QIAO XIAN still remembered the rainy night when she'd first met Cui Buqu.
She'd just been expelled from her sect and had nowhere to go. As she trudged down the road, she saw a lantern shining bright and warm through the dark night.
The lantern belonged to a relay station on the outskirts of the city, meant for travelers who arrived after nightfall and had to wait for the gates to open in the morning. Beneath the lantern sat a small stall selling hot soup. Business was slow tonight; besides the stall owner, there was only one other person.
The man looked sickly, his movements slow. He sat quietly, looking at the hot soup on the table, lost in thought. When he raised his head, he happened to meet her probing eyes.
Through the thick curtain of rain, Qiao Xian heard the man say, "Would you like a bowl of hot soup?"
"All right," she replied.
Many in the Zuoyue Bureau laughed at her over-dependence on Cui Buqu. Some even speculated she was secretly in love with Chief Cui. Qiao Xian had scoffed at the rumors; she didn't need to explain herself. Cui Buqu had helped her when she was at her most desperate, taken her in, taught her, and made her Qiao Xian of the Zuoyue Bureau instead of Qiao Xian the traitor, at whom everyone spat and cursed.
If Feng Xiao was the person Pei Jingzhe most revered, then Cui Buqu was the same for Qiao Xian. In gratitude for his guidance and tutelage, Qiao Xian was willing to brave fire and flood.
But there were some forces even she was helpless to refuse.
Four years ago, she hadn't anticipated how terrifying that helplessness would become. Things had spiraled out of her control, like a horse throwing off its reins: Once it broke free, it could never be easily restrained again.
She had thought she was on a mountain road, and that despite the intermittent crags and bumps, it would take her steadily upward. Only now did she realize she'd been wrong. The road had led her to a cliff, and she was standing at the precipice. The road back was cut off. She could neither advance nor retreat, and didn't know what to do. The abyss was waiting for her below with its bloody maw stretched wide, ready to engulf her at any moment.
"Qiao-niangzi?"
"What did you say?" Qiao Xian murmured, returning to her senses.
"I said, if there's something on your mind, you don't have to tell me, but why not talk to Cui-xiansheng? He has lots of ideas. I'm sure he'd help you find a solution." Perhaps because he had an arrogant and insolent boss like Feng Xiao, Pei Jingzhe was especially gentle and patient.
Qiao Xian lowered her lashes. "What if even the lord chief can't help me?"
Pei Jingzhe blinked. He'd begun to understand why Cui Buqu had sent him here. "It's not too late to make amends."
***
Rong Qing hadn't anticipated that Cui Buqu's prediction would come true so quickly.
The relay station seemed to have an invisible boundary drawn around it. The enemy outside hadn't stormed in just yet, but they would do everything possible to kill them from without.
The same afternoon the bloodstained memorial was returned undelivered, four assassins snuck into the relay station's courtyard.
They were men of some skill—had Rong Qing been alone, he would have died several times over. Luckily, Pei Jingzhe led two eagle riders to capture three of their attackers, and though the fourth man escaped, it was with serious injuries. He probably wouldn't survive for long.
In the evening, someone set a fire in the backyard. While everyone was fighting the fire, their assailant took advantage of the chaos to poison the food in the kitchen. Cui Buqu caught him in the act and had him seized.
The two consecutive attacks sent everyone into a panic. Cui Buqu dismissed all the servants, leaving only the people from the Zuoyue and Jiejian Bureaus. The relay station became quiet again.
Although Rong Qing was frightened, Cui Buqu, his superior in rank and authority, remained unruffled. His calm was infectious, and Rong Qing gradually regained his composure.
Day passed into night. Feng Xiao had yet to return, and there was no sign of Guan Shanhai. Pei Jingzhe gradually began to feel the pressure, like a noose tightening around them. A greater storm was brewing.
As the last dusky clouds on the horizon were engulfed by darkness, the world welcomed a moonless night, lit only by the flicker of lamps. When Pei Jingzhe entered the main hall, he found Cui Buqu sitting by the fire, warming himself and reading a book. Surprisingly, he seemed truly absorbed; he wasn't holding the book just for show. Pei Jingzhe watched him turn a page, his lips curving slightly in amusement.
"Is Cui-xiansheng reading something funny?"
Pei Jingzhe approached the brazier but found himself sweating almost immediately. He took a few steps back and chose a seat farther away. Although it was autumn, the weather was still mild; most people didn't need a brazier in these temperatures. But Cui Buqu feared both the heat and the cold, and he felt more comfortable next to the fire.
"It's a short classic about two brothers fighting over a wife," he answered.
Pei Jingzhe couldn't believe Cui Buqu was in the mood to read at a time like this. "Sir," he blurted, "my lord has been gone most of the day. When do you think he will be back? Is he in danger?"
Cui Buqu shook his head. Pei Jingzhe was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Cui Buqu followed up with, "Of course he's in danger."
"Then why did you shake your head?" Pei Jingzhe's mouth twitched.
"I shook my head because I don't know when he will return. You can comfort yourself with this: The good die young, while the wicked live to a thousand."
Pei Jingzhe was speechless. He wanted to argue that his lord was a good person, but he realized that by Cui Buqu's logic, he'd be cursing him to die before his time. Cui Buqu and Feng Xiao were nemeses forced to share a narrow road. When they were together, they couldn't be comfortable unless they were needling each other. Pei Jingzhe had long grown numb to their antics.
"Sir, there's something I don't understand. None of the assassins they've sent have been especially skillful. This doesn't seem like the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai's style. Shouldn't they have much more potent methods? Or have I overestimated them?"
"You haven't overestimated them." Cui Buqu finally put down the book. "Those assassins were not from the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai."
"What do you mean?"
Cui Buqu raised two fingers. "Yang Yun and the Thirteen Floors are not working as closely as it appears."
Since their arrival in Guangqian Commandery, the enemy had made several moves: They'd held a banquet to win over Rong Qing, then killed Huang Lüe preemptively and blamed it on the censor. They'd severely wounded Guan Shanhai at Qixia Villa, stalled Feng Xiao, and even tampered with Cui Buqu's array, then sent a series of incompetent assassins, one after another.
Sometimes the moves were brilliant, outmaneuvering Cui Buqu and his allies at every turn. Yet at other times they were painfully mediocre, even foolish. It was clear these were not the work of the same mind.
"Yang Yun and Xiao Lü are cooperating—but there's no master-subordinate relationship here. Yang Yun has his own plans and won't obey Xiao Lü without question, while Xiao Lü is keeping a low profile and waiting for the right opportunity. He's exceptionally patient: He either doesn't attack at all, or he holds nothing back. The assassins must therefore be Yang Yun's doing.
"We're at a disadvantage now," he continued, "but Yang Yun doesn't know that. He's unsure what cards we have up our sleeve, so he's testing us to find our limits. Once he's confident we can't retaliate, he'll swoop in to annihilate us. He won't allow us to return to the capital alive. But just because Yang Yun takes action doesn't mean Xiao Lü will too. Yang Yun is itching to get started, but Xiao Lü is in no hurry. He's still our most dangerous enemy."
Now Pei Jingzhe understood the strange feeling he couldn't put his finger on before. In just a few words, Cui Buqu had smoothed away the doubts he couldn't articulate.
"So we should wait for Xiao Lü to act?"
Cui Buqu shook his head. "Xiao Lü is still biding his time because Yang Yun has yet to make his killing move. Yang Yun will definitely exhaust his strength to bury me here."
"My lord hasn't returned yet, and Guan Shanhai is missing." Pei Jingzhe looked grave. "The two Zuoyue guards who came with you have also been sent off. Now only I, Qiao Xian, and two eagle riders remain in this relay station. We can handle five or six assassins, but Yang Yun might have far more than that. If he sends a dozen, things will get difficult."
Cui Buqu laughed. "A dozen? Now you're underestimating Yang Yun. He's been operating in Guangqian Commandery for three years. He used the grain provided by the court and the money from the prominent families here to fund a private army. He will have also benefitted from his cooperation with Xiao Lü. A few assassins, the fire—those were all just tests. Yang Yun might not be able to mobilize an entire county's worth of soldiers, but a few hundred people will be more than enough to besiege this small courtyard and lay waste to it."
The longer Pei Jingzhe listened, the paler his face grew. "Then…should I go search for my lord now?"
Cui Buqu smiled thinly. "I'm afraid it's too late."
He'd hardly finished when Pei Jingzhe heard a deep rumble like muffled thunder. It rolled in from the distance, but the final thunderclap never came. With a start, he realized that it wasn't thunder at all—it was the sound of mounted soldiers galloping toward them. From the sound alone, there were several hundred at least.
On the battlefield, a few hundred soldiers would be engulfed in an instant. But those numbers were more than enough to surround a relay station and kill a handful of people. It was like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.
Pei Jingzhe was an above-average martial artist and might even be considered a second-tier expert. But in the face of such a large force, even he might not be able to flee safely—let alone bring Cui Buqu and Rong Qing out with him.
Several methods of escape flashed through his mind and were promptly discarded. "Cui-xiansheng, we have two options. Either you can make a run for it while Qiao Xian and I protect you, or you can hide in the cellar with Censor Rong while we deal with them. You can come out once the coast is clear."
Pei Jingzhe's voice quavered slightly with nerves. The thunder of hooves grew closer and closer; the soldiers would be outside the door at any moment.
"No," Cui Buqu said. "That's too cowardly. It lacks boldness."
Pei Jingzhe thought he was going mad. At a time like this, preserving your life should be good enough! What boldness do you need?! Aloud he asked, exasperated, "Then do you have any better ideas?"
Cui Buqu cocked his head and thought for a moment. "How about I use my peerless grace to make them kneel and beg for mercy?"
Face blank, Pei Jingzhe wondered for a moment if Cui Buqu was actually Feng Xiao in disguise.
Someone pounded on the door, the sound shaking the whole building on this silent night. The doors of every house around the relay station were shut tight. No one was willing to lose their life for the sake of a little curiosity.
Pei Jingzhe was so anxious his teeth were chattering. He was just about to drop everything and stuff Cui Buqu into the cellar with Rong Qing when Cui Buqu rose and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes.
"I jest; that's what your oleander spirit would say. Let's go."
"Go where?" Pei Jingzhe asked automatically.
"To welcome our guests."
Rong Qing trailed after them without saying a word. He'd experienced all sorts of ups and downs over the past few days, enough stormy waves to make up for the past twenty years of smooth sailing. He'd gone from panic and terror to a calm that was almost numb. But his mind had also grown much clearer, and he was no longer prone to the same impulsivity. Xiao-Liu's death had prompted him to think much more deviously about how to deal with the enemy. He was willing to give up decision-making power and let Cui Buqu give orders. In any case, even if he screamed his throat raw right now, no one would listen to him.
Their enemy continued to pound on the door, seemingly about to break in at any moment.
Outside, Yang Yun was sitting high astride a horse. He raised a hand, and the banging on the door stopped. "Cui Buqu, I know you're inside. As long as you surrender yourself, everyone else will be safe." He didn't need to shout. The night was so quiet he was certain Cui Buqu could hear him.
The only reason he hadn't simply broken down the door was a fear of walking into one of Cui Buqu's traps. He'd heard much about the insidious Zuoyue Bureau chief, but had never dealt with him directly. Many of the tales had come from the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai themselves.
At the thought of the Thirteen Floors, Yang Yun felt a spike of annoyance.
Just as Cui Buqu had surmised, the relationship between Yang Yun and the Thirteen Floors was not that of a subordinate and a superior, but one of mutual cooperation. Bluntly, they were using each other.
When the Thirteen Floor of Yunhai had first approached him, they had taken a fancy to his restless ambition and proposed a grand plan for him. But Yang Yun was wary of inhibiting his own plans and uninterested in becoming a puppet dancing on their strings. Thus he had carefully negotiated a relationship of cooperation. In this way, he hoped to leverage the power of the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai to pave a path for himself without becoming overly involved with them.
But the members of the Thirteen Floors weren't fools. Yang Yun had flouted them one too many times; since the day before yesterday, they'd cut off communications with him. Yang Yun didn't know whether they would deal with Cui Buqu and Rong Qing. If he wanted them buried here, he had to do it himself.
Behind Yang Yun was Wu Yi on his own horse. Li Yan had not appeared—he was fearful and weighed down by worries—but Wu Yi had more courage. From the moment he'd thrown in his lot with Yang Yun, he had known he'd boarded a ship he could never step off. And after Huang Lüe's death, he'd become even more certain that if he wished to survive this, he had to pray for smooth sailing for Yang Yun.
"Governor, why not shoot some flaming arrows in first?" Wu Yi suggested.
Yang Yun gave a slight nod.
Wu Yi waved his men over and was about to give the order when the door of the relay station creaked open. Through the gap, they could see that the interior was bright with lamplight. The man they were all looking for, Cui Buqu, was sitting at a small table in the courtyard. A tea set was laid out before him, the cups filled and steaming.
Cui Buqu raised his teacup and greeted Yang Yun from his seat. "The rain has stopped, and the flood should recede in a few days. Is Governor Yang interested in sharing some tea with me in celebration of the heavens finally smiling upon us?"
"Your lordship, don't fall into their trap," Wu Yi whispered hurriedly. "He's trying to provoke you!"
Of course Yang Yun had no intention of accepting his invitation. He sneered. "Cui Buqu, chief of the Zuoyue Bureau—your reputation precedes you. It's a pity that you'll die here tonight. If you're trying to convince me I'm walking into an ambush, it's no use."
He had no intention of listening to Cui Buqu's prattle. He raised a hand, and the archers flanking him climbed atop the walls. Instantly, dozens of arrows were aimed at Cui Buqu. When Yang Yun's hand came down, the arrows would fly, and Cui Buqu would be no more.
The doors surrounding the courtyard were tightly closed. Rong Qing, Pei Jingzhe, and the rest sat inside looking at each other. Cui Buqu had forbidden them to come out into the courtyard.
In a situation like this, it made no difference how many of them confronted the enemy, unless they were all martial artists on par with Feng Xiao. That man could go anywhere he pleased, ignoring a rain of arrows or forest of spears. But there was only one Feng Xiao.
Listening to the voices outside, Rong Qing's heart leapt into his throat. If he were Cui Buqu, what would he do to escape such a dangerous situation? He thought and thought, but came up completely empty. Cui Buqu had enough time to say one or two sentences at most. If he used them to appeal to the archers' consciences and try to convince them to switch sides, he would die before he finished speaking.
But what else could he do? Was there another way?
Pei Jingzhe was also thinking hard. Could Cui Buqu be waiting for Feng Xiao and Guan Shanhai to return and launch a surprise attack? But that was impossible. Even if Feng Xiao rushed over this instant, he couldn't arrive in time to snatch Cui Buqu out from under the arrows bristling from the tops of walls.
What card was Cui Buqu holding that he'd throw away any chance of resistance or escape and instruct them to stay where they were? Surely he didn't believe he could save them by sacrificing himself. If Yang Yun dared to kill the Zuoyue Bureau chief, the rest of them went without saying.
Pei Jingzhe's eyes were closed, his forehead beaded with sweat. His palms were clammy, his face so twisted with nerves it hardly seemed human. He opened his eyes and looked at Qiao Xian and Rong Qing.
Their faces were ashen. Qiao Xian's jaw was clenched, her body tense as if she might charge outside at any moment. But because Cui Buqu had ordered her to stay put—and Pei Jingzhe had struck her acupoint for good measure—she remained silent.
The three of them looked more wretched than Cui Buqu sitting outside, but none of them were in the mood to laugh at themselves. They stared at the closed window with such intensity their eyes were practically burning a hole in the paper.
This was the critical moment—Cui Buqu had one shot.