The silent night seemed to press down on a soundless clamor. In the early hours of the fifth day of the sixth month, many of the great figures within the city had, for the most part, passed a sleepless night.
Morning came.
In the courtyard behind the Princess’s residence, the early risers squeezed out toothpaste — improved by the Zhu family workshop — onto their toothbrushes. Ning Ji and Qu Longjun crouched under the eaves washing up. Halfway through brushing his teeth, Ning Ji spotted a figure loitering by the courtyard gate like a hooligan, a toothbrush in his mouth too, foam covering his lips, leaning against the doorframe and eyeing them with a leering look. It was Yue Yun.
Ning Ji glanced over, unbothered — after so long in the army camp, he’d seen plenty of idle troublemakers like this. Qu Longjun, though, couldn’t help sneaking a few more looks, nudging Ning Ji with her shoulder. Only then did Ning Ji spit out the foam and call over to Yue Yun, “What do you want?”
“…You two slept together last night,” Yue Yun said, chewing on his toothbrush.
“So?”
“There are seven rooms in this courtyard. Two were set up for you two.” Yue Yun said. “And you slept together anyway. Shameless.”
“You were spying,” Ning Ji said calmly, standing up. “You’ll get a stye for that.”
“Are you two a couple?”
“…Huh?”
“Anyone can tell you two aren’t married.”
“None of your business.”
“Sleeping together without being married — that’s a disgrace to public morals.”
“You want to bite me or something?”
“…You’ve shamed the Huaxia Army.”
“…”
“Oh-ho, everyone come look — here’s someone who’s shamed the Huaxia Army.”
Yue Yun tilted his head back and honked a few times, absentminded as a goose.
Ning Ji spat out the last of the foam, walked to one side, wiped his face with a towel, and waved a hand. “Come here.”
Yue Yun waved his toothbrush. “What for?”
“Go over there.” Ning Ji pointed toward the open space in the courtyard.
Yue Yun was surprisingly obedient, walking over with toothbrush in hand. Passing the stone table and stools, he kicked one aside, then turned back. “What for?”
Ning Ji tossed away his towel. As he turned, he stretched, his bones already beginning to crack and pop. Yue Yun laughed and spread his arms wide; Ning Ji’s frame dropped low, and in the next instant his body shot forward like a cannonball, closing several yards in a blink — and the two fists collided with a heavy thud.
“Surname Yue, one look at you and I can tell you deserve a beating — let me straighten you out—”
“Then I thank you in advance!”
Both men came from families steeped in the art, trained inside and out, and in an instant their fists were crashing together like a storm, like two elephants ramming each other, thudding again and again. Standing off to the side, Qu Longjun — who’d been taught boxing forms by Ning Ji for a few days now and considered herself something of a “martial artist” — could barely follow the blur of the two hot-tempered fighters trading blows.
After the first couple of exchanges, Yue Yun’s body swayed, his footwork sweeping wide in great arcs as if trying to open distance, while Ning Ji charged straight into the center. At one point his body seemed to be flung into the air by a single-handed grip from Yue Yun, but in the next breath, both their bodies crashed to the ground with a boom, sending gravel flying everywhere.
“Watch my Life-Taking Scissor Kick—”
“That move again—”
“Ha, go on, flip out of it—”
“Ground-fighting’s my specialty too—”
The two of them thumped and pounded on the ground for another round, and one of the stone stools, kicked by Yue Yun, crashed into a flowerbed nearby, smashing several things to bits.
Qu Longjun, naturally, couldn’t make heads or tails of the fight. When she turned her head, brushing her hair back into place, she found that Yin Ping — hair a little disheveled but still looking sharp and spirited — had already come to stand beside her. The two exchanged a glance, and Yin Ping moved closer. “Don’t worry, they’re just using their fists — that won’t kill anyone.”
“Mm.” Qu Longjun nodded, still chewing on her toothbrush.
With that, Yin Ping pulled a white cloth strip from inside her robe, wrapped it around her hair at the back of her head, and strode over toward the fight.
In the courtyard, Yue Yun and Ning Ji had already sprung back up and were still trading blows. Yin Ping approached and thrust her palm out. “Come, come, switch opponents, switch opponents…”
Yue Yun swung a fist sideways. “I’ll switch with you…”
Yin Ping’s footwork surged forward, and her elbow slammed in hard. Though Yue Yun had been blessed with tremendous natural strength — the two siblings had sparred for years — this punch was actually knocked open by Yin Ping’s fierce elbow strike. Ning Ji’s foot lashed out into Yue Yun’s stomach, and as the “little vajra” charged forward with a flurry of punches meaning to press the advantage, Yin Ping had already gripped his shoulders. In an instant, the three of them twisted and grappled, fists and feet driving forward, the exchange of blows converging and crossing like a storm. It wasn’t until dust exploded through the courtyard and the three of them, like cannonballs, tumbled or flew backward — Yue Yun crashing into the flowerbed, Yin Ping retreating under the eaves, Ning Ji rolling back several times over — that the fierce exchange finally came to a stop.
“Hahahaha.” Yue Yun laughed loudly, rubbing his mouth. “Good, not bad at all — you can actually take a hit from our Yue family’s world-famous Fanzi Fist. Little Black-Flag brat, what style are you fighting?”
“Hmph, southwestern boxing draws on the strengths of many schools, forged on the battlefield. Master Ning calls it the Military Path Kill-Fist!”
“Master Ning invented the Military Path Kill-Fist? Was that Life-Taking Scissor Kick from earlier one of its techniques too?”
“Hmph, the Life-Taking Scissor Kick comes from bladework, according to the ancient master Zuo Chuanshu’s Blade Classic…”
“Zuo Chuanshu? Who’s that supposed to be?”
“What! You don’t know Zuo Chuanshu, you illiterate—”
What had started as idle banter during their sparring somehow grew more and more heated as they went on, until it turned into a full verbal brawl. Watching the black-flag youth called “Sun Wukong” bounce up excitedly, clearly about to launch into a tirade about his brother not knowing who Zuo Chuanshu was, Yin Ping sighed, her footwork surging forward — before she’d even arrived, a spray of sand and gravel, kicked up ahead of her, came flying straight at his face.
Ning Ji swung his arm and struck back savagely, and gravel burst across the courtyard in a hailstorm. Qu Longjun, having watched for a while and seeing the three figures still tangled in a vigorous scuffle, scrunched up her small face and fled around the courtyard, clutching a basin of warm water.
Perhaps because someone of Cheng Zhouhai’s standing had put in a word, the courtyard behind the Princess’s residence was unusually quiet this morning — no outsiders came by, and in the distance only the watchtower’s sentry post could be glimpsed. After a while, Ning Ji, Yue Yun, and Yin Ping had beaten each other black and blue, old wounds unhealed and new ones added on top.
Qu Longjun fetched more water and returned to find the three of them sitting in a pile of wreckage, cursing at each other good-naturedly.
“…Not that I wasn’t guarding against it, but this brat always manages to drag people down to the ground — the southwestern army really does have some tricks up its sleeve…”
“…Trained on the battlefield, I told you…”
“…I’ve been on a battlefield too…”
“…You’re too tall, easy to kill.”
“…I was in the vanguard, charging in with a broadsword and hammer — not the same as you scout types…”
“…Your sister’s Fanzi Fist isn’t as good as yours…”
“…That’s right! Heh heh~~”
“…I train in spear techniques…”
“…Hmph, our Huaxia Army has a spear technique too…”
Watching the three of them, Qu Longjun finally brought the basin of water over to Yin Ping first, wiping the bruise at the corner of her mouth and the scrape on her shoulder. Ning Ji tossed over a packet of wound medicine, then went on arguing with Yue Yun while sparring with empty gestures, debating the differences between Fanzi Fist and the so-called “Military Path Kill-Fist” — which, of course, his father Ning Yi had simply made up on the spot, purely to fool the gullible, though while the name might be fabricated, the boxing itself was real. After arguing for a moment, the two of them lunged at each other and started fighting again.
Watching it made Qu Longjun’s own body ache in sympathy, but there were other things to attend to today, and she understood the reasoning behind Ning Ji’s fighting, so she didn’t try to stop it — she only felt her eyes twitch secretly with worry every time Ning Ji took a hit. Off to the side, Yin Ping, who’d originally meant to go continue her morning training, softly comforted her instead. “It’s fine — both of them have tough hides and solid internal training. Right now they’re basically pounding each other to circulate their internal energy — it’s actually good for both of them once it’s done.”
After a moment, she laughed. “You’re a kind one — instead of going to help him, you come treat my injuries. What’s your name, little sister? It’s definitely not something like Long Aotian, is it?”
“I’m Qu Longjun.”
“I’m Yue Yinping. Yinping, as in ‘when the silver vase shatters, water bursts forth; when armored horsemen charge, blade and spear clash’ — that Yinping.”
“I know. Sister Yue, your martial skill is incredible.”
“Still not as good as the southwest’s.” Yin Ping glanced toward the two still fighting. “At his age, I didn’t have skill like this. Did you know… my foolish little brother and I were once captured by the Jurchens, back when we were young — it was Master Ning of the southwest who saved us.”
“What?”
Qu Longjun had never heard this story before. Her eyes widened and she was about to ask more when suddenly the world spun — Yin Ping had reached out and shoved her aside. Her body tumbled across the courtyard, and before she could react, she heard Ning Ji’s curse ring out: “What are you doing, you dead woman!”
“I also think it’s a disgrace to public morals, the two of you sleeping together without being married,” Yin Ping said, her voice cold, before laughing. “Hey, switch opponents…”
…
A chicken-and-dog-scattering kind of morning.
Round after round of fighting had left the pots and jars in the courtyard utterly destroyed. When the morning breeze picked up, Yin Ping came back in from outside carrying a steamer basket of breakfast, and amid the rising steam, she used the white mist to soothe her face, swollen up like a steamed bun. Yue Yun came out in a fresh change of clothes, walking with a bit of a limp.
Ning Ji sat under the eaves, wrapping his own head in bandages with a defiant look, leaving one ear exposed.
“—You even hit a woman’s face!” Yin Ping set down the steamer basket, poking at her own swollen cheek with a finger, thoroughly displeased.
Ning Ji held out his right hand, showing off a bloody bite mark. “You bit me — and you call yourself from the Yue family, Zhou Tong’s own grand-disciple! You bit me!”
“If I’d really bitten down with all my strength, that hand of yours would be gone!” Yin Ping sat down, tilting her head. “And besides, given the situation at the time, biting was the correct call. You’d already lost.”
“I’ve trained the Thirteen Bodyguards’ Golden Bell technique! Your bite wouldn’t have done anything even at full force!”
“Hmph, doesn’t look like it — quit bragging. If you’ve got the guts, come at me again, I’ll tear your flesh right off, and you’ll be finished!”
“Ha, and you talk about guts with me…”
“Then let’s go again…”
“I didn’t wash my hands after the outhouse just now. There’s shit on my hand.” Ning Ji held out his arm.
Sporting half a swollen pig-face, Yin Ping froze for a moment, staring blankly at Ning Ji, momentarily unable to process it. She’d grown up in the army and was certainly used to the coarse manners of rough men, but even within the Yue family’s own ranks, most of the young men who sparred with her tended to treat her as the Yue family’s cherished daughter, a goddess in their hearts. Plenty of them tried to show off their manliness in front of her, plenty were the sort you could trust to watch your back on a battlefield — but someone like Ning Ji, willing to throw away all sense of dignity just to make his opponent squirm, she’d genuinely never encountered before.
Qu Longjun lowered her head to hide a laugh. Not far off, Yue Yun, who’d been stretching and itching to jump into the shouting match, now raised both trembling hands and gave Ning Ji two thumbs up.
The courtyard fell quiet for a moment. Yin Ping blinked, then reached over, grabbed a steamed bun from the basket, and stuffed it in her mouth, pretending to eat. Ning Ji withdrew his arm before the other could discover there wasn’t actually any shit on it. Yue Yun walked over. “Sis, why haven’t Master Cheng and Master Zuo shown up yet?”
“Something’s happened outside. Zhao Xiaosong said the court’s swamped with work, and the Princess Imperial, exhausted after staying up all night, just went to sleep.” Yin Ping tried to keep her mouth movements small.
“What happened?”
“The day before yesterday, at dawn, the Fairness Party breached Lin’an. Tie Yan was killed. We’ve got a lot to deal with on our end too.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it, sis?”
“It’s not good news,” Yin Ping said. “I heard the ones who breached the city were the armies of the Wheel-Turning King and the Equality King, and after taking the city they’ve been burning and killing everywhere. Our army can’t get out there, and right now all we can do is worry… The worst part is, this morning at court, someone had already learned that Lin’an had fallen and demanded the Emperor send troops immediately, to save the people of Lin’an from ruin.”
“Father did prepare for this, didn’t he? Are we… going to break out?” Yue Yun sat down and took a steamed bun.
Yin Ping sighed softly. “Father and Marshal Han’s army are prepared to break out, but distant water can’t put out a nearby fire. If they really are slaughtering people, by the time we reach Lin’an, everyone inside will have died ten times over… The worst part is, Zhao Xiaosong says if we march out now, Fujian’s loyalties will scatter. Before the Emperor’s reforms have borne fruit, if we turn toward Lin’an, never mind whether we can wipe out the Fairness Party — even the work of the past two years will be wasted.”
Sitting beside Ning Ji, Qu Longjun understood by now what Yin Ping meant, and she frowned. “If I were Chen Shuangran, I’d be stirring up public opinion out there within the next two days, egging the court on to march out.”
Ning Ji said, “The Beiwei Army fighting the Fairness Party — that shouldn’t be much of a problem.”
Yin Ping nodded. “Zhao Xiaosong says if we wait for the fleet to come back before marching out, we’d have a real foundation behind us. But right now is exactly when the fighting in Fujian is at its most intense. If we march toward Lin’an — first, many of the great clans who’ve only just temporarily come around will think the court is abandoning Fujian; second, Jiangnan is short on grain and full of refugees, so if we march out, we won’t gain a thing and will only keep bleeding resources — the court barely has any money left as it is; and third, Chen Shuangran and her bandits — these past few days the Emperor’s strategy has finally started working, just as we’re about to press the advantage all the way through, and this whole business is likely to give them room to breathe. What comes after that, we can’t say…”
“…Idiots.” Ning Ji looked down at the others. “We have a saying in the southwest — hardship is training for the troops, crisis is opportunity. Why do you all only see the downside and not the upside?”
“Go on, then, explain,” said the half pig-face, chin raised.
“You people in the southeast want to reform, want ‘revere the king, expel the barbarians’ — to put it plainly, isn’t that just rallying a bunch of poor scholars to take down the old corrupt officials? Constitutional monarchy, serving the country and the people — the important thing is making sure everyone can see what you’re actually doing. Now that Lin’an has fallen and the Fairness Party is slaughtering people, with refugees pouring out of Jiangnan — sure, you can’t reach Lin’an anytime soon, but how you send troops to comfort and care for the common people, everyone can see that. You teach classes at that Military Academy of yours, but what good is theorizing on paper? Thousands upon thousands of refugees are streaming south — send the students down to receive them, house them, care for them, work out a real plan, then send people to praise them for it. Naturally, that whole ‘serving the country and the people’ thing gets some real substance behind it. If the Emperor shows himself more benevolent than those old dynasty officials, more benevolent than the Fairness Party, then when you talk about reverence for the throne and constitutional monarchy, of course people will support it, right? Only troops trained this way are truly the people’s own soldiers… do you even know what that means…”
Ning Ji was the youngest of the four, and he spoke without much thought, but Qu Longjun’s eyes lit up, and Yin Ping and Yue Yun couldn’t help falling into thought as well.
By the time he mentioned “the people’s own soldiers,” they shook their heads.
“…I don’t really know that phrase… but I think what you’re saying makes some sense…”
“…But there’s not enough money and grain — the wealthy households probably won’t want to donate any more either…”
“…Would that play right into that wretch Chen Shuangran’s hands…”
“…You’re all such cowards…”
The four of them chattered away in the courtyard, ate breakfast, and as the sun rose higher and the courtyard grew warmer, Cheng Zhouhai and Zuo Wenxuan still hadn’t returned — likely because of the sudden fall of Lin’an, most of the officials had probably been up all night.
Ning Ji did a round of disguise work. “I’m going out later!”
Yue Yun said, “Master Cheng and the others said you’re free to go — we can’t beat you flat and we can’t blow you up either.”
“But Miss Qu has to stay with us,” Yin Ping said, pausing before adding, “…Oh, right, are you coming back tonight? What are you even going out for?”
Staying here under protection was certainly a reasonably safe arrangement for Qu Longjun, but the feeling of being left behind as a hostage wasn’t a pleasant one. Ning Ji made a sour face, sulked for a moment, then pointed at the pair of siblings. “It’s because you two are so useless — can’t even take down one little witch — so I have to personally set up the trap myself to help you finish her off.”
The courtyard fell silent for a moment.
“…You know how to set up a trap?”
“…”
Ning Ji jumped up, and after a moment began telling the two of them about his recent dealings with the enemy organization, and the progress he’d made with the strategist’s help. As he told the story, with Qu Longjun polishing it up along the way, Yin Ping and Yue Yun’s eyes began to light up as well…
Though harsh words had passed between them and they’d already traded several rounds of blows, once identities had been confirmed, there was no lingering suspicion of any real consequence between them — Yue family members toward a visitor from the southwest, and a Ning family member toward Yue family children. The four of them huddled together, chattering away once more…
Sunlight spilled down, pushing aside the drifting clouds, and as the morning passed, the city streets grew hot.
Newsboys ran through the marketplace, spreading word that Lin’an had fallen and the people of the Wu Dynasty were once again being slaughtered. In teahouse after teahouse, restaurant after restaurant, talk of Lin’an had already overshadowed the days of fighting between officials and bandits within the city.
Refugees who had fled from other regions hoped to return home as soon as possible.
Some brought up old matters from after the Wu Dynasty’s move south…
“Over a decade ago, when Bian Liang fell, the cowards at court talked about ‘southerners staying south, northerners staying north,’ and in the end, not a single battle was ever fought to retake the north. Instead, once they’d settled comfortably in Lin’an, all they wanted was for things to last forever… If we stay too long in Fujian, I’m afraid it’ll be the same story all over again…”
“Fujian is eight parts mountain, one part water, one part farmland — never meant for long settlement to begin with. Now that Jiangnan’s in chaos, and the court is the rightful dynasty, shouldn’t it march back and restore its good name?”
“Wait any longer and there won’t be any prestige left for a legitimate court to reclaim…”
“I heard the court’s waiting for the fleet to return…”
“Wishful thinking…”
Of course, there were also those who could tie the entire situation together.
Riding in a carriage, Huang Shengyuan crossed through the city streets and met with two elders in the private room of a teahouse.
“…Got word last night — looks like the little Emperor’s gaining the upper hand. Some people are getting cold feet, thinking of turning traitor. I heard someone named my Huang family at the Princess’s residence — I can’t show my face, I meant to leave right away, but who’d have thought things would take such a turn…”
“…Miss Chen’s side made up their minds this morning — they’ve already mobilized everyone, spreading word about Lin’an all over the city…”
“…People have gone to court too, submitting petitions, begging the Emperor to save the people, to fight back. These are the Wu Dynasty’s own citizens — he can’t just ignore them.”
“…The good part is, no need to hide it — even their own young reformists want to fight back to Lin’an. A lot of them have family there. If the Emperor doesn’t fight, he’ll lose the people’s hearts entirely…”
“…If troops go out, the cost will be enormous, it’ll drag on forever, and gain nothing. Worst of all, if he goes back to Lin’an, Fujian stops mattering — can the reforms and power consolidation he’s got halfway done still move forward?”
“…We’ve already touched base with a few officials… signs of second thoughts everywhere. Marching out is death, not marching out is also death. The little Emperor’s caught between a rock and a hard place. Rough times.”
The crowd milled about, bustling and furtive all at once.
Through this daylight hour, there was talk among the great figures — and, naturally, gatherings of small ones too.
In the alleys between Huaiyun Ward and Jinyin Bridge, groups of passersby gathered and scattered, over and over. Many locals here, out of simple curiosity, came to look at the wreckage from yesterday’s cannon fire — though the city was full of commotion these days, with authorities carrying out searches and tension running high over the news from Lin’an, this rare site of cannon bombardment still drew large crowds of onlookers.
There were also martial artists from the fringes of the jianghu drifting through to observe — as the situation in Fuzhou had tightened, many fighters with less-than-clean records, and the more timid ones, had already fled the city in fear. The ones showing up here to gawk now were mostly the freer sort of jianghu wanderers — people who romanticized the martial world, who’d grown up on the martial arts novels coming out of the southwest, unbothered by the large-scale brawling in Houguan County and taking a simple view of the Lin’an crisis. But the story of a master who’d taken part in the attempt on Tie Tianying’s life the day before and then been surrounded by the court’s forces, only to cut a bloody path through several streets alongside a court master, had them thoroughly fired up, and they came flocking to pay their respects.
Some of those who’d known the two brothers from Yinqiao Ward were also out and about, asking around for whatever news they could find. Among them was Xiaodie, a maid from Jinqiao Ward, who’d already made several tearful round trips back and forth. She’d gone to Huaiyun Ward to ask around and confirmed that the courtyard that had been blown up was indeed the one the “Dragon” and “Sun” brothers had been staying in, then returned to the brothel in Jinqiao Ward to report back. Though the brothel hadn’t yet opened for the afternoon, the courtesans inside were already wailing in grief, and the story of the young hero “Dragon”‘s assassination attempt on Tie Tianying had already spawned countless versions.
Some said the young hero Long Aotian had come to Fuzhou to avenge his murdered father, seeking out the court’s attack dog, old Tie, and that after agreeing to a formal duel, he’d instead been ambushed and surrounded by the man’s forces; others said Long Aotian’s attempt on Tie Tianying’s life was because Tie Tianying had committed countless evils, including forcibly seizing a commoner’s daughter, and that the young hero had stepped in on her behalf, standing up for justice, only to fall into a trap set by the wicked; some said the young hero’s nickname “Five-Foot Lecher” had itself been dirty water thrown on him by the treacherous court’s attack dog; and there were even those who vividly described the peak confrontation between the two sides the day before as though they’d witnessed it firsthand… In short, before the sun had even set, the “Five-Foot Lecher” reputation that Ning Ji had worked so hard to earn was, in this particular corner of public opinion, on the verge of being washed clean — had he known, he’d surely have called it a blessing in disguise.
Yu Hezhang and Meng Biao, who were genuinely connected to the matter, were still out on the streets investigating. Pu Xingui was anxious, so they’d been out since early morning, but they hadn’t yet found any news of the Dragon and Sun brothers. Along the way, though, they did run into a few of Chen Shuangran’s underlings — these men were also wandering about clueless. When the two sides met, both grew hostile at once; Yu Hezhang immediately started cursing the other side as shameless and treacherous. During the attempt on Tie Tianying’s life, Xiao Heipi had clearly turned on the “Dragon” and “Sun” heroes, reporting Young Hero Long straight to the authorities in an act of backstabbing — a betrayal that, once it got out, would surely be condemned by Fuzhou’s entire martial world!
The other side, mere underlings, had no idea what was going on, and immediately cursed back. The two groups nearly came to blows right there in the street, and would have been swept up entirely by nearby government agents watching the area.
In the morning, the Fish King, Gao Xingzong, had also gone out for a stroll through the streets.
As the local kingpin of Yinqiao Ward, he already had ties with the two young men from the night market, and this morning, plenty of familiar local hooligans, informants, and even nephews and disciples had come looking for him to ask what was going on. He was an old hand in the martial world, and now he shut his doors to visitors — going out for a walk himself was more shocking than anything. From Yinqiao Ward to Huaiyun Ward, the government’s men were, on the surface, relaxed but in reality watching this stretch of street closely, which suggested the whole affair was far from over.
The rumor circulating in the martial world about what had happened in Huaiyun Ward the night before was that the government had used cannon fire to bombard the ward, and that the “Dragon” and “Sun” pair had then fought their way straight to the Princess’s residence — an affair whose scale and impact were simply too great. In his younger years, Gao Xingzong might have felt some thrill at being drawn into something like this, but now that it had actually happened, he’d only broken out in a cold sweat of fear. His identity was already on file with the authorities, and now, openly and covertly, people had been assigned to watch him — if he got pulled into something as serious as an act of treason, there’d be no way out alive.
After chasing off the crowd of hooligans and disciples, he realized that shutting his doors entirely would look suspicious too, so he opened the front of his fish shop as usual and sat there with a cattail fan, dozing at the entrance — not far from the front door, one of the government’s plainclothes watchers was keeping an eye on him. He decided simply to stare the man down right back — on one hand, it would scare off the small fry who came sniffing around for information, and on the other, it would let the watcher serve as his own witness that he truly hadn’t been involved in any of this.
In June, the air in Fuzhou was hot and humid; the sun peeled down through the gaps between trees and buildings, and the stench of fish goods lingered all around. Gao Xingzong leaned back against the wooden chair by the door, relaxing while humming some tune to himself. Just past one in the afternoon, a chill swept in from the room behind him, and his back tensed.
— Someone had come for him.
He glanced down the street; the assigned watcher was still sitting in the shade of his stall, looking a bit drowsy, yawning.
He glanced back into the room without a sound.
In the darkness of the room, a shadow sat there, dangerous as a wounded tiger — the figure hunched slightly, its clothes appearing new but with signs beneath of tattered, battle-worn wear, its gaze, sunk low in the gloom, carrying an air of absolute danger.
— It was Sun Wukong.
In that instant, an inexplicable feeling of admiration rose up in the Fish King’s heart. The rumors from last night at Huaiyun Ward had seemed too fantastical to believe entirely, leaving him wary, but the moment the figure appeared before him in this state, the old jianghu hand found himself believing it all: he’d already witnessed part of this man’s skill before, and to have withstood cannon fire and a joint siege by the court’s masters, cutting into the Princess’s residence and back out again — that, too, might well be possible.
This had to be the legacy of some hidden master, unheard-of in the martial world!
Even as this thought raced through his mind, the figure in the darkness bared his teeth in a faint grin.
“Little Gao… what are you sitting out there for?”
He looked at him.
“—Don’t you know there’s a dog out there?”
Sunlight drooped low, and the Fish King glanced once more at the drowsy government watcher yawning in the shade across the way.
Should he call out, or not.
In an instant, countless thoughts turned over in his mind.