“So then, Hejin Trading isn’t willing to help us handle the western route — they want to do it themselves. That’s the connection through Wang Ren’s people, isn’t it?”
“Not exactly that they want to do it entirely themselves — they’re just asking for seven-tenths of the profit.”
“Close enough to the same thing. As for Huangshan, word’s already come back — the timber’s not a problem, but the route there is practically deserted, far too many displaced people. When it’s shipped back, Old Chen, you’ll need to go check on it yourself. And we’ll need Chancellor Zu’s people to lend us some manpower for that — tomorrow, Old Chen, you and I should pay a visit to Chancellor Zu’s residence.”
“Yes… Zu Shiyuan — he’s already become chancellor?”
“A few more days yet, but if nothing goes wrong, word is he’s set to become Right Chancellor without question…”
A breeze blew through the spacious private room of the teahouse; outside, the sounds of a somewhat chaotic plaza drifted in through the window, wrapping the conversation inside in a kind of enveloping noise. On one side of the room sat several men, led by a young noble somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old — his dress not particularly ostentatious, but clearly fine and expensive at a glance, his bearing composed, his speech simple and efficient.
As they spoke, over by the other window sat three younger people — one man and two women — who looked considerably less serious by comparison. The two women were young and beautiful, though dressed rather too gaudily, clearly from a background in the pleasure quarters. The young noble seated between them was, as it happened, a familiar figure — Lou Shuweng, his smile somewhat frivolous now, gesturing and commenting at length on the crowd out on the plaza below.
It was already early in the eighth month, with the Saintly Duke Fang La’s enthronement now only a few days away. A festive mood had already begun building throughout the city, and at the same time, certain special prison cells were being cleared out — partly to make room, and partly to supply fresh hands for the newly forming court. For days now, this plaza in the eastern part of Hangzhou had been staging an execution every day at noon.
Those being executed here were different from the ordinary people put to death without much ceremony elsewhere. In the old Hangzhou, most of them had held various sorts of status — officials, members of prominent clans, great scholars. In building a new dynasty, Fang La understood well enough that he lacked sufficient practical civil officials and genuinely respected supporters among his ranks. After the fall of Hangzhou, though most of this class of people had already been killed, a certain number had, in the end, been kept alive.
From the seventh month into the eighth, some had already been persuaded to surrender and pledge loyalty; many others still stubbornly refused. It was said that, in recent times, the prison cells saw daily rounds of persuasion and negotiation — but each person was given only so much time. If the deadline passed without success, they were simply brought out to this plaza and beheaded, with no further deliberation.
During the period when Hangzhou first fell, the killing in the city had run so deep the streets had flowed with blood, and Lou Shuweng — who had always been squeamish about the sight of blood — had hidden himself away at home throughout. He’d missed all of it at the time, but these days he no longer avoided such things; in fact, he’d taken quite an interest in coming to watch the executions lately. Hangzhou might now be a fallen city, but since those being executed were mostly from prominent households, and every friend inevitably had enemies of his own — especially given Fang La’s propaganda of “the law applies equally, with no distinction of rank” — there were always plenty of people who came out each day to watch the officials and great clans be executed, cheering the spectacle on. Whenever rows of heads dropped and blood ran freely, Lou Shuweng, sitting up here in his teahouse private room carrying on with the women beside him, found the whole thing thoroughly enjoyable.
Today, though, was a little different.
Because his elder brother had arranged to meet with several household stewards here and had, in the process, taken over half the room.
The Lou family’s eldest son — Lou Shuwang — had shown up rather abruptly today, and Lou Shuweng couldn’t quite work out what his brother had in mind. As children, the affection among the three Lou siblings had been genuine enough, but ever since Lou Shuwang had given up his studies to take charge of the family business, Lou Shuweng’s feelings toward his elder brother had cooled somewhat — one of them destined for a career in commerce and household management, the other free to pursue an official career; there had always seemed to be some sort of quiet distance between them because of it. Of course, even though Lou Shuwang spent much of the year away from home on business, in the eyes of both Lou Shuweng and their sister Lou Shuwan, he remained an impressively capable figure — perhaps second only to their father, Lou Jinlin, in their estimation.
With his elder brother present, Lou Shuweng felt a certain wariness and self-consciousness creep in, and sensing the man’s forced casualness, the two beautiful women beside him seemed to grow a little tense as well. Over by the round table, Lou Shuwang finished issuing his instructions in careful detail, then waved a gentle hand, dismissing the stewards. He stood, walked over to the window on this side, pulled up a chair, and sat down. “Shuweng.”
“Big brother!” Lou Shuweng said brightly, arms around the two women, his smile carrying a somewhat forced flamboyance. Lou Shuwang smiled back. “Been back so long, and I’ve been far too busy — hardly had the chance to see much of you. Not bad, though.” He glanced out the window, then back at the two women beside his brother.
Lou Shuweng laughed. “Ha, big brother, I’m sure you know them too. This is Guan Xin’er and Chen Tong — you know, one from Zhucui Tower, the other from Huaping Pavilion. The two of them used to be fierce rivals, never willing to give an inch to the other — but look at them now, both perfectly agreeable.” He gave the two women a firm squeeze; both had once been the top courtesans of their respective establishments, and now they simply smiled along in agreement. Lou Shuweng lowered his voice: “But honestly, big brother, having the two of them together really does add a certain… thrill to things, quite different, big brother…”
Before he could finish, Lou Shuwang spoke up gently, cutting him off: “Never mind that. You’ve seen how things stand lately, little brother. The new dynasty is just being founded, everything still needs building up, and silver’s pouring into the household box by box — all the stewards have been sent out to work. You can… do this, do that, whatever you like, as long as it’s good for the family, anything goes. But you know, little brother, even our sister has been helping manage the household business lately. Do you really intend to just keep going on like this?”
“Er, big brother, well, you and father are…”
“It’s not that it’s forbidden — there just has to be some moderation, you understand.” Lou Shuwang smiled as he said it.
“I understand that, but…” Lou Shuweng gave an awkward, sheepish grin, his hands moving a little inappropriately. Beside him, Guan Xin’er gave a soft giggle and leaned in closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “Naughty,” she murmured.
Lou Shuwang picked up his teacup, glanced into it — apparently empty. Lou Shuweng said, “Tong’er, pour some for my brother—” Before he’d even finished the sentence, a sudden furious roar exploded through the room: “Get away from me!” Before Lou Shuweng could even react, the teacup, along with its contents, shattered violently against Guan Xin’er’s face. The next instant, Lou Shuwang, having abruptly risen to his feet, drove a kick into her stomach, sending her flying with a scream. Chen Tong’s eyes went wide with shock as she scrambled up; Lou Shuwang had already snatched up a nearby chair and swung it down at her head. She threw up an arm to block it and went crashing down along with the chair. The floorboards shook with a series of loud thuds.
Lou Shuwang stood there, his expression dark. “Do you understand now?”
Only then did the crying and screaming truly begin. Lou Shuweng sat utterly stunned. His elder brother, though he’d spent recent years out and about in the world, had never been a man of violent temper — educated, and generally refined and courteous. Never once had Lou Shuweng seen him like this. All he could manage, on pure instinct, was: “Wh-what…”
“In Hangzhou right now, you have everything, and you have nothing at all,” Lou Shuwang said, pointing out toward the plaza below, then turning and walking toward the door as he continued speaking. “You come here to watch this now, but you never saw what it was like twenty-some days ago. Back then, in this very room, with people standing guard, no matter how they killed out there, it made for a fine show. Twenty-some days ago, if you’d stood out there yourself and watched — the disemboweling, the burying alive — I saw it myself.”
He paused. “Do you understand, little brother? Hangzhou is exactly the same now as it was then. Back then, I wouldn’t have dared beat someone in this very room, wouldn’t have dared raise a hand against anyone. Now, anything goes. I know you’ve snatched a few women for yourself — some of them ended up dead, and it doesn’t matter. A man can indulge himself, sure, but there has to be restraint… Back when we ran our business and lost, at worst our own family went hungry. Now, if we lose, we end up just like them. Do you understand that, little brother? Right now there are only two directions — one step forward, and what we have now is heaven. One step back… and we drop straight down.”
He pushed open the door; guards stood waiting outside. Lou Shuwang pulled one man’s blade halfway from its sheath, then pushed it back in, and turned around, drawing a dagger from somewhere on his own person. He walked straight toward Guan Xin’er, still crumpled on the floor. “You don’t understand. Let me make it clear to you.”
Lou Shuweng was nearly frozen with shock: “Brother! You — you — what are you doing…”
Pleas for mercy and screams filled the room. Lou Shuwang seized the woman, drove the blade down once, then again — amid her shrieks of agony, he stabbed her a full eight times before finally letting her go. The room was awash in blood; Lou Shuwang’s hands, his clothes, even half his face were now stained crimson. He turned slightly to one side, blinked. “Do you understand now? If you still don’t, that’s fine too — it can just be like this again…”
As he said this, he turned toward Chen Tong, who had crawled to the corner on the other side of the room. She’d been struck by the chair earlier, and though she’d managed to block most of it with her arm, her head was bleeding; she could no longer get up, crying out and begging for her life in desperation. Lou Shuweng shouted from the window: “I understand! Brother, I understand!”
By now Lou Shuwang had crouched down; he paused for a moment, then reached out with both hands. Chen Tong screamed, certain she was about to die — but the next instant, Lou Shuwang gently pulled her into an embrace.
He spoke softly: “It’s alright now, it’s alright, don’t cry… I’m sorry. I frightened you.”
After a moment, Lou Shuwang rose from the floor, tossed the dagger aside, and looked at his brother. “This is simply how things are now — one wrong move and someone dies, and no one will answer for it either way. If you’re afraid, then all you can do is move forward, make sure no one else can kill us first… Don’t keep carrying on the way you have been. Think it over — in a few days, start helping out with the family’s affairs. I’m going to go wash up.”
With that, he left the room, leaving the guards to deal with the body, while he went downstairs alone to change clothes and wash his hands, head, and face. Throughout the whole process, his hands trembled slightly, but he finished all the same, and returned to the room afterward. His brother was still sitting by the window, though his eyes could move again now. Lou Shuwang walked over and sat down in another chair; the two brothers said nothing to each other. But his presence alone seemed to steady Lou Shuweng somewhat, and after a while, he more or less regained his composure — after all, these past several days he had already seen plenty of death; this had simply shaken him a little more than usual.
There was still some time before noon, but the crowd gathering in the plaza kept growing. Lou Shuweng’s gaze drifted aimlessly over the crowd — and at one point, he suddenly caught sight of a particular figure. His mind had still been reeling from Guan Xin’er’s death, but this figure was one he couldn’t simply ignore. He looked once, then again, his brow furrowing, and after a moment he glanced toward his brother before standing up by the window.
Lou Shuwang followed his gaze — nothing but crowds over there. “What is it?”
“That, that person…” Lou Shuweng said, frowning. “That looks like Ning Liheng… no, it really is him, how is that possible — he’s gone now, disappeared into the crowd. He was with his maid, Xiao Chan.”
As for Ning Yi, Lou Shuwang had only ever met him once, back when Ning Yi and Su Tan’er first arrived in Hangzhou, before he himself had left the city to attend to business affairs elsewhere. He’d hurried back once Hangzhou came under siege, and after the city fell, knowing his family had thrown in with Fang La, he’d deliberately let himself be captured by the chaotic troops, seeing no small amount of death along the way in the process. But thinking back to that first meeting, since Ning Yi was a matrilocal son-in-law, Lou Shuwang had naturally never paid him much attention to begin with. Since returning, he’d vaguely heard mention once or twice of some falling-out between the Su family and their own, but with so much pressing business to attend to, he’d more or less set the matter aside. Looking at his brother now, though, it seemed the man still held some lingering resentment over it.
Whatever minor conflicts there had once been could, by this point, be regarded as water under the bridge; Lou Shuwang himself held no particular feelings toward the Su family one way or another, and simply sat there listening. His brother went on, somewhat incoherently, recounting rumors that Ning Liheng had escaped, along with talk of the fighting at Huzhou. Lou Shuwang poured him a cup of tea and handed it over.
“You’re certain it was him… well, no need to dwell on it too much then. There are too many people — you’d never find him if you went down there now. But as long as he’s in Hangzhou, he can always be found eventually. Ning Liheng… there are a few people here who might be useful, if you want to track him down. Chancellor Lou’s son, Lou Jingzhi — I know him, he’s taken an interest in our business lately. You’re good at that sort of thing — spend a few days getting to know him, go see him. There’s also a man named Xing Zheng, with connections everywhere; we have two deals that need to go through him. Send him some gifts, and while you’re at it, have him make some inquiries for you too. Also… you’re absolutely certain that was Ning Liheng?”
“Certain… and there was a maidservant with him named Xiao Chan, right there beside him just now…”
“Then there’s nothing else to it. You should know — clever as you are, there’s practically nothing you couldn’t accomplish here in Hangzhou right now, if you want to do this, go do it yourself, I won’t interfere…” He paused, seeming to think of something else. “Oh — do you have feelings for that Su Tan’er?”
Lou Shuweng froze for a moment. “That — that wretched woman…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, as though he couldn’t quite find the right words for it. Back when Hangzhou fell, he’d assumed the woman had already fled the city; now, discovering she was still around, Lou Shuweng found himself momentarily at a loss for how to proceed — though there were certainly plenty of things he could do. Lou Shuwang looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Understood…”
…
Outside, the crowd in the plaza had grown quite dense by now, the noise drifting in from every direction. Ning Yi walked along a rather long passageway.
Though he was, in name, a captive, the restrictions the Overlord Blade Camp placed on him weren’t especially strict — he could go out, could move about freely; venturing too far required an escort, of course, but he wasn’t here to watch the executions for entertainment.
Before long, he ran into a familiar face — the head of the Qian family, an old man he’d assumed had fled by boat right at the start of the city’s fall: Qian Xiwen.