Chapter 21: You Must Cherish Those Who Speak for You

Chen Ju lay just a few steps away from the entrance of the alley; with only a few more paces, he would have reached the main road. He Huan stood before the corpse, his face ashen. A guard crouched beside the body to examine it. "The first wound was to his abdomen; he fell from his horse immediately after."

He Huan paid little attention to this; his focus was on the three sticks of incense. The incense had burned down by about a fifth, indicating that the killer had left not long ago.

Someone near him whispered, "It looks like a ritual offering."

He Huan sneered. "Who did Chen Ju have enmity with?"

The man beside him replied, "Chen Ju kept to himself. If he wasn't here, he was at home, or else visiting the brothel."

He Huan stilled his mind, considering this, and a hush fell over those around him. Only the sounds of life from the houses behind the walls on either side broke the silence. After a long pause, he spoke: "Then the most likely place would be the brothel... perhaps a quarrel over a woman."

He Huan could hardly imagine that one of his trusted men had been killed over jealousy. If word got out, the He family would lose all dignity.

The man beside him looked embarrassed. "That can't be."

He Huan turned and asked, "Why not?"

The man shifted uncomfortably. "Chen Ju preferred women of... more advanced age. No one would compete for them."

He Huan was speechless for a moment, his voice icy. "Then it must be an enemy of the He family. A ritual offering... that means we killed someone close to the killer. Who has the He family killed recently?"

An image came unbidden to everyone's mind: a stubborn old man who had refused to close his eyes even in death, his memory still chilling to recall.

He Huan gnashed his teeth. "That wretched old dog... Yan Cheng!"

Even as he spoke, the guard investigating Chen Ju's body shifted it slightly.

A soft sound, a flash of cold light.

The man beside He Huan yanked him back suddenly, shouting, "Watch out!"

A short arrow brushed past He Huan's cheek. Behind him came a scream.

"Ah!"

Not long after, the guard struck by the arrow fell silent, his face turning black. Someone examined him and looked up. "The arrowhead is laced with an unknown poison—never seen before in Chang'an."

He Huan scrutinized the compact crossbow bolt brought before him, a wave of dread passing through him. Had he not been pulled away just now, he would be the one lying on the ground.

The crossbow bolt was crudely made, its materials poor, yet, for all its roughness, it was a deadly weapon. Even the crossbow itself was small and roughly fashioned. The inspecting guard shook his head in disbelief. "The bowstring is already loose after a second pull. This is..." He looked up, thinking the assailant must be desperately poor.

He Huan turned, his face dark as iron. "Find this person. Alive or dead, I want him found!"

At that moment, in a tree across from the He family estate, Yang Xuan crouched on a branch, muttering softly, "What a pity I couldn't kill He Huan."

He slipped quietly down from the tree and bowed in the direction of the three burning sticks of incense.

...

The Wang family.

Wang Douxiang sat in the study with a scroll in hand. Hearing the light, furtive steps approaching, a smile crept onto his lips.

Someone burst in, shouting, "Second Uncle!"

Wang Douxiang jumped up, startled. "Who is it?!"

"It's me!" Wang Xian'er beamed with delight.

"Xian'er!" Wang Douxiang sat back down, smiling. "Mischievous as ever!"

Wang Xian'er wandered to the bookshelf, hands clasped behind her back. "Second Uncle, it's so boring at home."

Wang Douxiang replied without humor, "Then go study."

Wang Xian'er shook her head, her hair swaying, and asked curiously, "Father says there are dangerous currents in Chang'an these days, and told me not to go out. Second Uncle, where are these dangerous currents?"

Wang Yu entered from outside, frowning. "Xian'er, pestering Second Uncle again?"

By candlelight, Wang Xian'er protested, "Second Uncle likes it when I visit—ask him if you don't believe me."

Wang Douxiang smiled. "Indeed I do!"

Wang Yu's face darkened. "I have matters to discuss with Second Uncle."

Wang Xian'er obediently excused herself, but as she left, she caught a snatch of conversation behind her.

"Second Uncle, Yan Cheng was killed today. The He family is behind it."

Yan Cheng?

The girl tilted her head, recalling someone mentioning a stubborn old man. Killed? The He family really is ruthless.

Wang Douxiang’s voice held a trace of disdain. "He Huan is the Yang family's most prized hound. Last time he failed, but today he struck true. Many in Chang'an will rejoice at the news."

Wang Xian'er had met He Huan once when he came to the Wang family to deliver gifts and discuss business. Their meeting was brief, but He Huan's admiration had been evident in his gaze.

Wang Yu lowered his voice. "Earlier, one of the He family’s advisors, Chen Ju, was killed right outside their alley."

Wang Xian'er pouted, thinking the man deserved it.

"Serves him right." Wang Douxiang, hearing his niece’s movements outside, called out gently, "Xian'er, come back in."

Wang Xian'er came in at once to explain, "Second Uncle, I wasn’t eavesdropping."

Wang Yu retorted, "If you weren’t, why didn’t you leave?"

Wang Xian'er took offense, but Wang Douxiang quickly shot Wang Yu a stern look. "Speak kindly—don’t scare Xian'er."

Wang Yu sighed. "Second Uncle, you spoil her too much."

The candle flame suddenly flickered. Wang Yu said, "He Huan went to investigate. Supposedly, he was nearly killed by a crossbow trap set by the murderer."

Wang Douxiang paused. "There have always been secret killings in Chang'an, but such mechanical ambushes are unheard of. To me, it feels more like... hunting."

A name floated into Wang Yu's mind, but he quickly dismissed it as absurd.

Wang Douxiang thought of Yang Xuan, and even said so aloud. "I thought of Yang Xuan. That young man is a hunter by nature, but he studies at the Imperial Academy. How could he have any conflict with the He family?"

After Yang Xuan had thwarted the last attempt on Yan Cheng’s life, the He family had sealed off all information. Since Yang Xuan was just a country boy, the matter had faded quietly away.

Wang Xian'er rested her chin in her hands and suddenly asked, "Big Brother, is the Imperial Academy interesting?"

Wang Yu frowned, thinking his sister’s whims were unpredictable. "Interesting? That’s a place of metaphysics."

Candlelight shone on Wang Xian'er’s face, full of longing. "Metaphysics isn’t so bad!"

Wang Yu sneered. "Metaphysics talks a good game. If the headmaster hadn’t once saved the Emperor, and begged him for support before he died, the Emperor would never have handed the Imperial Academy over to the metaphysicians. They’d have starved long ago."

Wang Douxiang also smiled. "Metaphysics lacks flair, and its teachings aren’t widely spread. That’s why it’s barely survived all these years. Anyone with real talent hides away in the mountains or enjoys philosophical conversation with like-minded friends in the woods—what a life."

Wang Yu concluded, "The He family is in a frenzy, mobilizing all their people. Even the city guards are searching for any trace of the killer. The He family is offering a reward of a hundred thousand coins for information. The city’s ruffians and wandering swordsmen are all on the move."

Wang Douxiang gazed at the night sky outside and murmured, "Tonight, Chang'an will know no rest."

...

Yang Xuan slipped quietly home through a broken section of wall. He washed his clothes, but discovered a patch had come loose. Displeased, he muttered, "Life is hard enough already—couldn’t you have held out a little longer?"

He couldn’t mend it just yet; if he did, the fabric would warp as it dried.

He then took a cold bath, and when he returned, he sat on the steps, placing a scroll beside him with care. Even when pouring water, he filled two bowls—one for himself, one placed in front of the scroll, as if sharing a drink with a friend.

Moonlight was like water. There was a tree in the yard, which Yang Xuan had pruned the day before. Now, as the night wind rustled the leaves, their whispers were unusually clear in the quiet of night.

He raised his bowl, clinking it against the one beside him. "The first time I killed was in the mountains. I was eleven. A Southern Zhou hunter had ill intentions and tried to ambush me, hoping to steal my prey. I played scared, all the while thinking how to kill him. In the end, all my scheming was useless—it just came down to hacking him to death, one blow at a time."

The scroll beside him glimmered green in the moonlight.

Yang Xuan set down his bowl and wiped his mouth. "I was terrified that first time. I hid in the mountains for a long while. I missed my mother, but I knew—if I went home and told them I’d killed someone, they’d beat me half to death. Afterwards... thinking back now, they’d probably see me as a curse and, given the chance, get rid of me entirely."

He looked up at the night sky, the vault of heaven dotted with stars.

"I began hunting in the mountains at ten. It was... hard. Each trip took days. At dusk, I’d find a place to settle down, light a fire, roast my catch, listen to the sizzle, savor the aroma... After a good meal, I’d gaze up at the stars—that was my only happiness."

"Back then, I didn’t know why I was alive." Yang Xuan scratched his head. "I just wanted to survive, yes." He spoke with certainty. "Just to survive."

He took another sip, realized he hadn’t yet clinked bowls, and did so before drinking again.

After a watery hiccup, Yang Xuan leaned against the doorframe and spoke calmly. "At that time, the sky seemed gray to me, hopeless. I never understood why my mother despised me. My brothers lived off my labor, but whenever there was something good, they’d keep it from me. Even if I caught them, they’d pretend not to see."

Suddenly, he laughed. "I prayed to the gods in heaven for help, but maybe my voice was too soft, or maybe I was too far away. The gods didn’t hear me, and my life stayed the same."

"Later, I hoped the village chief would give me justice, but he never so much as glanced my way. I wished the rare petty officials who passed through would help, but they never even lifted an eyelid."

Yang Xuan picked up his bowl. "From then on, I knew—I must speak for myself, and cherish those who speak for me."

He raised his bowl toward the night sky. "Master Yan, this one’s for you."

He bowed his head and solemnly poured the water out in front of him.

Beside him, the scroll’s green light glowed steadily, though, unexpectedly, it remained silent.

...

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