“Showing up bright and early, walking right in like he owns the place—who is this scholar? Doesn’t look like some ordinary acquaintance.”

“There wasn’t any information like this during last year’s investigation, was there?”

“After Nie Yunzhu left the trade, she’s had almost no contact with unfamiliar men. Even the ones she used to know, she cut ties with cleanly and completely—we genuinely never found any trace of this scholar before.”

In the morning light, the two constables watched the scholar’s retreating figure, quietly exchanging their suspicions with each other. In truth, the two of them had already crossed paths with Nie Yunzhu once before, the previous year, during a covert investigation that hadn’t turned up much of any real value; eventually, with pressure from above to close the case and various other complications, the whole operation had been quietly shelved.

At this, the middle-aged deputy constable, surnamed Xu, gave a faint smile.

“Two women once ranked among the finest courtesans, and after leaving the trade, they end up with close ties to just this one scholar and no one else—if word of this ever got out, quite a few self-styled men of romance would probably keel over from sheer jealousy. Especially that Gu Yanzhen fellow…”

“Old Xu, you know what I’m thinking right now?”

“…Gu Yanzhen?”

“Wasn’t there already a theory like that back then…”

“Fair enough… I’ll go follow him and look into it.”

Back when Gu Yanzhen had died, Chen and Xu had entertained several possible theories, but none of them had ever had much concrete evidence behind them—rather vague speculation, all told, which was precisely why the investigation had eventually stalled out. Hearing this now, the deputy constable nodded and set off after the scholar’s retreating figure. The senior constable, surnamed Chen, stood there mulling over a case that had gone cold for over half a year now, one the higher-ups had long since closed—he doubted there was much chance of turning up any real leads this time either. After a while, Constable Xu returned.

“Well?”

“Nearly got spotted, couldn’t keep following. That scholar… he’s remarkably alert.”

“Oh?” Constable Xu blinked, surprised. “Wouldn’t have guessed it, looking at him.”

“Remember our theory back then?”

“What theory?”

“The one about who really killed the Yang brothers—Yang Yi and Yang Heng—and later Gu Yanzhen as well. Whoever did that was a truly ruthless character. Might not have matched the Yang brothers in raw skill, but in sheer nerve, that’s the kind of thing only a genuine desperado could pull off… and this same person had some connection to that female assassin from the Lüliang Mountains too. Back then, our casual inquiries never turned up any trace of him, so there wasn’t much more to say. But it’s been so long now since then—if we really have found this fellow… Old Chen, are you truly sure you want to go through with this?”

In truth, though constables like themselves dealt with all manner of criminals as a matter of course, and had grown accustomed to remaining unmoved by ordinary crime, when facing an opponent whose ruthlessness crossed a certain threshold, most people would still choose to steer clear if they could help it. The Yang brothers had been exactly that kind of case—whoever had wiped out their entire clan had, by all appearances, proven themselves someone not to be trifled with. If their theory turned out to be wrong, well, that was one thing—but if they really had found the man, they’d inevitably have to confront him sooner or later.

Constable Chen thought it over, then stuck a blade of grass between his teeth and shook his head. “It was only ever idle speculation back then—the world’s a big place, it’s not as if you just stumble across someone like that so easily… Women like Nie Yunzhu or Yuan Jin’er, once they’ve left the trade, if you claimed they truly had no connection to any man at all, that in itself would be a joke. It’s just that this needs to stay under wraps—that scholar’s guarded nature probably comes from exactly that kind of caution. It’s not so easy to actually confirm a match like this. But even if it really is him…”

He gave a slight smile. “A desperado, is it? Since when has Chen Feng ever been afraid of anyone.”

…

Ning Yi never actually noticed that someone had been following him; he’d only felt a faint sense of unease at one particular intersection, glanced around for a moment, found nothing, and simply chalked it up to his own overactive imagination, thinking no more of it.

That morning, he went to the academy to teach class as usual. Zhou Pei, who had witnessed the entire bloody clash the day before, looked at Ning Yi with an expression of open shock when he arrived, and found a moment during a break to ask, “T-Teacher, you were hurt yesterday—are you all right now?” Only after Ning Yi assured her he was fine did she finally relax.

The events of yesterday afternoon had left her utterly, overwhelmingly shaken. That crisp, decisive shot, the astonishing violence of the fighting, facing such vicious men without the slightest hint of retreat—Zhou Pei had never before known of any scholar capable of doing something like that in the heat of the moment. She’d heard stories, of course, of scholars who could face death with composure, unflinching in the face of disaster—but that was really just the courage to submit to death without resistance. A man who could, on one hand, study the sagely classics and teach his students, and on the other, engage in that level of brutal, lethal combat—she’d never encountered anything like it, not even in stories.

The scholar’s refined elegance and calm self-assurance, and the sheer brutality of the warrior—but what had truly shaken Zhou Pei most of all was the fire-lance Ning Yi had thrown later. At the most critical moment, when that fiercest of the attackers snatched the weapon out of the air, her heart had nearly leapt clean out of her chest—only for the weapon to detonate the very next instant, an outcome that had genuinely left most people’s minds utterly blank. At the time, Zhou Pei hadn’t even been able to process what had just happened; only later, once her nerves had settled somewhat, had she gone to see Grandfather Qin and, piecing together their conversation, gradually come to understand just how much cunning strategy and mutual maneuvering had actually gone into that sudden, chaotic clash.

Her tutor’s calm, unreadable composure, the timing of his intervention, that pre-rigged fire-lance set to explode, even Grandfather Qin’s shout from outside the door—”It’s them, take them down”—all of it reflected a level of composure under pressure and quick-witted adaptability that would leave any ordinary person utterly stunned. The girl had always considered herself something of a clever mind, harboring ambitions of one day doing something truly significant—but it wasn’t until yesterday that she’d finally seen, for the first time, what a truly formidable person actually looked like.

Grandfather Consort must have known all this about him—that’s surely why he had Junwu and me apprentice under Teacher. Maybe Grandfather Consort, whom I’ve known all these years, is just as formidable a man himself, only he’s simply never shown it in front of us children.

Turns out, thinking I’d already grown up… I really am still just a child after all.

Carrying this feeling with her, something about seeing her tutor this morning felt strangely different, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. In truth, she still felt a lingering trace of embarrassment over losing face the previous morning and being caught crying afterward, but somehow, thinking to herself, “this barbarian of a teacher really is a formidable man,” made the whole thing feel less significant, more bearable now.

As for Zhang Rui and Li Tong, the two tutors who’d originally intended to debate her teacher yesterday—once they’d witnessed what happened and then seen Old Qin’s attitude toward Ning Yi afterward, they’d simply exchanged a few polite pleasantries and hurried off.

Shaken by yesterday’s events, the young princess’s mood had shifted somewhat; even her earlier worries about being married off had eased a little. It struck her that in a world with people like her tutor, Grandfather Qin, and Grandfather Consort in it, she really shouldn’t be losing sleep over such small matters—so long as she herself grew formidable enough, surely any problem could be handled. Had Ning Yi known that the young princess had taken this particular lesson and applied it to the matter of her own marriage, he would no doubt have felt compelled to offer a moment of silence on behalf of her future husband.

The events had only happened the day before, but by afternoon, Ning Yi made his way over to Old Qin’s residence to check on the situation. He’d only just reached the corner of the street where the Qin residence stood when he saw carriages and sedan chairs lined up all along the road ahead. Qin Siyuan had settled quietly in Jiangning, largely unknown to most, but this year had already brought no shortage of visitors his way, and now, after yesterday’s events involving the Liao, it seemed all manner of people had descended upon him at once today. Ning Yi took one look and turned to leave, deciding he’d come back once the attention had died down—only to find himself blocked the moment he turned around.

“If Liheng leaves just like that, I’m afraid my mistress and master will have some words for me.”

Standing before him now was none other than Qin Siyuan’s concubine, Yun Niang. The refined, well-spoken woman wore a veil, a maid trailing behind her, and gave him a slight bow. Ning Yi hurried to return the courtesy. “Ah, Madam Yun—just back from an errand?”

“I came specifically to wait for you, sir.” Yun Niang smiled. “My mistress knew you’d be coming by today, and mentioned at home earlier that she absolutely must properly thank you for saving my master’s life. Old Kang happened to be there as well, and said with a laugh that if you saw the crowd gathered at the gate, you’d surely turn right around and stay away for days on end—so my mistress sent me out to the street corner to wait for you. And sure enough, sir, your reaction was exactly as Old Kang predicted, ha.”

Having said this, Yun Niang let her smile fade somewhat, her expression turning a touch more serious. “Sir saved my master’s life yesterday—a debt of profound gratitude to the entire Qin household. Please allow Yun Niang to offer you a proper bow.”

She and the maid behind her both bowed low, with great solemnity, and Ning Yi had no choice but to return the gesture with equal formality.

With things having reached this point, there was clearly no graceful way to extricate himself now. Following Yun Niang into the Qin residence, he found, sure enough, quite a crowd gathered there—officials, prominent scholars, only a handful of whom Ning Yi actually recognized, mostly old chess companions of Qin Siyuan’s. Seeing Ning Yi arrive, they immediately asked whether he’d been hurt, while others quietly asked around about who this young man even was; once they’d pieced together the general outline of the story, they showered him with praise for being a young hero in the making. A few who knew of his status as a matrilocal son-in-law couldn’t help but sigh with some regret over it—though curiously, no one seemed to think much of his nickname “Ten Steps Ahead,” simply assuming it referred to some minor cleverness in business dealings; a young hero who also happened to be a merchant was, in their eyes, rather a shame.

Afterward, everyone sat chatting idly in the parlor, the conversation inevitably drifting toward the Liao assassins, then to Liao itself, and eventually to Qin Siyuan’s own past. It was still too early to discuss his so-called “achievements” from years ago—relations between Jin and Liao remained too uncertain for that, and Qin Siyuan himself had no wish to discuss any of it just yet. As the conversation went on, attention naturally began drifting toward Ning Yi. Though he’d largely lost his taste for this kind of social obligation these days, his skill in handling it remained as deep and practiced as ever—he chatted and laughed with easy composure, occasionally even steering the mood of the room, all with effortless familiarity.

The parlor was full of men of status and standing, officials and prominent scholars alike; an ordinary young man, handling himself well in such company, might at best be described as appropriately measured, neither servile nor arrogant. But even at his most measured, there would still inevitably be some gap in standing to bridge. Ning Yi’s presence here, though, felt different somehow. He’d long since been on equal footing with men like Qin Siyuan, and yet he showed no trace of flaunting that familiarity now—responding only when spoken to directly, his manner carrying that same natural, effortless air of someone accustomed to occupying the highest position in any room. Now and then he’d offer some clever remark that set the whole room laughing, yet no one felt he was speaking out of turn or being disrespectful toward his elders. And with Qin Siyuan and Kang Xian both so visibly attentive toward him, it only further cemented his sense of belonging in the room.

At the time, it had all felt perfectly natural, but only after the gathering broke up that afternoon did some of those present, looking back, begin to realize just how extraordinary this young man really was—a bearing that virtually none of Jiangning’s current younger generation could match. Once they pieced together that Ning Yi had long maintained ties with both Qin Siyuan and Kang Xian, they began to suspect that this might well be a disciple Qin Siyuan had quietly cultivated over these past several years—with Consort Kang Xian, evidently, playing some part in it as well.

That formidable old man—if he truly had accomplished great things in his day, he might yet rise again someday. Perhaps only a man like that could have spent these past years quietly shaping a disciple of this caliber.

It was just that this disciple happened to be both a matrilocal son-in-law and a merchant besides—which really was, in the end… rather a strange thing indeed.