Night had deepened. The scattered lights along the riverside stretched on unevenly, and most of the city had already fallen asleep.

Atop the Fan Tower, Li Shishi held a lamp, watching the night’s departing guests scatter in different directions. At this hour, those leaving no longer carried the loud clamor of earlier; their numbers had thinned as well. Some left alone through the side door, others in twos and threes, cupping their hands in parting bows and laughing quietly, while servants led out carriages. Little by little, in scattered waves, everyone drifted off toward their own destinations.

The lamplight was dim and faint. She stood at the window for a while. This was not the end of a day at the Fan Tower — many a self-satisfied young scholar, many a disappointed official, still lingered in rooms throughout the tower, keeping company with their favorite girls until the next morning. But tonight, the night had truly grown late.

A returning traveler carrying a lantern crossed through a narrow alley; a night watchman stopped by the roadside as a solitary carriage passed him by. From where she stood, she could see household lights gradually going out one by one, and in the distance came the barking of dogs and the faint murmur of voices too indistinct to make out. An academician’s carriage rolled back toward his residence; a carriage bearing the emblem of the Grand Marshal’s household passed through her line of sight.

She watched all this, then took a sip of tea. It had been a long while since the guests left, and the tea had gone completely cold. Having been raised with the finest upbringing since childhood, she had never much cared for tea like this — bitter with the taste of the leaves, yet also carrying the unmistakable blandness of plain water. Still, she often took a habitual sip out of habit, then covered her lips with her sleeve and lowered her head to spit it out. She walked out the door, and her maid fell into step behind her, accompanying her back toward the inner courtyard.

The girls of the Fan Tower were some who sold their skills, some who sold themselves, and most who did both. It was already late; those staying the night included wealthy patrons who paid simply for pleasure, as well as no small number who might be called the chosen guests of this or that “talented lady.” If one did not look too closely, there were indeed no lack of cases where genuine affection and mutual respect existed between the two parties — money would certainly still be spent, generously so, but on the whole both sides tended to feel it was worthwhile. Stories of gifted scholars and beautiful women abounded in this era, and quite a few women were willing to preserve their chastity for one particular man. Within the Fan Tower, such things were not forbidden — in fact, selling one’s artistic skills commanded a higher price than selling one’s body. Though cases of a couple truly coming together, leaving the register, and marrying in a happy ending were not common, neither were they unheard of, and they were always enough to leave people with hope.

And so, passing through the courtyards below, a few of her fellow girls greeted her along the way. Some had no guests that night and were returning to their rooms or resting outside; others were attending to guests and happened to cross paths with her while closing their doors for the night. Under the rows of lanterns, the atmosphere here felt almost like that of a family. Yet a peaceful surface did not necessarily mean true harmony beneath it. Passing beyond this main courtyard, just as she was about to return to the secluded little courtyard where the reigning beauty of the tower lived, she happened to run into two women — also currently popular girls of the Fan Tower, one named Tang Yue, the other Fu Qiushuang. They exchanged greetings, and then began to needle her with some sarcasm, no doubt envious that Li Shishi was free to go out and visit friends, and that upon her return, men like Xu Dongmo would come scurrying over eagerly to see her.

Li Shishi merely smiled with dignified composure and brushed it off. As they spoke, the night wind carried the sound of crying. Li Shishi frowned slightly; Tang Yue and Fu Qiushuang sneered coldly. The crying came from a girl in the tower named Ling Xuemei, who had once been on fairly good terms with Li Shishi. Recently, it was said, she had fallen for a man and wished to preserve her chastity for him — which in itself would have been nothing unusual. But the man was neither wealthy nor especially talented, and there wasn’t enough money to redeem her. Ling Xuemei had grown resistant even to performing her arts; it was said that when a guest so much as touched her hand, she splashed tea in his face — a grave transgression. For the past two days she had been locked in the dark room and beaten, and it seemed they were on the verge of forcing her to take clients.

“Things have already come to this, and she still can’t see where she stands, still putting on such airs of purity — honestly…” Tang Yue and Fu Qiushuang said this while looking at Li Shishi, clearly with more than a little insinuation behind their words. “Sister Shishi, you wouldn’t happen to sympathize with her, would you?”

Li Shishi smiled and shook her head. “It reminds me of something Mother once said, back when I’d only just arrived at the Fan Tower. I heard someone crying, and Mother told me — that if the sound of it still troubles you, that’s a good sign. But if one day you grow used to hearing it, even take pleasure in another’s misfortune, then you’ll likely never leave this place for the rest of your life… Little sisters, I’ll be heading back to my room now.”

She nodded in parting and turned to leave. As for what was happening over there, she might not approve of it, but it was not hers to interfere with. Such things existed everywhere.

Every place had its own way of surviving.

Compared to the clamor of daytime, the city had gradually sunk into the sleep of night. Even the occasional stir, once it spread beyond a small radius, was swallowed up in the darkness. Within the imperial palace, Emperor Zhou Zhe idly flipped through a stack of name tablets, yawning as he began mulling over what he would say at the next morning’s court session. In the studies of many an official’s residence, lamps still burned; the men beneath those lights rubbed the bridges of their noses and their foreheads and pressed on with their work. In courtyards near and far, occasional rustling sounds could be heard — the prefect was humming a bawdy tune in the room of his newly taken concubine. A carriage entered the Grand Marshal’s residence through the back gate; from one side of the household, a voice shouted: “Lu Qian — I can’t stand it anymore! I’m going to kill you! Get out here—!”

A man named Gao Muen, holding a small knife, dashed wildly about the courtyard of the Grand Marshal’s residence, swearing to kill the martial-arts-skilled nuisance who kept getting in his way, both his words and manner rather comical. Finally, when he ran back once more to the courtyard where he lived, he saw Lu Qian standing quietly by the door. Just as he was about to rush at him, Lu Qian pushed open the door of the room beside him. On the floor inside, a sack was still struggling. Gao Muen’s eyes immediately lit up. “Lu Qian, so you really do love me after all — who is it, who’s this—”

He rushed in and cut the rope binding the sack with his knife. Out came a woman bound with cord. Gao Muen paused, stunned. “Lu Qian! This isn’t who I wanted! I wanted… aaaargh — forget it, she’ll do for now… Little Kitten, girl, I told you I’d find my Little Kitten…”

Lu Qian closed the door. From inside came the sound of laughter, of cloth being torn, and the woman’s despairing sobs muffled by the gag stuffed in her mouth…

The night went on. Stars, moon, and layered thin clouds turned slowly across the sky; the passage of time left no corner untouched. Before dawn, the city gradually began to stir awake — the sounds of people rising, lamps being lit, dogs barking. Mist drifted thin, dew dripped from leaves. Ning Yi got up and did his morning calisthenics out in the courtyard. When he entered the next courtyard over, he found — unusually — Yuan Jin’er already awake early, sitting in thin robes beneath the eaves in a daze, looking languid, seemingly lost in thought. But the moment she saw Ning Yi, she abruptly stood up and walked back to her room, cold as ice. Ning Yi raised a hand, meaning to greet her, but could only purse his lips and give up.

“Lunatic…” he muttered, rubbing his nose.

After breakfast and a short rest, he had to go pay a visit to the Qin residence. Qin Siyuan had to attend the morning court session; Ning Yi’s main purpose was to discuss various matters concerning Liangshan with Cheng Zhouhai and the others. Although he already had some preliminary ideas about how to break into this Shandong affair, Cheng Zhouhai and his people were, after all, the ones who dealt with intelligence day in and day out. Exchanging more with them would be of great benefit in finding gaps to fill in his own plans.

Owing to the courtesy shown him the day before, Qin Siyuan had already alerted the household stewards, so this time when he arrived at the chancellor’s residence, Ning Yi was shown straight in. As he approached the courtyard where Cheng Zhouhai and the others were, he heard voices coming from within.

“What can be done about something like this… it’s a small matter…”

“But they’ve gone completely lawless! If this keeps up… the Grand Marshal’s residence…”

“Do you have witnesses, evidence? What good is guessing — besides, a matter like this…”

Inside, several men were speaking; the one whose voice was loudest and most indignant was Cheng Zhouhai. Yao Zunian and Ji Kun seemed to be trying to talk him down, though they too carried a note of injustice in their tone. Ning Yi shook his head, though he was not particularly surprised — men like these, who dealt constantly with all manner of dark secrets, encountered far more injustice and unfairness than ordinary people did. From the tone of their words, though they clearly recognized the injustice of the matter, and Cheng Zhouhai even cursed aloud over it, there was no real sense that they intended to step forward or do anything about it — more likely, this was simply their habitual way of venting.

When Ning Yi knocked and entered, the three men stopped talking and turned to greet him. Cheng Zhouhai’s face was somewhat dark; he nodded to Ning Yi, then tossed a completed file aside. After the usual pleasantries, it was Cheng Zhouhai who spoke up first: “I hear Liheng ran into that philandering menace yesterday.”

“Mm, nothing serious came of it… Did Young Master Sixteen mention it when he got back?”

As for how Cheng Zhouhai and the others had come to know of this, it was most likely through Qin Shaoyu. Yao Zunian said, “That philandering menace’s ill reputation is well known — plenty in the capital can’t stand him. It’s just that his adoptive father, Gao Qiu, is currently in the emperor’s highest favor, and no one can touch him. There’s nothing to be done about it.”

“Mm, I understand.”

Cheng Zhouhai nodded. “Then that settles it. That Gao Muen may be a mess, but as for anyone with real status and backing, he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on them in the end. Though the Grand Marshal is widely known outside as having only earned imperial favor through his skill at cuju, in truth… he’s no fool. Liheng, you needn’t worry about the safety of those around you. We’ll see to arrangements on our end as well.”

Ning Yi nodded and laughed. In truth, ever since discussing the matter with Qin Shaoyu the day before, he had already put the business of Young Master Gao largely out of his mind. Bianliang was a place with nearly a million people between merchants passing through and permanent residents; with the architectural techniques of this age nowhere near as advanced as those of later times, the built-up area of the entire city was as large as a city of several million in the later world. Even setting aside the surrounding farming villages, the area within the city walls alone was considerable. Running into someone like Young Master Gao once could be called a matter of fate, but running into him again was not something to count on. And besides, what Qin Shaoyu and Cheng Zhouhai said made sense — if Gao Muen truly dared to act recklessly against anyone at all, then even with Grand Marshal Gao Qiu’s great imperial favor, on par with the two chancellors on either side of him, he still wouldn’t be able to protect this adopted son. And setting all that aside — even in places like Jiangning or Hangzhou, this sort of lecher was hardly rare.

“…Harassing women is about the lowest, least respectable thing scoundrels like that do. Still, this Young Master Gao is actually rather amusing.”

Understanding that Cheng Zhouhai and the others meant to put his mind at ease, Ning Yi appreciated the gesture and, wanting to lighten the mood, joked about it with a laugh. But the remark only earned a bitter smile in response. Yao Zunian shook his head — not in disagreement exactly, but clearly with some reservation. “What Liheng says is true enough, but… you’ll understand in time…”

That bitter smile of his was not directed at Ning Yi; before long the subject was dropped and the conversation moved on to other matters. Ning Yi was not omniscient either, and it wasn’t until he returned that evening that he roughly guessed the reason behind that bitter smile. Before that, however, he had rather elegantly, in the manner of a man of refined taste, proposed to Qin Shaoyu, Cheng Zhouhai, Yao Zunian, and the others that they go touring the various pleasure houses together…