Chapter 2

By dusk, events had taken a wholly unexpected turn.

Baozhu was vigorous and strong. After changing into dry clothes and taking a nap in the ox cart, she was perfectly fine. All three who had played in the water were unharmed; only Yang Xingjian began feeling cold all over, his head swimming and aching as he shivered uncontrollably.

By the time they finally reached the seat of Lingbao County, he had fallen ill with a fever. They had barely found an inn and booked rooms when he pitched headfirst out of the ox cart, too weak to get up, scarcely clinging to life.

Wei Xun had no choice but to scoop him up in both arms and carry the frail chief clerk into his room, then set him on the bed with an icy expression.

Yang Xingjian's eyes were glazed with fever. Believing his final hour had come, he gazed at Baozhu with tears streaming down his face and kept begging forgiveness. "This old servant presumed to call himself the Princess's father-a monstrous offense, an intolerable overstepping of my station. It seems only death can atone for my sin. But I have failed to fulfill Prince Shao's solemn charge. Youzhou is a thousand miles away, and the Princess will be all alone. I cannot close my eyes in peace..."

Touched that he still remembered his duty even in sickness, Baozhu sat beside the bed and held his hand to comfort him. "Why would you say such a thing, Chief Clerk? You've merely caught a chill. A couple of doses of medicine and a few days' rest will put you right."

Yang Xingjian wailed mournfully. "There is no need to comfort this old servant, Princess. I know very well that my blessings and allotted years have been diminished beyond repair. Now I must leave a final poem. I beg the Princess to write it down and pass it on to my family."

Then, seized by poetic inspiration, he began to recite. "Ten thousand miles stretch hence to Youzhou; / I seek no honor, dread no shame-judge as you will..."

Baozhu immediately interrupted his poetic rapture and said gently, "'Judge as you will' could use some polishing. You can do better than that. There are plenty of days ahead, Chief Clerk, so don't rush. Take your time composing it. You'll have no shortage of wonderful inspiration later." She reached out and felt his burning forehead, realizing that the fever had muddled his wits.

The two martial brothers stood at the doorway watching their exchange. Seeing Baozhu comfort Yang Xingjian, Thirteenth Son felt deeply envious; he had never been treated with such tenderness. He whispered to Wei Xun, "If you hadn't hurt someone for no reason, Eldest Brother, she would have held your hand, stroked your head, and said nice things to you when you fell ill, too." His tone carried considerable resentment at his elder brother's failure to live up to expectations.

With his junior brother dredging up that deeply regrettable incident yet again, Wei Xun fought down the urge to kick him. Seething with both resentment and jealousy, he wanted nothing more than to take advantage of Yang Xingjian's feverish confusion, shave off his entire goatee, and paste it onto the clay statue of the City God.

Then he snarled at Thirteenth Son, "How about I break a few of your bones right now, so you can lie down and give it a try?"

Once Yang Xingjian was settled, Baozhu immediately ordered the innkeeper to summon the best physician in the county seat. After examining him, the physician confirmed that it was merely an ordinary chill. But over the past two months of jolting travel, old Yang had either been tormented by a certain person's malicious tricks or lived in terror throughout the pearl-theft murder case. Anxiety and exhaustion had weakened him, allowing the chill to seep into his bones and making his illness appear extremely grave.

The physician wrote a prescription. Baozhu instructed the innkeeper to buy the medicine and brew it, then hired a hard-of-hearing old servant to tend to Yang Xingjian's meals and daily needs. Everything was arranged with great care.

Both Wei Xun and his junior brother thought that a pampered princess raised on the adoration of countless people ought to be arrogant, overbearing, and contemptuous of everyone. She was indeed very good at ordering people around, but she was equally good at caring for them.

The next day, a fine autumn rain began to fall. It was not heavy, but it turned the roads into a mire. Since Yang Xingjian also needed to lie quietly and recuperate, they could only remain at the inn for the time being, waiting for the patient to recover and the sky to clear.

With nothing to do, Baozhu called Thirteenth Son into her room to lend a hand, holding up her hair while she dressed it. Thirteenth Son had no desire to take on this difficult task and did his utmost to decline politely. "Though this little monk is young, I am still male, and a member of the monastic order. It would be improper for me to touch Ninth Lady's skin or hair."

Baozhu snorted disdainfully. "You haven't even had your capping ceremony. How dare you call yourself a man? You haven't taken the full ordination vows, either, so you hardly count as a proper monk. Come talk to me about keeping men and women apart when you've grown as tall as I am!"

Unable to shirk the task, the little novice could only roll up his sleeves, wipe his hands clean, and help hold Baozhu's hair.

Cradling the glossy black strands, smooth as satin, he could not help marveling. "Your hair is really wonderful, Ninth Lady. It's so heavy it weighs down my hands. If you cut it off, it could sell for more than ten strings of cash."

Baozhu was astonished. "What? You can even take people apart and sell them?"

Thirteenth Son laughed. "If you can sell them whole, of course you can sell them in pieces. Hair can be sold, and teeth, too. Even skin with beautiful tattoos can be sold. Some people even say that steamed bread dipped in warm blood from a human neck can cure a cough. The executioners on Dogspine Ridge all earn money from that on the sly."

Shocked and uncertain, Baozhu touched her slender neck and thought that no matter how empty her purse became or how desperate her circumstances grew, she would never sell the beautiful long hair she had treasured since childhood.

With Thirteenth Son's help, she finally managed to put her hair up. Neither of them had learned how to dress hair, however, and this Immortal-Gazing Bun looked crooked from every angle. It lacked any airy grace and was not particularly attractive.

Thirteenth Son comforted her. "I've heard people say a crooked one is called a Fallen-Horse Bun. They even make it crooked on purpose."

Baozhu said indignantly, "I practice riding and archery. I never wear a Fallen-Horse Bun. It's far too unlucky."

Nothing he said could satisfy her. At his wits' end, Thirteenth Son could only say, "If it weren't for keeping up appearances, we really ought to ask Eldest Brother to do your hair. None of the other brothers or sisters in our school is cleverer or more skillful with their hands. Even if he's never done a task before, he can learn just by watching for a while. After trying it once, he does it better than the master who taught him."

Baozhu said crossly, "Don't bring up impossible things! I've never heard of a man doing a hairstylist's work."

Seeing that she did not believe him, Thirteenth Son said no more.

Baozhu continued inspecting herself in the mirror, growing more dissatisfied the longer she looked. Then she decided that the cloudy surface was to blame for her poor view. She rose and ran to the martial brothers' room, intending to send Wei Xun out to find a mirror polisher and have it polished bright again.

Wei Xun readily agreed, but did not rise to take it from her. Seeing him bent over some sewing with needle and thread in his hands, Baozhu walked over in surprise to have a look. The fabric's pattern was extraordinarily familiar: turmeric-yellow floral medallions resist-dyed on an ivory ground. It was the Hu Garments she had torn while climbing the wall in Xiagui County. Her expression changed at once.

Her first shock was the embarrassment of seeing clothes she had worn against her skin being handled by him. The second was that his needle flew through the fabric, leaving fine, even stitches. His work was actually better than hers, despite her formal training in needlework, and her shame stirred an inexplicable irritation.

Even the most exalted princess in the realm had to learn needlework from childhood. But Baozhu was lively by nature and could never sit still. Rather than spend her time crafting things within a few square inches, she preferred to go riding or play polo. As a result, her sewing had always been mediocre. Whenever she needed something for an important occasion, she passed the work to a trusted female official, which often left her feeling guilty. Wei Xun's beautiful stitching therefore made her all the more sour with envy.

Her mounting embarrassment turned to anger, and Baozhu said resentfully, "Even if you mend it, I won't wear torn clothes."

Wei Xun remained expressionless and kept his head lowered over his sewing. "Yes, yes, of course we couldn't ask the Princess to lower herself. I'm mending this for Thirteenth Son to wear as a lined winter garment."

Baozhu's eyes widened in disbelief. She thought she must have misheard him. "What? You-you would give clothes I've worn to a little monk?!"

Wei Xun looked up at her calmly. "If he doesn't wear them, the only other choice is to sell them to a secondhand clothing shop. Then you'll never know which stranger ends up buying them and wearing them."

Stunned by the threat lurking in those words, Baozhu stood openmouthed, unable to voice another objection. Wei Xun had already finished the stitches, swiftly wound the thread twice into a knot, and snapped it off neatly.

Too embarrassed to ask further, Baozhu guessed that their Master was solitary and ill-tempered and probably had no wife to look after them. They must have had to fend for themselves since childhood. It was hardly surprising that they had been forced to learn sewing.

She set down the bronze mirror and turned to leave, only to encounter the innkeeper at the doorway, his hand raised to knock. He paused, then asked respectfully, "Is a young gentleman named Wei Xun of the Wei family staying in this room? A visitor has come looking for him."

Wei Xun looked puzzled and immediately stood. Throughout the journey, he had posed as a servant and never publicly revealed his name, so even the wanted notice in Xiagui County had referred to him only as the "Green-Clothed Slave." After passing through Tong Pass and reaching Lingbao County, he had not even left Lynx's inscription on a wall. What enemy had come seeking vengeance and asked for him by his full name?

He said gravely to Baozhu, "Go back to your room and hide for now..." Before he could finish, Baozhu had already pattered back to her room, fastened her bow and quiver to her waist, and returned bristling for battle, with a bewildered Thirteenth Son following behind her.

Seeing her proud air, as though she meant to slaughter enemies on every side, Wei Xun could not help laughing. He cupped his hands. "Then today I must ask Ninth Lady to cover the field and watch over Wei Da."

The three went down to the inn's main hall together. A fine rain pattered outside, and there were few guests. Eight household servants in matching livery stood in two rows beside the entrance with their hands lowered. An ornate sedan chair waited outside the inn. A middle-aged man dressed as a steward opened a large oiled-paper umbrella and escorted a richly dressed young gentleman out of the chair.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, tall and upright as a crane, with quite regular features. But his manner was haughty, his face full of arrogance, and his eyes seemed intent on climbing to the top of his head. One glance marked him as an overbearing wastrel from a wealthy family.

After stepping out of the sedan chair, he walked slowly into the inn with a strange, stiffly measured gait, pausing after every step. There seemed to be something wrong with his legs, but he refused to use a crutch or allow anyone to support him.

At the sight of Wei Xun, delight spread across his face. He immediately cupped his hands in greeting and said loudly, "Brother Wei! It's been years! You... you seem to have grown much taller."

Wei Xun stared at him expressionlessly, regretting that he had ever known such a loose-tongued fool. Then he remembered that the man came from Jade City, with his family home near Lingbao County, so his appearance here was hardly surprising.

He frowned and replied, "Pang Liangji, after all these years, you're still just as irritating."

The man called Liangji burst into laughter and immediately ordered the innkeeper to lay out a banquet of the most expensive food and wine so he could renew his old friendship with Wei Xun.

Seeing that Wei Xun had no intention of confronting an enemy, Baozhu glanced at Thirteenth Son. The little novice was equally baffled and asked, "Eldest Brother, who is this?"

Faced with his old acquaintance, Wei Xun felt rather helpless. He told Thirteenth Son, "This is Sixth... the former Sixth. You hadn't joined us yet when he was thrown out."

Understanding dawned on Thirteenth Son. He remembered an old story from their school: years ago, a senior brother from a wealthy family had defied Chen Shigu because of his forthright nature. Chen Shigu had brutally broken both his legs and expelled him. Apparently, that brother was this crippled, richly dressed wastrel before him.

Thirteenth Son pressed his palms together in greeting. "So you are Sixth Brother. This little monk is Shanyuan, thirteenth in seniority. My respects."

Pang Liangji seemed unable to stand for long. After a few exchanges, he braced himself against the table and sat down with difficulty. The steward immediately ordered the servants to bring out the drinking vessels they had brought from home and busied himself warming wine to soothe his throat.

Pang Liangji said breezily, "I was wondering. The man gathering news for me said there was a short lad with a shaved head. I thought surely Eldest Brother must have grown at least a little after all these years."

Wei Xun looked up at the ceiling and drew a deep breath to restrain himself, calculating how he might kick the man out into the muddy water without seriously injuring him.

Pang Liangji asked next, "Does the little monk have a name in the martial world?"

Thirteenth Son shook his head awkwardly. "When Master passed away, I hadn't yet completed my training."

Pang Liangji said cheerfully, "Just as well. When I was young, this Young Master Pang was known as the 'Swiftwind Guardian.' Now that my legs are broken, I still can't change it. When people call me that, it sounds like a joke meant to mock me."

Seeing the bow and arrows Baozhu carried, he assumed she also belonged to the martial world and asked, "Are you the young lady said to have captured the Green-Robed Wanderer alive?"

Baozhu found this wastrel's speech offensive and had no desire to acknowledge him. She turned her head and looked haughtily away.

Wei Xun answered Pang Liangji casually. "Yes. Have you come to rescue me, or what? If you have something to say, get on with it."

Pang Liangji was taken aback, then remembered that this young senior brother had been rebellious to the bone since childhood, with no restraint whatsoever in his speech. Unlike others in the martial world, he did not cling desperately to his pride. An offhand joke of his could not be taken seriously.

He had indeed come on important business, and time was pressing; there was no room for further pleasantries. Pang Liangji said solemnly, "I will soon marry the woman I love. I've come today to invite Brother Wei to my wedding and ask you to serve as the groom's attendant."