“Speaking of swords, Princess Imperial talked to me about swords today too, you know. Someone who looks as dignified as Princess Imperial actually understands martial arts.”

In the courtyard nearing midnight, Qu Longjun sat on the steps, casually telling Ning Ji about what she had seen and heard that day.

“She said a sword has two edges — one end wounds others, the other wounds oneself. It’s the weapon of a gentleman, so practicing swordsmanship can also teach a person the proper measure of things in this world… I think that makes a lot of sense.”

“…Wounds oneself?”

Under the banyan tree, starlight and moonlight fell in dappled patches. Ning Ji paused briefly.

“Mm, you see, a saber is different. A saber never wounds the one who wields it.”

“She’s an amateur. Whether it’s a saber or a sword, an amateur will wound themselves either way…”

“Um, the Princess also took me to see the memorials from the Ministry of Finance…”

Amid the shifting light and shadow, the sword’s brilliance danced. Under the little eaves, the two chattered on, Ning Ji occasionally answering, occasionally standing in silent contemplation with his sword. At some point, Qu Longjun finally asked, “Was that Monk Tunyun really something today?”

“Mm, his martial skill isn’t much to speak of yet, but his lightness technique is extraordinarily high — even higher than ‘Cold Crow’ Chen Juefang of Jiangning City.” Ning Ji closed his eyes, standing motionless with his sword. “A man like that is very troublesome. It’s said that many years ago, not long after the Bamboo Society was formed, they already began considering a plan to surround and kill Fatty Lin. But because Fatty Lin’s senior martial sister, Sikong Nan, was around, the Society always had scruples about carrying it out…”

This was a secret within the Bamboo Society. Ning Ji mentioned it offhandedly while practicing his sword, without much emotion, then added, to make it easier for Qu Longjun to understand: “Sikong Nan was famous for her lightness technique back then.”

Qu Longjun nodded, hugging her knees as she watched Ning Ji continue to move through his sword forms. She hadn’t met many young men so serious over the years, but thinking back, when they’d first met in Chengdu, that earnest young physician had already carried this same calm, level shadow within him. Perhaps in ordinary quarrels he was used to relying on a blade, but on the battlefield, serving as an army physician, he seemed more like someone wielding a sword.

“Later, after Chancellor Qin was murdered, my father made a self-criticism at a meeting of the Bamboo Society. He said that if, after Chen Fan killed Sikong Nan, the Society had gone all-out to eliminate Lin Zongwu’s group, then Chancellor Qin might have lived. And the world as it is now might have turned out somewhat differently.”

As always, in this quiet hour with no one else around, the two chatted softly in the courtyard about this and that, and afterward planned the next day’s scheming. Ning Ji spoke of how he had improvised in front of Monk Tunyun — since, according to outside rumor, Chen Shuangran and Pu Xingui already suspected each other bitterly — and Qu Longjun praised him admiringly for it.

He was tired too. After bathing, he lay on the bed, rested for a moment, and fell soundly asleep. Qu Longjun did not go to the room next door; as before, she lay on the same large bed with him. Starlight and moonlight spilled in from outside, and she looked at the side of his face, thinking of what Zhou Pei had said today about politics. The young man’s actions seemed reckless on the surface, but he was actually careful at heart — could his running away from home carry some kind of political concern as well? Although, in the young man’s own words, his family’s situation had always been simple, could the household at the very center of the whirlpool in the southwest really be that simple?

And then there was also the change in him today…

She couldn’t help but lean closer, reaching out to stroke the side of the young man’s face, but was afraid of waking him. Her fair fingers traced lightly along the outline of his face in the moonlight. Then, her hand was caught by him.

“Caught,” the young man mumbled in a low voice.

“Mm, caught by you.” The girl sighed softly as well. After a moment, she said quietly, “Little Long… about what happened with Little Chan today, are you… a little worried…”

“During the great southwestern war, Zhang Village was assassinated seventeen times — and counting the attempts that were stopped beforehand, a hundred and ninety-seven times in total…” Ning Ji did not open his eyes, holding Qu Longjun’s hand, pressing it gently against his cheek and rubbing it. “After I began practicing martial arts, my father told me the origin of my name — to slay the ruler and rebel, to be feared by all under heaven. My father said our whole lives would be spent amid challenges, and the only solution was to keep pressing forward without ever pausing — that this had already been decided from the moment he chose to slay the emperor.”

Qu Longjun looked at him quietly.

“Concubine Hongti at home has the highest martial skill of anyone. She uses a sword. The difficulty of the sword isn’t that it has two edges — it’s that it can’t be used to hack or chop, only to cut and stab. To cut is to draw blood; to stab is to kill. Whoever wields a sword must have certainty in every strike, like the butcher carving the ox — knowing both the enemy and oneself thoroughly. The sword is a weapon of exhausting effort and the very peak of mastery.”

“If I can kill Tunyun this time, I’ll understand the sword.”

He rambled on, and only at the very end did he finally say, in a low voice —

“…You should stay in the Princess’s residence these past few days. Don’t go running around.”

“…Mm.”

Qu Longjun leaned in close and hugged him gently. “Nothing will happen to me.”

“…If we don’t close the window, that big-mouth Yue Yun will see us.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Then I’m not afraid either.”

So Ning Ji held her too.

After a long while, he said, “When we leave this place, let’s get married, all right…”

Out of embarrassment, he mumbled that last part. But Qu Longjun’s body grew warm; she pressed close to him and, keeping her voice as calm as she could, said —

“Little Long… in my heart, I already promised myself to you long ago…”

She had come from the world of the sing-song houses, and when it came to matters of love, she had known a great deal for a long time. Some things she had long ago made up her mind about. But now, saying it here — her first time, really — at the very end her voice carried an odd, choked note she couldn’t quite hold back, and she herself didn’t know what it was…

…

The flowing night slipped by, and at some point, to keep out the morning dampness, they finally closed the window.

On the morning of the seventh day of the sixth month, Qu Longjun was tidying the room. After washing her face, Ning Ji ran into a disheveled Yue Yinping in the courtyard next door.

“Not giving it to me? Why not!” He was utterly astonished at having his request for a gun refused.

“Not giving it means if you’re unhappy, come bite me!” Yue Yinping rubbed at her sleep-mussed hair, looking thoroughly fierce.

Within the Beikui Army, or in front of her younger brother, she often carried herself as a composed, capable young lady. But perhaps it was a case of picking up bad habits from bad company — after sparring with Ning Ji a few times, she’d stopped bothering to keep up appearances in front of him at all.

“Do you two still want to kill Tunyun or not?”

“We’ll kill him ourselves!”

Yinping tilted her chin up.

Not far off, Yue Yun poked his head out of his room as well. “That’s right, we’ll kill him ourselves!”

“…Huh? Are you two dogs?”

Ning Ji looked at the pair of fools, his face twitching, then waved a hand and stalked off, cursing under his breath.

Qu Longjun came over from next door carrying hot water. “What happened?” Then she added, “Sister Yue, let me comb your hair for you.”

She was a master of diplomacy; within a few sentences, the tension on Yinping’s face eased. Yinping sat in the courtyard and let Qu Longjun tend to her hair, then told her about how Ning Ji had asked her, the night before, to go beg for firearms — only to be refused by Cheng Zhouhai.

“Actually, I wanted to see how the Huaxia Army kills a grandmaster too,” Yue Yinping said, brow furrowed. “Because I might just be the grandmaster the Huaxia Army kills someday. But Master Cheng won’t give us any, says we have to do it ourselves. What choice do I have.”

“That’s understandable, though. A gun… it’s still very dangerous…”

Qu Longjun could understand Cheng Zhouhai’s concern. “But there’s something else I’ve been thinking about, and I’m not quite sure I understand… why would Master Cheng let Little Long go out at all? Does he have some kind of backup plan protecting him out there?”

Qu Longjun had called Ning Ji “Long Aotian” back in Chengdu, and later “Little Long.” Now, among people who knew him well, she still called him that. Ning Ji sometimes called her “Little Long” too — two Little Longs, which she found very sweet. Yinping hadn’t been used to it at first, but by now she’d grown accustomed to hearing it.

“Huh? He’s got you locked up in here, of course he’ll come back — what backup does he need…”

“But has he — Master Cheng — really made no other arrangements in private? Out there… it’s still very dangerous. The rebels are cunning. Our current setup might not guarantee complete safety…”

“Private arrangements…” Yinping thought about it, and finally gave up. “I don’t know what arrangements Master Cheng has made either… but the way I see it, he’s a soldier of the Huaxia Army — why would he need complete safety… Miss Qu, I think you care about him too much. Is that not something you can easily admit?”

“Mm…”

Qu Longjun felt something was off, but Yinping didn’t know Ning Ji’s true identity. At the moment, she said a few things about how “a real man ought to handle his own affairs” and offered some comforting words, and Qu Longjun had no choice but to nod.

The two of them then talked about various small matters between women. Yinping asked how things were progressing between Qu Longjun and Ning Ji. Qu Longjun said, “Sister Yue, don’t laugh at me, but I want to have his children.” She carefully raised her fingers. “Have… have three,” counting on her fingers, “I’ve already thought of their names…”

Yue Yinping was greatly envious. When Qu Longjun asked what kind of man she liked, Yinping confessed quietly, “I want to marry the greatest hero under heaven, one who has no rival.”

“Huh? Isn’t that Little Long, in the future?”

“Tch, what are you talking about.” Yinping glanced at her, then raised her head. “What I want, in the future, is to go to the southwest and challenge Master Ning.”

“Master Ning…”

“Mm, when Yue Yun and I were little, Master Ning saved us. According to my father, he’s the greatest, most unrivaled hero under heaven… Do you know? Back then, with a single strike of the Subduing Heaven Seal, he killed the once-invincible ‘Ferocious King Yama’ Lu Tuo…”

“Ah, so you want to marry Master Ning…”

“It’s just something to think about. In the future… if he’d have me, I’d be willing, but I think… my father wouldn’t allow it… but either way, neither my father nor I could beat Master Ning…”

“…You still want Master Ning to abduct you as a bride?”

“…That’s right, isn’t it exciting to think about? He and my father would fight it out, heaven and earth turned upside down — it would be quite the spectacle…”

“I doubt Master Ning is so lacking in composure…”

“…Well, it’s just something to think about… I also want to have three little monkeys of my own…”

The chaotic girl-talk continued for a while longer. Ning Ji, having finished washing his face and brushing his teeth, came running back from the other side. “So where’s Cheng Zhouhai now? I need to see him!”

“How would I know where he is, Master Cheng has countless affairs to attend to… but I can pass along that you want to see him.”

“Damn it, that’s going to hold things up! I’ve got to go out right after breakfast!”

“So do you still want me to pass it along? If it’s about the firearms, I’m telling you now, it’s not going to happen. Master Cheng means what he says, there’s no point going to see him.”

“Anyone who didn’t know better would think he was the emperor…” Ning Ji muttered.

Yue Yun, now fully dressed, hopped out of his room. “Outrageous!” He cut off Ning Ji’s words. “Get over here, one-on-one!”

Ning Ji pointed at him, and the two leapt into the courtyard to spar. Yinping and Qu Longjun carried their washing basins over to the covered walkway to one side, to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

After a while, a little girl with her hair done up in buns peeked out from the side of the courtyard gate. She surveyed the scene, then went pattering inside, and Yinping couldn’t help but stand up as the girl ran straight into the middle of the fight, forcing the two boys to stop.

She held a lollipop in her hand, tugging at the corner of Ning Ji’s robe. Ning Ji looked thoroughly put-upon.

“What?”

“You — you-you-you… are you called Sun Wukong?”

“Mm, how did you know?”

“Because my surname is Zhou!” Zhou Fuyang answered a completely different question, then held up the candy in her hand. “Here, have a lollipop.”

“…You again?”

“Mm-hm.”

Ning Ji waved a hand. “I’m not doing that again.”

“Here, take it. Big brother.”

“…” Ning Ji frowned.

“…Mm.”

To the east of the courtyard, the pale light of dawn had long since risen, and the faint stir of the markets was already beginning to flow through the air. In the sunlit courtyard, the Yue siblings and Qu Longjun all watched the standoff between the young man and the little girl. Their exchange was strange, yet somehow the two of them seemed able to understand each other.

Then everyone watched as Ning Ji took the lollipop. “Watch closely. This is the last time.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Ahh……………….ugh—”

Ning Ji opened his mouth wide and, in one bite, swallowed the entire lollipop whole!

“Cough — cough—” Yue Yun’s eyes went wide too, practically drooling.

Yinping suppressed her laughter, shaking with the effort. Qu Longjun was holding back laughter as well, clinging to Yinping, both of them trembling all over.

Zhou Fuyang clapped her hands and laughed. Having spent so long within the palace — though the pomp of the Wu court was nothing like it had once been, the education she received day in and day out was still all proper, refined, and ladylike — she had never in her life seen behavior so outrageous.

She then went pattering off, and when she came wobbling back, she was carrying an enormous box, at the very limit of what she could move, filled with steamed buns from breakfast. “Auntie… Auntie told me to bring you food…” She then picked up a bun, opened her mouth wide with an “ahh,” made several attempts as if she too wanted to swallow it whole, and after a few failed tries, Ning Ji took it away from her.

“What’s your name?”

“Fuyang…” the little girl said. “Zhou Fuyang.”

“I knew it…”

His gaze drifted over the courtyard wall, toward the second floor of the courtyard next door, where a pair of eyes was quietly watching from behind a window. Yinping bowed in that direction.

For some reason, Ning Ji was very good at getting along with silly little girls like this. After a while, the two of them took their buns and went to chat on the other side of the courtyard. Along the way, Zhou Fuyang tripped and fell, getting dust all over herself; Ning Ji picked her up and dusted her off, and Zhou Fuyang giggled the whole time, not crying at all…

Zhou Pei, in a room in the neighboring courtyard, watched this strange, lively morning unfolding in the courtyard below. Only the female guard in the same room, originally assigned to watch over Zhou Fuyang, looked thoroughly displeased, her face dark. Zhou Pei found it rather amusing to watch. After a while, feeling hungry, she had someone bring her a meat bun, and sat by the window, eating unhurriedly along with the young men and women outside…

…

After the morning had passed, Ning Ji left the Princess’s residence to meet Pu Xingui in the city. Pu Xingui offered a few words of advice regarding his killing spree, mentioning that several of the elders behind the scenes were already displeased. Ning Ji, cursing all the while, pressed him to find out exactly what these elders were about — “Have him tell me himself, if he’s got the guts” — but Pu Xingui didn’t have the guts, and so kept his mouth shut.

The daytime heat was scorching. Chen Shuangran’s stirred-up brawling continued unabated, and Ning Ji, playing the role of the great villain, went and cut down two more groups of men. In the plan he’d worked out with Qu Longjun, Yue Yinping, and Yue Yun, Monk Tunyun had already taken the bait; if the fighting continued like this, it wouldn’t be long before Chen Shuangran — or at least Tunyun’s side — would start bringing out more overtures of goodwill and attempts to win them over. For instance, they would dig up evidence proving that the tip-off to the authorities hadn’t come from them — since it genuinely hadn’t — and at that point, he could go along with it and offer them an opening.

Worst case, he could feign “fury” over the matter and turn around and kill Pu Xingui instead, so that Chen Shuangran’s side would have no more doubts about him.

…

In the hour of Wei, on the other side of the city, Chen Shuangran and Fan Zhong sat in a room with a distant view.

“There’s something off about Sun Wukong…” said the dark-skinned girl. “I suspect he’s a plant from the authorities.”

“How so?”

“I have reliable word that the bombardment at Huaiyun Ward wasn’t leaked by Pu Xingui.”

Fan Zhong thought it over for a moment. “I heard you spread word yourself yesterday, saying the bombardment was actually leaked by Pu Xingui. Today you’ve gotten the opposite information… could it be that Pu Xingui did it himself?”

“I can’t disclose the source of the information,” Chen Shuangran said. “But I’m ninety percent certain it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Pu Xingui either. That only leaves a mole planted by the authorities…”

“…That young man’s behavior doesn’t quite fit that.” Fan Zhong thought about it. “What does the young lady want to do?”

“They’ve gone to all this trouble putting together this scheme, all just to get close to me.” Chen Shuangran laughed. “Then I might as well go along with it, and give them an opening.”

“You mean, Miss…”

“Just like… how we dealt with that Zhan Yunhai fellow…”

“Take him down at the first opportunity?” Fan Zhong thought about it. “That wouldn’t be difficult. But it seems the Master has taken a notion to accept him as a disciple…”

“Once we take him down, whether he’s round or flat is entirely for us to decide…” Chen Shuangran laughed, the afternoon sun falling across her face. “As for the details of this plan — if the bombardment at Huaiyun Ward really was faked, then first, we need to find out exactly where that Long Aotian is. If it really was a setup, I want these two brothers to regret it for the rest of their lives…”

…

The city bustled, voices rustling. At that same moment, Ning Ji sat in the upper floor of a teahouse in the city, watching the crowds bustling below, calculating how he might deal with the many dangers ahead.

In a dim room, Cheng Zhouhai searched through a stack of documents for information…

Past the hour of Wei, Ning Ji left the teahouse, deciding to return to the Princess’s residence and try again to find Cheng Zhouhai.

In the afternoon sun, back in the courtyard with the great banyan tree, Qu Longjun seemed to be absent — probably summoned again by the Princess Imperial to help review memorials. Ning Ji heard Zhou Fuyang’s soft giggling; to one side of the courtyard trees, she was chatting and laughing with a companion, occasionally hopping in place.

Standing beneath the tree, listening to Zhou Fuyang talk, was a young man, slender but upright in bearing, wearing plain blue cloth robes, somewhere past thirty, with a bit of a beard. As he listened to Zhou Fuyang, his gaze was gentle, but when he looked over toward Ning Ji, for one brief instant a sharp glint flashed across his brow, before it settled back into a scholarly, clear-eyed gaze. He held a folding fan and returned Ning Ji’s stare.

Wanting to say something, but the courtyard fell silent for quite some time.

“Ahem.” After a moment, it was the other man who finally spoke first. “Ning Ji. Years ago, in Jiangning, your father, Master Ning, taught me for a few years.”

The words were spoken with utter sincerity.

“I’ve finally met you,” the man said.

Seeing the expression on Zhou Fuyang’s face and on the man’s own, Ning Ji had already guessed something, though he wasn’t sure how he ought to address him. But at these words, a strange feeling welled up in him, and as if guided by some unseen hand, he cupped his hands and gave a slight bow.

“Then…” he weighed his words, “…senior brother?”

“…Haha, haha.” The man seemed startled too, and then waved his hands, glancing around. “Shh, shh. Keep your voice down, keep it down. I’ll tell you, Fuzhou has no shortage of pious old scholars — if word got out, who knows how long they’d go on about it.”

He laughed, with the worldly manner of a local kingpin.

“Haha… little brother.”

And with that, the terms of address were settled.