In the slanting wind carrying autumn's chill, amidst intermittent drizzles, the Ying Family carriage left the city.
Heading straight south out of the city gates, the imperial road was flat and wide for ten miles, with evergreen trees neatly planted on both sides. The road bustled with traffic, truly befitting the scene of a prosperous era.
But continuing southward, after about ten miles from the city, as the road forked more and more, the vista of contiguous dwellings grew sparse, replaced by increasing hills and fields. The ride in the carriage became bumpier, and the evergreens lining the imperial road started to thin out.
"The further from the capital, the worse the roads," the Adoptive Mother hugged Zhi, whose little face had turned pale, and discussed with Ying Xiaoman: "The road ahead will only get bumpier. Let's slow down the carriage, the little one is about to be sick."
Ying Xiaoman lifted the carriage curtain to call Sui Miao. As the carriage stopped by the roadside, and they were discussing whether to stop early for rest and where to stay, the Yan Family's lead scout came galloping back.
"We can't go further ahead."
"Five miles ahead, on the south-bound imperial road we must take, a huge tree has somehow fallen, completely blocking the path. The line of carriages and horses queuing on both sides of the tree stretches for two miles. Further ahead, you can see the tail of our convoy leaving the capital."
"Oh my, what terrible timing," the Adoptive Mother wrung her hands and said, "Does this mean we'll have to spend the night in the carriage? What about you young men on horseback?"
The Yan Family's lead scout and Sui Miao conferred in low voices. Sui Miao came over and said, "As luck would have it, near that section of the blocked imperial road, there's a famous suburban inn with over two hundred rooms. Seeing the situation, we've already booked five rooms. If the road isn't cleared tonight, we'll stay at the inn."
With the imperial road blocked, the carriages and horses crawled like insects. By the time the Ying Family's convoy slowly inched to the main entrance of the inn five miles away, it was already dusk. The dim light in the drizzle made the lanterns of various carriages and horses appear as hazy halos in the rain.
The inn's two hundred-odd guest rooms were packed full.
As Ying Xiaoman, wearing a bamboo hat and carrying Zhi, walked through the inn's door, there were still customers clamoring for vacant rooms. The waiter was flustered, his face stiff from constant apologetic smiles.
"We've been fully booked since this afternoon. I'm terribly sorry, there's not a single room left..."
An angry merchant shouted, "You lying dog of a waiter, the three Jia rooms on the far east are clearly empty! Are you looking down on us, thinking we can't afford the room rate?"
The waiter pleaded innocence, "Those three rooms can't be rented out, they've been requisitioned by the Imperial Guard! The big tree blocking the road outside, a group of Imperial Guards from the capital happened to pass by and are now busy sawing the wood to clear the road. The Imperial Guards have requisitioned three of our best rooms for a Commander and two Captains to rest. Who dares say a word against that!"
Of course, the merchants couldn't afford to offend an Imperial Guard Commander and two Captains from the capital. The troublemakers immediately shut their mouths.
But other guests at the inn couldn't help but discuss the matter.
"Doesn't the Imperial Guard usually only handle major affairs? Even for fires in the capital, it's hard to get the Imperial Guard to respond. A tree fell on the imperial road just over ten miles out of the city, and sawing wood is also the Imperial Guard's business now?"
"Who knows. The Imperial Guard has dozens of Commanders, each with their own temperament. Perhaps the one on the road today just wanted to train his troops by sawing wood."
The three members of the Ying Family, dining in the main hall, heard snippets of the conversation.
As they were all female guests, the inn had arranged for them to sit in a corner of the main hall, separated by a large folding screen. They could only hear bits and pieces amidst the clamor of the full hall.
They only gathered that an Imperial Guard Commander happened to be passing by, and seeing the severe road blockage, directly ordered his subordinate Imperial Guards to saw the wood and clear the road.
"What a good person," the Adoptive Mother listened, deeply moved. "Thanks to the Imperial Guard, they'll move the tree tonight, and we can set off in the morning."
It was a beautiful wish. Everyone thought so.
Before the Ying Family finished their meal, a troop of Imperial Guards in shining armor entered the inn, cursing and swearing.
"How did such a huge tree fall! It must weigh over a thousand catties."
"Our hands are covered in blisters from sawing, and we've only moved less than half of it."
"The boss says there's no rush. It's late, brothers. Let's eat, drink, and rest first, to regain our strength for tomorrow morning."
"Innkeeper, bring out the best wine and dishes! Our Commander and Captains will be here soon."
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The Imperial Guards who had been sawing wood to clear the road obstacle had come to the inn to rest. The clamorous voices in the main hall quieted down, with many people shutting up and lowering their heads to eat.
Ying Xiaoman was a bit curious and peeked through the gaps at the edge of the large folding screen towards the door, wanting to see which Imperial Guard Commander was so idle as to saw wood for troop training...
Unexpectedly, she saw a familiar face.
Yan Erlang was still wearing that crimson narrow-sleeved military official's robe, with a sword at his waist. Looking spirited, he walked into the inn arm in arm with two Captains, chatting and laughing.
Ying Xiaoman: "..."
The jet-black eyes behind the screen instantly disappeared.
But Zhi, sitting nearby, was also curious and peeked out from behind the screen. Her grape-like eyes widened in surprise.
The next moment, Zhi pointed her little hand towards the door and called out in a clear childish voice, "The bad man in the red robe!"
Ying Xiaoman: "..."
Adoptive Mother: "..."
Before the words had even faded, Yan Erlang perked up, instantly circling around tables and screens to come over, as if he had been prepared and waiting for this moment.
"What a small world! Xiaoman, what a coincidence."
Sui Miao, sitting at the next table, stood up alertly.
Yan Erlang curved his lips in a smile, his gaze falling back on Ying Xiaoman, asking a question he already knew the answer to: "Qilang isn't here today?"
Ying Xiaoman ignored him, pulling Zhi closer to her side.
"Mother, let's continue eating. After we finish, we'll return to our room to rest."
Yan Erlang surprisingly chimed in, "Indeed, you should rest well. As they say, autumn rain brings winter's chill. Your family seems to be headed to Jingzhou? It's a long journey, best not to delay too much. Once my brothers have eaten and drunk their fill, we'll move the fallen tree overnight, so you can continue your journey tomorrow."
These words were spoken so beautifully, they hardly seemed like something that could come out of Yan Erlang's mouth. The Adoptive Mother was taken aback, looked over his brand-new official robe, and stood up to thank him.
Ying Xiaoman sped up her eating.
As she ate, Yan Erlang sat brazenly at the next table, complaining about his sore hands and asking the innkeeper for copper needles. He opened his palm for all to see, revealing three or four large blisters.
When Ying Xiaoman's gaze occasionally swept over, she saw that the blisters Yan Erlang was puncturing were actually genuine.
Ying Xiaoman watched as the copper needle tip was tempered in fire, and each blister was punctured one by one, leaving his palm bright red.
When Ying Xiaoman finished eating and carried Zhi past the adjacent wooden table, she glanced again at the large blisters on Yan Erlang's palm and said, "Thanks."
Yan Erlang raised an eyebrow.
The copper needle steadily and decisively punctured the last blister, his languid voice tinged with a smile: "Don't mention it. It's my duty."
An elderly servant with graying hair braved the rain on his journey.
He wore an old padded jacket given kindly by a neighbor, with the autumn unlined garment he had worn in prison still underneath. On his feet, however, were a pair of brand-new black cloth shoes.
The autumn rain continued to fall into the night, with wind mixed with drizzle in the suburbs, chilling his face and body.
The long line of carriages and horses was still stuck on the imperial road, with faint sounds of complaints and children's muffled cries. The old servant didn't take the imperial road, but slowly descended to the fields beside it, walking along the ridges between paddies. His new cloth shoes were soon muddy and filthy. The padded jacket was also stained with mud, looking grimy. In the fading twilight, he looked every bit like an ordinary old farmer shuttling through the fields, not drawing any attention.
The slow-looking movements on the field ridges seemed sluggish, but as the sky darkened and his figure melted into the night, he walked faster and faster.
Along the imperial road, straight south.
His "old friend" had come to Hedong Alley to find him last night.
Thirty years had brought many changes, and the "old friend" was now the universally respected Prime Minister Zheng. Unfortunately, the old servant had a very good memory.
In his eyes, the so-called "Prime Minister Zheng" was still the young and arrogant Ministry of War Secretary from years ago, Zheng Yi.
Of course, Zheng Yi had come to find him for a reason.
"The murder in Hedong Alley, was it you who killed that advisor working for me?"
"Actually, you didn't need to act. It couldn't have been traced back to me. But with your suspicious nature, you wouldn't have felt at ease unless my advisor was dead. Well, such a fool, it's just as well to be rid of him."
From beginning to end, the old servant didn't utter a single word. He squatted on the ground, slowly eating his noodles.
Facing this "old friend" of many years, Prime Minister Zheng was not impatient. He knew the old servant was listening.
"Zhuang Jiu's descendant has appeared."
"Zhuang Jiu changed his name to Ying Dashuo, lived in seclusion in a rural county, peacefully worked as a hunter for many years, had a wife and daughter, and passed away naturally last year."
"His descendant is a young girl in her teens who knows nothing about her father's time in the capital. But whether Zhuang Jiu kept his mouth shut to his only daughter, whether his daughter knows the whereabouts of the token you entrusted to him back then, whether she knows you're still alive in this world - heh, who knows?"
"Zhuang Jiu disappeared for twenty-six years. He took the token you entrusted him with, betrayed your trust, and vanished into the vast sea of humanity. He at least got a peaceful end, while only you and I are left suffering in the capital."
"Compared to a mere advisor, Zhuang Jiu's daughter is the bigger variable. In this world, only the dead can truly keep secrets."
"What do you think, Sheng Fugui?"
"I know the escaped assassins from Yuqing Tower are with you. Take your assassins and end the life of Zhuang Jiu's daughter. Let Zhuang Jiu's descendant and the token disappear completely from this world. You'll be at ease, and you won't have to doubt me anymore in the future."
"Zhuang Jiu's daughter is called Ying Xiaoman."
"Ying Xiaoman. So that little girl is actually Zhuang Jiu's daughter."
The old servant - no, he should be called Sheng Fugui now - muttered to himself in the increasingly heavy autumn rain as he stopped walking.
A line of carriages was stuck on the official road. The lights were bright, and the suburban mansions were just three or four miles away.
He surveyed the surrounding fields, found a sheltered spot, and took out an oilcloth from his bundle to start setting up a rain shelter.
Two ordinary-looking men dressed as farmers approached silently from behind to help.
They were the escaped assassins from Yuqing Tower. With Fang Xiang captured by the authorities and the Yuqing Tower spy network uprooted, the assassins had nowhere to go but to find Sheng Fugui.
But Sheng Fugui hadn't expected that just because someone died in a side room, two old houses would be torn down to the ground by the Ministry of Justice. They didn't even leave him the small courtyard in the northwest where the servants used to live.
"These officials are getting more and more unscrupulous," Sheng Fugui mumbled in the rain.
The three quickly set up a simple rain shelter. Sheng Fugui took out warm bedding from his bundle and wrapped it around his entire body, leaving only his graying head exposed.
The jail was very cold. Thanks to Ying Xiaoman leaving him an almost new quilt, he at least didn't fall ill in prison. When he was acquitted and released, he brought the bedding with him.
Wrapped in the quilt, Sheng Fugui thought for a while, then chuckled to himself, "The little girl's temperament is indeed like Zhuang Jiu's."
The surroundings were pitch black, but the hundreds of guest rooms in the mansion were brightly lit, their outlines clearly visible from three to five miles away.
Ying Xiaoman was staying in that mansion.
Although he had brought the assassins with him, he didn't intend to do as Prime Minister Zheng had said.
"Can the words from Zheng Yi's mouth be trusted?" Sheng Fugui sneered coldly. "He talks a big game, heh, I'd rather listen to the little girl speak."
It was still early. The sound of raindrops falling on the shelter was endless as he stared in the direction of the mansion three miles away.
"Don't make a move," he instructed the two assassins. "I'll go find her myself."
He would take a nap first, then around the third watch of the night, wake up the little girl Ying Xiaoman and listen carefully to what she had to say. What exactly had happened to her father Zhuang Jiu over these years, where he had taken the fifty taels of silver from back then...
There was constant commotion on the nearby official road, with the intermittent sound of saws cutting tree branches.
These young imperial guard pups were unsteady with their saws, making a racket.
Sheng Fugui frowned as he fell asleep amidst the teeth-gritting sound of wood being sawed.
In the dead of night, intermittent noises still reached his ears.
Seven or eight imperial guards were still sawing wood on the official road.
As if they hadn't eaten enough, they dragged their saws slowly, barely cutting through a branch in half a day. Rather than clearing the road, it seemed they were just making some noise to get by.
Sheng Fugui ignored the guards' lazy behavior and prepared for action in the rain shelter.
Narrow-sleeved night-walking clothes, a black cloth mask. Just in case, he tucked a dagger in his bosom. It wasn't for the Ying family's little girl, but to guard against running into any unfortunate strangers in the inn.
All set. Sheng Fugui walked out of the rain shelter satisfied, appearing like a wisp of smoke at the edge of the official road, using the moonless rainy night as cover as he stealthily headed towards the brightly lit mansion.
When he was about to approach the mansion, roughly three hundred paces away, more than a dozen men in similar attire - night-walking clothes and black cloth masks - suddenly emerged from the wild grove beside the official road.
The two sides abruptly faced each other. Sheng Fugui stopped in his tracks, the dagger sliding from his sleeve into his palm.
The night walkers opposite didn't notice anything amiss and called out to him, "What are you standing there for? Come quickly, we're just waiting for you. The boss gave two words of instruction. Tonight must be like, must be real."
Then they said to the others, "Everyone's here. Let's go! The Ying family's young lady is staying in room 'A26' on the second floor, west side. Remember to start fighting when we get close to room A26. The boss said, tonight's performance must be like real, must be real. After it's done, everyone will be rewarded fifty strings of cash!"
Under the black cloth mask, a pair of murky old eyes flashed with a sharp light. Sheng Fugui released the dagger hilt and joined the group as if nothing was wrong.
The squad of twenty used the dark rainy night as cover, moving quickly towards the mansion.
Just as they were about to reach the mansion, there came the sound of rapid footsteps from behind. Another masked person in night-walking clothes ran up breathlessly, "Commander, I'm late..."
The commander leading the way at the front had just started cursing, "Where the hell have you been! Fall in line, we were just waiting for you—"
As he spoke, the commander suddenly felt something was off...
He abruptly stopped, turned back and started counting heads.
He was supposed to lead twenty men tonight... how come there was an extra one?
The dim lantern light illuminated the surroundings.
The masked night-walking squad followed behind him, and among the many black-haired, black-clothed young men, a graying head stood out conspicuously.
The commander was stunned for a moment, then pointed and shouted, "Who are you—"
Sheng Fugui's dagger flashed out like lightning.
The glinting dagger thrust straight for the chest, but with a loud clang, it hit the commander's heart-protecting mirror worn under his night-walking clothes. The dagger tip shook and slid off, slashing across his arm as blood splattered.
The commander clutched his arm and cried out, "Ouch!"
Sheng Fugui's strike failed, and he immediately fled. His figure rolled several times in the rain, dashing straight for the mansion ahead.
In the dead of night, the main gate of the mansion was long closed. But a carved wooden window on the side was half open, faintly revealing some lamplight.
A figure in black night-walking clothes quickly rolled through the window.
He came face to face with Yan Erlang, who stood with folded arms by the window.
Yan Erlang was still wearing that crimson narrow-sleeved military official's robe, drinking by the window and observing. He had been watching from afar for a while, and was full of praise for his dedicated subordinates.
"It's impressive that you thought to dye your hair white, you're very thoughtful. What's your name—"
Halfway through his praise, he met a pair of murky, cataract-clouded eyes belonging to an old man.
Yan Erlang froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he was drinking. He paused for a moment, suddenly reacting, and raised his hand to smash the wine cup!
A cold white blade flashed before his eyes.
The commander's body had hit a heart-protecting mirror earlier, so this time the dagger came straight for the vital point of the neck.
Yan Erlang fell backwards in place, narrowly avoiding the fatal attack. The sharp dagger whistled through the air, missing the throat, and plunged downward.
Blood splattered.
Yan Erlang let out a muffled groan as the dagger stabbed into his left shoulder. At the same time, he whirled back rapidly, drawing his sword.
They exchanged lightning-fast blows several times before Yan Erlang kicked open the window and shouted outside, "There's an intruder!"
Sheng Fugui spat. These imperial guard pups looked like a bunch of ruffians, but when it came to fighting, they actually couldn't be killed easily. A miscalculation.
The Ying family's little girl was staying in room "A26" on the second floor, west side. He gave up on the fight and his figure instantly vanished into the inn.
Outside, the commander hurriedly arrived leading twenty men.
The imperial guards, having taken off their black night-walking clothes, formed a circle, looking at their own Yan Commander with a dagger in his shoulder, then at the commander grimacing in pain with blood flowing from his arm. They were full of admiration and praised profusely:
"Commander, Captain, you two acted so realistically! We are deeply impressed!"
Yan Erlang was both in pain and angry. Clutching his bloodied shoulder, he was so furious he laughed.
"Damn it, there really was an intruder! He stabbed me, and he's gone into the inn. It's an old thief with graying hair and cloudy eyes. Search every room!"
Ying Xiaoman wasn't sleeping well tonight.
The wooden bed in the inn was narrow, not big enough for three people. Her adoptive mother took Zhi to sleep next door, while she slept alone in one room.
But the inn was crowded and noisy, with the wooden stairs creaking non-stop, and Yan Erlang resting in the room to the east.
She was on guard, with the cowhide bag containing her flying claws placed beside her pillow. It wasn't until the second watch of the night, when the lodgings gradually quieted down, that she closed her eyes for a brief nap.
Unexpectedly, before the third watch, the commotion in the downstairs hall started again. In the moment it took her to drowsily turn over, the door to her room suddenly opened.
Ying Xiaoman: ?
"Who's there?" She instantly awoke, rolled over in one swift motion, and grabbed the cowhide bag with her flying claws. Warily addressing the dark figure in the doorway, she said:
"Yan Erlang? You'd better not try anything underhanded. Believe it or not, I'll beat you until your face blooms with bruises."
But the person standing outside the door wasn't Yan Erlang.
A familiar yet unfamiliar elderly voice said:
"Daughter of Zhuang Jiu, Ying Xiaoman?"
Ying Xiaoman was stunned for a moment.
"Who are you?" She didn't deny it, but instead asked in return.
The person outside the door said, "I am an old friend of your father from his days in the capital. There are too many unruly imperial guards here. Let's find a more secure place to talk. I want to ask about your father."
Ying Xiaoman was quick to act, lighting an oil lamp in the time it took to say two sentences.
As the lamplight flickered towards the doorway, the visitor pulled down his black face covering. She was quite surprised: "—Old sir?"
The visitor outside the door chuckled.
In the lamplight, the visitor's graying hair was revealed. His cloudy eyes now shone with a sharp glint:
"This old man's surname is Sheng."