LIANG FENG was a member of the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai, a simple and ordinary guard. He'd been a disciple from a small sect in Laoling until their leader was killed by Yuan Sansi. All his shixiong who'd fought had died as well, and Liang Feng and the other remaining disciples had surrendered to Yuan Sansi, joining the Thirteen Floors as underlings.
The Thirteen Floors of Yunhai were wealthy and treated them well enough. To prevent Liang Feng and his sect siblings from conspiring together, however, they had separated them. Liang Feng was placed in the Fourth Floor, under the command of Yuan Sansi. He had traveled from Laoling to Mount Tiannan, and had been guarding this cave ever since.
The guards here almost never left the caves, and were permitted down the mountain with even less frequency. Though they were generously compensated with salary, food, and clothing, what use was money when one lived secluded on a mountain year-round with hardly a glimpse of the sun?
What was more, the Thirteen Floors had guaranteed their loyalty with poison. He and his fellow guards had all been dosed; without the antidote, which they received once a month, they couldn't run far. Even if they escaped, the most they could do was delay the effects of the poison.
On one occasion, two discontented guards had planned to flee in the dead of night and urged Liang Feng to join them. But Liang Feng was a timid man; he ultimately refused. In the end, his fears had borne out: When the two deserters were captured several days later, their bodies had turned black—a horrific sight. Liang Feng had been terrified out of his wits; he no longer had any doubts as to whether the poison was real.
The cave was spacious, but there was nothing to do beyond guarding it. With time, his days began to blur. He could no longer remember what month or day it was; all he could do was stand numbly on guard, hour after hour.
Today was no different. Though big names had arrived one after another, including many famous figures and first-class masters from the jianghu, they had nothing to do with Liang Feng. As for the Zuoyue and Jiejian Bureaus, he had no idea what they were. He only knew to obey his orders and stand at his post outside the kitchen.
At this hour, there was no one working inside. Liang Feng yawned and struggled to stay awake, leaning against the stone wall. He blinked as a figure walked toward him out of the gloom.
At first he took her for a kitchen maid, but he soon realized this wasn't so. The girl was tall and walked slowly, her head lowered. She looked ill, and when she came close, he caught a faint whiff of medicine.
"Halt," called Liang Feng without any real wariness. The saber at his waist remained sheathed. "Who are you?"
"I'm one of Feng-niangzi's maids, sir. She isn't feeling well, and she asked me to boil some water for her." Her voice was low and hoarse, her long hair spilling over her shoulders and hiding her ears. Liang Feng couldn't get a clear view of her in the low light; he could only sense the meek submissiveness she was giving off in waves.
"We can't light the stove until it's time to cook," he said automatically.
"But Feng-niangzi is demanding it. If I don't bring her hot water, she's sure to punish me," the maid pleaded. She extracted a silver hairpin from her hair and pressed it into Liang Feng's hand. "Please, sir! Do me this favor."
Liang Feng knew something about Feng-niangzi, and had once had the good fortune of glimpsing her. He'd never seen anyone so gorgeous in his life—her beauty was beyond what he could put into words. Whether she was the type to punish her maids harshly, he didn't know, but money was useless here. He pushed the hairpin back toward the maid. "It's orders from above. Go complain to them!"
Only the fact that he was speaking to a woman, and that it'd been a long time since he'd last conversed with anyone at all, kept him from snapping in irritation.
"Are you from Laoling, sir?" the maid asked unexpectedly.
"How did you know?" Liang Feng knew his Chinese was accented with the dialect of his hometown.
"I'm from Laoling as well. I came here with Feng-niangzi." The maid immediately switched into his native dialect.
How long had it been since he'd last heard the familiar tones of his home? And now here he was, hearing it from a stranger. Liang Feng was momentarily stunned, overcome with the urge to cry.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, things grew much warmer between them. He learned that the maid had angered Feng-niangzi and been sent to fetch water after a whipping. Liang Feng felt a pang of sympathy.
"How about this," he said, relenting. "Go boil some water, and I'll keep an eye out for you. No one will be around for a while anyway. But don't dawdle!"
The maid thanked him over and over, then ducked inside, one hand trailing along the wall for support. After a quarter of an hour, she struggled back out with a pail of water. The girl staggered a few steps and collapsed beside Liang Feng, almost spilling the water she'd taken such pains to boil.
As Liang Feng helped her up, she pleaded tearfully, "May I trouble the gentleman to take the water to Feng-niangzi? I promise I'll put in a good word for you with my lady. I'll ask her to bring you along when she leaves."
At this, Liang Feng wavered. He knew Feng-niangzi and the other big shots were here for a meeting and would leave in a few days. Liang Feng was a nobody—if Feng-niangzi asked the steward for him, the steward would have no reason to refuse. He could be free of this suffocating, lightless place.
"When you take the water to her," the maid urged, "make sure to say a few words for yourself! That way, Feng-niangzi will remember you when I praise you to her later!"
Liang Feng had previously only felt sympathetic; now he genuinely wished to help. He took the pail. "You can rest here for a while. Wait for me to come back."
The poor man had no idea as he set off down the corridor that behind him, the maid was smiling slightly as she watched his retreating back. Nor did he know that this maid didn't speak only Laoling's dialect—she could speak a few sentences in any dialect he could think of. And he certainly had no idea that his moment of kindness would indeed ultimately lead to his own escape.
The only thing that wasn't an act was Cui Buqu's feebleness. Fortunately, Fan Yun and Feng Xiao had treated his wounds, and the internal energy they'd channeled into him had worked its magic. Even getting out of bed would have been difficult otherwise, let alone staggering along with only the wall for support.
Once Liang Feng was out of sight, Cui Buqu took a moment to catch his breath before slowly getting to his feet. He hobbled into the kitchen, splashed lamp oil on everything, and tossed a torch onto the waiting stack of firewood.
Flames roared up.
Cui Buqu dashed out of the kitchen, pouring a trail of lamp oil as he went. The fire leapt ravenously after him. The blaze soon grew beyond the kitchen, consuming everything in its path. There was no water nearby; once the fire grew large enough, dousing it was a fool's dream.
The guards nearby smelled the smoke almost immediately. Finding the fire already out of control, they turned and ran toward safety. Cui Buqu slipped inconspicuously into the panicking crowd. The night pearls' glow was faint, and the air was thick with smoke. No one noticed anything strange about the tall maid in their midst as they fled in all directions—just as he'd expected.
Feng Xiao had mentioned the pavilion leader was arriving today for an important discussion with his directors. Once he caught wind of the chaos here, he'd surely rush over to stabilize the situation. If Cui Buqu was quick, he could take advantage of the commotion and leave to look for the Jiejian Bureau forces, then rush back and capture all the leaders of the Thirteen Floors in one fell swoop.
He was walking a bit too fast. Pain lanced through his chest again, and the sheer agony forced him to stoop. His hair came free and scattered down his back, long and disheveled.
The cave was chilly, but sweat trickled down his forehead. Cui Buqu had pushed himself too hard; his injury was flaring up again. Soon his neck and back were likewise drenched, damp strands of hair clinging to the nape of his neck. He looked positively wretched.
The pain flooding him made him yearn to pass out, but his dwindling awareness forbade it. Vision blurring, he held the stone wall in a crushing grip, using the sting in his fingertips to clear his mind.
Feng Xiao…
The name rose unbidden. Cui Buqu slumped against the stone wall in a daze, unable to go on. He could only wait for the pain to pass. As the agony reached its peak, his thoughts shattered into sharp fragments. He couldn't think. All that leapt to mind was a handsome face, willful and flamboyant. He slowly put it together with the name—yes, Feng Xiao was probably here as well. But he was crafty and adapted with ease to unfavorable circumstances. Cui Buqu needn't worry about him.
Cui Buqu, on the other hand, had to leave as soon as possible. If he fell into the enemy's hands now, everything he'd done would be in vain.
At this thought, he reluctantly straightened up again. Only then did he realize he was drenched in sweat. Even his palms were soaked, leaving a dark smear on the stone wall.
The flareup had sapped him of strength. His head felt fuzzy, his feet shuffling forward unsteadily, as though he was stepping on clouds. He squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the discomfort to pass. In his distress, he entirely failed to realize that someone had come up behind him.
Yet even if he'd turned around, he couldn't have escaped. This person moved like lightning—in the blink of an eye, he was inches away from Cui Buqu. His hand fell lightly on Cui Buqu's shoulder, and Cui Buqu turned despite himself.
"It really is you." There was a sinister edge to Yuan Sansi's voice. "Were you responsible for this fire too?"
Cui Buqu knew without looking that five finger-shaped bruises had printed themselves into his shoulder. His muscles and bones were probably damaged from Yuan Sansi's grip. But compared to the agony burning like fire in his chest, this newly inflicted injury was nothing. On the contrary, the sharpness of the pain pulled some of his focus back from the haze.
"Yuan Sansi. Your childhood sweetheart, Lady Yu. The Yu family who were so kind to you. Even your position as commandery governor of Boling. None of these things hold any value for you." Cui Buqu coughed a few times, then rasped, "The only thing you care about is the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai. Am I right?"
"You are," said Yuan Sansi. "I knew someone like you would understand me best. Romantic passions only hinder us: To give your heart to someone else is to lose yourself; you become incapable of moving forward. And the position of commandery governor is only a temporary cover, no more. Don't worry, I won't kill you today. In honor of the years I shared with your mother, I'll take you to see the pavilion leader. He can decide how to deal with you."
Despite his gentle words, he grabbed Cui Buqu's collar and wrenched him forward, with no more care than if he was a mere object.
Cui Buqu staggered along in his grip. His wound seemed to have reopened, and the agony was unbearable. Cui Buqu never begged for mercy or screamed in pain, but even he couldn't hold back a low moan.
Yuan Sansi sneered. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed Cui Buqu's chin; yanking his face up, he scrutinized it carefully. "The pavilion leader is a virtuous man. He's never lusted after women, nor does he ever show undue interest in his enemies. And then there's Feng Xiao—he was willing to risk himself to save you. When I look closely at your face, you really do resemble your mother…"
Mind a blur, Cui Buqu listened hazily as Yuan Sansi spoke. It took a moment for those words—he was even willing to risk himself to save you—to register. Confusion creased his brow, as if he was trying very hard to understand.
Yuan Sansi abruptly released him; without his support, Cui Buqu slumped to the ground. "What are you doing?!" Yuan Sansi's angry shout sounded in Cui Buqu's ears as he exchanged blows with someone new. Their flying figures entwined in the dim light, palms interweaving. True qi exploded outward, the shockwaves lashing the nearby Cui Buqu.
Cui Buqu fumbled a porcelain bottle from his lapels. Feng Xiao had taken this bottle from him, yet it'd somehow reappeared in his pockets. He tipped out several pills and swallowed them without a closer look. Now he was certain it was Fan Yun who'd removed the guards at his door, as well as the people who should have been in the passage leading to the kitchen. He'd wanted this fire.
"Fan Yun! Have you betrayed the pavilion leader?!" Yuan Sansi cried in fury. He assumed Fan Yun was sentimental about his disciple and had intervened to save him. But Fan Yun's every move was made with killing intent.
Cui Buqu heard Fan Yun shouting at him: "Feng Xiao and Yuxiu are both looking for you. They probably fell into the Ursa Major Twin Jade Array!"
The array was full of traps, and martial arts lost their potency within its confines. If Yuxiu was more familiar with the array than Feng Xiao, the deputy chief would be in great danger.
Perhaps the pills had some effect; Cui Buqu found his chest wasn't quite as painful as it had been. At Fan Yun's words, he panted and managed to stand. Then he began stumbling and staggering toward the exit.