The sound of light footsteps echoed from the distant alley, growing closer as they skillfully avoided all the potholes and puddles before coming to a stop outside the Ying family's door.
A slender, supple waist bent down, deftly picking up the oil lamp from the ground, its loop hooked onto a finger. The flickering light and shadow cast from outside into the small courtyard revealed a figure waiting in the deep of night.
Ying Xiaoman, her eyes curved in a smile, called out to the courtyard, "Mother, I'm home!"
The courtyard gate opened from the inside, but instead of her adoptive mother, a tall young man greeted her.
A pair of clear, moist eyes with slightly upturned corners reflected the warm glow of the oil lamp. The Young Master of the West Room stood by the door, smiling as he replied, "Welcome back."
Ying Xiaoman was startled, "Why is it you?"
"Madam is in the room watching over the youngest child. She was worried about you walking at night, so she asked me to keep an eye on the oil lamp by the door."
"Oh, alright."
The night watchman illuminating the way had changed. The Young Master of the West Room stood at the courtyard gate, in the same spot where her adoptive mother usually waited each night. But being taller, he had to slightly lower his head to avoid hitting the doorframe. He took the oil lamp from her hand, then her conical hat and waterproof oilcloth coat.
With each item he took, Ying Xiaoman snuck a glance, suppressing the strange feeling in her heart.
Just as her adoptive mother would do, the Young Master of the West Room hung the conical hat and oilcloth coat on the courtyard wall. Ying Xiaoman unconsciously paused, waiting for him to finish.
They walked towards the main hall together.
Noticing her preoccupied look, the Young Master of the West Room asked, "Did something not go well at the new residence today?"
"The new place was fine. As long as you're willing to pay, everything goes smoothly." Recalling the half string of cash collected by the officials, Ying Xiaoman's heart ached.
On her way back, she hadn't quite made up her mind. But as they chatted while walking side by side into the main hall, she felt she could bring it up.
"Have you heard of a place in the capital called the Ghost Market?"
The young man beside her reacted slightly, "I've heard of it. It's not a stable place, with many disputes over transactions. Officials often go there to patrol and clean up."
"I'm not afraid of disputes. But I heard from a broker that almost no young ladies go to the Ghost Market. If I go alone to negotiate deals, I'll stand out too much. I'm afraid someone might follow me home. It would be better to bring a few people along."
As she spoke, Ying Xiaoman took out an oiled paper for keeping accounts from the room, ready to mark off the debt right then and there.
"If you accompany me to the Ghost Market, I won't charge you for food and drink for the next three days. How about that?"
The Young Master of the West Room's almond-shaped eyes narrowed slightly as he raised his hand to stop her. "I've told you before, Miss Ying, I owe you a life debt that I can never fully repay. Leave the debt as it is. I'll accompany you to the Ghost Market."
Ying Xiaoman was surprised and touched. She put away the oiled paper and exclaimed admiringly, "You're actually quite a decent person."
*
The Ghost Market outside Wazi Gate had strict opening times. Before dawn or after dusk, always choosing times when buyers and sellers couldn't clearly see each other's faces.
At the fourth watch of the night, Ying Xiaoman's cloth shoes were dampened by dew as she walked to the city wall at Wazi Gate.
Unwilling to spend money on a donkey cart, she had set out at the third watch, walking all the way from Tongluo Alley. Fortunately, the Young Master of the West Room knew the way, skillfully guiding her without taking any wrong turns. They barely made it in an hour.
Finding a random three-foot patch of flat ground, she spread out a black cloth. Placing an exquisite cold jade-colored ivory fan on the black cloth, Ying Xiaoman turned and asked, "Is the item eye-catching enough?"
It was more than eye-catching.
Since Ying Xiaoman had entered the Ghost Market, dozens of gazes from buyers and sellers around had been fixed on her, following her every move.
This was a lawless place where deals were made by mutual agreement, without going through officials or drawing up contracts. It was usually for selling goods, but it wasn't uncommon for people who couldn't be traded openly to be brought here and sold.
How dare a young lady of only about ten years old come to such a place? Wasn't she afraid of being snatched away as merchandise?
The Young Master of the West Room gently pulled her aside, gesturing for her to move to an area right next to the city wall of Wazi Gate.
"That area is closer to the city gate. The official patrol routinely comes around the bend of the wall there, so there are fewer troublemakers in that spot."
Ying Xiaoman looked around and saw that indeed, there weren't many people by the city wall, just a scattered few stalls.
"There may be fewer troublemakers there, but there are also fewer buyers."
"Today, among dozens of stalls, you're the only young lady. Anyone passing by will be curious and take a second look."
His reasoning made sense. Ying Xiaoman immediately moved to set up her stall in the new location.
The white ivory fan placed on the black cloth seemed to glow in the night. Soon, a buyer came over to examine the craftsmanship and quality.
Buyers wandering the Ghost Market at the fourth watch all concealed their faces, some wrapped in cloaks, others wearing conical hats.
"This fan is quite nice," said a man who stopped by the stall, wearing a hood that covered most of his face.
From his voice, the newcomer sounded quite young. He wore a high-quality robe with floral patterns and gold threads, a jade-hooked belt, and black leather boots. Some young master from an unknown family, he skillfully opened and closed the ivory fan a few times, smiling as he asked, "How much are you asking for this, young lady?"
Ying Xiaoman, her face well-hidden behind her conical hat, crouched on the ground without standing up: "Fixed price, ten strings of cash."
"Ten strings is quite cheap. You couldn't get such a good fan anywhere else. However," the hooded young master teased, "the cheaper it is, the more suspicious. This exquisitely carved ivory fan — I'm afraid its origin might not be entirely legitimate, right?"
Before he could finish speaking, Ying Xiaoman abruptly stood up, snatched the ivory fan from the young master's hand, and placed it back on the black cloth.
"If you're not buying, then leave. Stop wasting my time."
"Oh my!" The young master was stunned for a moment, then suddenly laughed.
"You've got quite a temper, young lady. I didn't say I wouldn't buy it. What's this? Did I hit a nerve, and now you're angry? Let me take a look at this young lady with a voice as clear as pearls and jade, but a nasty temper. Are you a beauty or a shrew?" As he spoke, he reached out to lift her conical hat.
Ying Xiaoman, still crouching, tilted her head to avoid his reaching hand. She shot him a sharp glance, then reached for the heavy cloth bundle she had brought with her, placing it in front of her and beginning to untie its tight knot.
The Young Master of the West Room had already stepped forward, shielding her behind him and raising his hand to block the frivolous gesture.
"Sir, please show some respect."
The young master was still smiling, "Bringing a young lady to the Ghost Market, may I ask, good sir, are you here to sell fans or people? Or perhaps both the fan and the person together? We've all seen the quality of the fan, but as for the young lady's appearance, we haven't yet seen—"
"The young lady is the seller. According to Ghost Market rules, if you lift her hat here, you'll be breaking the market's code," the Young Master of the West Room said languidly. "Third Son of Assistant Minister Mo from the Ministry of War, Mo Heyan, Third Son Mo, is this your first time at the Ghost Market?"
Third Son Mo was startled when his identity was suddenly exposed. He stumbled back two steps, instinctively raising his hand to cover his hood. "Who are you?!"
A muffled thud sounded nearby.
Ying Xiaoman had finally untied the stubborn knot, opening the heavy bundle and taking out its contents, tossing them onto the stall.
Cold light glinted in the moonlight.
It was a fearsome iron claw with five talons spread wide, complete with a leather holster!
As the shocked onlookers watched, Ying Xiaoman slipped the iron claw onto her right hand, testing its fit and flexing it a couple of times. Once she was sure it was secure, she lashed out with the claw.
In the dark night, it was as if a bolt of white lightning flashed. Too quick to dodge.
Third Son Mo's hood, which had been shielding his face, shredded into several pieces of cloth that fluttered to the ground in the wind. His hand, which had been trying to hold the hood, was still suspended in midair, revealing a face pale with shock in the darkness.
After a moment of stunned silence, he stiffly raised his hand to feel his face. Thankfully, it was unscathed.
"You look human, but you don't speak like one," Ying Xiaoman muttered under her breath, then raised her voice, "Are you buying a fan or not? If not, then leave. Try to lift my conical hat again, and I'll introduce your face to my claw."
Third Son Mo's expression remained blank with shock for a moment before he remembered to make threats, "You'll pay for this!" He turned and left quickly.
"He's gone," the Young Master of the West Room watched the figure hurry away, then turned back to examine the weapon. "Impressive iron claw. An heirloom from your father?"
Ying Xiaoman struggled to undo the leather straps, putting the iron claw back in the bundle. "Yes. My father always took this pair of claws when he went hunting in the mountains. They were very useful..." As she spoke, she suddenly realized something was amiss.
"I never told you about that. How did you guess it was from my father? Did my mother tell you?"
The Young Master of the West Room neither confirmed nor denied, instead changing the subject with a gentle sigh, "Your mother is proud of you and your father. She often speaks of the stories of your father taking you hunting in the mountains, praising you both with every word, remembering him in every sentence."
Ying Xiaoman felt a pang in her heart, her eyes immediately welling up with tears. "Mother never speaks of it in front of me."
The Young Master of the West Room thoughtfully handed her a cloth. Ying Xiaoman took it and wiped away her tears, listening as he said, "These iron claws have made quite an impression today. The next time you come to the ghost market, no one will dare to cause trouble in front of you. Let's pack up the fans and go. It's time to leave."
Ying Xiaoman looked up at the sky in surprise.
It was the beginning of the fourth watch, the night sky pitch black without a moon, only a few scattered stars—the perfect time for setting up stalls in the ghost market.
But indeed, many nearby stalls had begun to pack up, and the buyers gathered along the city wall were gradually dispersing.
"Why are we leaving so early?" she asked, puzzled. "We just arrived, and I heard the ghost market usually stays open until the fifth watch, just before dawn."
"Usually, it does last until the fifth watch. But today is an exception." The Young Master of the West Room pointed in the direction Third Son Mo had left. "Third Son Mo left harboring a grudge, heading straight for the Wazi Gate—there's a nine in ten chance he's gone to fetch the guards. If we don't leave now, are we waiting for the guards to come and raid the ghost market?"
Ying Xiaoman was startled. She quickly packed the ivory fan into her bundle and began to gather up the black cloth she had used for her stall.
"What grudge does Third Son Mo have? He was the one who tried to lift my hat first. I only tore his hood with my claw in response. Is that enough to hold a grudge?"
The cloth was covered in mud, so they both crouched by the stall, lifting the edges to shake off the dirt.
As they shook, the Young Master of the West Room explained, "You overestimate the temperament of the capital's young masters. Third Son Mo's identity was exposed first, and then he lost face in public. For him, it's a complete loss of dignity, a great humiliation."
Suddenly, the scattered buyers and sellers of the ghost market all quickened their pace in unison. Several voices shouted, "Not good," "They're coming," "Run!"
The sound of running footsteps came from the south side of the Wazi Gate city wall. The ground trembled slightly—there must have been over a hundred people approaching.
Ying Xiaoman was still frantically stuffing the black cloth into her bundle when the Young Master of the West Room picked up the bundle and pulled her along. "We'll tie it later, let's get out of here first."
Ying Xiaoman stumbled in the pitch-black night, "Which way do we go?"
"Away from the city wall, north!"
The two of them ran wildly through the dimly starlit night, clutching their bundles.
Ying Xiaoman panted, "The guards—they got here so quickly!"
The Young Master of the West Room didn't seem particularly surprised. "There's a Fire Watch Tower just three hundred paces inside the Wazi Gate, with over a hundred patrol officers from the Cavalry and Infantry Command stationed nearby. They're always the ones who raid the ghost market. Of course they'd arrive quickly, it's only three or four hundred paces away."
"This Third Son Mo was a buyer at the ghost market himself, yet he brings the guards to raid it. It's just like that old saying, 'Pick up chopsticks to eat, put them down to smash the bowl'—"
Just as Ying Xiaoman was getting into her rant, someone running and panting heavily approached them, and they all exclaimed in unison, "—Bah!"
Ying Xiaoman leaped aside warily. In the dim starlight, she could barely make out an agile fat man wearing a demon mask and a black cloak—clearly another ghost market regular.
Her spirits lifted. "Are you a buyer? I have exquisite ivory fans, only ten strings of cash."
The panting fat man who had been running alongside them gasped, "I'm from the ghost market, but not—not a buyer. I'm a seller. Young miss, let's—let's catch our breath. The Cavalry and Infantry Command didn't chase this way. I have a marvelous item, perfect for you, miss. Want to take a look?"
So he was trying to sell to her.
Ying Xiaoman's pockets were as empty as her face was blank. She lost interest and began to refuse, "I don't have any money..." But the seller was prepared and cut her off, "Just take a look!"
He hurriedly took out a bundle from his cloak. In the darkness, there was a flash of light as he revealed the iron implement inside.
It was another pair of iron claws, with five steel talons tied together with a long rope!
Ying Xiaoman drew in a silent breath, her eyes shining. The second half of her refusal died in her throat.
What beautiful iron claws.
She immediately tugged at the Young Master of the West Room, and the three of them ducked into a pitch-black alley in the western part of the city, stopping by a courtyard wall with a lantern.
"Young miss, yours look like they've seen some years. The pair I'm selling are newly made, top quality. The claws can extend and retract, and the joints can be disassembled. Look here."
The seller demonstrated on the spot, indeed folding each of the five extended talons at the joints, compressing them to just the size of a palm. A small leather case could easily hold them for carrying.
After watching the seller's demonstration, Ying Xiaoman tried it herself, opening and closing the joints. They could indeed be hung at the waist for easy carrying.
Her adoptive father had once said that iron claws were one of the eighteen arms, not only for wearing on the hand to attack but also for scaling walls, crossing rocky terrain, and swinging through treetops, extremely sturdy and durable.
The walls surrounding the grand households in the capital city were built higher and higher, each trying to outdo the other, and the Yan family was no exception. She had been worrying about how to scale the wall.
Before her eyes lay a pair of newly forged iron claws attached to long ropes, forming a set of portable grappling hooks. Wouldn't they be perfect for—
Climbing over the wall of her enemy's house, swinging through their trees, silently finding her target, and with one blow of a door bolt, successfully exacting her revenge?
Ying Xiaoman's eyes lit up.
"How much do they cost?" She felt her empty pockets. "I don't have much money."
The seller's small eyes flashed beneath his mask. "We can barter."
Ying Xiaoman drew in a soft breath. Bartering meant she wouldn't have to spend money!
Her heart began to race in her chest.
Trading a useless fan for a pair of well-crafted iron grappling hooks would be an excellent deal... She was about to agree.
"Wait." The Young Master of the West Room, who had been silent until now, suddenly raised his hand to stop her. "My good sir, may we have a word in private?"