The Emperor, his wait fruitless, rode his carriage back to the palace.
Across the city, in a courtyard on the other side, Pu Xingui gathered reports pouring in from various sources—the full picture of today’s clashes across the city, condemnations of Chen Shuangran circulating in the underworld, and praise for his own heroic rescue efforts. Amid all this, a trusted aide also relayed a scolding from the two old masters, all predictable nonsense he’d already anticipated.
As the hour approached midnight, he sat at his desk by the window on the second floor of the courtyard, writing out his assessment of the current situation and a forceful defense addressed to the old masters. Just as he was finishing the letter, “Hero of the Four Seas” Cao Jinlong arrived. Pu Xingui had him shown up and had tea brought as well.
“Young Master Pu made quite a move today, without so much as a word beforehand.”
“That black-hearted Chen woman doesn’t treat people like people—we simply seized the moment. Wasn’t this already settled between us long ago?” Pu Xingui smiled and poured him tea.
“That’s not quite what I meant. Killing Wei Sanhua and Xu Shizhao out in the open street—that’s gone a bit too far. Word outside now is that we haven’t even started fighting the Emperor yet, and the two of us are already tearing each other apart…” Cao Jinlong paused. “Especially that chase at dusk—not many were hurt, but the shock it caused outside was considerable…”
“Oh? What exactly has it shocked people with?”
“They’re saying Young Master Pu has finally shown his hand—who’d have guessed that a master capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with the great Tunyun was actually under Young Master Pu’s command.”
“Hahahaha.” Pu Xingui laughed, waving a hand. “Not quite, not quite, hardly under my command…”
He laughed for a while, then lowered his voice. “Truthfully… my relationship with that young hero is the same as my relationship with you, Brother Cao—we’re allies, not master and subordinate. So I can’t really rein him in either. Just as I couldn’t stop him from killing Wei Sanhua and Xu Shizhao. And honestly, whose fault is this in the first place, if not that black-hearted Chen woman’s? What a debt to settle.”
Cao Jinlong studied him from across the table for a while, then took a sip of tea, brow furrowing slightly.
“Can’t rein him in—now that’s troublesome… Actually, brother, the reason I’ve come today is that I too received a scolding from Elder Ai, and he asked me to pass along a message. He says times are different now, we need unity… My own view is, standing up to that black-hearted Chen woman is certainly called for, but at the end of the day, we’re all comrades resisting the court together. Slaughtering each other openly in the streets, taking lives—that doesn’t look good to our fellow travelers. It really ought to be reined in a bit.” He glanced around. “By the way, is that young hero here? If it’s awkward for you to bring it up, I could speak with him myself—at the very least, I’d like to make his acquaintance…”
“We’ve arranged to meet tomorrow morning, but he’s not here right now. That young hero has his own place to stay—you know, the Fish King is his man…”
“So Gao Xingzong’s found himself a powerful patron.” Cao Jinlong smiled.
“The Fish King knows the local terrain well. He’s kept a low profile for most of his life, and now he’s finally willing to act—he’s been a great help to us.” Pu Xingui offered a few words of praise, took a sip of tea, then continued, “As for explaining things to the old masters, I’m writing that letter right now… As I said before, whatever plans Chen Shuangran has, I have no objection—let her carry them out as she pleases. But she can’t treat the lives of our brothers as worthless. Even if it means defying orders, I have to speak up on this. Whoever she treats as expendable, I have to step in and try to save. You see, quite a few people now, including Hero Yan, have promised to support me. I haven’t left the old masters without an accounting either—coming to Fuzhou this time, I did have a plan.”
“That’s well said, exactly what someone of our generation ought to do.” Cao Jinlong held his teacup, then sighed softly. “Still the same idea as before?”
“Yes. The Emperor wants to take a new consort, drawing the whole realm’s attention—that’s exactly when we should make our move. There are two great granaries near Fuzhou, and one armory. I’ve already got a plan—pick one, seize it, raise the banner, and head for the mountains, clean and swift. When we rise up, we don’t need to tangle ourselves up in schemes the way that black-hearted Chen woman does. Brother Cao, I’ve been around the martial world long enough to have learned this much: the simpler the plan, the more likely it is to succeed.”
“Words worth a thousand gold.” Cao Jinlong nodded. “Though, however grand a show the Emperor’s making of it this time, it’s mostly bluster. After what happened at the start of the month, dozens of households sent their children into the military academy, and he’s already decided to handle the matter of taking a consort lightly—in fact, they’ll be bringing people into the palace in just a few days.”
“Still has to be done, though—nothing in this world goes exactly as planned. If it did, our own families wouldn’t have died either. Brother Cao, what do you think?”
“Naturally I agree.” Cao Jinlong raised his cup and clinked it against Pu Xingui’s. “You already have a specific target in mind, I take it?”
“I’ve already chosen one, and some of the preparations are in place. But as for the exact location, better to announce it only when we’re ready to move.”
“Be sure to count me in.”
“Of course.”
Having said this much, the two men exchanged a look of mutual trust, then chatted a while longer about the situation across the city before Cao Jinlong spoke again. “Since Young Master Pu already has his explanation ready for the old masters, I won’t press further on that. It’s just… if you see that young hero tomorrow, please do try to caution him. Otherwise, everyone’s growing uneasy.”
“Ah, I understand the concern, and I’ll do my best to smooth things over.” Pu Xingui sighed. “But you know, the grudge between them has really grown too deep.”
“I wonder if Young Master Pu might use some… method…”
“What method…” Pu Xingui’s brow furrowed.
Cao Jinlong glanced around, hesitated a moment, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “Actually… don’t misunderstand me… when I arrived just now, I received a piece of news…”
“…”
“Word outside is… that the day before yesterday, when Chen Shuangran clashed with that young man at Jiuxian Mountain, she really had considered using the authorities as her blade to kill him—but before she could act, the matter had already unfolded on its own. And then Young Master Pu rescued that boy surnamed Sun… If that’s truly how it happened, Young Master Pu, it was a fine scheme indeed. But if I may say so, there was no need to deepen the enmity between that young man and Chen Shuangran quite so much… I worry it may be hard to undo, down the line…”
Cao Jinlong finished delivering this in a low, conspiratorial tone, his eyes fixed steadily on Pu Xingui, whose expression shifted—confusion, then anger, then a cold sneer, and finally settling into calm. He turned his head, gazing out at the darkness beyond the room.
With a crack, Pu Xingui slammed his palm on the table.
“That fucking little bitch—” He laughed in his fury. “Ha, that bitch…”
Cao Jinlong watched him steadily. “…Actually, the source of this news was rather… vivid in detail. He has a contact inside the government.”
“Ha, whichever gossip-monger told you this, Brother Cao, I swear I’ll kill him one of these days—”
“Young Master Pu, why bother lowering yourself to deal with someone like that…”
“Don’t buy information from him anymore—don’t buy from him again, it’s false, I’m telling you, false…” Pu Xingui spat these words out bitterly, then leaned back in his chair. Across from him, Cao Jinlong raised his teacup to his lips, taking small sips. Neither spoke for a while, the room growing hollow with the night silence, until Cao Jinlong spoke again.
“Young Master Pu, are you quite certain this wasn’t your own scheme?”
“Even if it were, could I possibly admit it?” Pu Xingui laughed at this, turning the question back on him.
“Well said, Young Master Pu.” Cao Jinlong laughed too, tapping his fingers on the table. “But if it truly was your doing, I’d have to say—utterly unfathomable, truly unfathomable.”
“Hahahahaha…” Pu Xingui laughed heartily, then abruptly stopped, pointing a finger. “Just don’t buy from that man again!”
“Understood!” Cao Jinlong slapped the table and stood. “I’ll take my leave.”
“You see how it’s come to this—if I don’t finish her off eventually, she’ll finish me off first.”
“Ah, isn’t that the truth. Difficult times…”
The two exchanged a few more idle remarks, and Pu Xingui saw Cao Jinlong out, watching him disappear into the street beyond before turning back and calling Qian Dingzhong in.
“That damned bitch, now that she knows we’ve recruited that Sun fellow, she’s started slandering us…”
He relayed what he’d learned from Cao Jinlong.
…
Night deepened.
Occasional bursts of chaos still echoed from the far reaches of the city.
In a building near the city wall belonging to the Secret Investigation Bureau, Cheng Zhouhai looked over the message on a slip of paper, thought it over briefly, and tossed it into the brazier by his desk, where it burned to ash.
This was a pigeon loft. Messages arriving from outside generally fell into two groups: some had already been filed away, others sealed with wax, awaiting someone of his rank to open. Only a small portion were meant to be read and burned; most were filed into a much larger archive of information.
The old man who managed this particular pigeon loft had served under him for many years—he’d even met Ning Yi, back in the days of Qin Siyuan. Cheng Zhouhai looked over the message for a while, rubbed his eyes, and called the man in.
“Nothing more from Lin’an?”
“Messages keep coming in, but there was no advance arrangement, and Lin’an is in the middle of chaos right now too, so anything gathered in haste is hard to trust. What’s reliable, it’s all here.”
“I know.” Cheng Zhouhai rubbed his forehead. “But I have a very bad feeling. Last year’s intelligence from Jiangning, the parts we’d already discarded—we should pull it all back out and sift through it again. Our attention’s been pulled away by too many big events lately. I need to know what those clowns in Lin’an are up to.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man in charge of the pigeon loft’s intelligence nodded. “Should I take a few men to the front line? Once we start taking in refugees, I could piece the information together.”
“I’ve already sent people. I’ve spoken with Zuo Wenhuai about my thinking—he understands my concerns and will investigate accordingly.”
Cheng Zhouhai rose from his seat, stretching. The man added, “Si Yao just sent word that Miss Yue is looking for you.”
“Understood.” Cheng Zhouhai sighed.
He waved a hand, left the pigeon loft, boarded his carriage, and after crossing a few short blocks, stopped at a government office. Cheng Zhouhai got out and met Yue Yinping in the courtyard behind the building.
“Both monkeys worn themselves out and gone home?”
“Yes.”
“So what brings you to me?”
“That monkey said it’s extremely urgent, insisted I come find you tonight.” Yin Ping pursed her lips, then stepped closer and said quietly, “He wants… your short firearm. He says he can figure out a way… to kill Tunyun.”
“He spent an entire hour chasing the man at dusk and accomplished nothing, which makes it pretty clear the man was just toying with him. And he thinks a gun would let him kill him…” Cheng Zhouhai murmured, then, without waiting for Yin Ping to respond, added, “So it really is, as Ning Yi once said, a great weapon that’s come out of the southwest…”
“So… should we let him try…” Yin Ping’s eyes lit up—clearly she found the idea rather appealing herself. “Yue Yun and I could help too. If we could really kill this fast-footed monk, a lot of things would become much easier. That Fan Zhong fellow wouldn’t be so hard to kill either.”
“Go back and tell him, no.”
“Hm?”
“The two of you, so young, only thinking about the moment—have you even considered where he’s staying right now? At the Princess Imperial’s residence, with so many important people coming and going, even His Majesty drops by from time to time. Hand a young man from the Huaxia Army a gun, and if he ends up shooting someone on impulse, what then? His Majesty is fond of the Huaxia Army, he might well go meet him someday—would you take responsibility for that?”
“…Huh?” Yin Ping had a vague sense that something was off, but couldn’t muster a counter in the face of Cheng Zhouhai’s authority.
“Tell him, Wu dynasty matters are for Wu dynasty people to resolve. This is still a place with laws. He shouldn’t go around shouting about killing people and demanding I go along with it every single day! If that damned bald monk is truly so vicious that he can’t be dealt with any other way, and if the boy can actually kill him, I have nothing more to say—but if he can’t, tell him I’ll handle it myself… Does he really think our Wu dynasty has no one capable?” Cheng Zhouhai waved a hand. “Go on, tell him exactly that.”
Yin Ping’s eye twitched. She knew perfectly well how ruthlessly effective Cheng Zhouhai’s methods had always been—every great household in Fuzhou feared him thoroughly—but faced now with talk of a martial grandmaster, she couldn’t quite understand where he found the nerve to speak so boldly. After a moment, though, she scratched her head and took her leave.
She genuinely wanted to see for herself just what methods the Huaxia Army had for killing grandmasters.
Watching Yin Ping go, Cheng Zhouhai stood in the courtyard, gazing up at the thin sliver of moon in the sky, drawing a long breath before letting it out wearily.
He then went inside, took out paper and brush, and recorded what had just happened.
“Si Yao.”
He called his attendant over. “His Majesty’s already back at the palace, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“Has today’s report already been sent up?”
“Just about to be sent.”
“Add this to it.”
He handed over the paper on which he’d recorded the recent events, then sat down at his desk, rubbing his forehead.
Because the erratic Emperor insisted on knowing every single move Ning Ji made, today’s report on matters of state ended up padded with several times more trivial details than usual, which left Cheng Zhouhai thoroughly exasperated. Though his methods differed from those of a typical Confucian scholar, he was in fact one of the most orthodox disciples of the great scholar Qin Siyuan—by Confucian rank, even more properly pedigreed than Li Pin.
Lately it’s been nothing but playing house.
…
The moon hung in the sky like a drawn bow, scattered stars blinking overhead.
The curfew hour was drawing near, and Cao Jinlong hurried swiftly through the city streets.
He slipped into a secluded courtyard, and in a room lit only by starlight, found the woman who filled his thoughts.
“My Cao…”
“Shuangran…”
Cao Jinlong couldn’t help but pull her into his arms, kissing her.
Just as he was about to embrace her more forcefully, she pushed him away.
“…Someone watches my every move… I don’t have much time to be out here…”
“Alright, I’ve more or less worked out Pu Xingui’s arrangements…”
Suppressing the longing in his heart, he sat down in the room and, in a low voice, described what Pu Xingui planned to do next. Much of this information they’d already known, but the fact that Pu Xingui now had men willing to defy orders on his behalf—that was new.
“Should I report it more harshly to Elder Ai, get him to press Pu Xingui down?” Cao Jinlong asked.
Chen Shuangran shook her head. “These things always settle their own accounts eventually. I don’t want you turning into some petty gossip-monger in Elder Ai’s eyes for my sake…”
“For your sake, actually…”
“I’m a woman—it’s better if I’m the one who goes to complain.”
“Alright.” Cao Jinlong nodded, murmuring a few more tender words, then suddenly remembered something. “…Also, that matter you mentioned this evening—Pu Xingui’s reaction was rather strange.”
“How so?”
“It doesn’t seem like it was him who informed on them.”
The room fell silent for a moment. “Could it be… he’s putting on an act?”
“I’ve known him for years. From how he behaved just now… I’ve confirmed it more than once—he genuinely believes we’re the ones behind it, and he’s furious.”
Cao Jinlong finished speaking, and the night air in the room grew quiet again. Chen Shuangran’s profile, gazing out at the moonlight through the window, looked especially beautiful. Cao Jinlong couldn’t help pulling her close, settling her onto his lap. Perhaps with something weighing on her mind, Chen Shuangran didn’t resist this time. Only after a long silence did an unsettling smile slowly creep across her lips.
“My Cao, would you believe…”
“Hm?”
“It wasn’t me who did it either…”
“…Truly not?”
“Pu Xingui suspects me, I suspect Pu Xingui… and no one knows that my Cao has been passing information to me from the middle. If not for someone of your standing, no one would ever believe either side’s account of this…” In the moonlight, Chen Shuangran murmured, the smile on her face slowly spreading wider.
“Then… this whole affair…”
“I didn’t do it… and Pu Xingui didn’t do it either.”
Chen Shuangran’s eyes widened.
…
“…Someone else set this whole thing in motion.”
The wind howled past, drawing close to midnight.
…
At the Princess Imperial’s residence.
In the courtyard behind, Qu Longjun sat beneath the eaves in her long skirts, knees together, watching Ning Ji slowly practicing his swordsmanship a short distance away.
She rarely saw Ning Ji practice with a sword. But tonight, after he’d returned, the young man had first sat quietly in meditation in the courtyard for a long while, and then, unexpectedly, had risen and begun to move through sword forms.
His swordsmanship was measured and precise, dignified and solemn—each thrust of the blade parted the leaves it passed through along nearly identical lines. It was nothing like the Ning Ji who usually practiced with a saber, whooping and hollering; even his occasional pauses seemed thoughtful, almost contemplative.
Throughout the practice, none of the usual grunts and shouts that accompanied his saber training escaped him. He said nothing at all for a long while.
Moonlight spilled down over him. If he’d been dressed in white robes, one might almost have taken him for some cultured young nobleman, well-read and refined.
“Why are you practicing with a sword?”
Partway through the sequence, Ning Ji paused, holding the sword before him, and it was only then that Qu Longjun found herself asking, almost without thinking. And indeed, once she asked, Ning Ji answered—there seemed to be no rule here against interrupting his practice.
—Or perhaps, for her, there simply was no such rule.
“Back home, the concubine with the highest martial skill practiced the sword.”
Ning Ji answered.
“But the Way of the sword demands utter sincerity—it allows no indulgence. I’ve never much cared for it.”