The bustle in the rear courtyard revolved around a single center.
Zhang Lingxiao had changed into a brand-new black official uniform made of fine cotton. The fabric was crisp and the color ink-black, making his already unruly face seem even more spirited and flamboyant. A jade pendant hung from the ox-leather belt around his waist. Its color was warm and lustrous, and anyone could tell at a glance that it was worth a great deal.
He was animatedly recounting his experience choosing a horse at the West City Horse Market the day before. His voice was neither loud nor soft, but just loud enough for everyone gathered around him to hear clearly.
"...The horse dealer led out a chestnut horse and claimed it could travel eight hundred li a day. He opened by demanding eighty taels! My uncle only took one look before saying the horse had an injury to its hind hoof and was a sick horse. The dealer's face turned green on the spot..."
He told the story with dancing eyebrows and a flying expression. Several young men beside him, all temporary constables like himself, listened as if intoxicated, occasionally offering perfectly timed gasps of amazement and words of flattery.
"Brother Zhang really does have a sharp eye!"
"Chief Constable Zhang is still the impressive one. Nothing strange or sinister can escape his discerning gaze!"
Wei Datong tugged on Ye Qingxuan's sleeve, pulling him aside, then jerked his chin toward the group.
"See that? That's what they call being born lucky. His uncle is the new Chief Constable Zhang. Yesterday, he bought that fifty-tael horse without even blinking. People like us could work our whole lives and still not earn enough to pay for the feed of one of his horses."
The sourness in his voice could be smelled from ten feet away.
"The rules of the Fengtian Division are strict. If you want to go from an unregistered temporary constable to a regular position, you either have to be a once-in-a-century martial prodigy, or honestly grind out your seniority and hone your cultivation to the second level of Body Tempering. Then you have to wait for the right opportunity—only when a vacancy opens will you have the tiniest glimmer of hope."
Wei Datong picked his teeth with a fingernail, casting a sidelong glance at Zhang Lingxiao.
"But what about him? A sixteen- or seventeen-year-old brat who came here just to gild his credentials. Do you believe me? In less than six months, he'll be a bona fide regular constable. He might even snag himself a minor banner post and take charge of a bunch of hard-luck cases like us."
Ye Qingxuan said nothing. He merely lowered his head and repeatedly wiped his old short blade with a coarse cloth.
The blade gleamed with a faint, icy sheen in the morning light. He wiped it slowly and intently, the cloth sliding over the blade and producing a soft rustling sound.
He saw the rules of this world more clearly than Wei Datong did. Envy was useless. Complaining was even more useless.
Suddenly, the noisy din in the courtyard seemed to be clutched by an invisible hand and abruptly fell quiet.
Everyone turned toward the rear hall in unison. The circle surrounding Zhang Lingxiao also scattered of its own accord, as everyone stood with their hands at their sides.
Four figures emerged side by side through the moon gate of the rear hall.
The one walking farthest to the left was Chief Constable Li. He was tall and thin, with a stern face. Wherever his gaze swept, no one dared meet his eyes.
Beside him was the slightly stout Chief Constable Yan, whose face always wore an air of geniality.
Next to him was a burly middle-aged man with a square face and a short beard along his jaw. His steps were steady and his bearing imposing even without anger. He was Zhang Lingxiao's uncle, the newly appointed Chief Constable Zhang.
The one walking farthest to the right, however, was an old man with graying hair and a lean frame. He wore the same cotton official robes as the other three, but at his waist hung only an ordinary Fengtian Division badge, with no blade or sword. He walked neither quickly nor slowly, his expression calm. Yet whenever his eyes opened and closed, the light that shone from them was even more unnerving than Chief Constable Li's gaze.
These were the four Chief Constables of the Southern District Substation of the Fengtian Division. They usually vanished like dragons that showed neither their heads nor tails, yet today they had all appeared together. Clearly, something important was afoot.
The hundred or so constables in the courtyard were as silent as crows in winter, even softening their breathing.
Chief Constable Yan stepped forward with a chuckle and cleared his throat.
"I've summoned everyone this morning to announce a personnel matter."
His gaze shifted and landed on Zhang Lingxiao in the crowd.
"This is Zhang Lingxiao. He is Chief Constable Zhang's own nephew, and also our newest brother in the Fengtian Division."
At these words, Zhang Lingxiao immediately stepped out from the crowd. He gave the four Chief Constables an imperfect cupped-fist salute, but not a trace of arrogance left his face.
"Chief Constable Zhang's meaning is that young people need more experience. However, patrolling the streets and running about is merely hard work for tempering the muscles and bones; it offers little benefit to official duties." Chief Constable Yan changed tack. "Therefore, starting today, Ling Xiao won't need to patrol with the team anymore. He'll stay by my side and learn to handle documents and case files, familiarizing himself with the procedures our Fengtian Division follows when solving cases. From now on, you'll all be colleagues, so look after one another."
As soon as these words were spoken, the courtyard fell silent for a moment. Then a chorus of agreement rang out.
"Chief Constable Yan is right! Brother Zhang is clearly a dragon among men. How could he be like us, eating dust on the streets every day?"
"Following Chief Constable Yan means learning real skills. His future is limitless!"
Several regular constables also cupped their fists toward Zhang Lingxiao and offered their congratulations, their words dripping with courtesy.
Zhang Lingxiao accepted everyone's flattery without the slightest hesitation. His chin rose even higher as his gaze swept across the temporary constables filling the courtyard, his expression as if he were looking at a swarm of ants.
Beside Ye Qingxuan, Wei Datong's face flushed with anger. His teeth grated loudly as he squeezed a few words out between them: "Damn it... handling documents! That's just enjoying an easy life! It's the fast track to promotion!"
Everyone avoided the chores in the rear courtyard kitchen like the plague. But serving as a clerk beside a Chief Constable was a plum assignment that made everyone green with envy. Not only would one be sheltered from the wind and rain, one would also have constant opportunities to appear before the Chief Constable and learn the ways of officialdom. Compared with running one's legs off on the streets, it was impossible to say how much better it was.
This was influence.
With a single word, it could make the rules bend around it.
Ye Qingxuan continued wiping his blade, his movements not stopping for even a moment.
He watched Zhang Lingxiao surrounded by the crowd, watched the brand-new black uniform he wore, watched the warm jade pendant at his waist.
Then his gaze slowly shifted away and fell onto his own hands.
They were hands that did not match his age, their palms and knuckles covered in thin calluses. They were the marks left by wielding a blade, practicing his fists, and rubbing and working his flesh the night before.
These hands were not beautiful. They were even somewhat rough.
But those hands held his own path.
In this world, some people competed with their fathers, while others competed with their uncles.
Ye Qingxuan had no father to rely on and no uncle to back him.
The only things he could fight with were his own fists—and the mysterious scroll in his mind that no one else knew about.
He stopped wiping the blade and slid the short blade back into its sheath with a sharp shing.
The crisp sound stood out starkly amid the buzzing flattery.
Several people nearby turned at the sound, only to see Ye Qingxuan straighten. His figure remained lean, but his waist and back were ramrod straight.
He did not look at Zhang Lingxiao again, nor did he pay attention to the indignant Wei Datong beside him. He simply turned and strode toward the courtyard gate.
His steps were not fast, but each one was exceptionally steady. His soles struck the flagstones with a faint yet resolute sound.
Wei Datong stared blankly at his departing back. For some reason, he suddenly felt that Ye Qingxuan was different today from how he had been before.
That back seemed to carry less of the weariness and restraint of struggling for a living, and more of something that could neither be explained nor described.
It was like the newborn sharpness of a blade honed to an edge.
Ye Qingxuan walked out through the yamen gates. The sunlight before noon fell upon him, stretching his shadow long behind him.
He raised his head and squinted at the sky.
The sky was still that same sky.
The world was still that same world.
But his heart was no longer the same.
Whether one fought with one's fists or with one's background, in the end, one still had to fight.
Then let him fight.
Before you continue