By the dark lakeshore, a lone lantern cast its faint glow over the surrounding grass and trees. The woman, hidden in the darkness, watched the scholar humming his tune, rummaging through the grass, before he picked up a large stone, tossed it lightly a couple of times, and, seemingly satisfied, walked back with a contented look.
At one end of the road, the Wulie Army soldiers drew steadily closer; on the other side, constables carrying lanterns patrolled the lakeshore as well, apparently arriving slightly ahead of the soldiers. A knocking sound rang out—the scholar was crouched by the carriage, striking the wheel with the stone, apparently checking something wrong with it. When he tossed the stone aside, dusted off his hands, and stood up, the constables had already drawn close. The woman held her breath. Naturally, the constables approached the scholar first, glancing at the emblem on the carriage before speaking.
“This young master… are you from the Consort’s residence?”
“Something the matter?” the scholar asked mildly, turning his head.
“Er… there’s been an incident in the city just now, and we’re pursuing the culprit. Since you’re not from the Consort’s residence, may we ask why you have this carriage…”
Judging by the scholar’s manner, he was likely someone of standing; the constables kept a respectful tone. The scholar seemed to think it over, then asked, puzzled, “Culprit?”
By now several Wulie Army soldiers had also arrived, and seeing the situation with the carriage, gathered around as well, though a few kept watching warily toward the darkness by the river. The scholar turned to them. “You gentlemen as well?”
“The Wulie Army is pursuing an assassin. What is it you’re asking, young master?” the lead soldier said steadily.
“What exactly happened?”
“There was an assassination attempt in the city just now. The assassin should have fled this way—might you have seen anyone suspicious… Also, if you don’t mind, we’ll need to conduct a routine search.”
“Ha, understood. Go right ahead, gentlemen.” The scholar spread his hands in invitation, then asked, “Was anyone actually killed, then?”
“Where are you returning from, young master?”
“Egret Island, the flower-queen contest. I am Ning Liheng—not actually from the Consort’s residence, merely an acquaintance of His Excellency, so I borrowed his carriage to return to the city ahead of him. His Excellency should still be behind me, returning by pleasure boat. If you gentlemen have your duties to attend to… oh, the steward who arranged this carriage for me is Lu A’Gui of the Consort’s residence—you’re welcome to ask him.”
The soldiers naturally weren’t about to reveal the specifics of what had happened, so they simply asked after the scholar’s background. After checking over the carriage, once they’d heard him out, their manner turned considerably more respectful. The lead soldier bowed. “Our apologies for the disturbance.”
One of the constables spoke up. “Ning Liheng… could this be the same Ning Liheng of ‘When will the bright moon appear’?”
The man clearly carried some weight—both soldiers and constables had already shifted their attitude entirely by this point. The lead soldier lowered his voice slightly. “Just now, at the Xuanling Street crossing, an assassin struck down Commander Song Xian, with dozens of casualties. The assassin is highly skilled and ruthless, and has likely fled toward this area. Please be careful, young master—it would be best to return home as soon as possible.”
Both groups, having their respective duties to attend to, exchanged a few more words before heading off in the same direction, meeting up with another patrol group at the junction ahead, pointing and murmuring among themselves. The scholar waved toward the three groups now converging in the distance, then, in the darkness, was heard to give a faint snort. “Heh. Song Xian…”
Then the scholar climbed back into his carriage and cracked the whip, setting it moving forward once more.
…
The carriage rounded the street corner ahead, moving at a steady pace. Ning Yi lifted the curtain and hooked it in place, looking out at the flickering lights around them. Those returning from the flower-queen contest were passing through this area now as well; a few constables hurried past in the opposite direction, glanced at the open carriage curtain and the emblem on the vehicle, and paid it no further attention.
The crowds had grown considerably by now, and most of those returning from the contest carried at least some measure of standing—thoroughly searching everyone leaving the suspicious central zone would be far too troublesome, and besides, there simply weren’t enough men available for that kind of effort right now. The most they could manage was a strict check on anyone leaving through the city gates.
The bait had presumably been set—whether it would work out came down to luck. According to his own calculations, the assassin’s most likely hiding spot at that moment would have been somewhere near the lakeshore, though the area was fairly large; he’d chosen the location he judged most probable. It was quiet all around, and his voice should carry easily enough, though the range needed covering was fairly wide—the odds of the fish actually taking the bait were still only about thirty percent.
He had no way of knowing whether someone had already boarded the carriage behind him, and no way to check now either—doing so would likely earn him a sword through the head. He kept watch only with his eyes, glancing at the roads on either side of the carriage. There were still people about in this area; if she’d taken the bait, she probably wouldn’t get off here. But ahead, the road toward the academy grew somewhat more secluded—when the stretch on either side was empty of people, he slowed the carriage and decided to speak.
“I have a few words to say—please don’t be too quick to react, brave one. Song Xian was a vicious and arrogant man who stopped at nothing to advance himself. In the autumn of the sixth year of Jinghan, he even fabricated charges against a family in Ermuye Village outside the city, all to seize their land, and got an entire household—old and young alike—killed in the process. This became common knowledge afterward, but with no proof, no one could touch him. I’ve long heard of his misdeeds and have always admired those who walk the path of the wandering hero, the righteous outlaw. If you trust me, brave one, I would gladly lend you my aid…”
The earlier wandering about had merely skirted the edges of danger—nothing too serious. But speaking these words now was truly the real gamble. Of course, combined with certain details from the two prior assassination attempts and the current situation, he was fairly confident the risk had already been minimized as much as possible. Still, for it to have any effect at all, it depended entirely on that thirty percent chance the assassin had actually climbed aboard.
There was no one on the road ahead or behind. Having said his piece, Ning Yi waited for whatever response might come—but for a long while, none did.
Could he have miscalculated?
When a plan couldn’t be executed perfectly, failure was always a possibility—after all, the odds had never been especially favorable from the start. Naturally, there wasn’t much to lose over it either way. As time passed, a faint sense of regret rose in Ning Yi’s chest; he sighed, and was just about to stop the carriage to check beneath it when a dull thud sounded from behind him. His heart gave a sudden jolt; he leapt down, grabbed the lantern, and hurried around—there lay the assassin, wrapped in black cloth, collapsed on the road, already unconscious.
Having thrown everything she had into killing Song Xian even after being surrounded, she’d forced her way through and taken him down against overwhelming odds, sustaining heavy wounds of her own in the process. Ning Yi had glimpsed her earlier still moving with fierce vigor, but the constant fleeing and evading pursuit through the city afterward had inevitably pushed her body to its absolute limit. When she suddenly realized her hiding place had been exposed, she may well have intended to burst out and confront him, but in trying to summon the necessary strength, she’d apparently collapsed into unconsciousness instead. To keep from leaving a trail of blood along the way, the woman had wrapped herself tightly in cloth, still clutched firmly around her body even now. Ning Yi looked at her for a few seconds, then quickly gathered her up in his arms.
There had been several miscalculations, surprises, and unexpected turns along the way, but this particular development was, in truth, a perfect stroke of fortune.
From the very start, the odds of getting the woman into the carriage had never been high, and even once aboard, gaining her trust in such a delicate situation, gradually helping her, laying the groundwork step by step, letting her incur a debt of gratitude, and only then considering negotiation—each stage of that plan carried steadily diminishing odds of success. Yet what had happened now was, in fact, the most ideal outcome imaginable. Simply talking his way into her trust would have been far too unreliable a method; her collapsing unconscious now actually spared him a great deal of the effort that would have followed. All he needed to do was treat her wounds and handle matters on her behalf first—by the time she woke, she’d naturally be in a position to weigh the present circumstances more rationally, with far less suspicion and wariness toward him.
The road wasn’t far from the small courtyard he’d rented near the academy; rounding the corner ahead would bring him right to the gate. Ning Yi checked his surroundings, then opened the door and carried the black-robed woman inside. The outer room served as his laboratory space, while the inner room held a small storage area—not much in it yet, though a bed and chair, left behind by the previous occupant, were already there. Ning Yi laid the woman down on the bed, then went back outside to check for any suspicious traces, before returning to search for medicine for her wounds.
He had various common remedies for cuts and bruises, bandages, and the like on hand already, prepared in case of injury during his experiments. He also grabbed a needle and thread, and lit a crude alcohol lamp fashioned from a porcelain bottle—since he’d needed a small distillation apparatus to help Nie Yunzhu with her food business, he’d already managed to produce a small quantity of alcohol as a byproduct. Carrying the lamp, he pushed open the door to the inner room and had barely taken a step inside when a cold blade flashed out, pressed against his throat.
That was fast for someone waking up…
Ning Yi stood perfectly still, lamp still in hand, silently grumbling to himself. Ahead, the woman leaned against the wall, gripping the sword, staring at him coldly. His words in the carriage must have had some effect after all—she didn’t seem to have any intention of killing him outright. After a moment, she asked, “What do you want?”
“Medicine for your wounds.” Ning Yi raised the small bundle in his right hand, slowly setting it down on the small table in front of him, and opened it up. “Light.” He said this as he set down the alcohol lamp as well, then raised both hands. “I’m here to treat your injuries.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Judge for yourself.”
The woman reached out, picked up one of the small medicine packets, sniffed it, glanced at Ning Yi, then tossed it aside; she opened a porcelain bottle, examined it, tossed that aside too. In the process, she finally lowered the sword in her hand slowly. After a moment: “What’s this fishhook for?”
“A needle. To stitch your wounds.”
“Stitch… the wounds?”
“Yes, sewing the wound shut. It heals faster that way.”
The woman gave him an odd look. “Get out.”
Then, after a moment, she added, “Stay in the outer room only. If you try to leave, or pull any tricks, I’ll come out and kill you at once!”
“I’ll heat some water for you.”
This woman presumably had better medicine of her own, and likely wasn’t willing to let him handle her wounds directly anyway. Ning Yi nodded and stepped back out the door, then smiled and shook his head. Whatever else happened, the first step was done.
“I’m Ning Yi, courtesy name Liheng. And you, miss?”
And so, keeping up his gentle, unassuming manner, he began chattering away, trying to build a rapport…