Straightening

Captain Qi pointed at the bundle, smiling warmly. "Don't just look. Check it over—make sure none of your gear is missing."

Xu Qing bent down, untied the bundle, and felt through the items one by one.

There was a copper plaque, as long as a palm. Its face bore the words "Qinghe County Office." Its edges had been polished bright from years of hanging at someone's waist.

There was a set of constable's clothes, nearly new. The indigo had faded pale from washing, but the garments were folded neatly and sharply.

The saber's scabbard was black, its bronze fittings polished to a gleam. Xu Qing gripped the hilt and gently drew it. A section of snow-bright blade slid free, cold light dancing along its edge and reflecting half his face.

Captain Qi smiled, his tone growing more casual. "It isn't brand-new, but it'll do. If it breaks, come find me for a replacement."

"The monthly pay is three taels." Captain Qi leaned closer and lowered his voice, giving him a wink. "But you know how our line of work is. That's all there is on the surface. Underneath... the shops and street vendors usually show a little appreciation during holidays. And when handling cases, the aggrieved parties will often offer a little compensation for your trouble. Just know where the line is. Don't go too far."

Xu Qing nodded. He understood what Captain Qi meant. Gray income—nothing to be said aloud, though everyone knew it existed.

Captain Qi pulled another sheet from the ledger, spread it over the desk, and pinned down one corner with his finger. It showed a map of several streets and alleys, labeled with alley names and intersections. A red line circled the designated area.

"You'll be responsible for these streets. This side of West Street, plus those two streets to the south." His finger traced the area within the red line. Then he looked up at Xu Qing and continued, "The county office gives one day off every ten days. Report here at the third quarter of the Mao hour each morning. Patrol your assigned area once in the morning and once in the evening. Deal with any trouble on the streets. If there's nothing going on, you're free to do as you please."

"You can go back to the martial arts school to train, or stay at the county office. But there's one thing—" His tone turned serious. "I need to know where you are. If something happens, I can't be left unable to find you. Understand?"

Xu Qing straightened his back. "Understood."

"That's all." Captain Qi relaxed again and patted Xu Qing on the shoulder. "No need to patrol today. Go back and share the good news with Master Zhao. Report tomorrow morning, and I'll have someone show you around the streets."

Xu Qing rose and gave Captain Qi a respectful bow. "Thank you, Captain Qi."

"No need to stand on ceremony. We're one of our own from now on." Captain Qi smiled and saw him out of the county office.

Xu Qing's back disappeared around the street corner.

Captain Qi remained at the county office entrance, staring in that direction. He shook his head and muttered so softly that only he could hear, "That old Zhao really seems to have picked up a treasure this time. Just don't know whether he'll turn out to be another Chu Sheng..."

By the time Xu Qing returned to the martial arts school, the sun had already climbed over the courtyard wall. In the yard, his fellow disciples stood in horse stances or practiced their fists, sweat already beading on their foreheads.

He did not hurry over to join them. He first returned to his room, set down the bundle, straightened his collar, and strode toward the inner courtyard.

Zhao Yan was still seated in the pavilion. Ning Yun stood quietly at one side, holding a teapot.

At the sound of footsteps, both raised their heads. Their gazes passed through the moon gate and landed squarely on Xu Qing. One look at the way he walked told them all they needed to know. The appointment had gone through.

"Master." Xu Qing stopped outside the pavilion and bowed. "The appointment has been settled. I'll take up the post tomorrow. The monthly pay is three taels, and I'll be responsible for four streets."

Zhao Yan nodded. His gaze moved from Xu Qing's face to the several cages of thrushes beneath the eaves. The birds hopped twice in their cages, fluttered their wings, and chirped noisily.

"Work well. Don't bring shame upon the martial arts school." His voice was quiet, as unreadable as ever.

"This disciple understands."

Zhao Yan said no more and merely waved a hand. Xu Qing withdrew.

After changing into his training clothes in his room, he headed briskly for the training ground. It was still early before the meal; enough time to sweat through his clothes. He had to hold his stances and practice his fists. Not a single day could be missed.

He had only just settled onto the plum blossom stakes when he heard a soft call behind him. "Senior Brother Xu."

Xu Qing turned and saw Sun Ping standing not far away.

"Senior Brother Xu, I heard you went to the county office for an appointment. I thought you wouldn't be coming back today." Sun Ping chuckled, his smile carrying the unconcealed envy of youth.

His eyelids lifted slightly, as though he had recalled something, and he hurriedly added, "Oh, right. Senior Brother Qin went home just now. He said there was something going on at home, and he left in a hurry."

Xu Qing nodded.

"Senior Brother Xu, what's the county office like?" Sun Ping edged closer, his eyes full of curiosity. "What post did you get? I saw a scabbard sticking out of your bundle when you came back. Did you become a constable? How much is the monthly pay?"

Xu Qing glanced at him and smiled faintly. "Train properly and stop letting your mind wander. Once you break through to Manifest Force, you can get an appointment too."

Sun Ping answered with an "Ah," then stopped asking questions and chuckled. He too assumed his stance and began to stand the stakes.

His legs bent, his waist straightened, and sweat soon sprang up on his forehead. Beads as large as beans ran down from his temples, and his calves trembled violently. Yet he clenched his teeth and made no sound.

He secretly swore to himself: he too would break through to Manifest Force, he too would get an appointment, and he too would earn silver for his family. He would let his parents live a good life too, so they would no longer have to rise before dawn to fish, nor argue until their faces turned red over a single copper coin...

When the sun climbed to its zenith, the kitchen served the meal.

Xu Qing's food was as generous as ever, the meat in his bowl piled into a peak. He picked up a piece with his chopsticks and was just about to put it in his mouth when he caught sight of Qin Liang from the corner of his eye.

Qin Liang was coming in through the main gate. He was not walking fast, but his steps were heavy, as though sandbags were tied to his feet.

His complexion did not look good either. It was not his usual sun-darkened red-black, but a dull, ashen color—as though he had been soaked in mudwater, fished out, and left to dry.

Xu Qing raised his eyelids slightly.

Qin Liang was usually the most talkative. At mealtimes, he seemed as if he wanted to eat the entire martial arts school's share by himself, grumbling as he ate that this was too salty and that was too bland. His mouth spared no one, yet he ate with greater relish than anybody. The way he looked today, dusty and dispirited, made it clear something had happened.

Xu Qing called out, "Senior Brother Qin, have you eaten?"

Qin Liang raised his head and forced out a smile. But on that ashen face, the smile looked worse than crying. He said nothing, only waved a hand before plunging into his room.

Xu Qing watched the door close, his gaze darkening slightly. The meat between his chopsticks hung in midair as he held them there, staring at the door for two breaths.

Something had definitely happened to Qin Liang. But since Qin Liang had not said anything, it was not Xu Qing's place to ask. Some matters, if someone did not open their mouth and you kept pressing them, only made them lose face.

He lowered his head and continued eating.

He had barely taken a few bites when suddenly—

The door flew open. Qin Liang rushed out, running at full speed. He jogged straight up to Xu Qing and came to an abrupt stop.

He panted heavily, his chest heaving violently, his eyes fixed straight on Xu Qing.

Xu Qing set down his bowl and asked, "Senior Brother Qin, what happened?"

Qin Liang opened his mouth. His Adam's apple bobbed several times, but no sound came out.

When he had entered the room, he had seen the bundle on Xu Qing's bed. It lay half-open, exposing a section of black-lacquered scabbard. He recognized it. It was a constable's saber. He had seen county office men wearing such blades as they walked the streets, their strides a notch faster than ordinary people's, their backs a notch straighter, even the way they looked at people different.

"Junior Brother Xu, you... you got an appointment? As a constable?" His voice trembled.

Xu Qing nodded.

"Which streets are you responsible for?" Qin Liang seized Xu Qing's arm, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Xu Qing listed the streets Captain Qi had assigned him.

When he mentioned "Green Willow Street," Qin Liang's eyes flew wide open. His pupils contracted sharply, and his gaze blazed.

"Green Willow Street... Green Willow Street..." he muttered twice. Then he drew a deep breath, released Xu Qing's arm, and took a step back. His voice steadied somewhat, though it still trembled. "Junior Brother Xu, I need to tell you something."

Only after Xu Qing nodded did Qin Liang continue, trembling.

A neighbor had called him home early that morning because something had happened to his father's wonton stall.

Old Qin had run a stall on Green Willow Street for over a decade. He had always kept his head down and minded his own business, never causing trouble.

But before dawn that morning, three men from the Tiger Head Gang had come. They kicked over a stool and smashed several bowls.

The leader said that three taels of silver had gone missing from Old Qin's stall, and ordered him to find it and repay it before the next morning.

Old Qin swore to heaven and earth that he had not taken it. He turned his pockets inside out, then searched every corner of the stall.

But those men would not listen. They said only one thing: "We'll come collect tomorrow morning. If you can't produce it, don't even think about keeping this stall." With that, they swaggered away.

When Qin Liang got home, his father was squatting behind the stove, holding his head in both hands, fingers tangled in his graying hair. He neither spoke nor moved. The fire in the stove had already gone out, its ashes cold. On the stove sat half a basin of unfinished wontons, their wrappers long since dried out.

His mother was wiping away tears beside him, one whole sleeve soaked through. When she saw Qin Liang return, she could not help crying again, repeating, "Where would our family find three taels of silver... All our money went toward sending you to the martial arts school to train... How are we supposed to live from here on..."

At this point, Qin Liang's voice caught.

It was not the kind of choking sob that tore at the heart, but a muffled hitch forced up from the depths of his chest. He swallowed, forcing down both that breath and that hitch.

Then he raised his head and looked at Xu Qing.

"Junior Brother Xu." His voice had turned hoarse, carrying a plea unlike any Xu Qing had ever heard from him. "I... I want to ask you to put in a word for us. Tell them my father really didn't take those three taels. If the Tiger Head Gang won't let it go, please help mediate and buy us a few days. Once we borrow the silver, we'll definitely pay it back."

He bent at the waist, bowing so deeply that he nearly folded himself into a right angle.

His head hung low, his chin almost touching his chest, his forehead nearly pressing against his knees.

He remained bent over like that, unwilling to straighten.

Xu Qing reached out and supported him by the shoulders. Beneath his palm, he could feel Qin Liang's shoulders trembling faintly. He put some strength into his hands, lifted Qin Liang's shoulders, and slowly pulled him straight, inch by inch.

He said nothing. But the strength in his hands carried more weight than any words.