‘Chaos Axe’ Zhou Xing’s good friend.”

“I heard about that.” Yue Yun looked up at Zuo Wenxuan.

“Xingzhou found a way into the enemy’s ranks on the twenty-second. ‘Tiger Shark’ Zhan Yunhai died sometime that afternoon or evening, and according to the coroner’s examination, he was set upon by multiple attackers and died horribly. And in the meantime, there’s been no word from Xingzhou since.” Zuo Wenxuan sat there, his voice calm, his face showing little expression. “After seeing this report, I went to the Military Preparation Academy this morning and confirmed with Wenhuai — he doesn’t have any word from Xingzhou either. At the time, I also arranged for some of our own people to go personally re-examine Zhan Yunhai’s body. According to the examination, there were traces of gunpowder residue on the corpse — and it’s the high-explosive powder that comes from the Southwest… the same kind we’re currently using.”

Yue Yun thought it over. “…Xingzhou’s life-saving trump card? Did he blow Zhan Yunhai up?”

“Probably not,” Zuo Wenxuan shook his head. “Think about it — he and Zhan Yunhai went to join up together, and at some point during the meeting, for whatever reason, Zhan Yunhai turned on the other side and a fight broke out. If Xingzhou had sided with the other party, that would put them at an advantage, many against one — he wouldn’t throw a fire-bomb at Zhan Yunhai in a situation already favoring him. For one thing, there’d be no need at all to reveal a trump card like that; for another, it would risk blowing up his ‘own side’ too…”

“So that means… he and Zhan Yunhai were both hunted down the moment they joined up…”

Zuo Wenxuan’s gaze remained calm; he offered no comment on this rather obvious conclusion, only falling silent for a moment before saying, “There are two broad possibilities right now. First — after Zhan Yunhai died, his body was dumped at the Kuannian Canal outside the city, a stretch of water often used by the underworld as a dumping ground after a contracted killing. In that case, the most likely explanation is that someone hired a killer to eliminate Zhan Yunhai, and Xingzhou happened to be caught up in it. If that’s what happened, and his body hasn’t been found, and he used a fire-bomb — then he may well have survived. We need to find him as soon as possible…”

“The second possibility needs no further explanation — his cover as an infiltrator was blown, and the other side turned the tables, using our own plan against us. But if that’s the case, the situation behind it becomes far more complicated — with you and Miss Yue drawing so much attention lately, it’s very possible Chen Shuangran and his people have already been watching you closely…”

As Zuo Wenxuan laid out this possibility, Yue Yun felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He’d relied on his own formidable skill to put real pressure on the martial-world figures in the city this past month, but if the other side really were operating along the lines Zuo Wenxuan described, his sister might be able to guard against it — but he himself had no way of watching every angle around him.

“It’s not very likely — I was only thinking through what I’d do in their position…” Zuo Wenxuan offered this quiet reassurance, then continued, “In any case, right now Xingzhou is neither alive to be seen nor dead to be found. The shorter it takes to find him, the better his chances of survival. Brother Yue — first, go confirm with Miss Yue whether there’s any way this could have leaked accidentally, and please also ask her to help think it through. Second — please, however you can, use your connections in the martial world to look into information about this Zhan Yunhai and Zhou Xing. Since we have no leads for now, whatever you can find will help…”

Yue Yun nodded, then hesitated after a moment. “Big… Big Brother Zuo, actually… actually, my sister and I made too much of a splash winning that arena tournament last year. These days… the martial world sees us as righteous types, so certain… certain kinds of information just doesn’t reach us. If not for that, after Zhong Erggui died wrongfully, we wouldn’t have had to fight our way around town everywhere — maybe we could have gone undercover quietly like Zuo Xingzhou instead…”

“…” Zuo Wenxuan fell silent for a moment, then pushed up his glasses. “…In that case… keep fighting, then. In the martial world, if there’s any informant or shady middleman of ambiguous standing who you think might know something, go press them for it, Brother Yue.”

“That’s possible, but… if it’s really like you said, Big Brother Zuo, and Chen Shuangran and the others are secretly watching me…”

“That’s fine — I’ll have someone watching over you as well, this time.”

“Then what’s there to worry about!” Yue Yun nearly leapt up on the spot, thumping his fist against his chest. “You just watch, Big Brother Zuo — I’ll beat them all senseless. You have to risk something to catch something, and you two just handle catching the wolves.”

Zuo Wenxuan frowned slightly. “…When you go, take a few fire-bombs with you.”

“Heh heh heh, sure thing, heh heh heh…” Yue Yun laughed, and then, at this point, suddenly recalled something. “Oh right, there is one rather strange thing…”

“What is it?”

“I remember… the time Xingzhou and I originally agreed on for putting on the act was the night of the nineteenth. Then something happened, I’m not sure what, and Xingzhou didn’t show up that night, so it got pushed to the twentieth instead. That was strange…”

He trailed off as he saw Zuo Wenxuan wave a hand. “I know the ins and outs of that matter — I’m not at liberty to share, but there’s nothing suspicious about it.”

“…Oh.” Yue Yun nodded at that.

“Anything else you can think of?”

“Nothing else for now — I’ll let you know if something comes to mind.”

Zuo Wenxuan nodded as well, fell silent for a moment, then said, “…As for the whole affair — for now, it depends on how things unfold. If he got swept up because of Zhan Yunhai, then it’s simply up to his own fortune. But if his identity was exposed — regardless of what happens, the Zuo family and the Southwest connection make him too valuable to simply kill outright. Someone may well come to negotiate terms instead. Brother Yue, keep an eye out for any word along those lines. And of course, mind your own safety as well… One more thing — since Xingzhou used a fire-bomb that day, it wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. This afternoon I already had the Ministry of Justice inquire with the ward heads of the surrounding villages about any strange explosion sounds heard on the afternoon or evening of the twenty-second. I don’t know if that will turn anything up, but while you’re asking around, keep an ear out for that too…”

Speaking calmly, he ran through this string of small matters, and Yue Yun listened along with a series of “mm-hm”s. By the time it was all said and by the time he left, though his heart was still full of worry for Zuo Xingzhou, he also felt, for the first time, a clearer sense of confidence about how to go about things.

He finished off the flatcake in a few bites, took a few defensive hand-grenades from the Zuo family, and only then left the compound, heading back toward the Princess’s residence.

Though his sister had only that morning warned him not to draw attention to himself, with a backer like Zuo Wenxuan behind him now, what was there left to fear? Thinking about how he’d only learned of Zhan Yunhai’s fate that morning, and by afternoon Zuo Wenxuan had already worked out the whole picture and arranged everything neatly — if he could just work well together with him, who was to say he couldn’t be the one to bring down that Cloud-Swallowing Monk himself? What a way to make a name for himself that would be.

The very thought of it lit a fire in him.

Yue Yun rode off and vanished down the streets near the Zuo compound. Meanwhile, back inside the Zuo residence, Zuo Wenxuan called over a younger cousin and made arrangements both for searching for Zuo Xingzhou and for keeping watch over the conspicuous Yue Yun, before turning to attend to other matters at hand.

By the time he looked up from his paperwork again, night had fallen deep. Though he appeared calm on the surface, his heart was in truth heavy — judging by the state of Zhan Yunhai’s corpse and the timeline, the odds of Zuo Xingzhou still being alive weren’t good. But even bending official resources for private use as he was, he had no way to bring more manpower into this investigation.

And the matter couldn’t be allowed to grow too large, either.

—Who else might know some clue to this?

He turned the thought over, trying to work out what he might have missed.

There was, in truth, one name in his mind.

But he hesitated, unsure whether he could afford to touch on anything to do with that name…

……

The fifth month, the twenty-sixth day, past the middle of the Hour of the Boar.

At the still-lively night market of Yinqiao Ward, Ning Ji, in the middle of tidying up his stall while trading barbs with someone, turned his head and saw the figure standing across the road.

His mouth fell open. He blinked.

“What is it?” Qu Longjun, who had been chatting with a pretty young maid nearby, noticed the look on his face.

“Uh… n-nothing…” Ning Ji drew a breath, then turned his head aside and said quietly, evenly, “Ran into a friend. I’ll go say hello.”

“Mm.” Qu Longjun nodded encouragingly.

The man across the road smiled toward him. Ning Ji walked over, hands on his hips. “Heh heh, Glasses! You here looking for trouble?”

Zuo Wenxuan was one of the oldest members of the Zuo family to be sent to study at Xiaocang River. By the time he arrived, his Confucian schooling had long since been completed — had he sat the imperial examinations, he might well have earned the rank of xiucai, or even juren. He was more than a decade older than Ning Ji, and back when the army had run some elementary Confucian coursework, he’d taken part in the teaching of it — which meant that toward a hopeless student like Ning Ji, there was a certain natural authority weighing on him. Which was precisely why Ning Ji now made a point of projecting an air of “I’m not afraid of you anymore” — though, it should be stressed, as far as the Confucian coursework was concerned, Zuo Wenxuan couldn’t really be counted as his teacher, since he hadn’t learned a thing.

Zuo Wenxuan reached out and patted his head. Ning Ji meant to dodge, but for some reason his body didn’t move — and then he realized it was probably his innate virtue of respecting his elders kicking in.

“Somewhere we can sit and talk?” Zuo Wenxuan said.

“I’ll treat you.” Ning Ji said, already stepping toward the Xiang Family Snacks stand nearby that sold cold refreshments.

The two picked out an out-of-the-way spot to one side of the main hall. Ning Ji ordered a few things with practiced ease, glanced around, then spoke with feigned calm. “What are you here for?”

“No need to worry, I’m not here to move against you. Fuzhou’s too far from the Southwest — there’s no way to get orders through in time.”

“As if there needed to be — hmph, let me tell you, with my skill these days, even if you turned on me, you couldn’t catch me.”

“I’m just a lowly scholar, wouldn’t hurt a fly. I don’t enjoy fighting and killing all day like you children. I just happened to have some free time today and came to check on you.”

“What’s there to check — your position’s so sensitive, I get nervous just having you show up here.”

“Your guard’s up more than it used to be — that’s a good thing.” Zuo Wenxuan smiled, and once the approaching server had set down a bowl of icy jelly and left, he continued, “Still, it’s routine business, I had to make the trip regardless. Your identity is a special one — when Xingzhou told me about it, it gave me quite a shock. You don’t need to worry about anything else for now. As for the matter of your identity, it stops with me — right now, only Xingzhou and I know of it, and I’ve been placed under strict discipline not to reveal it to anyone else. But you know how Xingzhou can be a bit careless in how he handles things, so on a matter this important, I still needed to come confirm it myself.”

“I don’t agree with that.” Ning Ji said. “Zuo Xingzhou, that mutt, can be a bit of a pain, but he’s reliable on the important stuff.”

“Say what you like — he told me this troublesome brat had arrived, so of course I had to come confirm it in person. It’s procedure, you understand.”

“Well, you’ve seen me now.”

“Confirmed,” Zuo Wenxuan nodded, and sighed. “But there’s still something I wanted to ask about.”

“What is it? Go ahead.”

“Let’s talk about your nickname…”

……

With a bang, Ning Ji slapped the table and shot up out of his seat.

……

“Glasses, you’re here looking for trouble, aren’t you — I knew it, I knew you were here looking for trouble, poking at the one sore spot you shouldn’t—”

……

The summer night had grown somewhat cooler than the day. Zuo Wenxuan sat quietly, a smile on his face, watching the young man across from him who’d just been set off by a single remark. Having planned this while the other had not, he knew that much of what came next would go far more smoothly.

He then, with careful measure, chatted with the ever-bouncing “Young Hero Sun Wukong” about stories from his travels so far, mixing in a few idle remarks about his recent encounters with Zuo Xingzhou. Because of Zuo Wenxuan’s occasional needling, Ning Ji didn’t notice the calculation and unease lurking beneath the other man’s eyes…

Before long, the two parted ways outside the shop.

“Going forward, there’s no need — neither Xingzhou nor I will come bother you again,” Zuo Wenxuan said. “But you should be careful too. Keep yourself safe. Don’t go looking for trouble.”

…After the twenty-first of the fifth month, Ning Ji had not seen Zuo Xingzhou again…

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

He heard Ning Ji shout from behind him.

“Worry about your own selves, Glasses!”