The autumn wind swept leaves running along the streets within the city of Bian Liang; some of them fell into the canal beside the road, sending out faint ripples. Yu Hezhong, who had run into Chen Sifeng, chatted idly with him up in a tavern, their eyes now and then drifting to a married couple on the road below.

A young scholar in a blue robe, and a lovely woman in white, walked side by side, speaking quietly to each other — they looked, at a glance, like a young married couple deeply in love. But Yu Hezhong recognized the scholar, and so he also knew that the woman beside him was, in fact, only a concubine.

Autumn was deepening, though the weather had not yet turned cold, and there were still many people out on the streets of Bian Liang. Catching a fleeting glimpse of this couple, Yu Hezhong’s thoughts were hard to put into words. He was in the middle of chatting with Chen Sifeng, and his train of thought broke off for a moment as the thought “he’s back” flashed through his mind — but he quickly picked the conversation back up with Chen Sifeng.

Chen Sifeng knew the scholar on the street too, but for some reason Yu Hezhong did not point him out. The two of them were childhood friends, though since coming to Bian Liang, most of the contact between them had come through Shishi. By now both had families of their own and held minor official posts in the capital, and they did not see each other often — today’s meeting was something of a chance encounter. But even so, their conversation kept circling back around to small, everyday matters until, once they had talked their fill, one of them would casually bring it up.

“…Her turning down Zhou Bangyan this summer was already a bit strange.”

“…Shishi’s thoughts have never been easy to guess.”

“…Plenty of people have proposed to her recently, and she’s turned them all down. Could she be thinking of becoming a nun?”

“…Not entirely impossible, I suppose.”

The two of them shook their heads and sighed, then turned the topic elsewhere for a while. Chen Sifeng said, “Her relationship with Liheng is different from the others, though.”

“Liheng is too formidable — the things he does, neither of us could ever get involved in. It makes sense that Shishi would go to him whenever she has something on her mind.”

“Do you think Shishi wants to marry him?”

Chen Sifeng’s question was casual, and Yu Hezhong laughed just as casually. “Liheng may be formidable, but between the two of them — it doesn’t seem like that.”

“Mm, his wife at home is quite formidable too.” Chen Sifeng nodded.

“Oh?”

“The one called Su Tan’er. Liheng hasn’t been in the capital lately, and she’s been managing the Bamboo House business herself. I heard she went head to head with Zuo Houwen once, and in the end someone stepped in and it ended in a draw between the two sides. I don’t know the details, but afterward a lot of other messy affairs got dug up as well.”

Chen Sifeng held a higher official rank in the capital than Yu Hezhong, a minor clerk of the Ministry of Revenue, and knew more of the inside details. He shook his head now. “I heard when Liheng and his wife first came to the capital, Zuo Houwen had already been suppressing her family’s cloth business. And now, in just a year’s time, the two sides can already go head to head directly — and that’s with Liheng not even in the capital. That woman — she doesn’t look very old, and she’s already the mother of a two-year-old — but in truth, she’s not someone to be trifled with.”

“So if Shishi really did marry into the Ning family, that would make for quite a show.”

“Like you said, it doesn’t seem likely — I don’t think Shishi would be so unwise.”

As the two of them spoke of this, both kept an air of calm and ease, though only they themselves knew how they truly felt after saying it. Before long, the two, having met by chance, agreed to meet again someday and went their separate ways. Chen Sifeng left first; only once he was gone did Yu Hezhong come down from the tavern.

He sighed, and walked on for a while, heading toward Fan Tower. Along the road were all sorts of passersby. The Ning Yi and his concubine Yun Zhu he had seen earlier were nowhere to be seen now, nor did he know where Chen Sifeng had gone either — nor, in truth, did he know himself what he would even do once he got to Fan Tower.

A while back, he had found a chance to propose to Shishi himself. The impulse behind it had come partly from a moment’s rashness, and partly from a fixation he had carried for years — but the moment he had spoken, he already knew there could be no favorable answer. Shishi’s refusal had been gentle, careful of his feelings, not humiliating in the least — and yet… everything had slipped away, along with the autumn, never to return…

Over all these years, from once being full of youthful spirit to now, having settled down, married, and had children — life was not exactly interesting, but at least there had still been Shishi. He, Chen Sifeng, and the others had grown up together at her side, gathered together, celebrated together — even after marrying, as long as such gatherings still happened, life could not be said to be entirely without color. And yet, everything comes to an end.

Beside his dull wife and child, he could never find the feeling he found at Fan Tower — and most of all, he could never find the feeling he found beside Shishi. But these past two years, it had become increasingly clear that Shishi would, in the end, have to marry. Once she left, everything, he feared, would vanish like a flower in a mirror, a moon on the water — leaving nothing behind.

By then, what would be left to prove that the person he once was had ever existed at all?

He stood outside Fan Tower for a while, and as he tilted his head up slightly, cold raindrops began falling on his face.

Truly, a fine, cold autumn indeed…

…

Autumn rain came suddenly, falling over Bian Liang, drizzling steadily through the whole night. By the next morning, the rain clouds still hung over the sky, dimming the light throughout the city. When Shishi arrived at the Ning residence, some of the rooms in the courtyard were still lit, their lamplight looking damp and warm through the curtain of rain.

The one who received her was Su Tan’er. As the senior wife of the household, at first glance she gave off little sense of pressure. In build, she was a touch shorter than Yun Zhu; her hair was done up in a plain married woman’s bun, her autumn skirt a pale blue trimmed with flowers, her hands lightly clasped and resting on either leg. Generally speaking, clasped hands together tend to give an air of keeping others at a distance, but held apart like this, she seemed unguarded, soft, even somewhat youthful.

But Shishi still remembered — the first few times she had seen her, she had not been like this. She had gone alone to Fan Tower to discuss business with Madam Li while Ning Yi was away, holding her own with perfect composure. She had managed to hold the line against Zuo Houwen in the maneuvering over Bamboo House’s affairs. Once, when Shishi had gone out of the city to pray, she had seen her outside Daxing Temple, crouched on the ground, holding out a hand for the child named Ning Xi to run to her — her figure was not plump, in places even as slight as a young girl’s, her smile warm and gentle — but Shishi knew that this woman carried real strength within her.

But at this moment, she had put all of that away. Perhaps it was because Ning Yi had already come home… she must know by now what had happened.

“…Liheng went to the Chancellor’s residence first thing this morning, but there shouldn’t be too much to deal with today, he should be back soon. It’s pouring rain now — Miss Shishi, please stay here and wait for him a while.”

Amid the warm lamplight and the enveloping autumn rain, this was what Tan’er said, and then had tea and refreshments brought out…

At the Chancellor’s residence, in the study, Ning Yi met with Qin Siyuan, Yao Zunian, Ji Kun and the others, exchanging greetings.

“…That fellow named Luo Jinyan, once thrown in prison, took his own life out of guilt, they say. I must say, Liheng, you really did see this one coming with Qin Hui…”

The topic began with idle chatter, and once it was said, no one’s mood seemed to lift much — each face showed complicated expressions, some silent, some giving a faint, cold smile. After a while, Qin Siyuan laughed.

“Whatever the case, Liheng is back at last. Sit, everyone, sit — there’s a great pile of things accumulated, let’s discuss them all…”

The rolling rain clouds stretched on and on, crossing a thousand li of land, to a small town called Qin Kou south of here, where rain was falling, yellow leaves piled up across the ground.

Blood flowed in the water, and was quickly diluted away. In the morning, in the rain-swept street, a figure with a bundle on his back stood there, facing a green-canopied sedan chair carried by four men at the far end of the street.

The long bundle held with one hand behind his back showed the gleam of blades within — knives, spears, swords, halberds, all manner of weapons peeking their edges out. Not far off, along the street wall, a woman bearing a pair of mandarin-duck twin blades on her back walked slowly across the earthen wall.

This was one of the strongholds of the Great Brightness Sect.

“Chen Fan.” From within the green-canopied sedan, an old woman’s voice slowly spoke the name. “You truly are tired of living.”

“Sikong Nan.” In the rain, the man named Chen Fan faced this female grandmaster, famous in the martial world for decades, and spoke with a smile. “You once said it yourself — in the martial world, each new generation buries the last. You may be mistaken about one thing, though — my wife and I were not the ones ambushed by you. This time, we came specifically for you… to avenge our master.”

“Fang Qifo…” Sikong Nan spoke the name. “You seek revenge for him? Do you think your skill is sufficient?”

“I don’t know,” said Chen Fan, walking forward with the bundle on his back. “But you are already old, and I am still young… I will not give you the chance to die of old age.”

His footsteps splashed through the standing water, the atmosphere around them already congealing into something grim and deadly. Chen Fan’s clothes were already soaked through by the rain, yet beneath them his frame, well-proportioned and vigorous, seemed steadier and more resolute with every step he took. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, right, there’s something I feel I should tell you. My master used to mention, now and then, taking over leadership of the Manichaean sect. He rarely spoke of you, but on the occasions he did, I always felt his feelings toward you were strange. I think he was fond of you. That’s a matter between you two of the old generation — the Sacred Lord is already gone, my master is gone, and you are about to go too — but before you’re in the ground, I still felt it worth telling you.”

The sedan chair fell silent for a moment.

“Though now that I think of it, my master’s taste really wasn’t very good. Because the last time I saw you, I wanted to say — old hag, you really are ugly as sin—”

A furious roar rang out. The instant the bundle on his back was hurled forward with all his strength, a figure burst from within the green-canopied sedan: “Insolence—”

The cloth wrapping fell open — knives, spears, swords, halberds, axes, hooks, forks, whips, maces, hammers, war-picks — all manner of weapons flew up into the sky. Sikong Nan’s figure tore through the curtain of rain, smashing through the weapons, and in midair, like some ancient demon’s utterly savage clawing strike, swept down with a howling roar!

Chen Fan had already surged forward as well, catching the first weapon flung toward him. In the next instant, his attack, wild as a furious whirlwind, collided head-on with Sikong Nan…