Deep red clouds burned across the sky, gradually swallowing the city into the black of night. High above the city, flag signals flashed urgently, carrying complex messages out toward the distant horizon.
Within the imperial palace, the lanterns had just been lit. Having finished his evening meal, Emperor Zhou Junwu stepped out of his study and strolled along the palace corridor. Fuzhou was a seaside city, and of all times, the most pleasant was this stretch of dusk in summer. A breeze drifted through the palace courtyards, and looking out, the city’s lights were beginning to rise, scattered here and there, about to flow together into a river of light.
Having attended to a full day’s state affairs while eating, he now pulled a steamed bun from his sleeve, and sitting down on the courtyard steps without much regard for appearances, took small bites of it. The bun had been made rather firm, but chewing carefully, there was a faint trace of sweetness to it—a curious taste for comfort developed by a sovereign who had lived through real battle.
He could faintly make out the disturbance unfolding somewhere in the distant city.
“Still not finished?” he muttered to himself. “…Seems they’ve caught a big fish.”
That morning, when dealing with Chen Shuangran’s faction within the city, cannons had already been used; according to the preliminary reports, this operation had struck right at the vital point of the rebel faction, and the court could, for the time being, breathe a little easier. He had, accordingly, gone ahead and stamped his seal on the already-finalized list of consorts to be taken into the harem, intending to strike while the iron was hot and settle the matter.
Now, with the sudden renewed cannon fire this evening, it stood to reason, based on his inference, that this was likely the result of some valuable information extracted from the interrogation of the rebel faction’s captured members that morning, following the vine to uncover a few more melons along the way. This was good news—after days of tension, on this night when so much of the work had finally been settled, he found himself relaxing at last, for the first time in a long while.
The people of the Zuo family who had come from the southwest, when they set their minds seriously to a task, could indeed be trusted.
Even as his heart settled at ease, some restless impulse stirred in his mind—he found himself rather wanting to go see for himself what was happening outside.
He recalled how, as a child, whenever something interesting happened in the city of Jiangning, he’d usually go bounding off to see it for himself. His older sister, who seemed the more sensible one, had in fact been even more eager than him in that regard. His late father, too—cockfighting, dog-racing, eating, drinking, watching opera—he’d taken endless delight in it all. In the fashionable phrasing that had drifted over from the southwest, one royal household, three thoroughly entertaining characters—quite the merry bunch, really.
So many years had passed now; his older sister’s unhappy marriage had left her cold and distant in temperament, while he himself had been thrust into the role of Emperor, run ragged with responsibility ever since. Now, in this rare moment of leisure, he found himself wondering whether that curious, excitement-loving spirit still lingered somewhere within his sister’s heart.
With cannon fire going off in the city, was she perhaps secretly peering out at it too, in private?
Or was she, instead, sitting there with a stern face, openly and unabashedly following the affair?
Making a fuss over nothing, unbecoming of one’s dignity.
After becoming Emperor, the first lesson he’d learned, in order to maintain his own authority, was that whatever he could hold back from doing, he should never simply stand by and watch the excitement unfold—it made him seem aloof and composed, and afterward, he could ask a single, understated question about the outcome, projecting an air of having had everything under complete control from the start. His sister was even more aloof in this regard than he was, and did it even better.
But at this moment, chewing on his bun, Jun Wu found himself wondering:
Was his sister, perhaps, putting on an act too, just like him?
Had she been keeping it up for all these years?
“Hm…”
The now-thirty-something, dignified Emperor lifted his head slightly beneath the eaves, his brow furrowing into a serious expression. Few people knew that, for this brief moment, he had traveled back to the past.
Growing up is not an absolute concept; people endure hardship, learn to face what they once could not face, look directly at bloodshed, even come to understand death. But even upon becoming an adult, becoming a person of great importance, even becoming an elder well advanced in years, the child and youth one once was will always, at some moment, rise back up to the surface, reaching across the years to feel it all once more.
The decree regarding the new consorts was to be issued the very next day, and the process would move quickly enough. Having finally found himself with a bit of free time, Jun Wu felt he ought to go first and comfort a few of his consorts, to try to keep his household as peaceful as possible. But having finished his bun, halfway there, he changed course instead, heading toward the corner watchtower at the side of the palace, picking up a spyglass and secretly peering off toward the direction of the Princess Imperial’s residence.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of his sister secretly watching the excitement herself wasn’t especially realistic.
But he simply wanted to take a look, just this once…
……
At the streets of Huaiyun Ward, blood sprayed in every direction.
Not long before, the two young men had let loose their full fury here—twin blades cutting down the surrounding trees and fences, the flying eight-sided mace smashing apart brick and courtyard walls, blood scattered in speckled patches all around.
A shop by the roadside was caught in the crossfire, struck clean through during the fierce clash between the two, its proprietor nearly frightened to death.
Perhaps out of some sense of honor, Yue Yun had shouted loudly, “If you’re truly a hero, don’t harm the innocent—come with me somewhere no one else is, and let’s settle this one on one—” and only then had the two of them fought their way clear of the area, killing all the way. Only then did the soldiers move in to surround the scene and begin clearing up the wreckage left behind on the street.
This fierce battle cut through Huaiyun Ward, through narrow lanes, across bridges, extending on through the dim streets of the city.
Under the pretext of “hunting down bandits,” a small number of soldiers and constables were working to disperse and protect the crowds along the busier streets, while amid it all, waving signal flags and watchful eyes in the darkness guarded the length of the streets, keeping watch over every dark alley and riverbed along the way.
Yue Yun spat curses as he ran and fought.
“Ha ha ha ha, so what if you’re the Nine-Chi Lecher—today I’ll reunite you two brothers—”
“Calling yourself a lecher, but your sons don’t even have assholes—”
“Does your father know? Does your mother know? What must they think of you…”
“…Ha ha, mongrel, did you ever imagine a day like today would come!”
The youth pursuing him from behind had, at first, said nothing at all, simply swinging his blade in furious slashes as he closed in, but he was eventually provoked into a stream of curses of his own.
“—This time next year will be your death anniversary!”
“Are you saying you’ll come pay respects to your dear old father next year, then? What touching filial devotion…”
“Filial to your whole damn family!”
“I’m your long-lost father—”
“I’m your long-lost grandfather—”
“I’m your long-lost grandfather’s grandfather—”
“I…”
Fighting and running through several market streets and alleys, Yue Yun leapt onto a horse by the roadside and quickened his pace.
Behind the Princess Imperial’s residence stood a heavily guarded training ground, ringed by old scholar trees. He rode his horse toward it, and as he charged through the gate, glanced back once more to confirm the little mongrel was still on his tail, before finally charging inside. “Come on then, if you’ve got the guts—fair fight, man to man, no one else involved—”
The mood had already been set just right—this was, after all, a thoroughly honorable jianghu duel. Yue Yun charged into the great training ground, dismounted, then tore off his own tattered, blade-shredded clothing; even the breastplate over his heart bore deep cut marks from the fighting.
“Damn, he really doesn’t hold back… this little bastard’s gone mad…”
He swung his eight-sided mace, wrapping the chain around his hand, then rolled his neck and stood facing the gate, feeling that his stance for meeting the challenge looked utterly badass.
The moon had already climbed above the treetops, casting its light over the scene of what was to come—for years afterward, the underworld of Fuzhou would speak of this showdown.
He waited a moment like this…
“Hey! You chicken?”
He waited a moment longer…
“I said no backup, and I meant no backup, you Four-Chi Lecher, Sun Wukong! Just the two of us, settling this to the death—”
He waved and shouted loudly, but had already begun to sense, faintly, that something was off. He’d been entirely sincere, but the other man didn’t believe him? He’d clearly been driven half-mad with rage, so why, now that it came down to it, was he unwilling to take the bait?
The night wind swept across the wide training ground; Yue Yun glanced off to one side, and suddenly, a shadow stirred among the trees—there came a few clinking, jingling sounds, and two figures came crashing down from the treetops. One was tall and slender, holding a long spear—his sister, Silver Bottle—and the other, naturally, was that little mongrel, his fury seemingly having stripped him of all semblance of humanity, twin blades in hand, body low and crouched, looking exceedingly dangerous in the moonlight.
“Hey, this is a one-on-one between the two of us, the authorities aren’t getting involved—if you win today, you can walk away, don’t worry, this young lord won’t cheat or play dirty—” Yue Yun extended a finger. “Sister, step back, let him come.”
At the edge of his vision, Silver Bottle turned her head to look at him, though it wasn’t clear what she meant by it. And that bloodthirsty little mongrel standing in the tree’s shadow also turned his gaze this way.
The atmosphere turned grim.
Just as Yue Yun sensed the other man was about to lunge at him, he heard the mongrel let out a low growl. “You Zuo bastard—get out here—”
“Huh…” Yue Yun opened his mouth, running his tongue over his teeth. “This is our showdown, what are you babbling about…”
“We only just settled things and you turned right around and sold me out… She’s not dead, is she? Get out here—”
“Hey, have you lost your mind…”
“You’ve got no brains at all! I’m in the scouting business, damn it—you think I wouldn’t notice something’s wrong after you led me on this whole chase? Hand her over—”
In the youth’s words across from him, there was a barely-restrained calm mixed with an anxiety that seemed ready to burst at any moment. Chasing him down all this way, he’d sensed something was off, yet was also afraid of certain possibilities too terrible, too unwilling to be spoken aloud. The vast training ground fell silent; Silver Bottle planted her spear upright on the ground. Yue Yun wiped at his mouth with a finger, and finally waved a hand toward the side.
“Hey, quit the act! You were practically in tears just a moment ago—”
……
The bloodthirsty eyes turned back, fixing on him.
……
Yue Yun blinked, startled for a moment, then broke into laughter.
“…Ha ha, come on then… you were crying just now!”
Across the open training ground, the night wind blew quietly for a while. Words that would normally be humiliating enough to want to die from still carried enormous weight—though whether it was because he’d already faced so much public embarrassment since leaving home that he’d grown numb to it, or because a far greater worry outweighed any momentary shame, this time, Ning Ji did not lunge forward again.
He glanced at the siblings across the training ground, then looked around, gripping the hilts of his blades tightly, about to shout once more for that Zuo family mongrel. Not far off, a door in a nearby corner watchtower opened, and Zuo Wenxuan stepped out.
Ning Ji raised his blade; had it not been for the cover of night, everyone would surely have seen how bloodshot his eyes had become.
“You…”
“I told you.” From a distance, Zuo Wenxuan let out a sigh. “That if you refused to leave, you needed to be prepared for the consequences.”
“Prepared my ass… you said it’d be next time—”
“This is next time. Things have already gotten out of hand.”
“What…”
Before Ning Ji could finish this time, two more figures appeared beside Zuo Wenxuan in the doorway—one of them was Qu Longjun. She had been captured, her hands bound behind her back, a strip of cloth tied around her mouth so she couldn’t speak—but even this was already an overwhelmingly welcome sight. Ning Ji nearly burst into tears on the spot; as for the other figure, he had, for the moment, no attention left to spare for it.
He was about to charge forward when Yue Yinping raised her spear horizontally to block him, and at Qu Longjun’s side, the middle-aged man in the long scholar’s robe raised a hand, horizontally too.
In that instant, Ning Ji felt as though he were looking at his own father, far away in the southwest.
—In the man’s hand was a single-barreled matchlock, aimed directly at Qu Longjun’s head. For some reason, the way the man held the weapon bore an uncanny resemblance to his father’s own stance.
“You…”
He was about to speak.
……
Bang—
……
The man pulled the trigger.
……
In the darkness of the night, a sudden burst of flame flared out into the night sky; had the man not lifted his hand slightly as he pulled the trigger, that burst of fire would have swallowed Qu Longjun’s head whole.
Qu Longjun instinctively drew her head back.
Ning Ji, about to charge forward, froze in place in an instant, turning to look at Zuo Wenxuan.
……
Zuo Wenxuan let out a sigh, looking at him helplessly.
“This is Lord Cheng Fang…”
“He’s your elder—he held you in his arms when you were a child…”
“He also saw you in Chengdu…”
“…Do you even remember any of that?”
……
“Uh…”
Ning Ji scratched his head.
“…Huh?”