On the Eastside Bridge amidst the drizzle, pedestrians hurried to and fro.
The bridge was not long, and its stone steps were shallow enough that even a peddler carrying a heavy load could cross with ease. Yet, a figure on the bridge now moved with agonizing slowness.
The youth, dressed in plain cloth, descended the steps one by one before coming to a halt in the rain. Pedestrians brushed past him, none caring why he had stopped.
Li Qiao reached out to steady himself against the stone railing. A moment later, accompanied by a heavy, muffled cough, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
He had yet to experience the sword styles of the Kunxu Sect, but the fist techniques delivered by that sword-wielding hand were quite interesting.
Those were the hands of someone who had practiced fist techniques with grueling dedication. The strength, the method, and the forms were all the result of years of rigorous discipline; they were not skills acquired overnight. But the most peculiar aspect was the hand positioning during the opening move today. With two knuckles protruding forward, it seemed to be a finger technique evolved from a fist style. However, a discerning observer would realize it was an imitation of the "thrusting pole" technique from pole-fighting.
It was said that years ago, a nameless pole technique had circulated within the Black Moon Army. It had been adapted by a general from spear techniques, initially used only for training recruits. Because pole techniques were faster to learn, they served as a perfect foundation for spear training. Furthermore, sparring with poles allowed for restraint, and soon everyone in the ranks had mastered it. Later, this technique spread to other military camps across Xiangliang, becoming a sensation. Some adapted it into fist, palm, or finger techniques, transforming it from a method of restraint into a method of killing—a way to crush an opponent barehanded when one’s weapon was lost. It was the stuff of legends.
However, many years had passed, and the Black Moon Army was no more. Naturally, no one spoke of the nameless pole technique or the man who had created it.
Looking at things today, however, it seemed this piece of martial legacy had not been entirely lost.
To test his depths, Qiu Ling’s strike had carried nearly his full strength. It was a ruthless blow. Seeing him endure it, Qiu Ling likely felt no small amount of shock, and would surely be more cautious and wary in their future encounters.
But someone of Qiu Ling’s background would never understand that for those who walked the martial world, one needed more than just the ability to face an enemy; at critical moments, one also had to know how to hide the signs of defeat.
Even if a vital point was struck, an arm lost, or a chest pierced, he had to endure it.
It was just a beating. He was long accustomed to it.
Aside from killing, this was what he was best at.
It was six hundred and thirty-eight steps from the gates of the Protector’s manor to this stone bridge. Only after those six hundred and thirty-eight steps did he finally lose his grip on his roiling internal energy. Compared to before, he had made some progress.
Li Qiao wiped the corner of his mouth. He looked up to find several elderly women and aunts passing by in the rain, staring at him in stunned silence. Having witnessed the scene just now, they looked suspicious and unsettled.
Li Qiao said nothing. He withdrew his gaze and focused on regulating his breathing, his entire aura turning exceptionally silent.
The women did not leave. After whispering among themselves for a moment, one finally stepped forward hesitantly and asked out of kindness, "Child, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"
The youth withdrew his hand from the railing and slowly straightened his back. His face shifted back into that mask of gentle obedience.
"It is nothing serious."
Spitting blood in the middle of the street, and he calls it nothing serious? Had he been bullied so badly his mind had snapped?
The old woman with the oilcloth over her head clearly didn't believe him, but she didn't know what to say. Then, she saw the youth walk toward her, bowing slightly as he asked, "Could I trouble you, Grandmother, to see if there is any blood on my face?"
The youth’s eyes were clear and his tone was calm, not at all like he was joking. The old woman steadied herself, squinting her aging eyes to look closely.
"There is some. Here, and here..."
Following her directions, the youth carefully wiped the blood from his face. After confirming several times, he thanked her politely and departed, leaving the group of women standing worriedly in the rain.
***
By the time Li Qiao returned to Shouqi Street, the rain had stopped.
The men sent by Lu Zican were hidden in the shadows of the alleyway wearing straw raincoats. It was unclear if they hadn't realized someone had slipped away, or if they had noticed but were restricted by their orders and couldn't leave their posts, merely sending word to their superiors without pursuing far.
Eagle-hounds resembled their masters—stubborn and obsessed with face. He could have completely ignored their dignity and walked grandly through the front door, but in the end, he found an opening and flipped over the back wall into the courtyard.
She never liked trouble and was always afraid of stirring up conflict. He would move his feet a bit more to save her from nagging him later.
The pond in the courtyard had risen. Rainwater had weighed down the new leaves of the plantain trees, causing them to droop halfway into the covered corridor leading to the back yard, reflecting a misty, humid green all around. He stood there listening for a while, neither making a sound nor stepping forward.
After a moment, the woman hiding behind the plantain tree could finally bear it no longer. She marched across the courtyard toward him, her voice sharp with accusation.
"So you know how to come back?! I'm asking you, where did you go? Why did it take you so long?"
Li Qiao looked up at Qin Jiuye.
She stood in the shadows of the corridor, her face appearing exceptionally pale in the post-rain air.
Finally, it was her turn to wait for him.
Seeing that he remained silent, Qin Jiuye seemed to think of something, and her expression shifted.
"Did you go to the Su manor?"
He swayed slightly, suddenly looking frail.
"Sister, I feel a bit unwell."
As expected, she stopped her interrogation. Limping slightly, she stepped forward and grabbed his wrist to check his pulse.
His pulse was somewhat chaotic, but overall there was nothing majorly wrong, though his blood and qi were roiling violently, as if he had just been in a fight.
She breathed a slight sigh of relief and looked up at him, her tone laced with dissatisfaction.
"If you're unwell, why run outside? If Lu Zican’s men had caught you, you’d have been in for it."
He let her scold him, nodding in agreement as he whispered, "I felt unwell just now, but I am much better now."
Qin Jiuye released his hand and stepped back a few paces. Only then did she realize he hadn't taken an umbrella; like her earlier, he had returned soaked by the rain.
"Where is your umbrella?"
Li Qiao looked at his empty hands as if only just realizing it. He brushed the water from his clothes and slowly pulled a somewhat flattened paper parcel from his robe.
"I left it at the sugar cake shop," he said, pausing before adding in a low voice, "I went to a different one, not the shop on Bobo Street."
Her gaze lingered sluggishly on the familiar oil-paper parcel. She looked up at his matter-of-fact face, and in an instant, countless questions flooded her mind.
*Did he go to find Qiu Ling? Why? What did they say, what did they do? Was it about the Su family or something else she didn't know? And why did he bring back the sugar cakes she had given away...*
A thousand words rushed to her lips, but staring at his soaked clothes, Qin Jiuye forced them back down.
"Wrap them well so they don't get damp; we'll eat them tonight. I'll go get you a set of clean clothes."
With that, she turned and hurried away.
The youth stood where he was. After a long moment, he leaned gently against the plantain tree by the courtyard, watching the ducks in the central pond in silence, his thoughts unknown.
A while later, that familiar shuffling footstep sounded again. She hurried back to the courtyard, bringing with her the scent of soapberry.
She handed him the clothes, but he didn't take them immediately.
His gaze fell upon the familiar outer robe she was wearing. The half-dry collar still bore faint water stains that hadn't fully faded.
"Sister’s clothes are soaked through. Why haven't you changed?"
Because she had been standing here. How could she have changed while standing here?
Qin Jiuye looked down at herself and said flatly after a moment, "I asked Jinbao to get them earlier. He was too busy eating; he probably forgot."
On the other side of the courtyard, a layer of mist hung over the decorative windows after the rain. Jinbao was slumped over a flower stand by the window, dozing off.
The surroundings fell silent for a moment—so quiet that one could hear the faint sound of the ducks preening their feathers in the pond.
The gloomy sky seemed to brighten for an instant, the air becoming transparent and clear, allowing two people facing each other to see every minute detail on the other's face.
Rainwater had dampened the woman’s face. A few strands of yellowish hair clung to her temple. A drop of water crawled down a strand, sliding past her eyes and the tip of her nose before finally landing on the corner of her lip.
Those lips, which usually looked somewhat dry and withered, now appeared enticing under the moisture of the rain, like a fresh peach washed of its dust, emitting an irresistible, sweet fragrance.
Li Qiao’s breath hitched, but that scent still tunneled uncontrollably into his nose and down his throat, carrying the coolness of the rain and a nearly contradictory heat.
She must have applied something strange to her mouth again; otherwise, why would his gaze be stuck there, unable to pull away?
His breathing grew heavy as he leaned in, inch by inch...
*Clatter.*
The dozing pharmacy boy nearly knocked over a pot of orchids on the flower stand, creating a frantic racket.
Qin Jiuye snapped back to her senses with a start, immediately shoving the clothes into his arms with force.
The strange temptation was broken. The peculiar sensation deep in his throat receded rapidly, replaced by the damp chill of rainwater spreading across his skin.
Li Qiao blinked, then stepped back while clutching the clothes.
The woman was still staring at him tensely. After a long moment, she seemed to realize something and raised her hand to touch her face and neck.
"The rain washed away the medicinal juice I applied this morning. I think it’s better if we keep some distance."
He opened his mouth, seemingly unsure of how to respond for a moment. Stripped of his usual clever obedience, his speechless state made him look somewhat pitiful, like a wounded creature. Qin Jiuye quickly looked away, feeling somewhat baffled by her own hostile words.
A silence fell between them. Li Qiao eventually lowered his head and spoke in a low voice.
"I’ll go change."
He turned to leave, but she suddenly spoke.
"Why did you go to see him?"
The youth’s figure stiffened. He didn't even bother to play dumb and ask who "he" was, instead retorting directly, "And you? Why did you go to see him?"
Qin Jiuye found this nonsensical. "This is his case. If I don't go to him, who else can I go to? Should I go to Fan Tong?"
"Even so, you shouldn't have gone alone."
If she didn't go alone, was she supposed to take him?
Qin Jiuye felt helpless. "The fact that we secretly went to the Su manor cannot be publicized. Every extra person makes us more conspicuous. Our situation is already difficult enough. Just do me a favor and stop throwing a tantrum like a child."
*Throwing a tantrum like a child?* He had never seen anyone dare to apply such a description to him before.
When the youth turned around, the look in his eyes had changed. Deep within those rain-dampened features, it was as if two bundles of kindling were burning, a fierce anger showing through the flames.
His gaze shifted, and he finally decided to vent this inexplicable fire on those innocent few ounces of sugar cakes.
"Didn't Sister say that since Guoran Residence isn't open these days, we have to be frugal with our expenses? Why is it that we have to tighten our belts, yet you don't lead by example and instead buy these things to give to an outsider?"
Qin Jiuye was stunned. She hadn't expected him to suddenly get angry, let alone attack her from such an angle. She was momentarily caught off guard.
In her shock, an anonymous fire of her own flared up, and she too had nowhere to vent it. Her gaze fell on the clothes in his arms—clothes she had painstakingly washed, dried, and pressed.
"He may be an outsider, but he’s an outsider who can get things done! Otherwise, why would I lower myself and beg him so carefully? Do you think I want to? Also, I am the shopkeeper of Guoran Residence. I’ll spend the silver I earned however I want! As for these clothes, I don't think you need to change after all. Give them here!"
She snatched the clothes back, grabbed the parcel of sugar cakes, and stomped away in a huff, her usually shuffling footsteps becoming quite brisk.
Behind her, the youth’s figure merged with the half-fallen plantain tree by the pond, exuding a lonely, damp aura.
***
Dinner at Tingfeng Hall that evening was exceptionally silent.
Qin Jiuye sat in the middle with her hair disheveled and a long face, while the youth opposite her radiated a silent, terrifying aura, as if the broken table and everyone sitting around it were a gathering of his mortal enemies.
These two had been acting all "Sister and Brother" lately; how had they turned into this ghostly state in the blink of an eye?
Tang Shenyan, adhering to the principle of "harmony is precious," initially tried to read their expressions and ask a few questions, but eventually gave up. Along with Old Qin, Jinbao, and Old Dog Du, he stuffed all the food the quarreling pair had left over into his own stomach.
With food and wine in his belly, he’d have a beautiful sleep, and any great matter could wait until dawn...
Tang Shenyan snapped his eyes open, feeling he might not make it until dawn.
A sharp pain twisted his gut. With a groan, he rolled off the bed. Clutching his stomach with one hand and holding an oil lamp with the other, he stepped into his shoes and hurried toward the latrine.
After only a few steps, his stomach churned again. He had to stop to compose himself before quickening his pace.
It must have been dinner. But Tang Shenyan thought about it; they ate the taro, pickles, and flatbread every day, so those should be fine. Finally, he suspected those few pieces of sugar cake after the meal.
Not long after dinner, Jinbao had been the first to discover the sugar cakes left on the stove. Just as he was about to hog them for himself, he attracted Old Dog Du, and Tang Shenyan arrived shortly after.
The three were about to "divide the spoils" when the youth, who had been gathering fresh firewood, walked into the room. The four of them stared at each other. Li Qiao seemed to be in a foul mood; he didn't even glance at the oil-paper parcel. He put down the wood and walked straight out.
The ten pieces of sugar cake ended up entirely in the stomachs of the other three.
God knows what those cakes had been through. No wonder that brat refused to eat a single bite.
Tang Shenyan cursed as he reached the latrine. Just as he was about to rush in, he caught a foul stench.
Jinbao’s voice rang out from the darkness. "Wait your turn!"
It really was the sugar cakes.
Tang Shenyan regretted his greed while simultaneously recalling Old Dog Du’s snoring from earlier. He couldn't help but feel a sense of awe for that street-crawling swindler; the man looked like he had a life as thin as paper, yet he possessed a stomach of solid iron.
After waiting restlessly for a while, Tang Shenyan really couldn't hold it anymore. Not wanting to soil his pants, he hurried toward a grass pit by the courtyard.
Just as he unbelted his trousers and squatted down, he heard a rustling sound behind him. He turned his head and locked eyes with several ducks, their eyes wide and round.
Tang Shenyan was already annoyed and fearful of these ducks, feeling they had been exceptionally brutal when they swallowed his golden toad. Now, in his "moment of crisis," he had to chase them away while clutching his half-dropped pants. In the midst of his frantic struggle, the ducks suddenly scattered.
Tang Shenyan breathed a sigh of relief. The next moment, his gaze swept across the mirror-like surface of the courtyard pond, and he froze.
A shadow was reflected on the calm water.
The shadow seemed to have grown out of thin air from beneath the eaves. Outlined by the moonlight, it looked like an inverted roof beast perched on the corner, or perhaps a bat hanging upside down to rest...
A gust of wind blew, chilling Tang Shenyan’s backside and rippling the pond water.
When the water settled a moment later, the shadow was gone.
Simultaneously, the scattered ducks suddenly grew agitated, racing from one end of the courtyard to the other. Tang Shenyan stood frozen, his heart skipping a beat.
The shadow in the water was a person. A person who had been hanging upside down from the eaves and had just silently flipped down.
The hand gripping his waistband was instantly slick with sweat. He swallowed hard, planning to quietly pull up his pants and sneak away.
But the moment he moved, a whistling sound of something cutting through the air erupted from the shadows beneath the corridor, flying straight toward him.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 东便桥 | Eastside Bridge | A bridge in the city. |
| 昆墟门 | Kunxu Sect | A martial arts sect. |
| 黑月军 | Black Moon Army | A defunct military force mentioned in legends. |
| 无名棍法 | Nameless Pole Technique | A martial art style once used by the Black Moon Army. |
| 戳棍 | Thrusting Pole | A specific technique within pole-fighting. |
| 钵钵街 | Bobo Street | A street name. |
| 脊兽 | Roof beast | Decorative statues on the corners of traditional Chinese roofs. |
