Chapter 12

After eating and drinking their fill, the group emerged from the tavern to find the middle-aged man in the silk robe, with a steel whip hanging at his waist, waiting outside. Two household servants stood behind him, each leading a sturdy horse with a fine saddle and bridle. The moment Wei Xun appeared, the man greeted him with a smile, stepped forward, and introduced himself:

"I am Qiao Shi, the Unicorn-Head Whip. I have long admired the Green-Robed Wanderer's great reputation. Forgive me for failing to extend a host's hospitality while you were passing through. These two horses are a small token from the Qiao family. Please use them for your journey."

Wei Xun felt sullen and dispirited. "I've never been to New Abundance, and you don't know me. What exactly have you been admiring?"

Taken aback by this utterly face-stripping rebuff, Qiao Shi thought, The rumors were right. He's proud and aloof, all sharp edges, with no intention of befriending others in the martial world. Still, his words confirmed that Qiao Shi had found the right man. That was good enough.

The ill-tempered Chen Shigu had possessed astonishing mastery of extraordinary arts. He understood the heavens above and the earth below, and stood at the pinnacle of both civil and martial accomplishments. Had he wished, he could have founded a righteous school as its grandmaster, or become a towering villain of his age. Fortunately, he had devoted his entire life to tomb-robbing-a blessing for the martial world. With Chen Shigu dead and his disciples scattered like clouds on the wind, another great uncertainty had arisen. It demanded vigilance and careful handling.

The disciple who had inherited Chen Shigu's martial legacy was his eldest. He was a rare, uncanny genius, rebellious to the bone; even his master had been helpless against him. Yet his movements were as elusive as a phantom's. In the few years since he had completed his apprenticeship, most who had fought him had died. No one knew the nature of his martial arts, and few had seen his true face. That made even a suitable sobriquet difficult to devise. In the end, they had settled on "Green-Robed Wanderer," based on hearsay.

Qiao Shi was an old hand in the martial world. He took no offense at Wei Xun's refusal to give him face, and kept smiling. "Your worthy junior brother, Qiu Ren, the Ghost-Hand Vajra, passed through New Abundance a few days ago. I had the good fortune to share a few drinks with him."

Wei Xun gave a cold chuckle. "Worthy, my ass. What's that fat bastard got to do with me?"

Qiao Shi thought the connection was considerable indeed. Qiu Ren had inherited his school's tradition of overbearing arrogance, with eyes set above his head. Sect masters, senior figures, leaders of great schools-he held none of them in any regard. Only when he mentioned this eldest senior brother did a measure of respect and fear creep into his manner. At a banquet a few days earlier, Qiao Shi had presented Qiu Ren with fifty taels of gold. Only then had the man "happened" to mention his senior brother's movements. Qiao Shi had immediately stationed people around the town, hoping to encounter this wandering outlaw who came without a shadow and left without a trace.

Unlike wandering swordsmen who made the whole world their home, the Qiao family had lived here for generations, earning their livelihood by trading horses. Qiao Shi wielded a steel whip, and though his family and holdings were extensive, his martial skills were unremarkable. He had long since resolved that even if he could not make a friend of Wei Xun, he must never make an enemy of him. Whatever Wei Xun said, he would maintain a genial expression that said, You're absolutely right.

Besides the horses, he had originally prepared two young household courtesans. But when he saw that Wei Xun already had a beautiful woman with him, he feared offending him and hastily ordered them sent home.

Smiling, Qiao Shi lowered his voice. "I meant to go inside and offer you a cup of wine, but seeing that you had a lovely companion, I did not wish to intrude. So I waited here."

He offered the reins of the two sturdy horses again, but Wei Xun treated them as though they did not exist and could not be bothered to answer. He brought over the donkey, waited for Baozhu to sit securely and arrange her clothes, then pulled out the stick he had planted outside the tavern, took the reins, and left.

Qiao Shi stared, dumbstruck, as this legendary young genius-proud and aloof, all sharp edges, rebellious to the bone-walked off leading the donkey and its rider like a household servant.

After they had traveled some distance, Baozhu noticed that Wei Xun was simply trudging along in silence, rather than chatting and talking nonsense with her as before. She knew it was because she had mocked his attempt to write on the wall earlier, so she said, "I heard that man call you the 'Green-Robed Wanderer.' That's a rather fine name."

Wei Xun merely gave a quiet grunt.

Baozhu continued, "Yuan Zhen wrote, 'My green robe darkens through the summer; my white hairs thicken as I gaze toward home.' Bai Letian wrote, 'Today adds more white hairs at my temples; my green robe clothes the same man as last year.' And Master Fuli wrote, 'For fragrance, it must still be cassia; blue will emerge from indigo.' Those famous lines all praise the purity of that color, and carry the meaning of blue emerging from indigo and surpassing it."

Listening to the pearls that fell from her lips, Wei Xun felt even more desolate.

"People who didn't know me saw that I often wore this color and gave me that name on a whim. It has nothing to do with purity of character. I wear green because green cloth is cheapest. I spend every day burrowing through grave dirt and drinking dead people's wine. What's pure about that?"

Baozhu fell silent for a moment, then said, "However bad it is, it can't be worse than mine. I was given the title Wanshou-Ten Thousand Years of Life-yet I died at seventeen. I was still nine thousand nine hundred and eighty-three years short."

Wei Xun glanced back at her in surprise. Her expression was sorrowful, her eyes slightly reddened; clearly, she had touched a tender place in her own heart. He thought that she now had no home to return to. Her body was indeed still alive, but in the eyes of society she was as good as dead. However lovely her name or title, there was no one left to call her by them.

Thirteenth Son interjected, "You're both better off than me. I don't have a title. When people are in a good mood, they call me little monk. When they're in a bad mood, they call me little baldy..." He stole a cautious glance at Baozhu and blinked. "And when they curse me, it's damned bald thief."

Baozhu laughed despite herself, nearly spilling her tears. "When I was little, my parents once took me on a spring outing outside Chang'an. They met an old barefoot Daoist who studied my face and said this child would enjoy wealth and honor, with everything going smoothly, but would not live long. I would die before I married. Father was shocked and frightened. He hastily made me Princess Wanshou, sought several great chests of longevity locks and protective charms, and even built the Supreme Immortal Temple especially for me, placing my name under its protection and praying for blessings. In the end, what was destined to come still came."

"What did that old Daoist look like?" Wei Xun asked.

"I was only a little over a year old then. I still had to be carried everywhere. How could I remember anything? The old people in the palace told me all this." After a moment's thought, Baozhu sighed again. "There are plenty of things in this world that don't live up to their names. I was granted Ten Thousand Years of Life and died young. Your name is Wei Xun-Xun means obedient-but where's your obedience? I think you ought to be called Wei Disobedient."

Chen Shigu had indeed given his unruly disciple that name because he had been proud and untamable since childhood. Naturally, it had not helped in the slightest.

Wei Xun nodded in approval. The three of them exchanged smiles, putting the earlier incident behind them.

Baozhu asked, "Why didn't you take the horses that man offered? They weren't exceptional steeds, but they would still have been useful for traveling."

"No one offers favors for nothing," Wei Xun said. "The Unicorn-Head Whip is a horse dealer. Of every ten parts of his business, seven are trade and three are theft. If he meant us harm and gave us two stolen government horses, we'd have trouble on the road."

Baozhu was puzzled. "Government horses all have brands on their hindquarters. One inspection would reveal them. How would he dare steal them?"

Wei Xun smiled. "His ancestors have all been in the trade. Naturally, they have their connections and secret methods. The Qiao family has a wound salve specifically for horses that removes dead flesh and encourages new growth. Apply it repeatedly, and hair grows back over the branding scars, making the marks hard to distinguish."

"Oh!" Baozhu exclaimed. "What a devious horse dealer."

Wei Xun added, "I've heard that in recent years they haven't even bothered with that. They simply put them down as losses."

"What does that mean?"

"Horses are delicate, picky eaters, and hard to care for. They aren't as hardy as donkeys on long journeys. Some fall sick and die because they can't adapt to a new climate. Some run too long and die of exhaustion. Some break a leg and die from their injuries. Those are all losses. Once you've greased the right palms, you report slightly higher losses, and fine government horses become dead horses-then merchandise belonging to the Qiao family."

Wei Xun stopped there and gave her a sidelong look.

Baozhu understood at once. Bribery now ran rampant at court. Even consorts and princesses living deep within the palace had people finding ways to reach them, hoping they would whisper into the emperor's ear and secure an irregular official appointment in return. After so many years, everyone had grown used to it. Though this matter had nothing to do with her personally, as a member of the imperial family sustained by fiefs across the realm, she seemed to bear some small connection to the practice after all.

After pondering for a long while, she said, "We really couldn't accept Qiao Shi's horses. No wonder a stingy iron rooster like you insisted on paying ten times the price for an unspeakably ugly donkey."

Hearing her insult, the donkey immediately tried to kick in protest. Wei Xun held its bridle firmly, preventing it from bucking, so it let out a string of muttering, grumbling noises instead-possibly donkey profanity.

Baozhu watched Wei Xun walking with the reins in one hand and the stick, over four feet long, in the other. She guessed and guessed, but still could not work out its purpose. "What exactly are you carrying that stick for?"

"I picked it up along the road," Wei Xun said. "Look how straight it is, and how long."

Not understanding, Baozhu looked at Thirteenth Son. He saw nothing wrong with picking up a stick either, and instead shared Wei Xun's delight. "It really is straight and long. A rare fine stick."

"I'm asking what you picked it up to do!"

Wei Xun gave her a puzzled look. "It's straight and long. Those are merits in themselves. As for what to do with it, I can think about that after I've picked it up."

"Senior brother, lend it to me for a while," Thirteenth Son said eagerly. He took the stick and swung it about, then assumed the air of an eminent, virtuous monk, using it as a pilgrim's staff. He and Wei Xun tossed it back and forth, having the time of their lives. Baozhu did not know whether to laugh or cry. It was nothing more than a toy that cost no money.

Later, they encountered an old man selling malt sugar. Both fellow disciples turned to look at her, hope in their eyes. Baozhu sighed and generously authorized two copper coins for them to buy sweets.

Raised in a distinguished household, she naturally could not eat and drink in the street while mounted. At first, seeing their carefree delight, she found them childish and ridiculous. Later, somehow, she began to envy them. Even when she rode magnificent steeds on grand hunting excursions, her pleasure was not necessarily purer than their happiness that cost nothing.

After they had played for some time, Wei Xun considered the stick, cut it down to three feet with a single stroke of his knife, and carefully shaved away the bark that might prick the hand. He balanced it across his finger to test the weight at each end, then handed it to Baozhu.

Baozhu held the stick and stared at him, utterly at a loss as to what he meant.

Thirteenth Son sighed in disappointment. "You've given it to her again. I wanted to use it as a walking stick."

Wei Xun scolded him with a laugh. "When you're old and lame and can't walk, go pick up your own."

"Thank you," Baozhu said irritably, "but I'm not old enough to need a walking stick either."

"It's a weapon for self-defense," Wei Xun said. "Your arm strength is too weak. If you can't put an arrow through someone's throat, once they close in, you can only fold your hands and wait to die. Archers have always been the strongest warriors in an army. At a distance, they rely on their mastery of bow and horse; when the enemy closes in, they can drop their bows and fight with blades. Since you worked so hard at archery, why didn't you practice a close-combat weapon?"

Baozhu was dumbfounded for a moment. "I practiced archery for hunting, not killing people. I only needed to master bow and horse. If an arrow failed to kill my quarry and it charged back at me, I had plenty of guards to fend it off."

"Exactly," Wei Xun said. "Now you don't have plenty of guards. Take this stick and practice."

His reasoning was impossible to refute, but Baozhu did not want to admit that her martial skills had such a serious flaw. She muttered, "I could buy a proper three-foot saber to defend myself."

Both Wei Xun and Thirteenth Son laughed at that. "Start out with a sharpened weapon, and there's no telling whether you'll hurt an enemy, but it's very easy to chop your own toes or slash your face."

Alarmed and frightened, Baozhu touched her much-cherished face. After considerable thought, she finally tucked the scavenged stick diagonally into the luggage behind her. Then resentment welled up inside her. Though she had been cast adrift in the martial world, she still had at least one guard beside her. Did this little thief really have no intention of protecting her in a crisis, and mean to make her face enemies herself instead?

In her indignation, Baozhu secretly resolved to practice drawing her bow regularly on the road. Once her arm strength recovered enough to put an arrow through a throat, these two little thieves would not dare laugh at her. Then she pictured herself drawing her bow and nocking an arrow astride a fine steed, her glances radiant, her bearing valiant and dashing. Now she rode a stubborn, ugly donkey. However divine her marksmanship, she must still look unbearable. She could not help sighing in mournful resentment.

Thirteenth Son added, "I heard the former crown prince was deposed because a bear clawed his face and disfigured him. Even with guards along, this hunting of yours sounds dangerous."

Baozhu's face darkened at once. "That matter wasn't so simple," she said sternly. "Don't make reckless judgments."

Wei Xun gave her a puzzled glance. "He's your elder brother too, isn't he? What, you weren't close?"

Not close doesn't begin to cover it, Baozhu thought. Imperial children like them, even those born to the same parents, could turn against one another over power, unable to rest until the other's blood spattered the ground. Since the Xuanwu Gate Incident, it had almost become a curse upon the Li Tang Royal House. The deaths in one such savage struggle far exceeded anything a single arrow or blade could accomplish.

Their journey continued. As the group was about to leave the seat of Xinfeng County, they bought steamed flatbreads to eat on the road.

The eatery stood near the town gate, where travelers streamed east and west. The proprietor had erected a shade awning outside, and the hot steamers sent up great clouds of vapor that obscured the diners. As Baozhu rode past on the donkey, an itinerant merchant hidden behind the steam glanced at her. He stuffed his flatbread into his mouth in two or three bites, hurriedly shouldered his pack, paid, and set off.

Wei Xun seemed to sense something, but did not turn around.