The autumn rain drizzled steadily. The Ministry of Justice offices were shrouded in a misty veil of rain.
An elite captain from the Palace Guard, standing in the office, reported to Eleventh Young Master and Yan Rongshi, who were seated at long tables on either side:
"I was ordered to follow Prime Minister Zheng's movements."
"Last night, Prime Minister Zheng braved the rain to visit River Otter Lane in the west of the city and met with an old servant. They spoke privately for about ten minutes, and he left some copper coins and clothing before departing by carriage."
"After leaving River Otter Lane, Prime Minister Zheng visited a scholar friend who lives in the western part of the city, staying for half an hour before leaving."
"The previous owner of the old residence in River Otter Lane, surnamed Yan, was a scholar skilled in painting and calligraphy, and had a personal friendship with Prime Minister Zheng. The old servant was imprisoned twice and released without charge both times, and Prime Minister Zheng sent him clothing and money on both occasions."
After the Palace Guard captain withdrew, Eleventh Young Master furrowed his brow and said to Yan Rongshi: "So, last night Prime Minister Zheng went to the west of the city to visit a friend, and on the way, delivered some clothes and money to the old servant at his former friend's house in River Otter Lane. There doesn't seem to be anything suspicious about his actions."
"Brother, Prime Minister Zheng is the head of all court officials. It's not appropriate for us to be secretly monitoring him. How long are we supposed to keep this up?"
Yan Rongshi picked up his brush and wrote on a piece of paper with scattered clues:
Prime Minister Zheng — Old Servant (old acquaintance)
He tapped the newly written connection on the paper: "This so-called old servant must be the servant of the Yan family? There's no one who can confirm this point."
Eleventh Young Master was greatly surprised and fell into a daze.
"Have the Palace Guard keep watch for a few more days," Yan Rongshi said, folding the paper and weighing it down with a paperweight. "If we miss something important and are held accountable, I'll take responsibility."
Given Prime Minister Zheng's extraordinary status, it was necessary to deploy the Palace Guard to keep tabs on him. As for monitoring the old servant, regular Ministry of Justice constables would suffice.
Soon, two Ministry of Justice captains entered and bowed, not daring to rise.
"After the old servant was released from prison yesterday, he just squatted in front of the dismantled gate of his house."
"He squatted there from afternoon until night, not moving at all."
"Later, we saw Prime Minister Zheng come by to deliver clothes and copper coins, give the old servant a bowl of hot noodles to eat, chat briefly, and then leave quickly."
"After the old servant finished the noodles Prime Minister Zheng brought, he ran back to squat in the same spot at his front gate, not moving at all, like a stone statue. We kept watch until late at night, and then... well, we dozed off for a bit."
"When we woke up, it wasn't dawn yet, but... but the old servant was gone!"
The sound of rain in the fields was unrelenting.
Two silhouettes, one in front and one behind, trudged through the muddy path between the fields in the pitch-black night.
"Old sir, put on the hat," Ying Xiaoman handed over a second conical hat. "You're soaked through."
Sheng Fugui chuckled, "No need."
"Eh? Can you hear me when I speak softly, old sir?"
"My hearing isn't great, but it's so quiet around here, I can hear you."
The two walked along the field path towards a temporary rain shelter. Inside the shelter sat two men dressed as farmers, unremarkable in appearance but with sharp eyes unlike those of men who tilled the fields.
Ying Xiaoman stopped in her tracks, unwilling to enter the shelter, her hand resting on the grappling hook at her waist.
Sheng Fugui spoke up and sent the two men in the shelter away.
In the now-empty shelter, he bent down and grabbed a handful of bedding. It was a bit damp, but not as wet as his clothes. He wrapped the bedding around himself without much concern and beckoned Ying Xiaoman to sit close and talk.
"Sit down, little girl. We're not far from the residence. I just want to ask you a few questions about your father. If you answer well, you can go back soon."
Ying Xiaoman sat opposite him in the shelter, three parts wary and seven parts puzzled, staring at the familiar yet strange old man before her. "You say you know my father? Are you old friends from the Capital City? What kind of old friends?"
"Hehe, we're more than just acquaintances. Your father was very skilled back in the day. I spotted his talent at a glance and kept him by my side for many years..."
Meanwhile, at the residence, chaos reigned. All the lanterns and oil lamps in the main hall were lit.
The Palace Guard kicked open each of the more than two hundred occupied rooms, searching for an "old thief with graying hair and cloudy eyes."
"Xiaoman is missing?"
The empty room number 26 in section A stood open, with the Adoptive Mother holding Zhi at the doorway, panic-stricken.
The Palace Guard reported after inspection: "There are muddy male footprints at the doorway."
Yan Erlang, with a dagger still stuck in his shoulder, didn't bother to remove it and first walked around the empty room, saying to the Adoptive Mother: "There are no signs of a struggle, and the conical hat is gone too. I suspect Xiaoman went out on her own to check on the commotion. I've tested her skills before - she's like a whirlwind. It wouldn't be easy to abduct her without a sound."
The Adoptive Mother examined the room carefully and noticed that the leather bag containing the grappling hook was also missing, which somewhat eased her mind.
"She took the grappling hook with her."
The Adoptive Mother stood in the empty room holding Zhi, worried. "In the middle of the night, who could the child have gone with..."
Yan Erlang's thoughts immediately went astray.
"Could she have eloped with Yan Rongshi?" He immediately ordered the Palace Guard to go out and measure the size of the muddy male footprints outside.
The Adoptive Mother angrily spat behind his back. You're the one eloping! This Yan Erlang is indeed not a good person!
While they were arguing in confusion, suddenly several voices shouted at the door: "The young miss has returned on her own!" "The young miss is fine."
Ying Xiaoman wore a conical hat, with the grappling hook in its leather pouch hanging at her waist. Apart from being somewhat wet, she was unharmed.
But her expression was a bit dazed.
Absentminded, with unsteady steps, she floated over to her Adoptive Mother's side: "I'm fine, let's go back and rest."
No matter how Yan Erlang and the Adoptive Mother questioned her, she just shook her head, casting a wary glance at the surrounding Palace Guard and the crowd gathered to watch the commotion.
"Mother, let's talk in the room."
Once behind closed doors, alone with her adoptive mother, she finally spoke: "Really, nothing happened. An old friend of my father's came to find me and asked a few questions."
The Adoptive Mother finally felt relieved. But after such a scare, she refused to be separated again, and the three of them - two adults and one child - squeezed into one room for the night.
The Adoptive Mother opened a trunk to take out clean clothes and socks for Ying Xiaoman to change into: "Where did you run off to in the middle of the night? Your clothes are half soaked, and your feet are covered in mud. If I hadn't seen you take the grappling hook with you, I would have been worried sick."
She asked again, still concerned: "This old friend of your father's who came looking for you, is he another one from the Capital City come to swindle us?"
"This time it's a real old friend," Ying Xiaoman sat on the edge of the bed, changing her clothes as she answered:
"He asked how my father passed away, and I said he fell seriously ill, couldn't be cured, and passed away last December. Then he asked where my father's grave was. I said he was buried in the mountains of our hometown. Old Sheng sighed and said, 'A hero buried in an unmarked grave.'"
But there was more. Sheng Fugui's questions were extremely detailed.
When Ying Xiaoman mentioned that her adoptive father had a lame leg and couldn't go deep into the mountains to hunt, causing the family to barely make ends meet for many years, he fell into an unexpectedly long silence.
"How did he become lame?"
Ying Xiaoman didn't know herself. Her adoptive father never mentioned these things to her. She only knew that when her adoptive father came to settle in the village, his leg was already lame.
Then they chatted about many other things. All about how her father had lived these years in their hometown, whether he had lived well or not.
"Finally, he asked me why I came all the way from our distant hometown to seek a living in the Capital City. I told him that on his deathbed, my father couldn't stop talking about coming to the Capital City to avenge his master's family, and he also wanted me to go to Yuqing Tower to return fifty taels of silver. Old Sheng cried."
The Adoptive Mother stopped her tidying and asked in surprise: "A man of his age, did he really cry?"
"He really did cry." Ying Xiaoman thought for a moment, then raised her hand to mimic an old man wiping tears from the corner of his eye: "Just like this."
As Ying Xiaoman described this, the Adoptive Mother couldn't help but secretly wipe away a tear herself.
"At least your father's years in the Capital City weren't wasted. At least he has an old friend who truly knows him and cares for him. Where is your father's old friend now? I should go out and meet him too."
"Old Sheng left right after talking to me. He said the house in River Otter Lane had been demolished, and he no longer felt safe in the Capital City, so he might as well go elsewhere to make a living."
As Ying Xiaoman was speaking, she suddenly remembered a very important thing she had forgotten to mention.
"Oh right, Mother, you know Old Sheng. He's the old servant from River Otter Lane who drank so many bowls of our cough medicine."
Adoptive Mother: "...What?!"
*
Yan Erlang sat in the center of the main hall. A gleaming dagger was stuck straight into his left shoulder.
The Palace Guard drew their swords in warning, driving away the noisy crowd of onlookers back to their rooms.
The captain, whose arm had suffered a minor flesh wound, came to the hall to report: "The young miss has changed her clothes and come out of the room!"
Yan Erlang instructed: "Quickly, prepare hot water, fine cloth, and wound medicine. Wait until Xiaoman reaches the middle of the second-floor stairs, then pull out the dagger."
"Commander Yan, that dagger wound is quite deep. Are you sure you don't want to wait for a physician?"
As these words were spoken, Ying Xiaoman's figure appeared on the upper floor.
Yan Erlang estimated her direction and shifted slightly towards her, saying carelessly, "What's there to wait for? Just get on with it."
As Ying Xiaoman descended the stairs to the main hall, she was half skeptical.
Her adoptive mother had told her Yan Erlang was injured. Thieves had broken into the inn at night, and he had a dagger stuck in his shoulder, looking quite frightening.
"After all, he was injured while searching for you. Hurry out and check on him."
Ying Xiaoman: "...How did he get injured looking for me? I went out and came back, and I didn't even see him."
"That's what the imperial guards are saying," her adoptive mother urged. "Quickly go to the main hall and see how he's doing. It looks like a serious injury."
As soon as Ying Xiaoman left her room, she indeed saw a dagger clearly embedded in Yan Erlang's shoulder, stuck quite deep.
He was really injured?
She stood by the wooden stair railing, puzzling over the scene in the main hall, when suddenly she heard the commander shout "Pull!"
In an instant, right before her eyes, the gleaming iron dagger was forcefully yanked from his shoulder, and a jet of blood spurted high into the air.
Yan Erlang let out a muffled groan, his face immediately turning pale.
Ying Xiaoman: "..."
She stared in shock as the blood sprayed half a foot in front of her, the blood-soaked dagger clattering to the floor.
Goodness, this was for real?!
Footsteps sounded behind her. Sui Miao led four of the Yan family's skilled guards, taking up positions around Ying Xiaoman, frowning at the scene in the main hall.
"Today's events are unusual. This place isn't far from the capital city, just an hour's ride by fast horse. I'll go back now and report everything in detail to the young master for his decision."
Sui Miao asked Ying Xiaoman in a low voice: "Miss Xiaoman, may I ask who you met when you went out tonight? Could you tell our young master?"
Ying Xiaoman thought for a moment, then said to Sui Miao: "I promised the old man I wouldn't tell anyone else. How about this - I'll only write it down for the Seventh Young Master, and you don't show it to anyone else."
"Understood."
Ying Xiaoman went down the wooden stairs to the main hall, standing beside Yan Erlang. She pushed aside the blood-soaked fabric on his shoulder to examine the wound closely.
This was the first time Ying Xiaoman had touched him of her own accord. Yan Erlang turned his body slightly in the lamplight, happily displaying his bloody wound, boasting: "It's just a small injury, don't let it sully your eyes."
Slender fingers rested on Yan Erlang's shoulder as Ying Xiaoman continued pushing the bloodied clothes aside, inspecting the wound with furrowed brows.
"The wound is very deep, and you're losing too much blood. Are you sure you're alright? If we don't stop the bleeding soon, you're going to faint."
Yan Erlang sat with a domineering air, liberally sprinkling military wound powder on the injury as if it cost nothing, adopting the pose of one enduring treatment, still joking: "I told you already, it's nothing. Worried about me?"
The wound powder was washed away by fresh blood as soon as it was applied. The two commanders originally stood by laughing, but as they laughed, they suddenly realized something was wrong and gradually stopped smiling.
"He really is losing too much blood. Commander Yan, you need to lie down right away."
Of course, Yan Erlang refused to show weakness by lying down.
The two commanders' expressions gradually grew serious. They exchanged a glance, then stepped forward together, working to lay Yan Erlang down on a long bench. They firmly pressed on his injured shoulder and upper arm to stop the bleeding, shouting over their shoulders: "Bring more wound powder!"
In the midst of the commotion in the hall, two imperial guards ran in to ask: "Many guests have fled in alarm. Should we detain them and bring them back to the inn?"
Yan Erlang, pinned down flat on his back, was starting to feel dizzy but still conscious. He instructed: "Don't bother with uninvolved bystanders. Just keep an eye on Miss Ying Xiaoman and the safety of her adoptive mother and little sister..."
Ying Xiaoman bent to examine his wound, frowning again as she stopped him: "Stop talking now."
It was rare for Yan Erlang to see such a kind expression from Ying Xiaoman. Those five short words somehow conveyed a hint of tenderness to him. Pleasantly surprised, he suddenly felt a surge of bravado, no longer feeling the pain of his wound. He waved his hand dismissively: "It's just a minor injury—"
Ying Xiaoman firmly pressed his injured left elbow down onto the bench.
Turning to the two commanders, she said: "He won't stay still, keeps moving around. We need to tie his upper body to the bench with rope while we wait for the physician."
The two commanders actually agreed: "Indeed, we need to immobilize him."
Yan Erlang: "..."
He had gotten what he wished for. Although he had indeed received Ying Xiaoman's care and concern after being injured...
But the sight of the young lady now tying him up with coarse hemp rope, round and round - how did this not quite match the scene of gentle care he had imagined?
In the capital city, at Prime Minister Zheng's residence.
Benefiting from his favor, there were hundreds of "honored guests" and "advisors" willing to follow him, yet none could be called confidants.
The one standing in his study now had followed him for seven or eight years. Loyal and willing to brave any danger, yet in his eyes, still not worthy of being called a confidant.
The advisor had hurried through the rain from the southern outskirts of the city.
"A large tree fell across the official road in the suburbs, blocking the Ying family's carriage. They stayed overnight at an inn outside the city."
"A group of imperial guards happened to be passing by on the official road. They sawed through the tree to clear the way, and also stayed at the inn that night. It seems bandits attacked the inn at night? The imperial guards were injured in the attack. The situation inside was chaotic, and no one could explain clearly what happened."
"At one point they said the Ying family's young lady had gone missing after the attack. The imperial guards searched frantically for half a day, then the young lady returned on her own in the middle of the night. I saw her enter the inn gate with my own eyes."
"I see," Prime Minister Zheng pondered slowly:
"It's good that the Ying family's young lady is safe. After all, she's the family of an old friend, and we must look after her."
"Yes, sir."
After the advisor withdrew, Prime Minister Zheng sat alone in his quiet study, fiddling with an iron key. Sheng Fugui had indeed gone to the inn outside the city.
But he hadn't killed Zhuang Jiu's daughter, Ying Xiaoman. Instead, he had abducted her to question her, then released her unharmed.
This "friend" from the northern grasslands, a long-established enemy spy rooted in the capital, had never been on the same side as him.
Not acting according to his wishes could hardly be called betrayal.
If their relationship had to be described, it was more like - two poisonous spiders tied together by a single thread.
Holding sharp blades, guarding against each other.
Yet also working together to conceal and bury that segment of the past from many years ago, deep under the dust.
"So, Sheng Fugui spoke with Zhuang Jiu's daughter. But then let her go."
"Which means Zhuang Jiu's daughter truly knows nothing about the past. She doesn't know about the token in Zhuang Jiu's possession, nor does she know who Sheng Fugui is. That's why Sheng Fugui let her go."
"We no longer need to worry about Zhuang Jiu's connection." Prime Minister Zheng tossed the key back into its box and took out a piece of paper, opening it to cross off a name.
It was an old, yellowed sheet of paper. Once densely filled with many names, outlining a complex web of relationships like a spider's web.
Gradually, names had been crossed off.
The name "Fang Xiang" had been recently struck through.
The long-ago "Zhuang Jiu", as well as the newly added "Zhuang Jiu's Descendant", were also crossed out.
On the yellowed, brittle paper, only one last name remained that had not been struck through.
All the relationship connections around the name had been severed, leaving only the final, lonely strand of the web.
Sheng Fugui — Two death-sworn agents of Yuqing Tower.
"Death-sworn agents." Prime Minister Zheng smiled faintly, tapping the paper. "Loyal but foolish, knowing nothing of the past. And now involved with Yuqing Tower... Once their whereabouts are found, they can be killed on sight."
He tapped Sheng Fugui's name again.
"Old friend, without Fang Xiang of Yuqing Tower, you're all alone now. Even if you're desperately clinging to the whereabouts of that cache of refined iron weapons... how many more days can that protect your life?"
"Twenty-six years. You've threatened me for twenty-six years. You said that if anything happened to you, evidence of my treasonous communication with the enemy would be delivered to the gates of the Ministry of Justice. I've endured you for twenty-six years."
"Once the last two death-sworn agents are caught, you'll truly be all alone, old friend. Who do you have left? Who will deliver the evidence of my treason to the Ministry of Justice?"
Yan Rongshi was urgently roused in the middle of the night.
Sui Miao brought a stack of papers covered in neat rows of writing.
"Miss Xiaoman said only the young master can know this. There were some characters she really didn't know how to write, so she drew circles instead. The matter is of great importance, and she hopes the young master will take the trouble to guess their meaning."
Holding the thick stack of papers in his hand, Yan Rongshi weighed it, a tender smile appearing on his lips: "She went to such trouble."
But as he turned over the first page, a shocking bloodstain was revealed at the corner.
The smile that had just appeared froze.
Yan Rongshi stared at the glaring bloodstain: "What happened?"
Sui Miao hurriedly said, "The injured one is Yan Erlang, Miss Ying Xiaoman is unharmed. Miss Xiaoman was sitting next to Yan Erlang while writing, watching him to make sure he didn't move around. The blood might have come from the edge of the table."
Sui Miao briefly described the attack situation at the inn that night.
Yan Rongshi glanced at the bloodstain again. Xiaoman sat next to the injured Yan Erlang, watching him?
Without saying much, he began to flip through the papers.
"An old servant from River Otter Alley came to talk to me. He said his surname was Sheng, and he was father's old friend from the Capital City."
"Old Mr. Sheng talked a lot about his time with father in the Capital City. He really is an old friend, asking how father has been living in the village all these years, if our family is doing well, inquiring about father's lame leg, and where his grave is located."
"He asked me why I came to the Capital City. I told him that father wanted me to come to the Capital City for revenge, and also to return fifty taels of silver to Yuqing Tower. Old Mr. Sheng cried."
"Old Mr. Sheng said he wanted to pay respects at father's grave. I said the journey was too far, and that I could pass on any message to father for him. Old Mr. Sheng said, 'After all these years, you're the only one I can trust. You haven't betrayed my trust.'"
Yan Rongshi held down the paper, mentally filling in the two characters Xiaoman couldn't write.
In his heart, he recited the words Sheng Fugui would bring to Zhuang Jiu's grave:
[After all these years, you're the only one I can trust. You haven't betrayed my trust.]
Their casual conversation filled four or five sheets of paper. On the last sheet, Ying Xiaoman mentioned:
"The old man gave me two old book scrolls, telling me to keep them safe, saying they were very precious. But the scrolls are old, the paper is yellow and brittle, and got wet from the rain. Some characters are blurred, and I don't know how to dry them without damaging the paper. Could you write down a method for drying books and have Sui Miao bring it back to me?"
"Xiaoman!"