Perhaps it was because the Guoran Residence had contributed a few bundles of thatch and several broken stools when the neighboring village sacrificed to the Earth God a few days prior, but the morning a day later dawned with exceptionally fine weather.
The sun had just risen, not yet reaching a scorching heat; its light felt only warm upon the skin. The air was slightly cool and tinged with moisture. Looking toward the horizon, the atmosphere was so clear it felt as though one could see all the way to the capital in a single glance.
Qin Jiuye had packed her belongings the night before. Finally, she fished a few warm naan breads from the hearth, stuffed them into her rucksack, and prepared to set off at the appointed hour.
Jin Bao was throwing a massive tantrum. He had been nowhere to be seen since morning, and even his doors and windows were tightly shut. When Qin Jiuye passed by, she intentionally leaned in to listen; sure enough, the person inside immediately held his breath, playing dead.
She offered a few more words of gentle comfort through the door, gave her final instructions regarding the pharmacy’s daytime affairs, and delayed no longer. She walked straight across the courtyard and pushed open the gate. Seeing no one outside, she was about to turn and call out when she saw the youth push open the wicker gate and follow her out.
He wore a dark cyan *duanhe*—a short, coarse tunic—refashioned from Jin Bao’s old clothes. Though it was merely a patchwork of ragged, rough cloth, he somehow managed to wear it with an air of wild unrestrainedness and arrogant defiance. Coupled with the rusted saber sheathed at his waist, he possessed a certain flavor of a hidden wanderer of the martial world.
"What is Big Sister looking at?"
Qin Jiuye quickly withdrew her gaze, picking up the mantle of "Shopkeeper" she had accidentally dropped and resolving to maintain it for the rest of the day.
"Once we leave the village, do not call me Big Sister. Call me Shopkeeper Qin. When I call you, you must respond at all times. I won't meddle in your business, but do not delay my serious affairs. Let us practice. Xiao Li?"
"I am here." He followed her lead smoothly, stepping forward to stand submissively by her side. "What does Shopkeeper Qin require of this lowly one? Please, give your orders."
A stray lock of hair fell from his shoulder, coming to rest not far from her eyes. Looking slightly further up, she could see his slender, pale neck and the faint, youthful stubble on his jaw.
She felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of guilt, as if she weren't the manager of a pharmacy, but rather a black-hearted madam of some pleasure house, currently escorting her "uninitiated young lady" to meet a client.
She quickly averted her eyes and set off at a brisk pace, her face stiff.
"What can you do? Just keep up with me."
Despite her words, it was impossible for Qin Jiuye to bring a grown man along and not put him to work.
When Jin Bao used to follow her, he not only had to help inventory the medicinal ingredients and keep the accounts, but he also had to swallow his pride and cooperate with her acting to haggle over a few copper coins. These skills were things she had cultivated in him bit by bit; only she knew how many detours she had taken and how many losses she had suffered along the way.
Thinking of this, she felt a bit apprehensive about today's decision.
But it was clearly too late for second thoughts. Since she was unwilling to spend extra silver, she could only favor one side of the bargain. Since she wanted someone with good martial skills, she couldn't expect him to be meticulous in other matters. At worst, she would simply have to worry more herself.
To ensure as little trouble as possible at the market, her mouth hardly stopped moving along the way as she explained the details of the Qingyang Fair to Li Qiao.
The Qingyang Fair originated from the ancient "Qingyang Sacrifice." Legend had it that the Qingyang Sacrifice was a grand event held at the end of spring, where cultivators and immortals from all paths would gather to share the rare treasures they had harvested or encountered over the past year. If they saw something they liked, they could barter for it, satisfying their own desires while fulfilling the wishes of others.
However, as dynasties changed and time passed, the legends of gods and ghosts gradually faded. Records of the Qingyang Sacrifice survived only as a few nonsensical fragments between the lines of history books, and no one knew what those so-called rare treasures actually were. Only the tradition of observing the strange and appreciating the exotic at the turn of spring and summer continued to circulate in the martial world.
Various merchants and private peddlers would spontaneously gather on the first day of the fourth lunar month to auction off the rare goods they had stockpiled for a year. The "Qingyang Sacrifice," now tainted by the stench of copper coins, had long since lost its mystical color, becoming a playground for the opportunistic and the ambitious. The "Sacrifice" was no more, leaving only the "Fair," and even the name "Qingyang"—meaning Green Sun—existed in name only. It had been replaced by the homophonous name of the baleful star, "Qingyang," which instead highlighted the sentiment of seeking wealth amidst danger.
Qingyang represented obstinacy, audacity, and a penchant for the unconventional—traits that every person who came to the Qingyang Fair possessed to some degree.
Even someone like Qin Jiuye, who was cautious at every step to protect her livelihood, possessed a bit of this "Qingyang character" deep within her heart.
As a practitioner of medicine, she buried herself in medical texts and pharmacology for years without feeling the hardship; this was obstinence. Facing the doubts of various patients, she had to remain calm and persistent; this was audacity. And when encountering mysterious illnesses, she had to use strange and risky methods to subdue them; this was taking the unconventional path.
These were the unknown facets of Qin Jiuye.
The people who came to Guoran Residence for treatment did not know this; the villagers of Dingweng Village did not know; even Jin Bao did not know. They only saw her as Shopkeeper Qin, who had fallen into a pit of money and busied herself every day for petty profits.
True, she needed silver, but she didn't truly love it. She wanted silver to open a larger pharmacy, to have a sturdier home, and to live better in this man-eating world.
After queuing to enter the city gate and turning into Shouqi Street, Qin Jiuye finally stopped.
"Xiao Li?"
The youth's voice rang out from behind her at just the right moment.
"I am here."
"I've said so much, did any of it actually sink in? I offended Jin Bao just to bring you out; you absolutely must not betray my trust. From now on, stay sharp."
"I remember it all. Rest assured, Shopkeeper Qin."
How could she rest assured? She was never a person who found it easy to be at ease.
Despite her lingering reservations, Qin Jiuye truly couldn't find any fault with him at the moment. She looked up at the sky and said with a touch of mercy, "It is still early. What business do you have to attend to? Go and do it now."
The youth, however, changed from his pleading manner of the previous night and suddenly became nonchalant.
"No rush. Where do you want to go? I will accompany you."
Qin Jiuye gave him a strange look, unsure how much of his words were true or false. Finally, she waved her hand and walked ahead on her own.
"Suit yourself."
Because she had been preparing for the Qingyang Fair, she hadn't entered the city for six or seven days. Thus, after entering, she went straight to the Listening Wind Hall on Shouqi Street to eavesdrop on some free information.
For instance, the wealthy Bai family in the north of the city had been robbed; it was said they lost more than three thousand taels in banknotes, and even a concubine was nearly violated by the thief. Or that the new Governor of Jiugao City was leading troops to investigate a case and insisted on enforcing a curfew; several businesses near the flower street of Hongzhi District had been protesting and clamoring for a rent reduction. Or that the Fangwai Temple was completely finished; a few days ago, Yuan Shuqing's foster son had been carried down the mountain, and before he had gone far, he was ambushed by several groups of unknown origin, barely escaping under the protection of a few young disciples...
Qin Jiuye listened calmly, secretly observing Li Qiao's expression.
She was indeed curious about what business Li Qiao had to attend to.
Although Listening Wind Hall was a tea house, few people actually came to savor the tea. The back street outside was a perennial gathering spot for all sorts of martial artists. These people loved to huddle together and chat, often sponging off the tea and fruit plates because the owner, Tang Shenyan, was a pushover who didn't dare speak up even if they were short on tea money.
Today was no different.
People of the martial world were either full of grand talk and cynicism, or reserved and self-cultivating. But most were people of passion; when they met a few confidants or old enemies, they were bound to get heated.
In such a crowd, Li Qiao seemed far too out of place. He was too quiet, too docile. Whatever news he heard, he only kept his head bowed, staring at the tea bowl in front of him, like a servant who feared being scolded by his master if he revealed anything.
Qin Jiuye felt that even if he stood up and walked around instead of sitting there, he would be mistaken for a waiter in the tea house rather than a traveler in the martial world.
But she soon understood; perhaps this was the reason he had survived until today.
She had seen him holding the steelyard to weigh medicine, and she had seen him swinging an axe with one hand to chop wood. People often preferred to show one side of themselves to the world, but they often possessed more than just that one side. Who could be certain what kind of person their acquaintance truly was?
Setting down the chipped tea bowl, Qin Jiuye rose and left Listening Wind Hall without a word.
A cup of tea's worth of time didn't actually yield much; it only made her feel more worried and annoyed by the person beside her. Moreover, she had serious business to attend to today; let others worry about their own affairs.
Although the Qingyang Fair was a "ghost market," it opened very early. This was a convenience left for merchants who had come from afar and were in a hurry to continue their journey.
Before noon, Fusang Street was already packed so tightly that not even a drop of water could trickle through. The bustling stalls were crowded with heads; sweat and spittle became another kind of rain here, making the atmosphere sticky and unpleasant. There were also some mysterious-looking stall owners who preferred to lead people into back alleys; this required a buyer with some backbone and a keen eye to follow, otherwise, who knew what might happen?
Li Qiao watched these people carrying large and small bundles, pushing and weaving through the crowd, with cold eyes. He continued to play the role of the dull follower who was not yet familiar with his work. Except for stepping forward to help when the woman called him, he kept his distance and stayed to the side most of the time.
He did not like crowded places.
Had he known the Qingyang Fair would be this crowded, perhaps he really shouldn't have risked coming.
But thinking about it from another perspective, perhaps he really had come at the right time today.
Composing himself, he tried his best to blend into the crowd while inconspicuously observing the passersby, looking to see if he could spot any familiar faces or seize any opportunities that presented themselves. Although the woman frequently called his name, it was actually just for physical labor or minor troubles. He could handle it with only a fraction of his attention, spending the rest on his surroundings. Only when he occasionally looked over at her would he involuntarily pause for a moment.
Her figure seemed even smaller and thinner among those burly, imposing merchants. But she had her own ideas, standing like a needle in a flood. Whether she made a move or walked away, no one could sway her judgment, and no one could squeeze an extra copper coin out of her.
He had his world, and she had hers.
It turned out that the clashes between experts did not only involve the glint and flash of cold steel.
The scorching sun gradually tilted westward, and time slipped away amidst the chaos. The baskets and rucksacks of the two grew heavier. Qin Jiuye looked at the tattered slip of paper in her hand and finally crossed out the last line with a charcoal pencil. She then led the dusty youth toward the neighboring street.
Past the narrow alley of Fusang Street lay Bobo Street.
Though Bobo Street was not the most bustling place in Jiugao City, it was the street with the most "smoke and fire"—the breath of daily life.
Here were the oldest griddle cake stalls, the most affordable wonton noodle shops, the most authentic oil-tea and shortbread shops, and the last white sugar cake shop in the city.
A dozen years ago, vendors selling white sugar cakes could be seen everywhere in the city. Later, the Chile people from the north brought in buttery pastries. Within a few years, those shops had spread throughout Jiugao City, producing new types of pastries every few days with various fillings and beautiful designs. The plain white sugar cake ultimately failed to please wealthy families, and poor people rarely bought such fluffy, airy things to satisfy their hunger. Gradually, fewer people made sugar cakes; only some elderly folk would still frequent Bobo Street.
Qin Jiuye was not old, but for some reason, she had the palate of a seventy or eighty-year-old.
She loved white sugar cakes most of all—so much so that even if she couldn't bear to buy one, her mood would brighten just by standing at a distance and catching a whiff of the scent.
Another batch of fresh cakes came out of the steamer, the white steam drifting into the street and blurring her vision. Qin Jiuye stood still for a moment, then took a rock-hard naan bread from her rucksack, broke it in half, and handed one piece to Li Qiao.
"Eat something. We have to last until tonight. If you don't eat, you won't have the strength to carry the things back."
The nearby griddle cake shop was doing brisk business. The aroma of freshly baked flaky pastry mingled with the scent of freshly sliced marbled pork hock, making one's mouth water.
Qin Jiuye wished she could plug her nostrils. She endured the temptation for a while and was about to leave when she suddenly heard several medicine traders, who had just finished their battles at the market, joking and teasing each other in front of the griddle cake stall.
"I say, Old Sun, didn't you just hoodwink a few amateurs and make a bit of dirty money? There's no need to show off with these griddle cakes."
Several other medicine traders joined in the jeering, bits of bread flying from their mouths.
"Old Liu's breath is uneven; looks like he didn't make a single sale today!"
Old Liu didn't speak, just lowered his head and munched on his bread. Meanwhile, Old Sun, who was holding a stack of griddle cakes, was tucking them into his pack.
"Just a few griddle cakes, look at you lot and your lack of ambition! These are for me to eat while traveling tonight."
The others chimed in.
"It's ending early this year. There's no hope even if we linger until dark. Better to leave the city early and save a night's lodging money."
"Exactly. Old Liu, you'd better hurry up. If you don't sell now, you'll go home empty-handed this year..."
The group of medicine traders continued their chatter, but Qin Jiuye could no longer swallow the bread in her hand.
The night session of the Qingyang Fair was the highlight she looked forward to every year, especially this year. Her most important item hadn't even appeared yet. What did they mean by "ending early"?
Thinking of the notice she had caught a glimpse of when entering the city, she couldn't help but feel uneasy.
Just then, one of the medicine traders, a man with a goatee, stood up and led two large-eyed mules to leave. Qin Jiuye hurried forward to stop him.
"May I ask, brother, is there no night session this year?"
The goatee glanced at her, seemingly reluctant to talk.
"It was spread around early on. Haven't you heard?"
The Qingyang Fair was a place of mixed company—kidnappers, vengeful enemies, and looters were all present. Even government officials would sometimes blend in to engage in "black-on-black" dealings. For every buyer and seller, making money was only one aspect; the key was how to be careful not to capsize in a hidden ditch.
Qin Jiuye guessed that he was suspicious she might be a government scout and was thus wary, while also thinking her information was outdated, which was why he was being vague.
Observing his expression, Qin Jiuye quickly adjusted her demeanor.
"I was busy running between the Ziwu Storehouses to move goods and haven't had time to exchange pleasantries with old colleagues. I thought it usually opened around the Hour of the Rooster, so I wasn't in a hurry to ask."
"Ziwu Storehouses" referred to the northern and southern strongholds within the Qingyang Fair. Because they were bustling and rich in goods, regular traders called them the "Ziwu Storehouses"—it was quintessential martial world slang.
Hearing the experience in her words and seeing that her attire was indeed simple and impoverished—lacking any "official air"—the man lowered his guard slightly. He quickly pointed to the west.
"It opened early today, and the location was changed temporarily. It's over by Qiongwei Alley."
Qin Jiuye was stunned. She followed up with another question.
"Is it because of the curfew? I saw the notice when I entered the city, but it didn't say why."
The goatee finally stopped. Perhaps pitying her, he held his mules and lowered his voice.
"I'll tell you. A while back, there was a murder over on Sangma Street. I heard it was terrifying. That unlucky night watchman's neck was snapped clean, and blood stained half the street; he wasn't discovered until the next morning. This matter dragged on for half a month without a conclusion. Who knew that as soon as the new Governor arrived, he'd be dead set on investigating? He said it wasn't the work of an ordinary petty thief. Without a word, he started enforcing a curfew yesterday. Who would be blind enough to seek death at a time like this? If you ask me, it's better to finish up early than to drag things into the night."
A murder? And such a bloody one... One had to know that ever since the Qiu family, who hailed from the Black Moon Army, had been stationed in Jiugao City, such horrifying events hadn't occurred for many years.
After saying his piece, the goatee hurriedly led his donkeys away. Qin Jiuye rubbed her twitching eyelid and turned back to Li Qiao.
"Let's go. Today's main event is going to have an early curtain-call."
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
擎羊集 | Qingyang Fair | A black market for rare goods, named after a baleful star.
青阳祭 | Qingyang Sacrifice | The ancient spring festival that was the precursor to the fair.
听风堂 | Listening Wind Hall | A tea house in the city that serves as a hub for rumors.
方外观 | Fangwai Temple | A sect or temple currently facing internal or external strife.
督护 | Governor | A military official; the new one has imposed a curfew.
白糖糕 | White Sugar Cake | A soft, steamed sponge cake made of rice flour and sugar.
野馥子 | Wild Fuxi | A rare medicinal herb Qin Jiuye is searching for.
短褐 | Duanhe | Coarse, short garments worn by the working class.
扶桑街 | Fusang Street | The busy street where the main market is held.
钵钵街 | Bobo Street | A street famous for its various food stalls and snacks.
蛩尾巷 | Qiongwei Alley | The new, temporary location for the fair's night market.
桑麻街 | Sangma Street | The location of the gruesome murder mentioned by the trader.
