The moon hung high upon the branches, and stars scattered across the sky. Tonight was a rare clear night in Jiugao City.
Such a night lacked the monotonous sound of raindrops hitting the eaves, but it was filled with the chirping of insects. For those with keen ears and light sleep, it was hardly a night of rest.
Shi Huayu rolled over, her gaze falling upon the locked incense box on her dressing table.
The soothing incense inside was blended with Pila and Wusong seeds; lighting it for just half a quarter-hour could plunge a person into a deep slumber until dawn. However, the key to that box was hidden beneath a stone brick at the furthest corner of the flower garden. Retrieving it required a great deal of effort, which served to discourage her from relying on it too often.
Long-term use of medicinal sleep aids would eventually cloud the mind. She could afford to lose a limb, but she could not afford to lose her wits.
Lately, it was always like this: she felt exhausted when awake, yet found it difficult to fall asleep once she lay down. And if she did fall into a deep sleep, she worried she might never wake up.
Withdrawing her gaze, Shi Huayu forced her eyes shut. But in the next moment, a faint sound drifted through the doors and windows—a rhythmic, repetitive thudding.
The sound came from the backyard. Shi Huayu listened intently for a moment before sitting up, lighting a lamp, and pushing open her door to head outside.
The Second Young Master, who always vanished after dark, had taken those two women with him. The Qiu Mansion was exceptionally quiet tonight.
The cold moonlight danced playfully across the flagstone ground, leading the way deep into the estate. Beneath the moon’s glow, a man with frost-white hair at his temples sat in his black armor, his back still ramrod straight.
"Master?"
The figure by the stone table remained with his back to her, offering no reaction to her call.
Shi Huayu sighed and descended the steps.
The elderly general sat there with his hair loose, obsessively wiping a longsword. His beard and hair, shot through with silver, were coated in a layer of white frost by the moonlight. The sword in his hand shone like a brilliant rainbow, its cold light casting a snowy streak across the stone table. Despite the sweltering summer heat, it gave off a bone-chilling, piercing aura.
Shi Huayu stood there silently for a long time before stepping forward with her candle.
"It is late, General. You should go to sleep."
At the word "General," the man by the stone table finally turned around with agonizing slowness. Those eyes, which should have been sharp and piercing, had long since lost their luster. They were clouded as if veiled by a shroud, revealing only a sense of vacancy and chaos.
"I cannot sleep. The fifth watch drum has not sounded, the sky is not yet bright, and they have not returned. I cannot sleep... I cannot sleep..."
Even though she had witnessed this scene over a hundred times, Shi Huayu could not stop a sudden sting in her nose. She looked at the aging general wiping his precious sword in the moonlight and finally stepped forward, gently placing the oil lamp on the stone table.
"Very well. I shall keep watch with the General until dawn."
***
In the north of the city, at Tianlu Pavilion on Sunshi Street, the three-story structure was ablaze with lights.
After an unknown number of rounds of drinks, the banquet on the top floor had become a chaotic heat. The boisterous laughter of men mingled with the songs of entertainers and the jingling bells of dancers, nearly drowning out the lutes and clappers of the musicians.
Before long, a screen was knocked askew, and a young master in fine silks stumbled out. The jade crown atop his head was crooked, and his collar, embroidered with gold and silver bamboo leaves, had been torn open. He staggered a few steps and collapsed against the railing, retching violently.
Moments later, two men emerged from behind the screen and hauled him up. The three of them, arms draped over each other's shoulders, returned to the alcohol-soaked inner chamber for another round of debauchery and extravagance.
In the courtyard of Tianlu Pavilion, amidst the flowers and the bustling crowd, a woman in green watched the figure disappear back into the third floor. Expressionless, she turned and wove through the throng, heading straight for a carriage parked in the back alley.
A man in blue stood before the carriage, dressed as a fisherman in a straw raincoat and bamboo hat. Hearing her approach, he turned around.
Liu Caiwu’s face had returned to its bright, composed state. After a polite greeting, she drew an object from her sleeve and handed it over, speaking softly.
"My Young Master is currently indisposed and cannot see guests. You may pass the items to me."
The man in blue was clearly accustomed to such situations. He gave a knowing smile, took the box from her hand, and turned to select one from the countless identical boxes inside the carriage. He presented it to Liu Caiwu with both hands.
"This month’s dose has been delivered on time. I wish you every success."
Liu Caiwu took the box. The man in blue did not linger; he turned, boarded the carriage, and drove toward his next destination.
The moment the carriage vanished at the end of the alley, a red figure leaped down from a nearby treetop. Jiang Xin’er rushed toward the woman in green, her gaze never straying toward the box for even a second.
"Is the Young Master very drunk? Do I need to go check on him?"
Liu Caiwu did not answer. She watched her silently for a moment, then opened the box and held it before her eyes. Inside was a small, exquisite porcelain bottle of a celadon hue, devoid of any decoration.
"Take it."
Jiang Xin’er froze. She looked at the bottle, then up at the woman before her. After a pause, she murmured, "But it isn't time yet for this month..."
"Take it or leave it. It makes no difference to me."
Liu Caiwu spoke coldly and moved to close the lid. Suddenly, a hand reached out to steady the box, and the celadon bottle was snatched into a firm grip.
Liu Caiwu tucked the empty box away and looked up at the apprehensive Jiang Xin’er. Once the acquired lethality and rigidity were stripped away, it was a young face that should have shown a hint of boldness. Though their features were vastly different, the girl’s spirit bore a thirty to forty percent resemblance to her own younger self.
Liu Caiwu turned away, looking toward the noisy tavern nearby, and suddenly spoke.
"If this isn't the life you wanted, find a way to leave."
Jiang Xin’er shuddered, lowering her head. "You know I can't..."
"As long as you want to, the day will come when you can leave. If you never even think of it, you will be trapped here for a lifetime."
Jiang Xin’er looked up. Having lived in the Qiu Mansion for so many years, she still felt a mix of respect and fear toward the woman before her. This green-clad manager possessed an innate sharpness, as if she had long since seen through the ways of the world. No matter where she was, she seemed slightly cooler than her surroundings, radiating a sense of detached indifference.
A woman like this should have found a quiet place to live as a recluse; why did she choose to remain confined within these walls, frequenting such noisy, worldly places?
After a moment of silence, Jiang Xin’er asked the question in her heart. "Since you can leave, why don't you?"
"The world is full of things that defy logic, but in the end, it all comes down to one's own willingness." Liu Caiwu’s gaze passed through the colorful lanterns, finally settling on the quiet, distant night. "Of course, I once thought of leaving. But the person who was supposed to leave with me stayed here forever. Since that is the case, there is no need for me to leave either."
***
On Shouqi Street in the south of the city, the drunken wanderers at the alley entrance finally stumbled away. Tingfeng Hall, which had been noisy all day, finally fell silent.
The well-fed ducks slept in the grass by the courtyard, and even the insects had quieted down. The plants, having sweltered all day, quietly unfurled their leaves, with the occasional sound of water dripping from a petal.
A moment later, an easterly wind seemed to rise. The night breeze swept through the hall, first rustling the leaves of the plantain tree, then blowing the half-closed door so that it swung open and shut. The old hinges creaked rhythmically, a sound that was grating to the ears.
*Which one of them didn't close the door properly after getting up in the night? Simply appalling.*
Tang Shenyan threw back his covers, ready to unleash a torrent of curses, before suddenly remembering that the whole lot of those annoying fellows had already packed up and left. He should be the only one in Tingfeng Hall tonight.
He stiffened, his back instantly drenched in cold sweat. After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed the fire poker he kept by his bed and fumbled for a fire striker beneath his pillow, creeping out of his room.
He followed the sound through the darkness. The overgrown weeds brushed against his bare ankles, making his hair stand on end. A distance of mere dozens of paces took him the time of a cup of tea to cross.
Tang Shenyan finally stopped, his gaze falling on the pitch-black records room. The wooden door swung in the wind, its dark shadow pulling left and right on the ground like a guillotine—a truly ghastly sight.
Tang Shenyan took a deep breath and stepped into the room. It was pitch black inside, with only messy outlines visible. A faint scent of alcohol wafted toward him, and the sweat on his palms suddenly dried.
He sniffed the air and walked straight to the base of the wall. He swept aside several scraps of paper strewn on the floor, revealing Old Dog Du’s face, which was slightly askew from a drunken stupor. The man was heavily intoxicated and completely unaware of any presence. He muttered drunken nonsense in his sleep, something about divining the universe and methods to save the world.
Tang Shenyan raised an eyebrow, stared at the man on the floor for a long time, and then covered him back up with the scraps of paper.
Moonlight filtered through the plantain tree outside, splitting the messy room full of ancient texts and ledgers into fragments. However, to the master of Tingfeng Hall, this clutter was full of order. With a single glance, he could tell which piece of paper had been moved or which ledger had been flipped open.
Tang Shenyan withdrew his gaze and walked to the elmwood desk piled with documents. He moved aside the cracked stone inkstone and brush washer, reaching beneath the tabletop to feel around. His heart finally eased when his palm touched the familiar security thread.
The last trace of wariness vanished from his eyes, and he reverted to the somewhat slovenly storyteller of the daytime. He tucked his hands behind his back and casually hummed a few lines of opera, alternating between civil and martial roles with great relish as he walked toward the door.
At the final step, he stopped and looked back at the feet sticking out from under the pile of paper in the corner. He closed the door firmly and found a stone of suitable size in the courtyard to wedge against the base. After confirming the broken door would no longer let in the wind, he hummed his opera and stepped out into the moonlight.
***
At the market intersection in the east of the city, the wonton noodle stall run by a young couple was doing a roaring trade.
Travelers returning late would stop here to rest, and small vendors who had been busy all day liked to have a steaming bowl of wonton noodles. Wave after wave of customers came, and the large pots in the stall were boiled one after another; the night was still long.
Beneath the old locust tree beside
