The training for the Night Walkers allowed no leisure for nursing wounds. Even though the whip lashes had not yet healed, Guimao had no choice but to force Bingxu out of bed. As Bingxu sat obediently on the pallet, Guimao rummaged through a cabinet of unknown ownership, pulled out a set of dark, xuanqing-colored martial attire, and helped him dress. He then knelt on one knee to pull on the man’s boots.
Bingxu looked down at him with unblinking eyes, swallowing hard.
"Can you stand?" Guimao finished with the boots and stood up, taking Bingxu’s hand.
At the word, Bingxu stepped onto the floor. Seeing that his expression remained steady, Guimao let go and stepped back a few paces. "Can you move? Does it hurt?"
Bingxu shook his head.
Guimao patted him on the shoulder. "I’m just asking. Even if it hurts, there’s nothing for it; you’ll just have to endure."
He turned and led Bingxu toward the trial grounds. On the way, they encountered several colleagues. Seeing the "fool" looking refreshed and transformed, they began to tease, "Oho, he looks like a different person. I didn't realize you were so good at taking care of people."
"Of course," Guimao replied, hooking an arm around Bingxu’s shoulder with immense pride, feeling a bit lightheaded from the praise.
The colleagues continued to jeer, "Guimao really is a virtuous wife and a loving mother."
Guimao laughed. "It really isn't much different from raising a son."
Being a fool had its perks; one could simply pick out the parts of a conversation they liked and ignore the rest. Much later, when Guimao recalled this "virtuous wife" label, he would find himself unable to laugh at all.
Before the start, no one knew the day’s objective, so there was no way to give specific advice. Before shoving Bingxu into his chamber, Guimao could only leave him with one sentence: "Find a way to survive. I’ll be waiting for you outside."
Standing inside the dark room, Bingxu watched blankly as Guimao closed the stone door, cutting off every traceable sound.
As Guimao walked away, he thought he heard the sound of someone scratching at the stone door.
He knew in his heart that if it wasn't today, it would be tomorrow; even if the man survived this year, he might not survive the next. It was only a matter of time before Bingxu perished during the Night Walk. But life and death were common occurrences here. No matter how much he pitied Bingxu, who was there to pity him?
Today’s lesson was combat against a bear.
Straightforward, brutal power-based combat had never been Guimao’s forte. Beasts like bears and tigers had thick hides and dense muscle; Guimao’s array of light, delicate hidden weapons and short blades could hardly scratch them. Even with poison, the amount of low-grade toxin required to kill a man wouldn't even faze a black bear. He had suffered quite a bit the first time he faced this trial. Later, he gradually figured out a relaxed, albeit shameless, way to fight: first, shoot the bear’s eyes to blind it, then hide. Every so often, he would pepper its vulnerable organs with more hidden weapons. Once the bear had exhausted itself by smashing into the walls in a frenzy, he would move in for the finishing blow.
Blinding the eyes sounded simple, but in a dark room without a lick of light, it required exceptional night vision and precision. Among their cohort, only Guimao could pull off such a tactic.
Though it was relaxed, it was also the most time-consuming method. The dark rooms were cramped, and evading a rampaging beast was no easy feat. Consequently, Guimao had never taken the top spot in this particular trial.
To pass the tedious time spent hiding, Guimao had fashioned a little gadget: several daggers with tough steel wires hidden inside. By wedging them into the stone walls, he could use the wires to hang himself in a corner of the ceiling and even catch a nap.
As usual, Guimao blinded the black bear—his hidden weapons coated in a low-grade poison that was better than nothing—and then comfortably closed his eyes while hanging in the corner amidst the deafening roars. When he woke, he heard someone tapping on the stone door.
The black bear was lying on the ground, panting. Guimao stepped forward and delivered a stab, sending the bear into another struggling frenzy of blind collisions. After repeating this a dozen times and stabbing the same spot countless times, he finally managed to sink the dagger into its heart.
Guimao kicked the carcass to confirm it was dead, then whistled a signal. The trial was declared over, and the mechanism at the stone door gave a sharp *clack*.
Almost simultaneously, the door was pushed open. Fortunately, it was heavy and moved slowly, or Guimao would have been hit. The moment a crack appeared, a figure squeezed inside and began pulling him out.
The sunlight outside was blinding. Guimao was forced to squeeze his eyes shut, and finding that insufficient, he raised his hand to block the light. After all, his eyes were one of his most vital tools for survival; he dared not be careless with them.
"Guimao..." The person beside him, seeing him motionless, grew frantic, patting him all over to check for injuries.
"Bingxu?" Guimao recognized his voice.
Bingxu nodded quickly, forgetting that Guimao couldn't see him.
*Not only did he survive, but he was actually much faster than me,* Guimao thought. He felt a mix of awe and a slight sense of frustration.
Once his eyes had adjusted, Guimao slowly opened them to meet Bingxu’s urgent gaze. He couldn't help but find it funny. "I wasn't even worried about you, yet a fool like you is worried about me?"
As he spoke, he looked Bingxu over. He saw that the man’s clothes were mostly intact; aside from some wrinkles, there were no signs of being mauled by a beast. He had actually dodged everything. Guimao marveled, "Such a difficult trial, yet you won so easily..." He was about to tease him further, but the words died in his throat.
Bingxu’s clothes were whole, but his exposed hands were a bloody mess, their shape almost unrecognizable.
Guimao’s first thought was that he had done it scratching at the stone door. But as he thought deeper and recalled something, his heart jolted. "You... today... you didn't bring a weapon? You killed that bear with your bare hands?"
Bingxu didn't think anything was wrong; he simply nodded.
Guimao was speechless, his heart filled with shame and regret. "I actually forgot something so important... it was my oversight."
Without waiting for a response, he hurriedly and carefully led Bingxu back to their quarters. He used fresh water to wash away the dried stone dust and fur from the wounds. Some debris was buried deep in the flesh and had to be pulled out by force.
Guimao watched, heart pounding with dread, asking repeatedly, "Does it hurt?"
Bingxu had no reaction. His breathing didn't even hitch, as if he felt nothing at all.
Guimao had an ominous premonition. He reached out and felt along the man’s waist and back. When he withdrew his hand, it was indeed sticky and covered in blood.
The black, form-fitting clothes showed no outward sign of trouble, but the wounds beneath had all split open.
"Do you really have no sense of feeling?" Guimao said, somewhat exasperated. The man was injured to this extent, yet it didn't show on the surface. He silently decided that from now on, he would strip him naked every day and check him from head to toe just to be safe.
Guimao bandaged him up again and tucked him back into the blankets. While washing his hands in a basin of bloody water, he asked, "Bingxu, what weapon did you use before?"
Bingxu thought for a long time before replying, "Don't remember."
Guimao: "..."
There was nothing for it but to rummage through the cabinets again. However, the weapons of many deceased colleagues were all mixed together, and he couldn't tell which ones belonged to Bingxu. Guimao picked out a few and asked him, but Bingxu had no memory of them.
Guimao propped his chin on his hand and looked at him gloomily, running through the possibilities in his mind: *Compounding poisons requires a brain, which Bingxu definitely lacks. Hidden weapons require too much precision; Bingxu can't even hold his chopsticks steady. Sword techniques are too demanding, also unsuitable. Heavy sabers or axes consume too much stamina, which isn't good for him...*
Then he reconsidered. Bingxu could easily dodge all of a beast's attacks, so his speed was definitely high. He could also tear a bear apart with his bare hands, so his wrist and finger strength must be immense. Combining these two traits resulted in a terrifyingly explosive power.
An idea formed in Guimao’s mind. He patted Bingxu’s head and said happily, "I’ve got it."
He dug out all of Bingxu’s colored tokens and counted them; there were exactly twenty. He took them all to the steward and exchanged them for a pair of finger blades.
The blades were usually hidden, making them look no different from ordinary leather gloves. Guimao carefully fitted them onto Bingxu’s unhealed hands and taught him how to extend and retract the sharp edges. Though the blades were small, they were incomparably sharp, light, and swift—faster than any polearm or longsword. They were perfectly suited for an internal guard’s assassinations.
To train him in their use, Guimao picked a pile of wild fruit for him. After a few tries, Bingxu was able to skillfully extend the blades, peel the fruit, retract the blades, and hand the fruit to him.
Guimao ate until his teeth felt sour.
But unfortunately, if he didn't eat it, Bingxu wouldn't peel the next one.
Bingxu had been cared for by him for many days; now that he had a chance to do something for Guimao, he was naturally very happy.
Guimao felt stuffed to the point of bursting, but seeing the man’s earnest face, he could only eat while crying inwardly: *Fine, as long as you're happy.*
"I really can't eat any more. Spare me," Guimao finally gave up, defeated.
Hearing this, Bingxu nodded and stopped peeling. He used his sleeve to carefully wipe the fruit juice off the sharp blades, a silly smile spreading across his face.
"What are you smiling for? Do you like them that much?" Guimao rarely saw expressions on his face. He sighed and said, "You really are easy to please."
"Like." Bingxu looked at him quietly, his dark eyes shining with a bright light. He repeated haltingly, "Guimao, like."
Guimao froze for a moment. Coming back to his senses, he coughed awkwardly. "Don't leave out words when you speak; it’s very easy to cause misunderstandings."
Bingxu looked at him blankly.
Guimao ruffled his hair and said with a smile, "You’re a fool who can't remember anything. In two years, you probably won't even recognize people. How could you know what 'like' means?"
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 玄青 (Xuánqīng) | Xuanqing | A traditional Chinese color, a very dark black with a hint of reddish-blue/cyan. |
| 劲装 (Jìnzhuāng) | Martial attire | Sturdy, form-fitting clothing worn by martial artists or warriors. |
| 贤妻良母 (Xiánqī liángmǔ) | Virtuous wife and loving mother | A traditional idiom describing the ideal woman; used here mockingly/teasingly. |
| 彩筹 (Cǎichóu) | Colored tokens | Tallies or chips used as a form of currency or merit points within the organization. |
| 指刃 (Zhǐrèn) | Finger blades | Small blades attached to gloves or worn on the fingers, often used by assassins. |
| 掌事 (Zhǎngshì) | Steward | A person in charge of affairs or logistics in a sect or organization. |
