IN THE EVENING, Shen Jue returned from a trip outside. It was the tail end of early spring, and a lingering chill clung to him as he stepped in, his expression sharp and cold. He glanced over and saw Xiahou Lian lounging on the bed, flipping through a saber manual. Hearing him enter, Xiahou Lian looked up. His face nearly stopped Shen Jue in his tracks.
Xiahou Lian had already disguised himself as Sixi; at first glance, Shen Jue almost thought that Sixi had come back to life. Sixi's face was cruel, with eyes as narrow as slits and pale cheeks stretched over high cheekbones. Just looking at him filled one with antipathy. Xiahou Lian's disguise was incredibly true to life, though it lacked the original Sixi's lecherous air. Shen Jue reached out and touched his cheekbone. It was soft and oily, as if made of some kind of wax. He pressed harder, his fingertip leaving an imprint on Xiahou Lian's cheek.
Xiahou Lian tilted his head to avoid Shen Jue's touch. "Stop poking at it," he said, exasperated. "If you ruin it, I'll have to make a new one."
Shen Jue pulled up a stool to sit beside Xiahou Lian and check his wounds. They were healing well—no signs of infection or fresh bleeding. It seemed the King of Hell wasn't ready to claim the troublemaker yet.
After straightening his sleeves, Shen Jue asked casually, "Are you working for Wei De, Xiahou Lian? Is Wei De the boss you once mentioned?"
"What? I've never met Wei De. But the abbot—our boss—well, I know exactly what kind of guy he is. He definitely doesn't look like a eunuch."
"Oh? And what should a eunuch look like?" Shen Jue raised his eyes. "Do I look like a eunuch?"
There was gloom deep in Shen Jue's gaze. He'd always been sensitive, and Xiahou Lian realized immediately that he'd said the wrong thing. He wasn't sure what answer Shen Jue wanted. Saying that he looked like a eunuch would be akin to stabbing him in the heart, but saying he didn't... Well, he really was one.
As Xiahou Lian hesitated, Shen Jue suddenly decided further discussion would be pointless and changed the subject. "Maybe your boss and Wei De have formed some alliance."
Xiahou Lian shook his head. "That's not likely. Qiye Garden has been around for centuries. How old is Wei De? How long can he last? Grievances and blood debts abound in the jianghu, and just a few jobs from there will support the whole mountain. Qiye Garden doesn't need to endure fire and water for him. As for an alliance, that isn't likely either. The Garden's concern has always been money. Besides, the most important thing in my line of work is to stay hidden. We assassins are strictly forbidden from forming connections with people outside the mountain. Someone could follow an assassin's trail otherwise, or set a trap. It'd just bring unnecessary trouble."
Hearing that, Shen Jue was a bit displeased. After all, according to that logic, wasn't he Xiahou Lian's weakness? "I'm not that stupid. As long as you behave, I won't let anyone find a trace of you, let alone follow your trail."
As he spoke, he noticed Xiahou Lian's lips were dry, so he poured a cup of tea and handed it to the other boy. Only after doing so did he realize that he was becoming more and more adept at serving Xiahou Lian. Taking the cup back quickly, he pretended to take a sip himself.
Xiahou Lian assumed that Shen Jue had simply wanted him to hold the tea, so he waited obediently for Shen Jue to finish drinking before taking the cup again. From Shen Jue's tone, it seemed as though he still didn't intend to let Xiahou Lian go. Well, that was fine. He needed to stay long enough to recover from his injuries anyway. He could bring it up again later.
"By the way, why did you suddenly ask whether the Garden was serving Wei De? Did you hear something about us?"
Shen Jue glanced at him. "Last night, Imperial Noble Consort Ma was assassinated. Her child was not yet born, and both she and the baby died in Chenqian Palace. You didn't know?"
Xiahou Lian shook his head like a rattle drum.
"Imperial Noble Consort Ma often criticized Wei De," Shen Jue continued. "She tried to sway the emperor in private, urging him to distance himself from the eunuch. Wei De tried everything to win back the emperor's favor, but Imperial Noble Consort Ma was pregnant—and in the palace, those with child by the emperor have all the power. Especially since he has so few heirs. Even Wei De found himself powerless."
"So the target was Imperial Noble Consort Ma. Two lives lost—what a damn tragedy," Xiahou Lian sighed. "We're told not to ask questions, just to kill without compunctions. My mission was only to find an old palace map in the library. I didn't know they were going to assassinate Imperial Noble Consort Ma."
Shen Jue's expression was complicated. "When I went to steal medicine for you, I overheard some assassins talking outside the imperial physicians' office. They didn't sound like they cared whether you lived or died." Shen Jue's brow creased. Xiahou Lian's mission hadn't been as difficult as assassinating Imperial Noble Consort Ma; still, it had required him to infiltrate the palace. Why hadn't the other assassins provided him any support?
Did the so-called Garden really care about Xiahou Lian's survival?
Xiahou Lian smiled bitterly. "That's just how it is. I'm used to it. I'm not that skilled with a saber, and I mess up a lot on missions. I'm used to people looking down on me. In Qiye Garden, the only thing that matters is the sharpness of your blade. If you can't win against the others, you keep your head down like a quail. If my mother weren't the sharpest blade of all, I'd already have been bullied to death." Partway through his explanation, Xiahou Lian suddenly realized something. His expression shifted. "Wait—you said 'some assassins.' Was more than one involved in Imperial Noble Consort Ma's death?"
"Yes. Four died in Chenqian Palace, and others escaped." Shen Jue pictured the Garuda but still kept her presence to himself. He knew exactly what kind of person he was: He was selfish to the core. If it took lying or manipulation to keep Xiahou Lian at his side, Shen Jue wouldn't bat an eye.
Xiahou Lian was stunned. Four assassins' deaths would be an unimaginable blow to Qiye Garden. They took in orphans from all over, raising them in the village. Each child started learning horse stances at five, practicing with a wooden blade at seven, and then with a real saber at ten. Training each assassin took at least seven years, and they rarely lived past twenty-eight.
On top of that, two-thirds of those children chose to stay in the mountains and live as farmers. Even though new children were brought in to replenish the assassins' ranks, most fell within two years. The most dangerous times for an assassin were their early and late years. They were either too young and inexperienced, perishing from carelessness, or too worn down, their body so broken from years of accumulated injuries that they lost all will to live.
That was why Qiye Garden assassins stuck closely to their plans. They would only strike once, and if they missed, they retreated immediately. Large-scale operations were few and far between, and undercover agents were only sent as support and backup. But both the Xie family massacre and the recent assassination in the palace were instances in which the Garden had undertaken a rare large-scale operation.
The abbot, that bald old ass—could he really have sold out Qiye Garden to Wei De for money in his twilight years?
Assassins came and went like shadows, but they could still gloat about their deeds. A typical boast might go: "We kill men within ten paces, then leave no trace for a thousand miles. Once our work is finished, we dust off our clothes and depart. None know our names nor what we've done!" But to become a eunuch's lackey? That would simply be too disgusting. What could such an assassin boast about? Having a master with no member? Xiahou Lian grimaced.
Shen Jue watched as he became lost in thought. "What are you thinking about?" he asked. "Tell me."
Before Xiahou Lian could answer, the patter of footsteps came from beneath the window. "Shen-gonggong, the imperial guards are outside asking to speak with you."
Xiahou Lian exchanged a glance with Shen Jue, then grabbed his sleeve, but Shen Jue patted his hand. "No need to panic." He stood, put on his hat, straightened his clothes, and walked out.
An imperial guard with thick brows and striking eyes stood at the palace gate. Seeing Shen Jue, he bowed, then handed the boy a few packages of medicine. "This humble officer hails from the same town as Situ. He asked that I deliver these to you."
"Situ?" Shen Jue asked, puzzled.
"You don't know Captain Situ?" Surprised, the guard scratched his head. "He's the guard who killed several assassins last night. His side was wounded while he chased after the best assassin—a woman."
So that was him. Shen Jue's heart remained calm, unmoved. He had encountered both kind hearts and blackened souls in the palace—though kind hearts were rarer, as they often met tragic fates.
Lowering his eyes, Shen Jue adopted his usual humble demeanor. "This servant is dull-witted. I didn't realize that was Captain Situ. Please convey my gratitude for his kindness to him."
Having navigated the palace for two years, Shen Jue had polished his already gentle, respectful demeanor with an additional veneer of humility. Thanks to his harmless, well-mannered facade, he'd already risen to become a minor supervisor, rather than serving tea and washing powerful eunuchs' feet or chamber pots like the rest of his cohort.
Effortlessly maintaining his approachable yet distant smile, Shen Jue waited for the imperial guard to finish his polite but meaningless chatter so that he could resume his rest.
Instead, the imperial guard dropped his eyes. "I'm afraid I won't be able to convey your thanks."
Shen Jue's smile stiffened slightly. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Wei-gonggong wanted to know how Situ survived, since everyone else died. He claimed that Situ must've been cowardly and held back, refusing to give his all. They might've caned him if Situ hadn't been injured so badly. Now, orders from above have arrived: Situ's been demoted to a suburban camp." The guard sighed deeply, very nearly cursing Wei De as a "damn eunuch" before abruptly remembering that Shen Jue was one as well and quickly clamming up.
Shen Jue was silent for a moment, then said warmly, "Don't worry, sir. Captain Situ is highly skilled. The suburban camp won't be able to bury his talent."
"That's true. Life there won't be easy for him, though. Ah, well, it's partly Situ's own fault for being too honest. He doesn't have many friends, and he never sends gifts to powerful eunuchs to curry favor… But, uh, don't misunderstand, Shen-gonggong. I don't mean that you aren't powerful." The imperial guard cursed his own loose tongue, forcing a smile.
"You worry too much, sir. I understand. Captain Situ is a good man. And though I may not have much power, I do know a few people. Perhaps I can put in a good word and get him a better position in the camp," said Shen Jue. It would be easy enough to do. Whether it would work was uncertain, but Shen Jue didn't mind purchasing Situ some goodwill.
The guard's eyes lit up, and he smiled. "That's wonderful! Situ's lucky to have a friend like you. I need to return to my duties now, so I'll take my leave. No need to see me out!"
Shen Jue returned to the room to find Xiahou Lian seated in front of the mirror, fixing his disguise. "Xiahou Lian," he asked casually, "do you think good people are rewarded for that goodness?"
Xiahou Lian looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. "Yes. They at least get a better reincarnation in the next life."
"Is that so?" Shen Jue set down the medicine and smiled to himself. "I suppose I'm shortsighted; I only care about this life."
***
SITU JIN walked slowly, pressing his left hand to the wound on his side and his right against the wall to support himself.
The sun was setting, and the fiery clouds dyed his face red. His long shadow dragged on the ground, his silhouette hunched. The street vendors were packing up for the day. They pushed their carts along the cobblestone road, their items clattering noisily.
Situ Jin had been demoted—from captain of the imperial guard's right division to captain of some suburban camp. His rank hadn't changed, but he'd lost the privilege of being in the emperor's sphere. Others might have thought that a great loss, but in truth, Situ Jin didn't mind too much. When he'd come to the capital from the northern borders, passed the military exams, and earned a place in the imperial guard, he had dreamed of making a name for himself. But looking back, his three years in the palace seemed rather flavorless.
He'd always just gone with the flow. Neither competitive nor ambitious, he stayed where he was placed. He didn't compete with others, nor did he hold any aspirations.
For a man, that wasn't the ideal. A man was supposed to provide for his family and bring honor to his name. If he lacked the skills to do so, his wife and children would go hungry; if he didn't achieve anything, his family wouldn't prosper. But Situ Jin's situation was an exception in those regards. He had lost his parents when he was young, and he grew up in an isolated northern town under his neighbors' care. Though the town was small, swordsmen often passed through. They'd taught him to use the saber—one teacher per move—until he knew how to slash, strike, and later kill.
One day, the town elders said, "You've grown up, A-Jin. Time to go out and make something of yourself." He took the saber he'd earned working for the blacksmith and traveled to the capital, still alone, without any support. It had been a snowy day. Back in his hometown, everyone would already have closed their doors by that hour, but the capital was bustling, the streets packed shoulder to shoulder. He carefully held his saber toward his side to avoid accidentally jabbing someone with the scabbard. Despite the crowds, he was still alone. The noise and excitement had nothing to do with him.
Not that being alone bothered him. As long as he could take care of himself, that was more than enough. Now Situ Jin reached to touch his wound, and sharp pain stopped him in his tracks. Still, changing the bandages shouldn't be too much of a hassle. He took a breath and continued walking.
"Captain Situ?" a clear, melodious voice, like the chirping of a bird, called from his right.
Situ Jin's heart inexplicably skipped a beat. He slowly turned and saw a girl standing on the doorstep of her house, a bamboo basket on her back. She was dressed in a frost-colored gown of fine cotton, her large, luminous eyes trained on him. Too shy to look at her face directly, he dropped his gaze to her hand, which rested on the door knocker. Her exposed wrist was as pale as the moon—a captivating sight.
Ah. He knew what her name was: Mingyue.16 Zhu Mingyue. A lovely name.
Her family ran a medical clinic. Dr. Zhu was renowned in the area, hailed as a miracle worker who could cure any illness. But his beautiful daughter was more celebrated still. Ruffians would deliberately injure themselves just to glimpse Mingyue at the clinic. Situ's house stood directly across from hers, and when he rode out for duty, he often saw her walking to the clinic with her medicine basket. Still, they'd never spoken.
So how did she know his name was Situ?
Mingyue pointed to his waist. "Your lower back is bloody. Are you injured, Captain Situ?"
Situ Jin was stunned. He reached back, and pain speared through him. He hadn't even realized that he was injured there.
Mingyue tittered, then beckoned him over. "Oh, you're such a fool! Come in. Let me bandage it for you. My father's home too—he's the best at treating injuries."
Situ Jin hesitated. "I can manage…"
Mingyue feigned anger, slapping the doorframe. "Can you even reach your own lower back? Come inside." Without giving Situ Jin a chance to refuse, she turned and walked inside. She had always been impulsive, with a temper as fiery as her spirit. Between her temperament and the way she was always wandering around, finding a good husband would be a challenge for her. Situ Jin couldn't help but worry on her behalf. Then again, he'd always been something of a worrywart, the type to fuss over nothing.
With no other choice, Situ Jin straightened his tattered uniform and followed Mingyue into the house.