Chapter 16

By the time the three of them had thoroughly searched Luo Chengye's home, it was already the end of Yin Hour. With the Start of Autumn upon them, dawn came early; the sun would likely rise at the start of Mao Hour. Thirteenth Son should have returned to the Lotus Flower Temple for roll call, but it had been so long since he had last acted together with Wei Xun and Baozhu that he lingered, plainly reluctant to leave.

Baozhu also hated to send him back to go hungry. Seeing the breakfast vendors along the street setting up their stoves, tables, and chairs, she told him to eat his fill before leaving. The three sat down by the roadside and ordered several bowls of wontons.

Rather than greeting customers with his usual enthusiasm, the vendor first quoted his price with an embarrassed air. It was already three times what it had been ten days earlier. With the city sealed, supplies could no longer circulate freely, and obtaining rice, flour, or vegetables meant calling in any number of favors. Once his stock of wheat flour ran out, he would not dare keep doing business, and pickled turnip was the only wonton filling he had left. Unlike Wu Zhiyuan's household, which enjoyed fish, meat, and choice vegetables every day without repeating a dish, ordinary people's supplies were already stretched thin.

Baozhu found his explanation reasonable and agreed to the price. The vendor hurried to light his stove and boil the broth, while the three sat around the table, enjoying their last moments together before parting.

The first light of dawn had just revealed a pale, fish-white hem along the horizon. The air was damp and cool, dew had soaked the moss on the stone steps, and everything before them looked green and clear, as though freshly washed in clean water.

The Lotus Flower Temple's morning bell rang on schedule. Perhaps the monk striking it had not eaten enough, for its notes lacked their usual deep resonance. Instead, they drifted, distant and melodious; though the three sat just beside the monastery, the sound seemed to come from somewhere far away.

All three were moved by the gentle serenity of the morning. For a time, they stopped talking and simply immersed themselves in it. Even the birds seemed to have fallen silent.

Inspired, Baozhu noticed a branch hanging over the table beside the road, its dew dripping into a small pool. She slipped an index finger from her sleeve, dipped its tip into the dew, and slowly wrote on the tabletop: "At dawn I enter the ancient temple; the first sun lights the lofty woods." These were lines from a landscape poem by Chang Jian, who had passed the imperial examinations during the Kaiyuan Era. Long frustrated in his official career, he had entrusted his feelings to mountains, rivers, and pastoral life. His language was refined yet natural, possessed of a distinctive stillness and distant depth.

The opening lines were simple and bright, perfectly suited to the scenery before them. The characters were all commonly used, ideal for a beginner. Baozhu wrote them for Wei Xun, deliberately moving very slowly so he could clearly see the stroke order and structure.

Wei Xun immediately fixed his gaze on her slender, pale fingertip, watching her write with complete concentration.

The hollow notes of the monastery bell rang on without cease. Neither spoke; one silently wrote, the other silently watched.

Seeing his willingness to learn, Baozhu continued all the way to the closing lines: "Here all the myriad sounds fall silent; only bells and chimes remain." The lingering notes of the Lotus Flower Temple's morning bell still curled through the air around them. Looking back over her work, she felt that the characters she had written in dew on a roadside wonton stall's table were actually better than those she had once produced with costly brushes and ink. Naturally, she was delighted.

When she looked at Wei Xun again, he remained motionless, as though deep in meditation, holding his breath and concentrating on her writing as he committed it to memory. Only when the damp traces of dew had gradually dried did he extend a finger and carefully trace the paths her fingertip had taken.

Baozhu watched from beside him, growing more astonished by the moment. Young as Wei Xun was, he was a true prodigy who had practiced martial arts from the moment he could walk. Not only was his lightness skill superb, but his internal power was also exceptionally profound. His finger appeared to glide effortlessly across the wooden table, yet the wood sank beneath it, leaving grooves as though a stone carver had chiseled the poem into it with tools. More astonishing still, he did not get a single stroke out of order. He had memorized them all.

Baozhu marveled inwardly at the perseverance and diligence that had driven him to lie on the County School's roof and secretly study, through heat and cold, sunshine and rain, simply to learn to read. It was a world apart from ordinary people who had to be threatened or coaxed into studying.

She did not know that Wei Xun memorized stroke order using the same methods he used to remember martial arts. By joining punches and kicks with brushstrokes, he could understand them through what he already knew. The principles they shared could be committed to memory as overarching rules, allowing him to draw connections and infer three things from one, grasping many characters she had never taught him.

"Teaching you this way is so much easier than teaching Li Yuanyi," Baozhu remarked.

After writing the final character, Wei Xun turned his head. Only then did she realize someone was behind them. She looked back and saw a lame man leaning on a crutch a short distance away, peering toward their table. His appearance was distinctive: tall and gaunt, with a careworn face and a left leg whose flesh had wasted away below the knee. She recognized him at once. Two days earlier, she had seen him lead his fellow craftsmen to the County Yamen to beg Bao Lang to open the city gates and let them leave, only to depart disappointed.

Fortunately, she had worn a veiled hat then and had not spoken, so he probably would not recognize her. "I'm teaching my student," Baozhu said irritably. "What are you staring at?"

"Women who study calligraphy generally favor Lady Wei's Hairpin Flower Regular Script for its graceful beauty," the lame man said. "But young as you are, little girl, your writing has strong bones, clean and decisive. There's some strength in you."

His appraisal struck the mark, earning Baozhu's respect. She nodded in acknowledgment. "I study Liu Gongquan."

The lame man nodded approvingly. "Yan's Sinews and Liu's Bones. You have discernment."

Listening beside them, Wei Xun reflected that calligraphy had schools and styles just as martial arts did. A few dozen characters were like an exchange of blows: even strangers could recognize someone's lineage and style. The man had also deduced from Baozhu's writing that she possessed greater physical strength than an ordinary woman, which surprised him.

Then the lame man pointed at Wei Xun and reproached him. "Your original writing was excellent, but he's ruined it by tracing over it. A bright pearl buried in dust-an utter mess!" He shook his head and sighed, clearly lamenting the loss.

Unbothered, Wei Xun smiled and nodded in agreement, but Baozhu would not have it. "He's a beginner," she snapped. "It's already very good for him to write like this. Were you born writing beautiful calligraphy?"

The lame man took two steps closer, intending to say more, but Baozhu caught an extremely foul stench coming from him. Unlike any ordinary odor, it bored into her heart and head and made her want to retch. She had never undergone any training for this, and without bath beans or a face cloth to protect her, she could not help frowning deeply.

The lame man knew he smelled. Seeing the disgust on her face, he fell silent and retreated several steps on his crutch. He exchanged a few words with the wonton vendor, then, apparently finding the price too high, shook his head and slowly limped away.

Only once the tapping of his crutch against the stone paving had faded into the distance did Wei Xun speak. "He probably has a malignant ulcer. That's the smell of rotting flesh."

Hearing that it was an illness rather than poor hygiene, Baozhu felt ashamed. "Though he's disabled, he's quite knowledgeable," she said regretfully. "I shouldn't have been so harsh."

"You've never smelled it before. It's normal that you couldn't bear it," Wei Xun said. "I'm afraid he doesn't have long to live."

After the three finished breakfast, Baozhu gave the vendor some extra money and told him not to spread word about the table. Thirteenth Son returned to the Lotus Flower Temple to continue his confinement, while Wei Xun escorted Baozhu back to the Reflection Pavilion.

"If Luo Chengye is still alive, then as long as we find him and establish who the headless corpse was, we can clear away one layer of suspicion against you," Baozhu said. "But where could he be hiding? He's fairly well known in Xiagui County. How could he have stayed hidden this long without anyone discovering him?"

"I have a few ideas," Wei Xun said. "I've already asked Thirteenth Son to keep an eye out. Now we're just waiting by the tree stump for the rabbit."

"What?" Baozhu was both startled and displeased. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Don't worry. I won't let you miss it," Wei Xun said with a smile. "I'm only afraid I might have guessed wrong. Wouldn't that implicate an innocent person?"

When they reached the street beside the Reflection Pavilion, Wei Xun again hid Baozhu's bow and arrows and other belongings in the treetop. Then, without even asking, he picked her up by the back of her belt and carried her to the second floor. Once again reduced to a sack of rice, Baozhu was thoroughly disgruntled. "Can't you just..." she demanded angrily.

"Can't I just what?" Wei Xun asked in confusion.

Baozhu did not know the proper way to be carried upstairs by a master of lightness skill, and his question left her stumped. Was he deliberately teasing her, avoiding physical contact for propriety's sake, or simply unable to hold her because one hand was injured? Unable to put any objection into words, she climbed through the window in a huff.

Yang Xingjian had waited by the wall all night and was now sound asleep, his hands tucked into his sleeves and his head tilted to one side. The sound of her entering jolted him awake. "Are you all right?" he asked blearily. "You weren't frightened?"

Baozhu shook her head. "I'm fine. We have a lead concerning Luo Chengye now. Today I'm going to ask Bao Lang to let me see that note."

Yang Xingjian immediately rejected the idea. "That would be improper! Bao Lang has a wolf's ambition and unfathomable intentions. Let this subject deal with him instead."

Failing to understand his hint, Baozhu asked in puzzlement, "He's the one who keeps approaching me to discuss the case. Wouldn't it be easier for me to ask?"

Yang Xingjian thought with a wry smile that she truly did not understand. "Your Highness has been working all night and must be exhausted," he hastily said. "Getting some rest comes first. We can discuss these trifles after you wake."

Baozhu covered her mouth and yawned, sleepily thinking that he had a point. She went to change and catch up on her sleep.

Unexpectedly, after visiting the Prison Ward that day and inspecting the newly arrested prisoners, Bao Lang came directly to the Reflection Pavilion. Under the pretext of visiting the sick, he demanded to see Lady Fang Xie in person. Though his words were polite, his manner remained as overbearing and aggressive as ever.

Baozhu had barely slept before she was dragged out of bed again, leaving her furious. Yet circumstances forced her to change clothes and meet him. Since her complexion looked quite healthy, she had to press powder onto her face and lips, doing her utmost to appear pale and haggard.

Watching her hold the railing and slowly make her way down from the second floor, Bao Lang smiled. "You can still walk. Isn't that good? I was going to summon a few physicians to take your pulse and see just where the fright had hurt you."

Baozhu was secretly alarmed. I can disguise my appearance, but taking my pulse would expose me at once. This man presses closer at every step, and he's so shrewd. He's truly detestable.

A maid helped the "weak and dizzy" Lady Fang Xie into her seat and poured her a separate cup of medicinal tea made with poria and angelica. Baozhu covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve and stared coldly at Bao Lang without a word, her face drawn.

"Satisfied now?" Yang Xingjian demanded angrily. "After all this torment, her illness will only worsen! Whatever your purpose is, come speak to me directly. Why must you torment a young girl?!"

Unperturbed, Bao Lang smiled. "It isn't that I insist on making things difficult for Lady Fang Xie. But the stolen pearl has yet to be recovered, and I must seize every means available to me. I truly have no choice. I beg Lady Fang Xie's understanding."

"My daughter is a person," Yang Xingjian said incredulously. "Can you use her to find stolen goods? What utter nonsense!"

"The Green-Robed Wanderer who stole the pearl is still lingering in Xiagui," Bao Lang said gravely. "That is highly unusual. By my reckoning, he can have no other purpose: he must covet Lady Fang Xie's beauty and refuse to leave until he has her. I can only use you as bait and see whether I can fish him out."

The words were unbearable to hear. Baozhu frowned and turned her face away. Yang Xingjian flew into a rage. "What vicious slander! Is a mere military brute like you entitled to malign a woman of the Hongnong Yang Clan?! Since you're so certain that notorious outlaw committed the crime, why are you still rounding up unrelated people every day? I hear more than a dozen suspects have already died unjustly under your torture alone. Do you think you can escape accountability for those lives so easily?!"

"Who said he acted alone?" Bao Lang replied. "Luo Chengye's involvement proves he must have other accomplices. His skill in lightness arts allows him to escape pursuit, but his accomplices may not be so fortunate. Once we catch someone who knows the truth, we can follow the vine to the melon and solve the case."

"If you're so eager to solve the case," Yang Xingjian continued, "Wu Zhiyuan said a note was left at the scene. Why have you never mentioned such important evidence to us?"

Bao Lang's expression changed. "Lord Yang, please judge the circumstances," he said coldly. "I am the chief investigator in the pearl theft. You are merely assisting the investigation. There is no need for you to know every trivial detail."

"So you refuse to show it to us?" Yang Xingjian asked.

His gaze cold and sharp, Bao Lang slowly shook his head.

Yang Xingjian immediately rose and helped Baozhu up. "Then let us go upstairs and rest," he said stiffly. "If we stay in this ill-omened, unlucky chill wind any longer, I'm afraid you'll feel sick again."

Yang Xingjian helped his daughter back upstairs to her bedroom. As she slowly passed Bao Lang, he lowered his head to maintain propriety, yet could not resist drawing a deep breath, once again savoring the scent of Auspicious Dragon's Brain Incense emanating from her. For a moment, his thoughts scampered like a monkey and galloped like a horse.

He concealed that tiny gesture exceedingly well. Yet for some reason, a thread of cold, murderous menace swept over him that day, as though a sharp blade had passed across the back of his neck. Bao Lang shuddered and immediately raised his head, looking all around, but found nothing unusual. He could not help wondering: Have I really killed a few too many people lately?