When fortune turns, heaven and earth align.

The whole day through, the news arriving from outside had all been good.

So by the afternoon, Chen Shuangran had slept blissfully, all the way until evening.

In her dream came the sound of the sea wind, carrying her back to the beautiful past.

The summer she was eleven, she’d held her little brother in her arms and thrown him overboard from the ship’s rail.

The waves had flashed past in an instant.

A beautiful memory.

Though her father had flown into a rage and, even with only suspicion to go on, beaten her black and blue, she felt that from then on, the eyes of the entire fleet had been on her.

Her father had deserved it, suspecting her without any proof.

But at the same time, she’d relished being suspected too. She needed to be watched.

When she woke, the evening wind was already drifting quietly in from the sea to the east. She sat by the window, letting the breeze wash over her, and a cicada landed near her hand.

She caught it in her fist.

The cicada was beautiful — like the self inside her.

So she wound a strand of her hair tightly around the insect, tightening it bit by bit, slowly stripping away its wings, its legs… The hair strand couldn’t quite sever its neck, and snapped under the strain, so she fetched a knife instead and, on the windowsill, carefully cut the cicada into six neat pieces.

Sticky, mottled, colorful — quite entertaining.

She regarded it as her own work of art and studied it for a while.

Chen Yan knocked outside to tell her mealtime had come. She sat by the window and finished her dinner, occasionally using her chopsticks to pick up bits of rice and vegetable leaf to decorate her little “painting.” Ahead of her view, Fuzhou was beginning to rise with the glow of night — the filthy, mediocre common folk had no way to appreciate her artwork, but that didn’t matter. She understood human nature deeply; these plodding, ordinary things would always end up gazing up at her from within her grasp, their eyes full of confusion and awe.

After the meal, the others who needed to arrive had trickled in one by one. Chen Shuangran went out to continue discussing the many arrangements ahead with everyone…

…

“…This afternoon, Luo Sheng, Yu Guo, Dou Xiaoniu, and the others all carried out their tasks. Luo Sheng struck Wang Fangmin’s household; Yu Guo hit Fuyuan Bakery in the south of the city… From what we can tell so far, seven have been killed, and countless wounded… the authorities have already been alerted…”

“…But Tie Tianying still hasn’t shown himself — could he really be dead…”

“…Huang Shengyuan’s gotten anxious, rallying support in the background, saying we should all ‘pull together’; he met with me this evening and laid it all out — he’s got over a dozen skilled men who’ve come to Fuzhou, ready to take orders from us…”

“‘Pull together’… as if he’s earned the right…”

Amid the flickering lamplight, figures gathered in discussion. Pulling back the view, this was a Daoist temple at the foot of Jiuxian Mountain, its buildings tucked among lush old trees, looking far down over Fuzhou.

“Either way, this whole affair actually works in our favor…”

“Huang Shengyuan is a side branch of the Huang family, running with the rough crowd, and more firmly committed to rebellion. Huang Bailong, by comparison, has been rather wavering and noncommittal on this… it’s a good thing that Huang Shengyuan can lock this matter down for us.”

“Heh heh heh heh.” Someone laughed in the darkness. “As for Huang Shengyuan, this humble one does owe him a little something.”

“Huang Shengyuan is a rebel bandit — if the Great Master takes him as a father-in-law, wouldn’t that be, as the saying goes… treating an enemy as one’s father?”

In the dimness, a shadow flickered into being — Tunyun had already appeared beside the one who’d spoken, a bloodthirsty air gathering around him.

“Heh, only you would know how to quote an idiom…” He lingered there a moment, then vanished like a specter. “…Don’t say that again next time.”

The man who’d spoken broke into a cold sweat, and someone nearby laughed. Chen Shuangran waved a hand.

“Word outside is that yesterday, He Yuanchen was the one who named the Huang family. Since Huang Shengyuan means business, Uncle Nian, have his men strike — burn down He Yuanchen’s residence in Fuzhou, set it ablaze. Consider it his letter of commitment.”

“This Huang Shengyuan fellow — I worry he might try to wriggle out of it…”

“If he’s too timid to see big things through while still worrying about his own skin, then let him go back to Putian and explain himself to Huang Bailong… tell him he has no choice.”

“Understood… Also, Elder Ai and Lord Fei, after hearing about Lin’an, have shifted their stance. Elder Ai says he’ll have his household men stir up unrest — but that’s no good, since the court’s military is intact, whoever leads the charge is doomed. But he says he’ll cooperate if it’s stirred up quietly, behind the scenes… As for Lord Fei…”

The scheming continued in whispers, item by item, until at some point a distant commotion reached them, catching the attention of the guards out on the balcony.

The room’s window opened for an instant, and the next moment, a figure appeared on the rooftop of the building.

Like a mast rising from a dark sea, Tunyun’s monk’s robe rustled in the wind as he looked out toward the distant commotion, over the waves.

A moment later, Fan Zhong had climbed up too.

“The Princess’s residence again?”

“Heh heh.” In the dimness, Tunyun smiled. “The Princess’s residence again.”

The discussion downstairs continued in fits and starts as Chen Shuangran and the others pushed open the balcony and, raising a spyglass, looked far off toward the Princess’s residence. The two points were quite far apart, and in the night, they seemed like two solitary islands gazing at each other across a distant sea. Because of this, the group only glanced over for a moment out of curiosity before the discussion resumed without pause.

It was only a little later, once Tunyun and Fan Zhong had returned to the room, that someone brought the matter up during a lull in the discussion.

“We didn’t send anyone to join in the fun tonight…”

“There was already trouble last night, and now tonight… could that pair of brothers not be dead after all?”

“That’s a rather far-fetched guess.”

“The Princess’s residence isn’t without its skilled fighters. Even in my day, I wouldn’t have been so bold.”

“Besides us, who else in the city would dare stir the muddy waters?”

“…Young Master Pu?”

“Hahahaha, now you’re the one joking…”

After the conflict that had broken out during the previous day’s attempt on Tie Tianying’s life, the group had planned to expose the pair of brothers from Huaiyun Ward to the court, using the authorities as a knife to kill for them — but before they could act on it, the court had brought out cannons of its own. After the bombardment, the surviving young man had charged straight into the Princess’s residence and caused a great uproar… Today, even though the news of Lin’an had dominated the upper echelons of public discourse, what circulated in the jianghu grapevine was mostly about Huaiyun Ward — most of it dramatized into something tragic and heroic, quite fantastical in tone…

The impact of Lin’an’s fall was enormous, and by comparison the disturbance at the Princess’s residence was a small matter. But an enemy suddenly dying without them having killed him themselves, with the news now all muddled and inconsistent, left most of them with a hollow feeling they couldn’t quite pin down — until this very moment, when the Princess’s residence erupted into chaos again, bringing that elusive unease right back to the surface.

What exactly was going on? Was there some other group in the city stirring up muddy waters this dramatically, or had that young man, having somehow survived last night’s chaos, gone right back in for another round?

With too little information, the discussion amounted to little more than idle guesswork, reaching no real conclusion. After some back-and-forth, everyone returned to the matters at hand. Only once a batch of subordinates had left the room did Chen Shuangran gaze off into the distant night, seemingly lost in thought.

“…There really aren’t many truly capable people left to use for what’s coming next,” she said, half to herself, though her gaze drifted toward Fan Zhong beside her.

“This matter probably isn’t a big deal.”

“If it’s real, though… it would be interesting…” She tilted her head slightly. “Besides, we really are short on people.”

“If Huang Shengyuan really does burn down the He family, then his men…”

“…Might not be entirely trustworthy. Within the court, there are those ruthless enough to sacrifice one of the He family just to plant a spy among us… But this business at the Princess’s residence — surviving two assassination attempts in a row — if that’s supposed to be an act, it’s overdone.” Chen Shuangran considered it. “I wouldn’t stage it that way…”

Fan Zhong waved a hand and said no more. To his mind, the youth surviving his charge into the Princess’s residence the day before was already a low-probability event; for him to go back in again today was even more unlikely still, and even if it had truly happened, the Princess’s residence wasn’t some ordinary place — the man should be dead by now regardless.

In the jianghu, where men lived by the edge of the blade, there were plenty of small-time thugs, plenty of single-minded fools too — every so often, once every few years, some combination of foolishness and sheer luck would produce someone who managed to make a name for themselves, but by this point in time, none of that amounted to much. With the news of Lin’an arriving at such a sensitive moment, the rebellion’s various factions might well combine their strikes into a genuine upheaval — it was even possible that some of the wilder schemes Chen Shuangran had been turning over in her mind wouldn’t need to be carried out at all, and the little southeastern court would run into trouble on its own.

But the girl’s mind didn’t work that way. She clearly found the matter intriguing regardless.

Her gaze drifted over toward Tunyun.

“Master, would you be willing to go take a look? I think… you’ve taken something of an interest in that person too.”

“That young man’s spirit is unruly, lawless — and he managed to escape this humble one’s pursuit alive, which speaks well of his foundation.” Tunyun raised a palm. “But what draws me most is his utter freedom from restraint — it aligns closely with my own temperament. In terms of reputation in the jianghu, he and I are quite fated to cross paths. Rare, this is rare indeed.”

Tunyun repeated “rare” twice over. He had no real feel for the bigger picture — he was only interested in this sort of reckless, unrestrained business. With that, he made to turn and leave, and Chen Shuangran laughed. “Go early, Master, and come back soon — tomorrow I’ll still need your help with some killing.”

“Understood.”

Tunyun’s figure vanished from where he stood, and Fan Zhong let out a sigh.

“A grand show tomorrow, then…”

Chen Shuangran gazed out at the mountains and sea beyond the doors and windows, murmuring softly to herself.

She loved the feeling of being watched.

And so she knew that, in this very moment, every great figure in the entire city had their eyes on her — not just the old rebels and small-time underlings hoping to overthrow the court, but also the arrogant court officials, the emperor upon his throne, and that lofty so-called Princess Imperial…

The two young men from Yinqiao Ward had originally been a minor incident — she’d meant to casually toy with them during yesterday’s assassination attempt on Tie Tianying, never expecting that unruly child to fight back without hesitation amid the three-way chaos. Now, at the very moment she’d gained such an advantage over the court, he seemed entirely oblivious to it, daring to charge straight into the Princess’s residence — if it really was that Sun Wukong fellow, he was starting to steal a bit of her spotlight.

Not that he actually could steal it, but it was still irritating.

If possible, she ought to toy with him a little herself…

The night wind blew in through the doors and windows, the lights across the whole city like waves rolling beneath the stars and moon, the pieces falling into place as she wished. The girl took a deep breath, as though immersing herself once more in that briny sea air. She lifted the child in her arms and threw him into the surging waves; through the sea wind, she thought she heard, faintly, a cry of “Sister!” — and then it was gone in an instant. A smile crept onto the corner of her mouth…

…

The Princess’s residence.

The Emperor upon his throne and the lofty so-called Princess Imperial were watching the figure down in the courtyard.

“Four… four-Foot Lecher… what, what kind of thing… what does that mean?”

“Ah, reporting to Your Majesty, this is actually a rather long story. They used to call him the Five-Foot Lecher — not that shameless kind of shameless, but the number, one-two-three-four-five, five feet — because back in Jiangning, you see… blah blah blah blah…”

Inside the room, Yue Yun, full of energy, launched into a vivid, blow-by-blow account of the strange chain of events. Given how tangled the cause and effect was, and given that Yue Yun wasn’t the most gifted storyteller and couldn’t resist embellishing along the way, the whole story ended up scattered across a dozen tangents, falling apart into fragments.

Fortunately, both Jun Wu and Zhou Pei had dealt with the Yue siblings enough times before, and as they listened to Yue Yun’s exaggerated ramblings, the two of them — exhausted as they were — gradually grew calmer. Through the second-floor window, they watched the young man sitting in the courtyard below, apparently sulking, occasionally asking Yue Yun a question or murmuring quietly to each other.

“…From the southwest — is Jiangning his hometown too?”

“Mm, that’s what he says. But this kid’s a sly one…”

“Which family in the Huaxia Army would he be from, I wonder?”

“No idea, he won’t say — but my sister and I figure his background must be considerable… my sister thinks maybe he’s from the Qin family…”

“Look at the way he’s sitting in the courtyard, sister — it’s vaguely reminding me of someone…”

“Who…”

“That little one who used to be by Master’s side…”

…

Under the moonlight, the young man in the courtyard sprang up.

“…What, what are you all looking at, you got the guts, come down here and fight me one-on-one, Yue Junior — quit lurking around like a sneak—”

…

“…Never mind, I must have been wrong.”

The Emperor touched his mouth and withdrew his far-fetched guess.

With Jun Wu and Zhou Pei upstairs, Yue Yun kept enough restraint not to fire back at the young man below, and instead went on embellishing, laying out clearly the origin story of both the Five-Foot Lecher and the Four-Foot Lecher.

Down in the courtyard, the hot-tempered young man was gradually being soothed by Qu Longjun, who had come over to comfort him. Having learned of Zuo Xingzhou’s death, she sat beside him, quietly wrapping an arm around his shoulders, while Yin Ping went off to send the guards gathered outside elsewhere. As for the guards who’d been injured, Ning Ji had actually shown some restraint — this kind of injury tended to happen even in ordinary training and sparring, even against Yin Ping and Yue Yun, so his little skirmish had really just given them a decent bit of live practice.

Having calmed down for a moment in the courtyard, Qu Longjun leaned carefully against Ning Ji and said quietly, “There’s probably someone important upstairs, in the building next door…”

Ning Ji wasn’t the least bit surprised, and didn’t even glance that way. “Knew that already. Judging by how excited Yue Junior was to go tattle up there, sneaking looks down through the window — it’s got to be that lot with Princess Zhou Pei… I’m not scared of them…”

“The Princess Imperial… she’s a disciple of Master Ning’s, isn’t she?”

“Mm, the Emperor and the Princess here are the same generation as me, what’s so impressive about that… I just asked them to come down and fight me one-on-one, and they didn’t dare.”

“What if she wants to capture you, what then…”

“Hmph…”

The Princess Imperial had always been a towering figure here in Fuzhou, someone who, in her mind, had seemed almost otherworldly. But now that she knew Ning Ji’s true identity, it suddenly didn’t seem all that impressive after all — a naive impression, of course, based purely on personal feeling. On other levels, political creatures had no real humanity to them, and however sensitive or powerful Ning Ji’s identity truly was — something he himself might not think much of — deep in Qu Longjun’s heart, there lingered a quiet trace of fear all the same.

“Little… Little Dragon.” Qu Longjun leaned against him, weighing her words carefully. “If… if they try to capture you, you don’t have to worry about me — just find the right moment and run… I’ve thought it through. Even if the little southeastern court wants to use you as leverage against the southwest, they wouldn’t dare take my life…”

Ning Ji fell silent for a moment. He took Qu Longjun’s hand and thought it over seriously.

“They shouldn’t do anything reckless.” he said slowly, in a low voice. “My father said once, the young Emperor is different from most people — he genuinely wants to cooperate with the southwest… and besides, the Zuo family isn’t made up of just one or two people. If they laid a hand on me, some of them would break with this side entirely.”

“They might not hurt you, but they might keep you under house arrest.”

“I’m not afraid of them.” Ning Ji squeezed her hand. “And besides, if they really tried to lock me up, I really wouldn’t care about any of this anymore — let them go avenge Zuo Xingzhou themselves… Hmph, I’d like to see if they can keep me locked up for the rest of my life!”

He laughed first, but by the end, a flash of coldness crossed his face too. Having come from the southwest, he’d been through far too much training — if he fell into the hands of factions like He Wen’s, the outcome would likely be grim. But if the southeast merely wanted to hold him without harming him, then the ones who’d suffer the headache would only be them. Ning Ji genuinely wasn’t much afraid.

Raised in the southwest under his father’s influence, he’d heard plenty about this pair of imperial siblings in the southeast, and in his heart he actually held a fair amount of goodwill toward them. Part of what had drawn him out here in the first place was wanting to see how well the two of them had managed the southeast. But now, faced with the prospect of actually meeting them, he found himself genuinely uncomfortable about it.

The imperial family had no private affairs — if they came to meet him wearing their political faces, even ordinary conversation would feel deeply awkward. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl all over. He stood up, still holding Qu Longjun’s hand, and the two of them quietly retreated toward the courtyard behind. Yin Ping sighed but followed along behind them, to keep Ning Ji from losing his temper again, or from trying to make a run for it with Qu Longjun in tow.

Back in that other courtyard, just as they noticed the young man from the southwest had quietly slipped away, Cheng Zhouhai and Zuo Wenxuan had also arrived.

They had a great deal on their hands these days.

“…This afternoon, several waves of assassins struck the private residences and businesses of Wang Fangmin, Chi Jun, Chen Jingye, and others in the city. Judging by the movements in the underworld, because of the Lin’an news, Chen Shuangran’s faction is planning a major move tomorrow, aimed at building momentum, drawing more people to place their bets with them, and also intimidating some of the great households who’d previously ‘defected’ back to our side… the Secret Investigation Bureau and the Ministry of Justice are currently making arrangements…”

“…Record anyone reckless enough to take risks during this affair… those who need killing should be killed…”

“…Yes. Also, tomorrow’s public messaging campaign regarding Lin’an — this official and Master Li’s people have mostly worked it out as well…”

The two of them first reported on the ongoing work. Once they’d finished, Jun Wu nodded.

“There’s something else — that child in the courtyard, the one from the southwest. What’s the story there? Whose child from the southwest is he?”

Cheng Zhouhai glanced around; Jun Wu waved a hand to clear the room. Fang Jinghao, who led the Secret Investigation Bureau’s presence at the Princess’s residence, withdrew as well, while Yue Yun, ever the eager informant, seemed rather reluctant to leave — but Zhou Pei gave him a smile. “Yue Yun, you go too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yue Yun’s face fell into a pig-like pout as he obediently withdrew.

Once the room’s door was closed, Cheng Zhouhai cupped his hands. “Reporting to Your Majesty, Your Highness — he is Ning Yi’s son.”

The world seemed to go still for an instant. Jun Wu’s already exhausted, bloodshot eyes flickered, going through a whole complicated sequence of expressions before, after a long moment:

“…Ah?”

“He is Ning Yi’s son by Lady Xiao Chan — the one born when the Jurchens marched south. His name is Ning Ji.” Cheng Zhouhai stated calmly.

Zuo Wenxuan nodded quietly beside him, confirming it.

Zhou Pei pushed open the window; beyond it, starlight fell over the courtyard, quiet, with no figures in sight — but she knew the boy was somewhere not far off, in the spreading starlight, doing something or other.

The chaos in the courtyard from moments before flashed through her mind — the young man’s figure, somewhere around fifteen or sixteen years old. So… this was Master’s child…

Too close. It didn’t feel real.

“…He’s grown this big already…”

In the empty night, something of her own distant yesterdays seemed to flicker past as well — long, long ago, when she and her brother had last bid farewell to that legendary figure, they had, it seemed, been about the same age. The feelings from that time were almost impossible to recall now.

She sat down by the window.

I’d like to buy sweet osmanthus, and bring wine along with it. But it will never again be quite like the wanderings of my youth.

Sigh, I meant to write more chapters, but the villain in the original draft came off too flat and stereotyped, so I revised this chapter quite a few times…