The Boat Returns at Dusk
The ship lay perfectly steady through the whole of the next day.
After leaving the quay the night before, Madam Wen's large vessel had done no more than drift a short distance along the outer channel, putting some space between itself and the loudest, most chaotic stretch near the mouth of Taihu. Once morning came, it dropped anchor again and went no farther. Seen from shore, it would have looked like nothing more than a respectable inland vessel that had found itself a quiet berth for a brief rest, with nothing about it worth a second glance. But to those aboard, that half day and single night felt like being left hanging in empty air, suspended between rising and falling, with only one thing to wait for: the little boat that had gone out and had yet to return.
Wang Yan rose early, but through the daylight hours she did not speak a single unnecessary word.
At first she forced herself to sit by the window and watch the water, watching the scattered little boats passing along the outer channel, watching the sky slowly brighten and then slowly tilt toward afternoon. On the surface, she seemed calmer than she had the day before. Yet the harder she held herself together, the easier it was for others to see that she was waiting. Every time the sound of oars came a little closer outside, every time a small boat skimmed past this stretch of water, her lashes would stir ever so slightly—as though in that single movement she had already asked once, Has Father come back? And when she saw that it was not him, she would quietly press the disappointment back down and sit straight again without saying a word.
Fang Yingjie was quieter still.
When he woke at dawn, he first followed the method Old Daoist Xuan had taught him and slowly settled the tight, rising breath in his chest. The warm calming broth from the night before, and that rare full night of uninterrupted sleep, had indeed restored a little of his strength. Yet the injuries in his leg and beneath his ribs had not truly left him. Though he could still move about during the day, he did not dare exert himself carelessly. He merely sat on the other side of the window, holding the jade token in his palm, loosening his fingers from time to time to glance down at it before tucking it back inside his robe.
In the daylight, the jade token seemed even purer than it had by night. Its surface was fine and softly lustrous, the pale green cord smooth against his fingers. For some reason, every time it lay in his palm, it made him think of the wind at the side wharf of Pingsha Market, and of Madam Wen standing beside that blue-canopied carriage, lightly placing the token in his hand.
The rest of the ship had grown light-footed as well.
The old serving women and the maids still brought medicine and meals as usual. The household guards still crossed the deck with the same steady tread. Yet the composure that normally hid beneath such order had thinned a little since the day before. Now and then, a few low-spoken instructions would pass between the forecabin and the stern. The words could not be made out, but when the voices ceased, the silence that followed seemed cleaner than usual, as though every sentence had been placed exactly where it needed to fall—nothing omitted, nothing out of place.
So the hours dragged on until evening.
The last pale thread of light at the horizon slowly withdrew, and the wind shifted over the water. At the distant quay, lanterns began to appear one by one behind the mist. Then the other boats moored along the outer bank started to hang their own lamps. Points of warm yellow shone upon the lake, broken by the ripples into long, trembling streaks of light.
Wang Yan had sat at the window for the whole day. By this hour, she could no longer remain still.
She rose and took two steps across the cabin. Just as she reached the curtain, an unusual rush of water suddenly swept close along the hull.
It was nothing like the slow, measured creak of oars when a boat eased in to moor, nor like the loose slapping of a passing craft striking water. It sounded instead as if someone were driving a small boat hard and low, muffling every sound, forcing it up against the waterline. The approach was so close as to be perilous. It did not feel like an ordinary return to berth at all. It felt as though something was behind it—something it dared not let catch up.
Then, from outside the rail, someone answered in a low voice, "They're back."
The words were not loud, but across the ship they spread like an invisible ring of ripples pressed into still water.
Wang Yan whipped around.
Fang Yingjie had already straightened where he sat.
Footsteps came quickly beyond the curtain, swift but not disorderly. Someone went forward to meet them. Someone else asked two hushed questions. Then came only the faint tremor of wood beneath their feet, as though someone had leapt from the small boat onto the outer edge of the larger vessel. A moment later, one of the old serving women pushed the curtain aside and entered. She looked at the two of them once each and said softly, "Please do not move for the moment. Madam must question them first."
Her voice was steady, but her expression held a gravity that had not been there in the daylight.
Wang Yan's lips parted slightly, as if she meant to ask something. Yet the words Is it my father? rose to her mouth and, for some reason, did not come out. She only stared at the old woman for a moment, then slowly drew her fingertips back into her sleeve and gave a small nod.
Very quickly, the curtain fell quiet again.
But this silence was not the same as the silence of the day. In the daytime, it had been the silence of waiting. Now it was the silence of a breath already risen to the throat, held there without knowing whether what came next would be sweet or bitter, relief or rupture.
Only after about half the time it took to drink half a cup of tea did footsteps sound outside once more.
This time it was not the old serving woman alone. When she entered, a maid followed behind her, carrying a freshly lit lamp. Its steady glow shone on the maid's wrist and on the damp breath of night trailing in through the curtain behind her.
The old woman stopped at the curtain and said, "Madam asks that you both come."
This time Wang Yan did not hesitate. She rose at once, heedless of the light scrape the stool made against the boards.
Fang Yingjie pushed himself up as well. The moment his right foot touched the floor, the dull ache deep in the bone reminded him of itself once more. But he had no mind to spare for it now. He pressed the jade token secure against his chest and followed Wang Yan out of the cabin.
News Through the Curtain
More lamps had been lit in the front cabin.
Oil had already been added to the lamp on the table, and its steady glow poured down in a clear circle, making the space around the desk bright as day while leaving the rest of the cabin wrapped in the restrained dimness proper to a ship at night. Madam Wen sat behind the table, her expression unchanged. A white porcelain cup rested before her, only half touched, with steam still rising from the tea. At her side stood the old serving woman who had brought the medicine earlier that day. Below her stood two more men.
One looked to be around thirty, of middling build. The hem of his clothes was caked with wet mud, and one sleeve had been torn open at the cuff, the edges still marked with damp that had not yet dried. The other was in even worse shape: a scrape ran along the side of his face, and the back of one hand was already bruising dark. He still stood straight, but the breath in his chest had not yet settled from riding in too hard and too fast.
Wang Yan needed only a single glance for her heart to sink.
Her father was not there.
Nor was Chief Steward Zhou.
Her steps halted. The color drained from her face at once.
Yet when Madam Wen saw the two of them enter, she did not immediately bid the messenger speak. Instead, she said first, "Sit."
Her voice was neither loud nor hurried. At such a moment, it was like a hand of perfect steadiness, pressing down the disorder that had begun to rise in the cabin before it could swell further.
Wang Yan did not sit. She remained standing where she was, her eyes bright—so bright they looked almost strained.
"Madam—"
She had only just opened her mouth when Madam Wen lifted a hand lightly, stopping the rest of the words before they could come.
"Listen first."
Just those two words, and the protest on Wang Yan's tongue truly died away.
Only then did Madam Wen turn her gaze to the attendant with mud on his sleeve.
"Repeat what you said just now. Every word."
The man bowed and answered, "Yes." He glanced first at Wang Yan and Fang Yingjie, as though deciding where best to begin, and in the end did what mattered most—he started with the heart of it.
"Miss, Young Master, this one is Wu An, from Chief Steward Zhou's side." His voice was hoarse; the journey back could not have been an easy one. "Chief Steward Zhou is still being held up near the mouth of Taihu. He sent me back ahead to deliver his message."
He paused briefly, then went on in a lower voice.
"That affair over there truly is not something Lu Zhongren and his pack of ruffians could have propped up on their own."
The cabin fell still.
Madam Wen did not urge him onward. She only lowered her eyes and listened.
Wu An said quietly, "Lu Zhongren has a brother-in-law surnamed Bao who works as a clerk in the document office of the Wu County yamen. There is also a headman surnamed Qin in the broker houses at Ping Wharf, and a fish-market boss surnamed Wang. All of them are in league with him. Chief Steward Zhou took his calling card there intending first to steady the people, steady the house, and steady the boats and fishing nets before looking more closely into the contracts and the silver trail. But before we had done more than let slip a single word here—that if the matter truly could not be suppressed, we would have no choice but to take it through official channels—the broker houses had already heard of it."
Wang Yan's breathing tightened at once.
Fang Yingjie sat ramrod straight, but his fingers had already curled silently into his palm.
Wu An continued, "Chief Steward Zhou had not even formally submitted a complaint when men from the patrol office had already come to 'mediate.' What they said aloud was that a quarrel over business should not be turned into unrest at the port. But every word, openly or not, was meant to back Lu Zhongren. That headman Qin even sent word outright that since the Wang family had set their handprint to the contract, black ink on white paper was black ink on white paper. If they still refused to submit now, then this was no longer a debt dispute—it was a matter of defying trade rules."
Each sentence struck harder than the one before. By the time he reached the words defying trade rules, even the sound of the wind brushing past the hull seemed to grow faint.
The last trace of color drained little by little from Wang Yan's face.
She might not understand the finer meaning of clerks in a yamen office or patrol officers urging settlement, but she understood this much: they had not yet truly knocked on the government's door, and men inside and outside it already knew. That meant this was no mere contract, no mere debt. It was a net, and people had been waiting with it spread wide.
Wu An wiped the sweat from his brow. His voice dropped even lower.
"What matters more is that the Wang household is no longer a place that can be safely kept."
As he spoke, he lowered his voice still further.
"There is another layer as well, and Chief Steward Zhou told me to bring that back too. Lu Zhongren has more under him than the white road through the yamen. Around Ping Wharf and the northern landing, the men who collect debts for him, watch doors, tail boats, and smash up shops are all ready at hand. Last night, when I went back with Chief Steward Zhou, we had only just entered the outer street when we saw two groups of unfamiliar faces loitering near the mouth of the Wang family lane. One group squatted under the wine stall by the dock, the other kept watch outside the fish market. They looked like idlers, but their eyes never once left the roads in and out."
"Chief Steward Zhou had men make quiet inquiries, and only then did we learn that Tang Yacai had never merely been acting as a go-between for Lu Zhongren. A few years ago, he tried his hand at trade outside and lost everything. Then he borrowed silver from Lu Zhongren to get back on his feet, only to sink deeper with every turn. In the end he owed a hole too deep to fill. Lu Zhongren did not suddenly set his sights on the Wang family on a whim. He had long since reckoned that Tang Yacai could never repay what he owed. That was why he followed that old line of acquaintance and pushed the entire Wang household forward to fill the debt in Tang Yacai's place."
"The deposit silver written into that contract now is no more than a hook. Even if the Wang family emptied out every coin they have saved across generations, it would at best patch over the first half of the hole. But once they acknowledge this road, then it will no longer be a matter of one contract. Port commissions, broker fees, brewing supplies, advance rent on the shop—anything at all can be entered into the accounts against them. And once Tang Yacai's old debt is hung onto the ledger as well, then even if the Wang family sold pots, pans, and iron alike, they still could not fill that pit."
At this point his throat bobbed. Even he seemed to feel the chill in what he was saying. Still, he forced himself to finish.
"Chief Steward Zhou says this is not something that ends with paying back one sum of silver. Even if we advance ready cash now and press down the urgent debt before us, their boats, their nets, their house, their wine vats, all their belongings would still remain at those people's mercy. If they are allowed to bite down along this line, one step after another, then by the end they may not stop at taking the family's property. They may take people as well to settle the accounts. Lu Zhongren is not trying to force the Wang family to acknowledge a single contract this time. He has set his teeth on swallowing the entire household, skin, bones, and all, a little at a time."
The brittle hardness Wang Yan had been forcing herself to hold onto finally began to fall away.
At first she only stared, as though she had not fully understood what she had heard. Then, after two or three breaths, the strained brightness in her eyes gave a sudden tremor.
"You mean..." Her throat was dry, and her voice shook faintly with it. "From the very beginning, they were never here to press a debt. They came to swallow my family whole?"
She paused, and only after the words left her mouth did the colder meaning beneath them truly rise before her. Even her fingertips curled inward without her noticing.
"Then what about my father?" She lifted her head sharply. "He went back with Chief Steward Zhou. Is he trying to gather this mess back into his hands—or has he already walked straight into their jaws himself?"
Wu An faltered beneath that look, then hurried to say, "Miss, please do not panic. When I left, Elder Brother Wang was still with Chief Steward Zhou, and Sister-in-Law Qian's injuries had already been checked again. Shun-ge is standing watch there too. But now there are already eyes on the Wang family gate, on the dockside, and all along the outer street beyond Ping Wharf. Before I came away, I even heard someone at the port ask in a low voice whether the Wang family girl had returned yet. Chief Steward Zhou dared not have Elder Brother Wang withdraw at such a time. If he moves now, the matter will only be harder to contain. That is why he sent me back first with a message—"
"What message?" Wang Yan demanded, staring at him.
Wu An clenched his teeth before finally saying it.
"No matter what happens tonight, neither of you can go back."
When those words fell, it was as though an invisible hand had pressed down across the cabin. For a moment, no one spoke.
Cannot go back.
Not wait a little longer. Not hold off for now.
Cannot go back.
The light in Wang Yan's eyes quivered violently. First came disbelief, and then the meaning of the sentence drove fully into her. Her lips whitened faintly, as though she still wanted to say something, but only half a breath escaped her. No words came at once.
Fang Yingjie felt his own heart sink as well, but he mastered the surge in his chest before she did. In a low voice, he asked, "What else did Chief Steward Zhou say?"
Wu An seemed almost to catch hold of the question like a rope.
"He said that near Taihu, this is no longer a place where reason can win the day. The people who can still go in and out of the Wang house are all those who know the house, know the people, and know the contract. If the two of you return now, you will not be going back to bring anyone out—you will be delivering yourselves into the net."
He wiped his brow again, his voice dropping still lower.
"There was one more thing he told me to bring back as well. Daoist Master Xuan has not yet returned. With the wind so tight here now, if the two of you leave Madam Wen's ship and head back toward Taihu, then you may fail to reach the Wang family in front and fail to find Daoist Master Xuan behind. Better to remain aboard for now. It will keep you clear of the disaster at hand, and it will also buy time while we wait for word from the other side."
"And more than that, this is no longer a place where one can stay simply by clearing the debt. Even if tonight the urgent debt were paid, the silver made good, and the contract route temporarily suppressed, the Wang family's yard, their boats, and those few nets of theirs would still not be secure afterward. Chief Steward Zhou said this is no longer about a single debt. They have fixed their eyes on the people themselves."
Only after speaking those words did he seem finally to release the breath he had been holding all the way back. A fine sheen of sweat had appeared at his temples.
Only then did Madam Wen slowly lift her gaze.
Her eyes rested first on Wang Yan's face, then drifted lightly across Fang Yingjie. At last she spoke in a low voice.
"Then they cannot stay."
The Road Ends Here in the Cabin
The words were spoken so softly that they seemed only to lay another veil of stillness over the night. Yet because they were spoken so softly, they carried more weight than any cry of alarm or barked order could have done. They were like an exceedingly thin, exceedingly steady blade: one light stroke, and the last faint hope that perhaps they might still go back and take a look for themselves was neatly slit open.
Wang Yan stood frozen, not moving for the space of two or three breaths.
Madam Wen did not continue at once. She merely reached for the white porcelain cup beside the table and drank half a mouthful, slowly, as though waiting for the sentence to sink into her properly first. Only after the unrest that had briefly risen in the cabin had settled a little did she set the cup down again and speak on, still in the same unhurried tone.
"That being so, this is all the more not the time to force your stay at mouth of Taihu."
"If this were only a small debt, I might advance the money for you and buy you some breathing room. But the hole you are facing now is tied to old debts, new contracts, the port, the brokers' firms, and the local hands on the ground. It cannot be closed cleanly with one payment in silver."
"And besides, at mouth of Taihu, I may be able to shield you for a while with my name and my people, but I cannot hold back the local powers there forever when they have a foot in both the black and the white. If I try to suppress it by force, I may not save the Wang family at all. I may only drag every one of you down with it."
"So what must be preserved first is not the house. Not the boats. Not those jars of wine."
"It is the people."
"So long as the people are pulled clear first, there is still a road to join up with later. But if the people remain trapped at mouth of Taihu, then even if they cling to the old household goods, all they are doing is guarding a pit that is bound to collapse sooner or later."
Wang Yan had been holding herself taut all this while, but by the time she heard that, her eyes had finally begun to redden. Even so, she still clenched her teeth and refused to yield. In a low voice, she said, "But my mother is still hurt. And even if my father and my brother are both back there... can they really hold out?"
"All the more reason you must not go back," Madam Wen cut in gently. "What your father fears most right now is not the lack of one more pair of hands. It is having one more person he cannot stop worrying about. If you go back, he will not only have the injured to think of, and the debt, and the net spread over the port—he will also have to divide his attention to protect you. If you truly want to lighten your family's burden, then this is not the time to go back and join them in the chaos. It is the time to settle your own end first."
Her words were neither harsh nor soft. She simply laid out the plainest truths, one layer after another, so solidly that there was nothing one could say against them.
Wang Yan's lips trembled. Tears nearly rose. Yet in the end she still swallowed them back and slowly lowered her head, as though that force inside her—the force that had been holding her upright and refusing to collapse—had at last been pressed half an inch downward by this string of calm, level words.
Only when Madam Wen saw that she was no longer resisting head-on did she turn her gaze toward Fang Yingjie.
"You as well."
The heaviness that sank through Fang Yingjie's chest was, in truth, even greater than Wang Yan's. The Wang family's plight was one matter. The net spread over mouth of Taihu was another. And caught between them were all the old lines he had carried with him since Eaglebeak Ridge—Xuanyuan Xi, Feng Feiyun, Xi Qian, Mount Hua, Fang Stronghold, even Old Daoist Xuan, who still had not returned.
He lifted his eyes. His voice came out slightly hoarse from the breath he had been holding down all the way here.
"What if Daoist Master Xuan goes back and cannot find me?"
He did not ask the question quickly. It was as though he had first pressed every word through his mind before finally letting it out. Perhaps because of that, there was more understanding in Madam Wen's gaze now than there had been in broad daylight.
"I know what is weighing on your mind is not only this one matter," she said.
"But this side has already become a net. If you insist on remaining at mouth of Taihu, you are not waiting for the old road. You are waiting for the net to draw tight."
At that, Fang Yingjie's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Madam Wen, however, did not press him. She only continued with the same steady calm.
"I can still shield you for one layer or two at the moment. But if you remain at mouth of Taihu and let them follow the Wang family and Heping Wharf until they trace your whole line clear, then later on, even getting away will be difficult."
She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, and heavier.
"And besides, Daoist Master Xuan has still not returned. If you leave my boat now and turn back toward mouth of Taihu, you may not be able to connect with the Wang family on one end, and you may not be able to connect with him on the other. That is when you would truly lose both."
The lamplight in the cabin flickered faintly.
At some point Fang Yingjie's palm had grown damp with a thin film of sweat. Even the corner of the jade token hidden inside his robe seemed to have warmed against him.
At this point, if he still kept both his name and that old road crushed tightly under his hand, it would no longer be caution. It would be cutting the road off with his own hands.
He lowered his head and said nothing for a long while. Only after what felt like ages did he slowly raise his eyes again, as though he had finally come to some decision.
"If Madam is truly willing to send word for me..."
He got that far, then swallowed. What came after seemed heavier than all his earlier hesitation put together.
"Then please remember my name."
"My surname is Fang. My name is Fang Yingjie."
The moment those words left him, the cabin seemed to fall one degree quieter.
But Fang Yingjie did not stop. Now that he had begun, the words that followed could no longer be taken back.
"The people at Mount Hua, at Fang Stronghold, and in the Four Seas Gang are probably all still looking for me."
As he spoke, his fingers slowly tightened against his knee, and even his voice sank lower.
"My father... is Fang Tieshan."
Madam Wen's fingers, which had been resting lightly on the edge of the table, paused at that instant. The pause was so brief one might have thought it only a trick of shifting lamplight. Yet she had heard him.
In the next breath, she had already pressed that faint ripple flat again. When she looked up, her expression was unchanged. Only the understanding that had already been there in her gaze now deepened by another layer.
"So that is how it is."
The four words were spoken very softly—without alarm, without disorder, without a single extra question. It was as if she had first taken the name into her keeping and set it down securely.
She was silent for a moment before she said slowly, "I was bound for Jiangxi on this journey in any case."
"At mouth of Taihu, I can shield you for a while, but not for long. Once we reach Jiangxi, once we reach Poyang Lake, Biyue Manor still has at least some standing and some roots there. Even if they wish to, they may not dare reach that far."
"You two will come with me first. Rest somewhere safe. As for the people and places you just named—once we are clear of mouth of Taihu, you can tell me about them one by one. I will send out the messages that must be sent, and reconnect the roads that can still be rejoined."
"If Daoist Master Xuan goes back, he will know where you have gone soon enough. Leaving now is not severing the road. It is only going around the filthiest stretch of it first. Once the news becomes clearer later, we can decide how to join it back up."
When she said that, her gaze shifted slowly back to Wang Yan, and her voice softened by half a degree.
"And as for your family, there is no need to think only of the worst."
"If the trouble at mouth of Taihu is only a passing storm, then once the wind dies down, you may still see whether you can return, and how. But if that net truly cannot be cleared away any time soon, then settling the debts and smoothing out the contracts will not mean you can simply go back to guarding that courtyard, those boats, and those few old nets as though nothing had changed."
"At that point, to remain stubbornly at mouth of Taihu would not be guarding your home. It would be guarding a calamity."
Wang Yan had been keeping her head lowered, but at that, her lashes trembled very slightly.
Madam Wen still did not hurry. She continued, one sentence at a time, each one clear.
"Since you can no longer remain at mouth of Taihu, then sooner or later you must find another place to put your feet down. On the Poyang Lake side, there is still somewhere people can be settled first. If Sister Qian can make it there, then letting her injuries heal properly will already be a good thing. Shun-ge is young and strong. Once he gets there, he will not lack for ways to lend a hand. As for your father—"
She paused slightly, as though recalling the honest, bright look in Wang Afu's eyes whenever he spoke of wine.
"Your father's wine, and that little craft of his, should not be left to rot in the mud of mouth of Taihu. If he can avoid this stretch first and make it to Jiangxi, then it is not beyond me to help him find another place to settle, another place where he can light the fire and slowly set the wine and fish soup on their feet again. I dare not promise more than that just yet. But as for settling the people first, healing the injuries first, making sure life itself does not break—that much, at least, I can still do for you."
She did not speak loudly. In fact, her voice was almost light. Yet in the cabin, those few sentences landed with more substance than any other comfort could have done. It was as though she was not merely helping them withstand one stretch of wind, but had already cast her eye forward to where their feet might stand after the wind had passed, and where they might begin to root their lives anew.
Only then did Wang Yan truly seem to understand.
Before this, she had feared only that the family would collapse and scatter. But now she suddenly understood that the road of "leave first," as Madam Wen had spoken it, was not merely a road of escape. It was a road that had already taken the Wang family's later footing into account—how they might settle somewhere else, and how they might piece their lives back together again.
At last, the hardness in her eyes loosened little by little. Even her shoulders sank by half an inch. After a long while, she asked in a low voice, "If we leave first... can my father, my mother, and my brother really follow this road and join up with us later?"
Madam Wen looked at her, her voice as steady as ever.
"Whether they can join you immediately, I cannot promise in full at this moment. But so long as people are still alive, the road cannot truly break."
"Chief Steward Zhou has already gone back with your father. He will not let this line fall into disorder. If they can get free, they will know where you have gone. If they cannot leave for the time being, then I will leave word here as well, along with the place you have gone."
"To leave now is not to cut yourselves off from the Wang family. It is to remove this end first—the end most easily seized by others. So long as you do not fall back into mouth of Taihu yourselves, there will still be room for the people there to send word or bring others after you."
"If your father is truly a man who understands, then the first thing he will choose to set down will not be anything else. It will be this burden on your side."
Wang Yan listened without blinking. The light in her eyes, which until now had only been a stubborn brightness refusing to go out, finally seemed to find somewhere to rest. Her lips moved faintly. After a long moment, she gave a quiet answer.
"...I understand."
Madam Wen did not force her further. Instead, she looked back at Fang Yingjie.
He still had not nodded.
He kept his head lowered, and the struggle in his eyes—usually so well hidden—showed more clearly beneath the lamp than it ever did in daylight. It was not that he failed to understand the reason in all this. It was precisely because he understood it too well that he knew this journey would not be like the last few days, darting from one wharf to another while still circling within the Taihu waters. If he went this time, following the boat, following the current, following Madam Wen's arrangements, he would be going south for real.
Madam Wen looked at him, but did not urge him.
After a moment, Fang Yingjie asked in a low voice, "Madam truly will send word to Mount Hua and Fang Stronghold for me? And if Daoist Master Xuan goes back looking for me, can this line... still be joined up later?"
Madam Wen met his eyes, her tone still calm.
"Leave the names and places with me. I will send word to the Four Seas Gang, to Mount Hua, and to Fang Stronghold."
"If Daoist Master Xuan returns to the Wang family's place, Chief Steward Zhou will tell him clearly where you have gone."
"You must leave mouth of Taihu first if this road is to be connected again. If you force your way back now, that is when you truly crush it shut."
That last sentence finally pressed him down for good.
Fang Yingjie closed his eyes. The breath in his chest surged up once more, yet in the end he forced it down, bit by bit. When he opened his eyes again, the desperate grip with which he had been clinging to one last refusal had weakened a little.
"All right."
It was only one word.
So light it sounded as though the least breath might scatter it. Yet it had fallen at last.
Madam Wen heard it, but showed no immediate sign of satisfaction. It was as though she had expected this answer all along. She only inclined her head faintly.
"In that case," she said, "rest here one more night. When the wind steadies a little further after dark, the boat will put out."
Neither Wang Yan nor Fang Yingjie spoke again.
By now, both of them probably understood. This was no longer a matter of whether they wished to leave. If they did not leave now, then to remain at mouth of Taihu would no longer be guarding some old road. It would be waiting for a net to tighten around them, slowly and without mercy.
The lamp in the cabin burned in utter stillness, its flame so steady that not even the smallest crackle broke from it. Outside, the water slid softly against the hull, again and again, as though someone in the night were tapping lightly on the planks with the joints of their fingers. After everything that had just been said, the whole cabin seemed suddenly bereft of sound. Only the lamp-shadow swayed faintly beside the table, falling across the tea cups, the medicine chest, and the two young ones seated below, who still had not had time to swallow any of it whole.
Madam Wen did not keep them there any longer. She only lifted a hand slightly toward the old serving woman.
"Take them back to their cabin."
The woman answered and stepped forward to lift the curtain for them. When Wang Yan rose, her movements were half a beat slower than usual, as though the hardness that had been holding her upright had finally been removed layer by layer, leaving her unsure where to put her hands and feet. Fang Yingjie rose as well. His right foot still landed with a dull, faint heaviness, but he no longer had the attention to spare for that little pain. He only pressed the jade token inside his robe more tightly against himself before withdrawing with her.
Once the curtain fell, the lamplight in the forward cabin was divided into two layers.
Outside, the wind had quieted even further. No voices could be heard. Only now and then came the faintest trace of footsteps beyond the cabin, as though the household men were changing the watch, or as though someone had already begun, in accordance with Madam Wen's orders, to gather and set in order all that needed to be readied before the boat cast off.
And in the side cabins on either side, the rigid strain that had filled the day was gone as well. Not gone entirely, but at least altered. By this point, whether they wished it or not, there was nothing for it but to follow this one road to survival first.
Lanterns Shifting in the Night Channel
By the time full darkness truly settled, there were even more lights than before at the mouth of Taihu.
From a distance, they glimmered one by one behind the water mist—shed lamps by the landing, hanging lanterns on moored boats, scattered along the shore and across the line of the water like yellow beans of fire blown loose by the wind. On an ordinary night, such a sight would only have made a person think the waterway was still alive. But to the few aboard this boat, it looked more like the outline of an invisible net, picked out entirely in wavering lamplight.
The boat itself was quiet.
The old woman brought them hot soup again. It was not medicine this time, only a very light, calming broth meant to warm the body and ease the spirit. She said only that the wind over the water turned chilly at night, and that they would sleep better after drinking it, then withdrew softly.
The strain of the day had drained them both more deeply than either had realized. No sooner had the soup gone down than the force they had been using to hold themselves together began to loosen, little by little.
Wang Yan sat by the window for a long time, cradling the small bowl in both hands without moving. Outside, the lantern-glow floated dimly through the mist. The longer she looked, the less real it seemed. She knew she had already nodded her assent. She knew as well that every word Madam Wen had spoken had landed where it must. Yet that hollow place in her chest remained, as though she had been carrying it all along without noticing, and only now had it suddenly shown itself.
After a long while, she spoke in a low voice, as though to herself, and yet also to the boy across from her.
"When my father comes back, he still hasn't brought me my sugar pastry."
Fang Yingjie heard her, but for a moment he did not know how to answer.
He was still seated by the window, the jade token in his hand. The wind outside was light, and the water was quiet. When the lantern at the rail cast its glow into the cabin, a thin wash of pale light slid across the face of the jade. It was not a sharp light, yet it brought out the moon-pattern and the water-pattern with startling clarity. He lowered his eyes and looked at it for a long time before slowly slipping it back inside his robe.
Outside, the lights receded one by one. The shoreline at the mouth of Taihu, so familiar it could not have been more so, also began to drift away with the movement of the boat. It was not as though it vanished all at once. Rather, the water and the night seemed to draw the distance out bit by bit. The farther they moved, the dimmer the voices from that shore became, until at last they were no more than a blurred murmur, impossible to tell apart—who was drinking, who was cursing, who was calling out for someone.
After some time, the true sounds of departure finally rose outside.
First came a low call. Then the faint rasp of mooring rope slipping free of the post. After that, a bamboo pole probed down into the water and struck against the stone below the landing with a muffled knock. A little later, the oars began.
Not the scattered splashing of passing boats in daylight, but a measured rhythm, stroke after stroke. The hull swayed with it, ever so lightly—first a brief rocking as it eased away from the berth, then a long, slow glide as it followed the pull of the current.
Neither of them spoke again.
And yet the same thought seemed to remain in both their hearts—
This was only a temporary detour, no more than a way around a stretch of troubled water. Once the worst of the turmoil had passed, once the news was joined up again, they could still turn back.
They would still see each other again.
The great boat slipped slowly down the night channel, and even the lanterns at the rail shifted their place. At last, the final trace of the old berth faded into the water mist. Wind blew in now from a broader reach of open water, carrying a damp chill unlike the air at the mouth of Taihu. The waterway ahead was still long, and all before them was dark, yet every lamp aboard the vessel burned steadily, shining on the curtains, on the railing, and on these two children, who still did not know where they were truly bound.
That night, they finally left the mouth of Taihu for good.
Yet to them, it still felt like no more than a brief turning aside—
The road was not broken, and the lamps had not gone out.
Only the old shore had, little by little, withdrawn behind them.
Poetic Coda
At the landing, cold lamps burned through an endless night;
A turning boat bore mud-stained news upon the Canglang tide.
One handprint on a paper drew the yamen's brush to life;
One half-broken fishing line ran onward to the clerks inside.
It was never that one could stay and wait upon the road—
To guard the shore, it seemed, was all it took to fall to harm.
Southward went the blue-curtained boat, speechless in the dark,
Still trusting that in some later year, hope might remain.
(End of Chapter Twenty-Six)