The first time he met Liu Xigua, she was eleven years old, in the summer. Looking back on it now, though the two of them could be said to have grown up as family friends of a sort, there had, in truth, never been all that much genuine closeness between them. What no one knew was that, from almost the very first meeting, he had already been utterly struck by this young girl.
It was hard to say exactly what had done it—whether it was the bright, arresting eyes and white teeth he’d noticed at their first meeting, or the sight of the girl, dressed in white, swinging a great blade beneath a tree with such absolute focus. At the time, the Overlord Blade Manor had been one of the most powerful forces in the martial underworld of the southwest, while his father, Lou Minzhong, had been a renowned scholar throughout the Sichuan region. The two worlds seemed to have nothing in common, yet the blade-wielding Liu Dabiao and Fang La, who headed the Manichaean sect, were close friends, and Lou Minzhong at the time was already one of the sect’s senior figures. The people of the southwest were known for their fierce, uninhibited temperament; his father, though traveling about with the bearing of a great scholar, was in truth also a formidable martial figure in his own right, and the two families had long been on good terms.
At the time, matters of the Manichaean sect, the martial underworld, and rebellion held little relevance for Lou Jingzhi, who had only just come of age. Coming from a long line of scholars, at sixteen he already showed outstanding talent in poetry and prose, and under his father’s protection, could fairly be called both accomplished and elegant in bearing. He knew, of course, that his family was involved with the heretical sect, even with rebellion itself, but he never thought much of it—no matter how serious the matter, he was confident he would be able to handle it in time.
What drew his attention most at the time boiled down to three things: girls, girls, and girls. And given his qualities at the time, winning over any girl was effortless. Courtesans without exception looked on him with favor; daughters of good families were smitten with him as well; even women of the martial world, on occasion, admired him greatly—though we shouldn’t judge him too harshly for this, since he was not a man given to debauchery; he was simply, as a young man newly come of age, rather enjoying the feeling, which was only human nature after all.
Handsome and talented as he was, whenever he spoke, people listened attentively; the slightest hint of humor, and they would smile and giggle behind their sleeves. The first time he saw this girl, in his imagination, he had more or less expected the same kind of scene. He hadn’t given much thought, at the time, to what he might want with her—only that he felt some fondness for her, and knowing their families were old friends, his first greeting had been: “Hello there, you must be little Xigua. I’m your Brother Jingzhi.” The girl had glanced at him once, decided he must be a guest and thus not someone to be cut down, sheathed her blade, and walked off.
It was not long before he learned this girl had a particular dislike for her own name. For years afterward he would wonder whether that opening line had ruined everything—girls, after all, tended to hold grudges. At other times he thought that, since her father had casually given her a name like “Watermelon,” plenty of people over the years must have carelessly called her by it—so why would she hold it against him specifically? Most likely, he reasoned, it was because she secretly harbored feelings for him and simply couldn’t bring herself to say so.
By the time he had grown certain that he was truly, deeply fond of this ever-maturing young girl, Lou Jingzhi would often find himself thinking along these very lines.
Naturally, the two of them did not remain limited to that one greeting. In the time since, he had made many attempts to strike up conversation or show his favor, but her attitude never went beyond the polite courtesy one showed to an “elder brother from a friendly family.” He had always considered himself a good talker, capable of holding forth easily in nearly any setting. But imagine someone who, in every other setting, had only to open his mouth for people to listen closely, nodding along or laughing—and yet, facing this one woman, no matter what he said, all he ever got in return was polite deflection. Given enough time, he inevitably began to feel embarrassed by it.
During this period, he once heard from his father that, when he and Liu Xigua had both been children, his father had at one point intended to arrange a betrothal between the two of them. This had seemed, at the time, almost certain to happen—however formidable the Liu family was, they were, after all, only martial folk, and to be able to match their daughter with a son-in-law from the Lou family would surely have delighted them. But after various twists and turns, the matter never came to pass. The two families, however, did not turn against each other over it—the main reason being that Liu Dabiao treated her daughter as she would an only son, and was unwilling to decide the girl’s fate for her from the very start. Though the world at the time still held to the principle that marriages were arranged by parents and matchmakers, Liu Dabiao’s manner was bold and unconventional, and since she loved this daughter above all else, his own father, in the end, could only accept her decision with understanding.
The two families continued to visit each other often afterward, though the friendship between Lou Jingzhi and the girl made no further progress. On the eve of the Manichaean sect’s uprising, Liu Dabiao was killed by agents of the imperial government, and little Xigua inherited the family estate—yet she still called herself Liu Dabiao. Lou Jingzhi felt he could understand this: the girl had taken up her father’s burden, meaning to carry his name forward, and this had never really been a burden of her own choosing. It made sense, too—what woman would truly want to step into the public eye, scheming and vying against others, if she had any choice in the matter?
Then the Manichaean sect rose in secret rebellion, his father answered the call, and the Overlord Blade Manor joined in as well—giving the two of them far more occasion to meet. If their feelings for one another had truly run deep, he could simply have gone to her and said: “Let me carry your burden for you. Marry into the Lou family, and the Overlord Blade Manor can still bear the Liu name—I’ll manage it well on your behalf.” He had every confidence he could do it. Unfortunately, since the two of them remained nothing more than “friends of the family,” all he could do was speak with her from time to time, hinting at his feelings through indirect means.
Yet for some reason, what felt to him like entirely sincere attempts at communication never seemed to work, time after time. In the end, he could only conclude that, being a woman, she was simply too innocent and slow to pick up on such things—which, if anything, only made him fonder of her. Eventually, he decided to try something stronger, to make her genuinely consider the matter, and through a series of subtle maneuvers, let word spread that the two of them had once had a betrothal arranged between their families.
At that time, the circle within the rebel army’s inner ranks was still quite small; he and Fang La and the others essentially lived under the same roof, and even the tents, when pitched, were never far apart from one another. Little Xigua commanded the Overlord Blade Battalion, but after her father’s death, the one who truly looked out for her was, by and large, Fang La himself. Within only a few days of the rumor spreading, people above were already saying the two of them made a perfect match of talent and beauty, and he knew that Fang La and the others had even begun considering matchmaking them.
But it was at a banquet not long after this that the girl—by then already veiled and no longer taking much part in gatherings—had suddenly burst into the camp, drawn her overlord blade, and swung it straight at him. Had his father not reacted swiftly, drawing his sword to block the blow, and had Fang La and Fang Qifo not both been present at the time, he might well have been cut clean in two that very day.
After that incident, even Fang La and the others no longer dared to ask about how she felt toward him. Fortunately, his father continued to look after the Overlord Blade Battalion afterward, so that when he next faced the girl, things were not quite so awkward. For a long time, many things had remained a puzzle to him—he could never quite understand why the girl had always held this particular attitude toward him. Looking back now, he could only conclude that, having never before faced any real setback, he had spoken and acted with far too much presumption; his overtures during that period had likely gone too far, provoking real resentment on her part.
He knew well enough that any possibility between himself and the girl was likely slim now, yet he still told himself that everything might still be salvageable—after all, since that incident, she had never again drawn her blade against him. Everything could still be mended, and she could still come to see his true worth. Especially whenever he saw her, this feeling would rise up in him unbidden. Today, having wandered around outside for a while, he had finally tracked her down here, and, feigning surprise, had come over to chat.
“You didn’t have to handle it yourself, you know. Why put yourself through this… and there’s Uncle Qi, too…”
As one of the figures closer to the inner circle of Fang La’s organization, Lou Jingzhi, though he held no official post, understood a great many things others were not privy to. The friendship between the Qi family and the Liu family had always been close; that Liu Xigua had personally carried out this act, no one could say how much inner struggle it must have cost her. Lou Jingzhi let out a sigh, an air of world-weariness settling over him—but the moment he finished speaking, the girl gave him an odd look, then went back to quietly eating. Ning Liheng, not knowing the history between them, simply resumed eating on his own, since she had invited him to sit.
Lou Jingzhi smiled. “Ever since we entered the city, I’ve had nothing much to do, just going through the motions over at the Hanlin Academy. I hear your Overlord Blade Battalion’s been…”
Old friends meeting, chatting idly about this and that—but before he could finish, the girl raised her head. “It’s already so late. Isn’t Brother Jingzhi planning to head back? Uncle Minzhong will be looking for you.”
There was, in these few words, something of the demure, refined manner typical of a well-bred young lady, and Ning Liheng, seeing this side of her for the first time, watched with some amusement. Lou Jingzhi looked at her for a long moment before finally letting out a sigh. “I have my household guards with me—nothing will happen. Dabiao, though my own skill in martial arts isn’t especially great, I can still tell that you seem to have taken some internal injury. Uncle Qi was extraordinarily skilled—there’s no way you came through unscathed. I only mean this out of concern, only…”
He worked hard to make clear the purity of his intentions, and it did come across as sincere enough. Liu Dabiao seemed rather worn down by his manner; she drew a breath, then simply said, “Go on, then.”
Lou Jingzhi sat there, head lowered, thinking for a few seconds, then looked up at Ning Liheng. He was, of course, aware that if he left, Ning Liheng would be the only one left here with her. He had never given Ning Liheng much thought before—within Fang La’s ranks, if anyone might truly have some connection to Liu Dabiao, most people would have named, aside from himself, only that brute-strength Chen Fan; however impressive Ning Liheng might be, he could hardly be mentioned in the same breath as Chen Fan. But now, he found himself unable to help considering the possibility all the same. Ning Liheng let out something of a sigh and cupped his hands in a gesture more befitting a subordinate before his lord.
At this point, Lou Jingzhi finally rose to his feet—but after a moment’s hesitation, one of his household guards leaned in and murmured something in his ear. He glanced once at the girl, then sat back down, his gaze this time resolute. “No—you’re already injured, and instead of returning to the Overlord Blade Battalion, you’re sitting out here alone. What exactly are you planning to do? I don’t know if there’s any danger involved, but if my father learns of this, he certainly won’t let me simply walk away and leave you here.”
The girl looked at him this time, seeming almost startled for a moment, blinking before slowly saying, “Brother Jingzhi, Master Ning is here too—I’m discussing matters with people from the Manor, I’m not alone. Though…” She fell silent for a moment. “I am, in fact, waiting for someone. I’d rather hoped they wouldn’t come…”
With a crash, a long spear flew in from the side, pinning one of the household guards who had come with Lou Jingzhi against the wall.
The turn of events came so suddenly that even Ning Liheng was momentarily stunned. In the next instant, figures appeared abruptly out of the dark street; ahead of several household guards, a spear point thrust out of the darkness, glinting with cold light, the rush of cutting wind descending from above.
Ning Liheng, still seated, flipped himself backward at once—his martial skill was, by now, far beyond what it had once been, and the retreat was swift and clean. In his field of vision, the girl was still seated there; with a backhand strike, her fist, wrapped in her sleeve, slammed into a wooden post supporting the awning to the side. The canopy came crashing down at an angle, with Lou Jingzhi still sitting beneath it, dazed.
Landing, then leaping up, Ning Liheng looked up to see the figure descending from above, spear thrust ahead of him, land within the collapsing canopy—splinters exploded outward as though from a blast. Liu Dabiao had already hauled Lou Jingzhi up and rushed forward, flinging him down beside Ning Liheng, then turned to stand guard in front, both hands clutching the long wooden box to her chest—looking, for all the world, like some elegant lady cradling a guqin.
Blood sprayed across the street—the sudden spear had already run two of the household guards clean through, one through the skull, the other through the chest. Having landed his strike, the attacker retreated swiftly into the darkness, his outline barely visible, moving quickly. The figure who had exploded the awning sank down amid the flying splinters, then with a flick of his spear tip, retreated explosively in the opposite direction, while at the same moment, someone else rushed swiftly toward the rear of Ning Liheng’s group.
There seemed to be only three or four attackers, yet they had already formed something like an encirclement. Lou Jingzhi, bracing himself against the wall to stand, heard Ning Liheng say one word: “Soul-Seeking Spear…” Having been in Hangzhou this long, he had indeed heard members of the Overlord Blade Battalion mention that the Qi family’s hereditary technique was called the Soul-Seeking Spear—though since Qi Yuankang himself had already been beheaded by Liu Dabiao, the man attacking here now was clearly not him. His mind raced, and abruptly he understood the reason the girl had been waiting here.
He really had… walked right into the middle of this. No wonder she’d tried to send him off at the start—he’d completely misread the situation, just like Lou Jingzhi had.
Only six household guards remained, closing in to guard around them, while out of the darkness, a young man revealed himself—around twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, tall and powerfully built, half his body covered in blood, fresh cuts on his face and hands. This was the assassin who had dropped down from atop the awning earlier; he now held a long spear in hand, looking at them. “Liu Xigua, Lou Jingzhi—you know why I’ve come.”
Lou Jingzhi looked at him, evidently recognizing him. “Qi… Qi Xinyong. You… why haven’t you fled? What are you doing here?”
“Why should I flee, when I’ve done nothing wrong? Liu Xigua—sending everyone else away like this—are you prepared to die?”
Beneath the pale moonlight, the wind stirred the hem of the girl’s skirt. She stood there holding the wooden box, showing little reaction, looking at him for a long moment before finally speaking. “I had hoped you wouldn’t come tonight. If, someday, you’re able to regroup your forces and come charging back, I’ll meet you again then, as leader of the Overlord Blade Battalion. What happened with the Qi family was the result of others’ power games—I can’t say who was right or wrong in it, but killing Uncle Qi has left me grieving all the same. I wanted you to leave—but since you’ve come for revenge, I suppose I owe you this chance.”
She drew a breath, lowering her eyes. “Wine beneath the spring peach blossoms, a lamp burning through ten years of rivers and lakes at night… My father used to say, matters of the rivers and lakes are settled within the rivers and lakes. What happened to Uncle Qi—call that a matter of the realm. What happens between us now, let’s call that a matter of the rivers and lakes. Brothers of the Qi family, I’ve never truly walked the paths of the martial world, but tonight I’m willing to face you all myself, alone. I won’t hold back. If you can kill me, I’ll have no complaint. If you can’t, then please, do your best to escape while you still can, and may fortune favor you…”