After nightfall, scattered points of light stretched out across the city, following the ribbon-like curves of the rivers. Where the light was brighter, the water shimmered and rippled; where the streets grew darker, the water’s reflection lay silent in the shadows, save for the occasional boat gliding slowly past with its lantern lit.
Inside and outside Four Seasons Studio, the lights blazed bright; the three interconnected buildings, strung with lanterns along their eaves, lit up this stretch of street in dazzling color. Passersby on the nearby streets couldn’t help but glance over repeatedly, pointing and murmuring, while inside the building, an atmosphere of lively feasting reigned, cups and goblets clinking. Tonight’s gathering at Four Seasons Studio combined both a literary meeting and a performance; with the banquet still in full swing, several of the city’s most celebrated courtesans, invited from the local pleasure houses, had already taken the stage to perform songs and verses.
Since the fall of Hangzhou, though Fang La — having decided to make this city the foundation of his new state — had reined in his subordinates somewhat, the treatment endured by the women who remained in the city during the initial chaos was difficult to fully recount. Once invading soldiers seized men, they inflicted all manner of cruelty and killing, but what could be done to women was, in the end, always that one particular kind of horror.
In that most chaotic period, countless women either took their own lives after being violated or were killed during their ordeal; even within the pleasure houses, more than a few chaste women died by their own hand rather than endure the shame. But generally speaking, women in this profession tended to have developed a somewhat greater capacity to withstand such blows. Once the worst of the chaos had passed, some managed to avoid the calamity, some found protectors, and some continued relying on their well-honed social skills — in the end, people still needed to eat, and still needed to find a way forward.
The reigning beauties and famous courtesans of Hangzhou now were, compared to a few months earlier, an entirely different group, and the feeling was noticeably different — they had lost the spark they once had, replaced now with a kind of wary restraint. But so long as one didn’t look too closely, those who had risen to take their place were, in their own right, genuinely skilled performers, and the underlying unease in their expressions could, in its own way, pass for a kind of pitiable charm. After a few performances, the hall’s mood had grown increasingly animated, and some attendees had already begun composing poems, passing them around to be admired.
Though tonight’s gathering carried something of a literary air, it wasn’t quite the same as an ordinary literary gathering. Zhu Yanlin was an official, and in Fang La’s court at this time, his social circle inevitably included not just scholars but a fair number of military men who were on good terms with him as well; with such a gathering, there could be no overly strict rules of decorum. It fell to the host, or to those eager to show off, to do their best to stir up enthusiasm for writing poetry and lyrics. As the various factions within Fang La’s system mingled, early in the banquet, people had begun circulating with cups in hand, chatting and greeting one another — this was exactly the liveliest stretch of the evening.
With so many people and such a bustling atmosphere, something was, at this moment, unfolding beside one of the tables on the second floor. A scholar holding a wine cup waved his hand at someone, turned to walk away, and collided unexpectedly with a man beside him.
“Watch out.”
“Oh—”
Crash, splash…
It wasn’t a serious incident — the scholar hadn’t knocked over the table, only stumbled slightly before catching himself — but a dish of sauce had spilled onto his robe, leaving a stain that wouldn’t come off easily. The scholar spread his hands in mild distress; the man nearby offered a word or two of concern, and soon someone from Four Seasons Studio came over to check on things, and by the manager’s instructions, arranged a room and a change of clothes for him.
After exchanging a greeting with the white-robed scholar he’d come with, he followed a servant boy up to the third floor.
The first and second floors of Four Seasons Studio now served as the main banquet hall, while the third floor, though also lit, held few people. The scholar entered a room where an oil lamp had just been lit, changed his clothes, then stood by the window and looked outside for a moment. The night wind blew in, the lamps swayed gently, carrying a faint chill.
“…As instructed by Master Ning, word has already been sent back that you remain safe… your wife and household are all well… the child in your wife’s womb is also doing well…”
Had anyone else been present in that room, they might have caught the sound of a hushed conversation passing through the space.
“No trouble with the officials or the army, I trust?”
“Master Ning specifically instructed us to be careful, so we haven’t stirred anything up. Beyond your wife, this information has only been passed along a single line straight to the top… though, I do think Master Ning is perhaps being overly cautious…”
“When there’s no room for a single mistake, one has no choice but to be careful. Liu Dabiao has people stationed near my wife — if those eager to make a name for themselves ever found out, it would be just the two of us who’d die… Does the one above you have any other message?”
“Getting Master Ning safely out of the city remains the top priority, but everything is to proceed according to Master Ning’s own arrangements… they also said to be sure to take care of yourself.”
The two conducting this secret conversation were, of course, Ning Yi and Wenren Buer, the spy placed by Qin Siyuan within Fang La’s ranks. Ning Yi already knew the reason this meeting had been arranged at Four Seasons Studio — here, Wenren Buer’s cover identity was as the manager of the Hall of a Hundred Years, Four Seasons Studio. Ning Yi had grown rather distrustful of official channels of power, but Wenren Buer, it seemed, was somewhat different — and yet when it came to handing over command of the operation to him, Ning Yi shook his head.
“I don’t understand these matters — you’re the expert. However you all decide to move, that’s up to you to arrange. But I need to know who your next line of contact is, so that if something happens to you, I know how to reach them…”
“Naturally…”
The small network Wenren Buer belonged to wasn’t part of the official Six Gates organization — it had originally been a secret intelligence bureau set up to counter the Liao, with only a small number of agents deployed, meant only to fill gaps in major matters. Even so, as the highest-ranking person responsible for operations within Fang La’s territory, Wenren Buer still had many affairs to manage. That Qin Siyuan had directly assigned him to handle Ning Yi’s case on a single dedicated line was enough to show just how seriously the old man took the matter.
After exchanging some necessary information, Wenren Buer said, “The most urgent matter now is still getting Master Ning safely out of here. By our estimate, the situation in Hangzhou will likely grow more and more tense over the coming month — if you’re going to leave, it would be best arranged within the next half month. As for the situation with the Overlord Blade Camp, we already have a certain understanding of it. If Master Ning knows anything…”
“I may not be able to leave for the time being.” Ning Yi shook his head, then paused. “Within Fang La’s army, there are quite a few figures from the martial world. I’ve heard there are certain techniques that can leave a special scent on a person’s body, which can then be tracked using trained insects — when they first mentioned it to me, I took it as nothing more than a legend, but from how they spoke of it afterward, it didn’t seem entirely fabricated… Does Brother Wenren know anything about this?”
Wenren Buer’s expression shifted. “In the Xiang-Xi region, there are indeed such techniques among the practice of gu-cultivation, but those kinds of insects are extremely difficult to raise, and can only be used on a single person — nor do they live very long… techniques like this are only ever used on someone of great importance…” He glanced at Ning Yi, then fell into thought, frowning.
“There’s no shortage of countermeasures — if you know who’s raising the insect, you simply kill it; or, knowing roughly when the insect will die, you wait for the right moment to make your escape… There are quite a few other methods too, that should help throw off this kind of tracking… I’ll look into these matters myself, Master Ning, don’t worry.”
“So this sort of thing really does exist…” Ning Yi said, smiling and nodding. In truth, this kind of thing wasn’t all that strange to him — carrier pigeons could travel a thousand miles and still find their way home; nothing here could match the precision of radar, of course, but among these martial artists, highly skilled and well-versed in wilderness survival, even a rough sense of direction would make it very hard for him to escape undetected. He’d more or less already prepared himself mentally for this, and didn’t feel particularly troubled by it now.
“I’ll trouble Brother Wenren with this matter — but if things come to a point where it’s simply not workable, I intend to first send my maid away. That much, at least, should still be possible.”
There was a pause on the other end; Wenren Buer clearly didn’t quite agree with this. “Master Ning, this matter, I’m afraid…”
Ning Yi waved a hand. “Once she’s sent away, I’ll have the peace of mind to stay here and get things done… it’s not a major issue. I’ve already worked it out beforehand. Next to the courtyard where I currently live, there’s an old physician with no children of his own; he’s well respected within the Overlord Blade Camp. Xiao Chan has been helping out at his clinic this whole time, and the old man treats her like a daughter. Under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t get involved in something like this — but I’ve made enemies, and whether it’s Li Tianrun or Shi Bao, either one is enough to go up against Liu Dabiao herself. If I’m in danger, it’s easy for that to spill over onto the people around me — when the pressure comes down, I’ll ask that old physician to at least see to it that Xiao Chan is sent away. In the meantime… I’ll still need Brother Wenren’s help with this.”
Wenren Buer was silent for a long moment; he had, of course, looked into Ning Yi’s circumstances before. “Master Ning… you’ve been arranging this since… over a month ago?”
“I wouldn’t call it arranging, exactly — just planning ahead. That old man is stern by nature, but that only means he understands the harsh realities of the world better than most; when the time comes and I ask him, he’ll help. This is the most solid path forward at the moment — if he refuses, then we’ll think of something else.”
“But once this happens, if you still want to leave afterward, it will truly become far more difficult — you might even be putting your life at risk…”
“I’ll take the gamble,” Ning Yi said. “If we can leave together, all the better — but if we can’t, and she stays behind, then I’ll have even less chance of leaving afterward. You said the situation would deteriorate within a month — how is the fighting up north going?”
“Jiaxing’s siege has been lifted, but Fang Qifo has massed his forces and pinned down General Tong’s army firmly along the Xiuzhou line, while continuing to harvest and burn the land behind their lines. After this battle, between Hangzhou, Jiaxing, and Huzhou, the imperial court will have nothing left to gain…”
“Just as I thought…” Ning Yi nodded. He wasn’t well versed in this particular stretch of history concerning Fang La — he only knew that Fang La ultimately lost, but had also managed to pin down Tong Guan’s army of over a hundred thousand men in the south for a considerable time. As things stood now, Fang La had captured Hangzhou just as the grain harvest came in, and after stripping the surrounding region of its food stores, the balance of gain and loss meant the Wu court’s burden would only grow heavier still. If they could hold out for a year or two, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.
“…Things will just have to stay as they are for now. I’m doing fairly well within the Overlord Blade Camp at the moment. If Li Tianrun comes back and puts on the pressure, and I’m forced to send Xiao Chan away, as long as I don’t leave myself, they shouldn’t go so far as to kill me. If they decide I’m valuable enough that both sides end up at a standoff over me, that would actually be the best outcome. If not, tell your superiors that I’m training a group of somewhat upright students here — that’s my own small contribution, at least.”
As Ning Yi spoke, he shook his head with a faint smile. Wenren Buer thought it over. “Training… upright students?”
“Mm.” Ning Yi nodded and let out a sigh. “In times like these, being upright is practically the same as making an enemy of the whole world. Let them wear each other down a little, at least — there’s not much else I can actually do, in the end.”
Having finished this conversation with Wenren Buer, Ning Yi left the room and headed downstairs; the lively atmosphere in the main hall continued as before. On stage, someone was singing “Watching the Tide,” just reaching a line about layered lakes and folded hills, cassia blossoms and lotus flowers, reed pipes and fishing songs drifting through the night. Lou Shuwan was listening nearby, and seeing Ning Yi come down, said with a smile, “They’re singing your lyrics.” In the hall, others who knew him, like Liu Xiyang, were now glancing his way too, and someone had already begun making their way over from the crowd, apparently to greet him.
Just then, a commotion stirred faintly from the east.
It began as a mix of gongs, horns, and shouting, like the sounds of battle, gradually swelling. Hangzhou had only just come through war, and many at this gathering had experienced the battlefield firsthand; people began moving toward the windows to look outside, some even climbing to the rooftop of the third floor. Before long, servants and attendants came hurrying in, searching for their respective masters, carrying news.
In the distance, the chaos was quickly taking shape — pillars of smoke and flashes of red rose into the sky, mounted, armed soldiers surged toward that stretch of street, and the news, passed from servant to servant, quickly spread through the crowd.
Yellow leaves, late autumn, the seventh day of the ninth month — the newly established Yongle court had met with its first rebellion.
Qi Yuankang, Vice Chancellor of Governmental Affairs, had turned against the court.
Ning Yi had only a vague impression of this name — he knew that this Qi Yuankang, like Lou Minzhong and Bao Daoyi, was one of the top-ranking figures within Fang La’s ranks. And now, thinking back, Ning Yi recalled having once heard that this Qi Yuankang had, in fact, once been one of the leading figures of the amnesty faction within the rebel army.
Standing beside Lou Shuwan at the window of Four Seasons Studio, Ning Yi finally understood what Liu Dabiao had meant by “something big” happening tonight. Li Tianrun had not yet even returned, and already, the first purge within Fang La’s ranks had begun…