Chapter 6

Crown Prince Li's Tomb had fallen into disrepair, but its structures above and below ground were all made of rammed earth. Many animals had burrowed into them to make their dens, turning the place into a natural hunting ground. Baozhu never missed a shot and soon bagged seven or eight animals. Her only regret was not bringing hounds and hunting falcons; even going all out, she could only take so much game.

A small, pale-red shape suddenly flashed past the corner of her eye and darted into view. She drew her bow to shoot, but once she saw what the animal was, she eased the string.

Wei Xun had just retrieved a long-tailed pheasant pierced by an arrow. Seeing her spare an animal for the first time, he found it rather odd. "Too skinny for you?"

Baozhu said, "That was a fox. My elder brother's childhood name is Little Fox, so I never kill foxes."

Thirteenth Son was busy helping her tie up the game. At this, he suddenly laughed. "Little Fox and Lynx-both little furry creatures. They even look somewhat alike."

Baozhu giggled. "You're right. It seems I'll have to spare wildcats from now on too, lest I accidentally harm your senior brother's good fortune."

Wei Xun did not know what to say. He lowered his head and fiddled with the pheasant, plucking the beautiful long feathers from its tail one by one. In no time, he had stripped it bald.

Thirteenth Son said with a smile, "It seems you and your elder brother are very close, Ninth Lady. You think of him in everything."

Baozhu's eyes lit up. "Of course," she said proudly. "We grew up together. There's no need to dwell on how virtuous he is. He's a true gentleman, exceptionally clever, gentle and refined, kind and considerate toward others, and extraordinarily handsome too. If he inherits the throne, he'll surely be a benevolent, enlightened ruler."

Once Prince Shao, Li Yuanying, came up, Baozhu could talk endlessly. Watching her, Thirteenth Son thought, I don't know what makes an enlightened ruler, but clever and kind, gentle and considerate, and beautiful-that sounds more like Ninth Lady herself. He asked, "How did someone as important as your brother come to have a childhood name like Little Fox?"

A little surprised, Baozhu asked, "Haven't you heard the story of 'the white fox that showed the way'?"

Wei Xun and Thirteenth Son both shook their heads.

Baozhu grew animated. "Since we have nothing else to do today, I'll tell you. During the Jingyuan Mutiny, the rebels suddenly stormed Chang'an because they were short of provisions. Father was still Prince Liang then. As it happened, he had taken several dozen attendants out hunting that day, with only his heir, Li Chengyuan, accompanying him. They couldn't return to his residence in Chang'an, so they fled straight toward Shu by way of Mawei Slope. He lost contact with all the wives, concubines, and children in his household amid the fighting.

"They wandered in hardship for more than ten days, with nowhere to sleep but the wilderness. One night, the guards discovered a white spirit fox slipping into their camp. No matter how they tried, they couldn't drive it away. It kept crying out, as though trying to lead someone outside. Everyone marveled at it, so Father took some men and followed the fox. After crossing several hills, they reached a hidden cave. The white fox gave a cry outside it and stood still.

"Curious, Father went inside, only to find Mother hiding there alone. A Daoist nun with old ties to the Xue family had rescued her. That nun possessed supernatural powers. She had carried Mother on her back out of the rebel army and hidden her there, then sent the white fox to tell Father to come for her.

"Tens of thousands died in Chang'an during the mutiny, and most of the imperial relatives' residences were plundered bare. Yet Mother hadn't suffered so much as a scratch and was still wearing the pomegranate-red skirt she'd worn the day they were separated. Everyone in the palace knows this story. My elder brother was given the childhood name Little Fox to commemorate the white fox that led the way and saved the Noble Consort."

Baozhu told the story with vivid charm, and Thirteenth Son listened with relish. Wei Xun, however, frowned. A Daoist nun trained in martial arts certainly could have rescued someone. The credit hardly belonged to a fox. But Prince Liang had several dozen armed guards with him. Never mind fleeing at the first whiff of the enemy-he actually abandoned all his wives and daughters to be ravaged and trampled by the rebels. What utter cowardice.

Though that was what he thought, he held his tongue, unwilling to hurt Baozhu.

Back then, the rebels had killed people like farmers reaping wheat, seeking out the residences of princes and nobles to loot. Of everyone in Prince Liang's household, only Xue, who later became the Noble Consort, had escaped death. None of his other wives, concubines, or children had survived; even his principal wife had perished. Thus, when Prince Shao, Li Yuanying, was born afterward, he was already more than ten years younger than the eldest son.

Baozhu had no idea what happened to women of the imperial clan who fell into the hands of rebels nursing old grievances. That was why she could recount these old events as an entertaining story. Wei Xun knew all too well, but did not want to tell her.

The world held endless horrors-the eight sufferings and nine tribulations, living souls mired in misery. Why must anyone know them all?

That day, Baozhu used up every feathered arrow in her quiver, losing or breaking them until not one remained, and returned laden with game. Without Yang Xingjian beside them nagging and spoiling the fun, all three thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

As they left Crown Prince Li's Tomb, Wei Xun looked back at the distant burial mound over Liu Ju's grave. This is the first time I've visited someone's tomb without having to plan how to rob it. Coming simply for pleasure left him feeling lighthearted in an entirely different way.

Arrows were expendable weapons with a high rate of damage. The Great Tang army's standard issue was thirty feathered arrows to a quiver. Between leaving Green Micro Temple and finishing today's hunt, they no longer had a single intact arrow.

They had Thirteenth Son lead the donkey back to the inn with the game while Baozhu and Wei Xun searched the county town for supplies. They found the smithy with the best reputation and bought a fresh case of arrows. She also forced Wei Xun to buy a new eating knife, so he would stop using the same dagger for meals as he did for killing people and severing heads.

Baozhu saw all kinds of sabers, spears, swords, and halberds displayed in the shop. The swords in particular had far more elaborate, splendid ornamentation than the other weapons. She picked one up to examine it and found it very dashing. "How about buying you a three-foot sword? As the poem says, 'The precious sword lay dark as water, faint red still wet with lingering blood; the white horse neighed again and again at night, snow on Baling at the third watch.' How wonderfully bold and gallant."

Baozhu was lost in the exhilarating fantasies of poems about wandering heroes, but Wei Xun shook his head with a grin. "I don't know how to use one. It would knock against things whenever I ran or jumped and just get in the way. Besides, I don't have a horse."

Baozhu was puzzled. Almost every famous poem about wandering heroes mentioned a precious sword, yet not one of the people she had met from that world actually carried one. Wei Xun simply roamed the rivers and lakes with a dagger no bigger than an eating knife tucked on his person.

"Does your Master not know swordsmanship?" she asked in confusion. "None of your fellow disciples seem to use swords."

Wei Xun answered frankly, "Master is skilled with every kind of weapon, but apart from him, hardly anyone in our world actually likes using a sword. It's hard to learn and harder still to master. It isn't as sturdy as a saber and breaks easily. It's more useful as decoration than as a weapon. Ask the smith if you don't believe me."

Baozhu really did take the sword over to ask the shopkeeper. His answer was exactly as Wei Xun had said. Most people who bought swords were from wealthy households and hung them on walls as ornaments or to ward off evil. Soldiers and wandering heroes preferred weapons with plain decoration and simple construction that were easy to maintain.

Rather disappointed, she put the sword back. Do poets write that way because "sword" fits their rhymes better than other words, or simply because a sword looks prettier hanging at the waist? Then again, the hero in Wen Bacha's poem rides out on a white horse in the dead of night. It certainly looks dashing, but he makes far too conspicuous a target. To an archer like her, he truly was a living bull's-eye.

Thinking about the differences between reality and poetry, Baozhu walked toward the door. Before she crossed the threshold, the light inside the shop suddenly dimmed, as though something had blocked the sun.

Outside the threshold stood a pair of enormous monk's shoes, each like a little boat. She slowly looked upward, tilting her neck farther and farther back. Only when her gaze reached the top of the doorframe did she take in the full figure of a towering giant. He was standing in the doorway, shutting out the sunlight completely.

His hair hung loose, his face was covered in a curly beard, and he wore a copper monastic circlet on his head. In his hand was a ringed staff as thick and long as a flagpole. From his attire, he was an ascetic monk who practiced without shaving his head. Burn scars dotted his rough, fierce face and his muscular, sinewy forearms, giving him a savage, terrifying appearance.

One entering and one leaving, they happened to block each other in the doorway.

The ascetic monk was naturally fierce and brutal-looking, with many hideous burn scars that made people shrink at the sight of him. Wherever he traveled, others always made way of their own accord. Baozhu, however, had been born to supreme rank and privilege. Except before the Son of Heaven's imperial procession, she had never known what it meant to yield the road. She had received many fierce generals and army strongmen of unusual appearance, so a giant like this did not frighten her.

Neither yielded, and for a moment they stood at an impasse.

Seeing the little girl stand motionless, the monk assumed she was frozen with fright and thought of reaching out to pick her up and set her aside. But when he lowered his head to look more closely, he saw that she wore a delicate goose-yellow skirt and was staring straight at him with her chin raised and chest lifted. Her bearing was supremely proud, as though what she wore was not a yellow skirt but the emperor's own yellow robe.

Looking at this dainty, haughty little yellow bird, the monk found her quite amusing and had no wish to frighten her. He turned sideways, giving her half the doorway. The little yellow bird nodded in satisfaction and stepped across the threshold.

The monk was about to enter the smithy again when a pale-faced youth in a blue-green robe emerged. His heart jolted. At once, he shifted his feet and slipped aside, yielding the entire doorway to the young man. There was not a trace of clumsiness in that enormous body; his movements were forceful and nimble.

Wei Xun glanced up at him, seemingly a little surprised as well. "What are you doing here?"

The monk stood with his hands lowered and answered quietly, "Someone in Luoyang ordered a large batch of gunpowder. It's good business."

Wei Xun gave a brief acknowledgment without asking further and hurried away after Baozhu.

Baozhu sent a wild goose and a pair of beautiful golden-crested, red-bellied pheasants to the Pang household as wedding gifts. Pang Liangji was delighted. Of the six rites of a traditional wedding, the presentation of betrothal gifts, the announcement of auspicious divination, the request for a wedding date, and the fetching of the bride all required a wild goose as a gift to the bride's family.

There were always people getting married, but not enough wild geese for them all to squander. Besides, geese were wary by nature and flew extremely high. Few hunters could shoot one, and even money could not guarantee obtaining one. Ordinary people therefore generally used domestic geese, ducks, or even carved wooden birds in place of wild geese for the six rites.

Pang Liangji had previously offered a reward of a hundred gold pieces and obtained only one, which had already been used for the betrothal gifts. He had originally planned to carry a large white domestic goose when fetching his bride on the wedding day. Now that he had a real wild goose, he was beside himself with joy. He hurriedly wrapped it in satin and had a servant take it home to be gutted and packed with salt to preserve it. Meanwhile, Steward Pang had already privately added Baozhu to the list of honored guests permitted to witness the ceremony inside the green wedding pavilion.

As for the schoolteacher who had tampered with the wedding verses, the Pang family sent men to smash up his school that very day. Under interrogation, it emerged that no one had instructed him. The penniless pedant simply believed devoutly in Confucian demands for women's chastity and thought the bride should remain faithful to her late husband rather than remarry. Beneath that lurked envy and hatred of wealthy households, which had prompted him to plant hidden traps in the verses. He had assumed a family of illiterate upstarts would never notice, only to be exposed and beaten half to death. With a wedding approaching, the Pang family wanted an auspicious occasion, so they spared his miserable life, gave him a savage thrashing, and drove him out of Jade City.