Chapter 24: I Need a Man

Yang Xuan’s blade slashed with the elusive grace of an antelope’s horns, and with that strike, a faint figure appeared at his side. In the midst of roaring winds, a cavalry lance swept across from the flank.

Wen Xinshu, at some unmarked moment, had readied his bow, his expression solemn as he fixed his gaze on the intruder.

A sharp whistle split the air—the arrow flew.

Tang Xiaonian responded without hesitation, twisting his wrist to slash behind him.

An explosion thundered, smoke billowing and spreading.

As a hunter familiar with poisons, Yang Xuan’s first instinct was to retreat.

When the smoke cleared, the space before them was empty.

Wen Xinshu remained alert, an arrow now gripped in his hand, though Yang Xuan hadn’t seen when he’d drawn another.

Tang Xiaonian stood unmoving.

“They’re gone.”

A few breaths later, he drew a deep breath.

Wen Xinshu, once again wearing his ingratiating smile, praised, “Commander Tang, you’re always so composed.”

Yang Xuan noticed Tang Xiaonian’s body had shuddered just before, but at this flattery, he steadied himself.

Yang Xuan was just about to relax when a chill crept up his spine.

In an instant, Tang Xiaonian’s saber swept out in a series of relentless strikes, covering the ground before them.

Amid howling winds, Zhao Guolin gave a furious roar as his cavalry lance cleaved to the left.

Wen Xinshu’s sycophantic smile lingered on his face, but his arrow was already winging to the right.

Every man’s focus was absolute.

And behind them?

They entrusted the rear to Yang Xuan.

Yang Xuan narrowed his eyes, gripping his blade, feeling danger closing in.

Suddenly, a coldness brushed his back. Without hesitation, Yang Xuan struck behind him.

He felt as if he’d hit something, yet in truth his blade met only empty air.

His scalp tingled—a sure sign death was near.

Ahead, Tang Xiaonian turned and shouted, “Down!”

Yang Xuan instantly dropped backward, gripping his blade’s hilt with one hand and bracing the blade’s spine with the other, pushing upward with all his strength.

Clang!

Yang Xuan’s eyes widened. Above him, he glimpsed a face with only its eyes exposed, and the glint of a saber closing in.

A sharp whistle—Wen Xinshu’s arrow arrived.

Those eyes flashed with a trace of regret, then vanished.

Yang Xuan sprang upright, testing the air—no further danger.

“That was close,” Tang Xiaonian remained on guard. “When I told you to get down, I didn’t mean fall backward. Had the enemy’s blade been a hair faster, you’d have lost your head.”

Yang Xuan nodded. “I wanted to see who was behind me.”

“We need to stand in the sunlight,” Zhao Guolin strode over, shouldering his cavalry lance.

It was, clearly, a wise suggestion. In sunlight, it’s much harder to hide one’s tracks.

The four stood back to back, and Yang Xuan could feel the sweat dampening the backs of the others.

And me?

He reached back and found his own shirt clinging to his skin, sweat acting as the perfect adhesive.

“This is the daily life of a constable,” Tang Xiaonian remarked calmly.

With the alarm lifted, Wen Xinshu put away his bow, turned to Yang Xuan with a slight nod, “Welcome to the team.”

Yang Xuan rather liked this sense of ceremony. Then Wen Xinshu immediately put on a new face, “Commander Tang, just now your strike was like lightning!”

Tang Xiaonian smiled faintly.

Zhao Guolin, resting his lance on his shoulder, looked at Wen Xinshu and said evenly, “Say what you like, Wen, but Commander Tang won’t make you his son-in-law.”

Wen Xinshu’s face twisted. “Zhao, what do you mean? You’re jealous—you’re damned jealous of me…”

Zhao Guolin just shook his head as Wen Xinshu continued to rant.

When Wen finally tired himself out, Zhao Guolin said mildly, “Back in the day, my woman was far prettier than Commander Tang’s daughter.”

Tang Xiaonian, surprisingly, didn’t retort in defense of his daughter, and even Wen Xinshu, arms crossed, unexpectedly chose not to argue.

When they returned to the county office in Wannian, Tang Xiaonian went in alone to report. Wen Xinshu couldn’t sit still and called Yang Xuan outside.

“You’re quite capable.”

“I manage,” Yang Xuan replied.

Wen Xinshu jerked his chin in the direction Tang Xiaonian had gone. “If you want to become a notable figure in Wannian County, you’ll have to be like Commander Tang.”

“Incompetent!” came a bellow from inside—the county magistrate, Zhang Qiyuan, shattering Yang Xuan’s impression of his calm demeanor.

Wen Xinshu coughed, “Of course, sometimes even the prominent figures get yelled at. But not often.”

“Out!” The roar resounded.

Yang Xuan held back a smile. “I heard the Prefect was once a royal bodyguard?”

Wen Xinshu nodded, “Quite an inspiring story.”

You talk too much when you’re not supposed to!

Yang Xuan knew he couldn’t be too eager; what he really wanted to know was what became of the bodyguards who had once served the emperor.

Back at the Imperial Academy, Zhong Hui summoned him.

“How are things? Has anyone bullied you?” Zhong Hui asked kindly.

“No,” Yang Xuan replied; he didn’t see the initial hazing as bullying.

“That’s good.” Zhong Hui scrutinized him. “I’m not in favor of you going to Wannian County. If you’d gone to Chang’an County, at least I could have spoken up and gotten you a comfortable post.”

Yang Xuan was touched. “Thank you, Professor.”

By rights, he should have taken his leave, but he waited for Zhong Hui’s cue—a lifted cup, a picked-up scroll…

The scrolls were full of etiquette lessons, many applicable to such moments.

But Zhong Hui just sat there, lost in thought.

Yang Xuan, bored, surveyed the room. Tidy—it suited the air of a free spirit.

Suddenly, Zhong Hui came to, “You’re still here?”

Yang Xuan: “…”

He returned to the dormitory.

The old master was lecturing loudly while most students dozed.

Bao Dong, propping his chin with one hand, nodded off, his head bobbing.

The old master came down, calmly raised his ruler.

Yang Xuan thought to warn him, but knew if he did, both would be punished—and more severely.

Smack!

The ruler landed on Bao Dong’s supporting arm.

Thud!

Later, with two wads of cloth plugging his nostrils, Bao Dong grumbled thickly, “Where did you go?”

“Wannian County.” Yang Xuan sniffed, as if his nose were blocked too.

“You’re mad!” Bao Dong’s eyes widened. “The officials there aren’t friendly to us from the Imperial Academy. Our people barely last a few days before they take sick leave and never return.”

Despite his friend’s persuasion, Yang Xuan remained firm.

Bao Dong stood there, clenching a fist to his mouth, and sighed, “Alas, a lonely soul, with nowhere to rest.”

Whoosh! In an instant, his hand landed on Yang Xuan’s shoulder.

Yang Xuan’s shoulder dipped, and he lunged forward.

Bao Dong quickly stepped back, pressing down with both hands, but Yang Xuan shrugged him off and lifted him up.

They paused.

Bao Dong coughed, wiping his mouth, “Not bad at all.”

Yang Xuan was thoughtful.

An Ziyu was clearly a powerhouse, but had gone astray, becoming the school’s tyrant. Bao Dong, on the other hand, seemed the epitome of the tragic scholar.

He even felt compelled to mutter sorrowful verses before making a move—truly one of a kind.

Yang Xuan turned to the question he’d forgotten to ask Zhong Hui, “Do we get paid for working in Wannian County?”

Bao Dong gave him a look that said, “You’re truly greedy.” “Board and lodging here at the Academy are paid for by the court. If you want wages for working, the Ministry of Revenue would choke you to death.”

Fine!

Yang Xuan realized he’d have to find a job to support himself.

Ever since he learned that, in fifty years, ten scholars had gone astray, he’d lost all interest in afternoon classes.

Wandering through Yongning Lane, still somewhat unfamiliar, he sought out the address he’d asked about the day before.

He felt he owed thanks to the first man who toppled the walls of the residential wards—once business came to Yongning Lane, there were staff, and with staff, the place came alive.

The noodle shop was only two alleys from Chen Qu’s place—quite close.

Several tables stood outside, their paint peeling but spotlessly clean.

It wasn’t mealtime, so only a woman and her five-or-six-year-old child were eating. The child was mischievous, and the mother raised her hand, feigning a scold. The child gazed up at her, a look that said, “You wouldn’t bear to hit me.”

Her palm landed lightly on the child’s back. She glanced at Yang Xuan and said softly, “If you don’t eat, this man will take your food.”

The child looked sidelong at Yang Xuan, “He looks so pitiful, Mother—let’s give him some.”

The woman smiled apologetically; Yang Xuan nodded to show he didn’t mind, then called out at the door, “Is anyone home?”

A woman’s voice called from inside, “Just poured the water—come back later.”

Yang Xuan stepped forward, eyes lowered, “I’ve come to look for work.”

Heavy footsteps drew near. A sturdy woman emerged carrying a large clay pot, eyed Yang Xuan, and said, “Fourth Lady, it’s just a boy.”

A voice from within, “Is he well-behaved?”

The woman glanced at him, “He’s well-behaved.”

“Let him in.”

Yang Xuan entered. To the right, the kitchen had been converted.

A young woman turned slowly from the stove.

Her features were delicate, her eyes charming—a bit reminiscent of the fox spirits described in the scrolls. Her lips curled slightly in an air of pride.

She looked to be around twenty, wiping her hands on a cloth as she scrutinized Yang Xuan.

“What can you do?”

“Uh… I can work.”

She frowned slightly. “Anything else?”

Yang Xuan, uncertain, replied, “What do you need?”

The woman looked him over. “I need a man.”

…

Out of drafts, so there wasn’t a double release at noon. The writing went smoothly this afternoon, so here’s another chapter.