The masked man scoffs, and instantly launches an attack from behind the tree — Qingfengjian morphing into countless copies of itself, forming a web to surround Wu Du.
This single move covers all corners; Wu Du has no other option but to retreat to the stable, one hand going for his sword as a taunting smile appears on his face.
The masked man’s sword goes right for Wu Du’s throat.
Wu Du doesn’t seem phased by this — there’s still a smile on his face. Abandoning defence, with a flick of his wrist he turns his sword on the unconscious Cai Yan.
But against his expectations, the masked man is ignoring any danger that may befall Cai Yan, and stays his course to come at Wu Du at top speed. In a moment that lasts merely as long as a lightning strike, Wu Du realises that even if he kills Cai Yan, the masked man’s sword will pierce right through his throat, leaving him no choice but to change tactics. Yet Wu Du has already lost his chance at a first strike — as he turns his head to dodge, the masked man has changed his forward thrust to a side sweep, the blade at once drawing a bloody line across Wu Du’s cheek!
Wu Du backs up to retreat once more, and the masked man comes after him like a relentless shadow. Realising that the youth in his keeping cannot be utilised as a hostage, Wu Du is now required to parry the blows. The two swords entangle, fly off to the stable’s ceiling, and embed themselves into a wooden pillar. The masked man relinquishes his sword, and with both palms out, presses them both flat against Wu Du’s abdomen.
It’s a move that makes nary a sound, yet channels the full force of the masked man’s strength. Where this soft2 force reaches, the energy shocks through Wu Du’s internal organs — and he spits out a mouthful of blood, falling directly backwards.
Wu Du nearly pays for his one moment’s error in judgement with his life. Yet as he crashes through the stable’s ceiling and flies out the other side, with one wave of his hand he tosses out a handful of poison powder. The masked man immediately holds his breath, grabs his sword, and leaps into the air. Wu Du moves through the poisoned fog, pulling his sword out of the pillar as he does so, and with a stumble chases after the masked man.
The masked man leaps onto the courtyard wall in his retreat, cloak fluttering behind him. Wu Du is hot on his tail, and the two of them step onto the roof of the Illustrious Hall, flitting past the guards from above. The masked man seems debilitated from already having been hurt, while Wu Du has sustained internal injuries from that one-palm move soon after they started fighting, so both of them slip along the rooftops, sending tiles flying.
At the noise the bodyguards streams out to look above them.
While they’re occupied, Duan Ling and Helian run out swiftly and pick up Cai Yan together, bringing him into the corridor.
By the time the guards look up, Wu Du and the masked man are already gone; both having utilised their light arts3 at the same time, flying across the eaves on silent feet to reach the roof of the main hall.
The cut on Wu Du’s cheek is still dripping blood as he catches up to the masked man on the biggest rooftop of the Illustrious Hall.
Wu Du and the masked man stare at each other, neither can afford to be careless, both knowing that only one of them will come out of this fight alive.
The masked man’s voice becomes very hoarse. “How on earth did you find out?”
Wu Du sneers. “I only let you live because I wanted to lure that big fish out of you. After we parted ways you immediately took off for Shangjing. Who else but protecting his progeny warranted such a rush? If there’s an heir, they’re probably about this age by now.”
The masked replies in a hoarse timbre, “Best laid plans oft go awry. Wuxiong, you’ve outsmarted me.”
“You can keep him safe for now, but you can’t keep him safe forever.”
“I will keep him safe as long as I can. You’re the one who’s lost today.”
Wu Du laughs tauntingly, “That’s far from conclusive.”
The masked me says no more; he suddenly focuses his energy into one foot and stomps on the roof, and all the tiles his internal force can reach collapses with a loud rumble. A look of alarm crosses Wu Du’s face, but it’s too late for him to jump out of way, and together they fall right into the main hall beneath them!
Yelü Dashi is still handing out gifts inside the hall when all at once the roof collapses right on top of them. This is why the Hans have a proverb that goes those with great riches should not sit beneath the eaves lest the tiles fall on them. Now two assassins fall down at the same time and the hall descends into utter pandemonium; in an instant, the prince is snarling, the guards are yelling, the headmaster is screaming, and the children are pissing themselves — every reaction under the sun is represented, how lively it is!
“Who’s there —!”
“Assassins!”
“Protect his highness!”
Yelü Dashi is also a master of martial arts, and promptly makes the decision to lift up the desk and throw it straight at them.
But both Wu Du and the masked man, who only just managed to leap out of the mess, don’t say anything more. Simultaneously they vault and crash through the windows, the masked man escaping to the east and Wu Du to the west, and close behind them, nearly a hundred arrows are launched at their backs.
The gust of wind the arrows whip up brushes past an icicle, and a drop of water drips down.
The masked man springs up onto the rockery in the front courtyard.The Khitan skill in archery is beyond compare, highly accurate, and all the arrows are aiming for his vital points; the arrows will reach him in an instant. The masked man’s eyes narrow. Every last arrowhead turns into points in his vision.
Thereupon he spreads his arms apart, and pushes off the rockery in a back flip like a tercel spreading its wings. He instantly evades all the arrows and drops behind the back courtyard walls.
In contrast, Wu Du is leaping onto the wall as the arrows close in on his back. With one hard step on the top of the wall, he uses the momentum to turn himself entirely around — the centripetal force of his gown entangling the arrows’ advance. Then propelling his qi outwards, the arrows fly off in every direction!
The bodyguards run out of the front courtyard to go after him, but there’s no longer any sign of Wu Du.
The clippity-clop sound of horses echoes down the lane as Cai Wen arrives with his horsemen. Batu spots Wu Du landing and calls out, “That’s him!”
The horsemen charge. Injured to begin with, Wu Du dare not stay to fight, and so he flees deeper into the alleyways. But as soon as he takes a turn out of the back alley, more horsemen arrive. Seeing that the guardsmen are galloping down along the major roadway next to the river and he’ll soon be surrounded, Wu Du leaps up into the air. He draws his sword and cuts an arc midair, aiming at the frozen river.
With a crash the ice breaks into pieces; Wu Du dives into the water, vanishing without a trace.
In the side courtyard, Duan Ling and Helian Bo are shaking Cai Yan.
“Cai Yan!” Duan Ling anxiously calls his name.
“Water.” Helian Bo hands Duan Ling some water to feed to Cai Yan.
Without any warning, the masked man lands. Helian Bo quickly grabs Duan Ling to move him back, but Duan Ling waves a hand to indicate it’s alright. They see the masked man bend down to first check for Cai Yan’s breath before checking his pulse. Daun Ling’s about to say something but the masked man raises another hand and presses it against Duan Ling’s lips.
Cai Wen is saying something outside their courtyard. Finally the masked man points at Cai Yan, and shakes his index finger at Duan Ling. Duan Ling understands that to mean Cai Yan’s life is not in danger. Then, the masked man departs by climbing over the wall, and Cai Wen arrives.
That afternoon, Yelü Dashi is furious. He locks down the Illustrious Hall and has every child interrogated. Everyone is worn down and spent by the end, and some of them won’t stop crying.
Batu had gone to get reinforcements and didn’t get to see the masked man who fought Wu Du, while Duan Ling has already described the entire ordeal three times in great detail. He didn’t dare mention Lang Junxia, and intentionally kept some of the particulars to himself. He only tells them that when he went to see Batu, he happened to see Cai Yan being taken, and then another mysterious assassin appeared as well and so on.
And Cai Yan on the other hand, once woken up, didn’t know anything at all; Yelü Dashi listened to their testimonies personally, and when he went to verify the story with Helian Bo, Helian Bo stammered inarticulately. Yelü Dashi would truly rather listen to Duan Ling recall the story ten times than to hear Helian Bo repeat it even just once. In the end Duan Ling and Cai Yan’s testimonies were taken as fact and made a record of. Further investigation by Cai Wen turns up nothing — everyone seems to be in the dark, and so the matter is simply dropped.
All the questioning has made Duan Ling physically and mentally exhausted; he barely manages to get a few bites down at dinner, and when he returns to his side courtyard to sleep his head is still steeped in what happened during the day, making him toss and turn, unable to sleep. But now someone is playing the flute outside the way they did before, a melody mellifluous and sweet, and Duan Ling slowly calms surrounded by the music and falls into a deep sleep.
The next day everything goes back to normal excepting that Cai Yan looks rather exhausted. Duan Ling goes to show his concern, and Cai Yan merely nods. The two of them talk for a long time, and even Cai Yan can’t figure out who it was his own family could have offended. He only tells Duan Ling that his brother Cai Wen found an unconscious worker behind the ink hall, and presumably that’s how the assassin sneaked in — by pretending to be a worker.
As for why he chose to attempt an assassination at the school at this particular time, why his target was Cai Yan, and the identity of the other masked man, even Cai Yan is left scratching his head. Luckily the city guards found a hole in the ice in the moat outside the city, and from this they have inferred that the assassin has already fled.
That night, the Viburnum.
Facing a mirror, Lang Junxia mixes the medicinal powder with a liquid and spreads the mixture on the cuts at his waist and back. At his side is a screen, and behind the screen are six gorgeously attired girls including Ding Zhi, each of them a leading courtesan at the Viburnum — Lan, Shao, Jin, Zhi, Mo, and Zhi.4
Of the six, one girl lights a hand warmer, another offers up a teacup; all of them are sitting around a lady in the parlour, looking like a brightly coloured bouquet. She would be the “madam” of which Ding Zhi previously referred to — the owner of the Viburnum.
“You and that child seriously got lucky.“ The madam says coolly, “Why not find another residence in the next few days and we’ll trouble you two to move again.”
Lang Junxia’s shadow falls onto the screen, casting the outside of a man’s fit silhouette, bare to the waist.
“Rather than to hide and dodge, better to sit still and lie in wait.”
“That child’s fate is blessed by the stars, for the one who came this time to be Wu Du.” The madam says, “First is that unforeseen series of mishaps — ‘Zhu’ is already quite skilled as one of the shadow guards, to think he’d somehow die in a little child’s hands. Surely the powers that be have already decided their fates. But the next one who comes may not be Wu Du.”
“And so what if it’s Chang Liujun?” Lang Junxia sets down the medicine dish and answers nonchalantly.
“Do not underestimate the enemy.” Serenely, the madam says, “Though Wu Du is well-versed in poisoning, he’s an eccentric among your kind. He’d poison to the point of unconsciousness whenever he could, let live whom he could let live. Each time he kills he leaves more survivors than enemies, and he’d often let someone live out of compassion. Those too kind cannot become assassins up to the task.”
Lang Junxia finishes changing his poultices, puts on an outer gown, and after belting it closed, he comes out from behind the screen.
Dressed head to toe in dark red brocade on which is embroidered a lifelike red-crowned crane with its wing spread, the madam’s brows are like the arch of a far-off mountain range, her eyes like looking into the depth of clear mountain springs. Though she’s the queen of the many flowers of the Viburnum, she is not yet thirty, and her features bear traces of someone from Xiyu.5
“I believe Chang Liujun will not come,” Lang Junxia says.
The madam says impassively, “Your nerves have always been rather unshakeable.”
“The Southern Chen emperor can’t hold on for much longer. The northern expedition is finished. The Southern Chen army cannot cross Yubiguan within the next three years. The only thing Zhao Kui and Mu Kuangda have left to keep them busy is going to be infighting.”
“And once they start fighting each other, Neither Wu Du nor Chang Liujun will dare leave their respective masters.” Lang Junxia finishes, “Shangjing is Khitan territory. Sending famous assassins halfway across the world just to search for a child whose identity isn’t even verified — I expect that they won’t do something so pointless.”
Lang Junxia nods at the madam, then turning, he leaves the Viburnum.
The madam keeps her own counsel.
Night time; Southern Chen.
“Let him live,” Zhao Kui says.
“What?” Wu Du thinks he heard wrong.
Wu Du has returned from Shangjing in quite a fix, neither able to find out Li Jianhong’s whereabouts nor kill off the fabled Nameless One — the only thing he brought back is one piece of useful information.
Zhao Ku is sitting in the parlour with his back to a dim light, casting down a suggestion of a shadow. The same light shines on Wu Du’s face. The assassin’s expression is complicated to say the least.
“Who else knows?” Zhao Kui asks.
Wu Du shakes his head, and answers, “Zhu is already dead, and the other assassins from the shadow guards didn’t even manage to infiltrate Shangjing. They were all outside the city acting as support. This information was something I deduced myself. But I don’t understand …”
“His majesty is running out of time.” Zhao Kuai says slowly, “The fourth prince doesn’t yet have an heir, and Li Jianhong is missing. I’m afraid the future imperial court will become Mu Kuangda’s. If we don’t keep an option open, he may become so powerful so as to be uncontrollable. Just pretend this never happened.”
Wu Du gets it now. He nods.
“General, I abandoned the third prince’s trail and changed course for Shangjing. Perhaps Chancellor Mu … already managed to guess why.”
Zhao Kuai says derisively. “Even if Mu Kuangda knows he surely wouldn’t dare send Chang Liujin to Shangjing without consulting anyone. Outside of Chang Liujin’s protection he can’t even get a good night’s sleep. And besides, after your previous trip, the security would have been tightened. Another chance like this won’t come again.”
The city of Shangjing goes under martial law for ten days, and there are often guards patrolling the Illustrious Hall, watching the children closely. Even more so than they, the teachers can hardly breathe. After this incident, Cai Yan and Duan Ling grow, imperceptibly, a great deal closer. Cai Yan will occasionally let Duan Ling ask him for help with his homework, and lays out whatever he can’t understand for him, urging him to take his studies seriously.
The day the guardsmen pulls out happens to be the last day of the first month, and there are more kinsfolk out waiting beyond the gates than usual, each has found out about the earlier assassination attempt, and all look worried, discussing the matter spiritedly among themselves. The opening of the street is packed with carriages, with many of the rich families’ carriages guarded by hired fighters.
“Duan family — young master Duan.” The gatekeeper sings-songs, “Not here?”
Lang Junxia is the first one to arrive today, waiting at the gates when it’s barely even afternoon.
“Here! Here!” Duan Ling hurries out and hands in his name plaque, throwing himself into Lang Junxia’s arms where he’s clasped instantly into a hug.
“Let’s go home.” Lan Junxia takes Duan Ling’s hand, but Duan Ling can’t stop himself from looking behind him, through the lattice work of the Illustrious Hall’s main entrance where Batu stands in the front courtyard, staring at Duan Ling from afar.
Lang Junxia realises what Duan Ling is thinking and stops walking. “You’ve become friends with Borjigin?”
Duan Ling nods.
Lang Junxia asks, “Do you want to invite him over to our place for dinner?”
“Can we?”
“He’s your friend. Of course we can.”
“Batu!” Duan Ling calls out to Batu, “Let’s go together! Come to my place for the evening.”
Batu waves him off. Duan Ling waits a while longer, until most everyone waiting in the lane is gone and Batu still hasn’t come out, presumably this time too, no one’s come to pick him up. Duan Ling calls him again, “Let’s go!”
Batu doesn’t answer. He turns away and heads into the inner courtyard with his bell-banging metal rod. Twilight shines in from the end of the alleyway; Duan Ling feels a little bit of melancholy hit him.
But once he gets back home, what little bit of melancholy disappears with nary a trace — that’s because Lang Junxia has made a ton of dishes and arranged them on the table. Cheering, Duan Ling takes his seat, about to start eating before he’s even washed his hands, but Lang Junxia holds him in place, wiping down his dirty little puppy paws.
“I’m not a very good cook.” Lang Junxia says, “I don’t have Zheng Yan’s skills. Someday when you taste better food than this you won’t think much about this table full of food, but for now you’ll have to make do.”
Who’s Zheng Yan? Duan Ling thinks, but that’s not important; he hardly even has a mind left to talk anymore, his mouth is so stuffed full of food. Soon, someone starts knocking on the door. A furrow appears between Lang Junxia’s brows.
“Duan Ling!” Outside, Batu’s voice calls out.
Duan Ling hurriedly swallows the food in his mouth and runs off to open the door. The sheepskin coat Batu’s wearing has gone unwashed for many days already and kind of dirty, and now a bunch of dirt and leaves are hanging off of it. He stands outside the gates and says, “Cai dog’s older brother was right, you really do live here. This is for you.” And he hands Duan Ling a package of snacks.
Duan Ling asks, “How did you sneak out?”
“I have my ways, of course.”
“Quick, come in and eat.”
Duan Ling wants to pull Batu inside, but Batu doesn’t seem to want to. The two push and pull at the door for a while until Lang Junxia appears behind Duan Ling. “Come in and have some tea.” Only then does Batu stop declining and enters the Duan estate.
Lang Junxia puts down another set of chopsticks for him, but Batu says, “I’ve eaten already. I’ve come to talk to him.”
“You two do as you like.” And Lang Junxia leaves the room. Duan Ling feels somewhat disappointed, but then he sees Lang Junxia bring a stool to sit outside the door.
Duan Ling wants to call for him, but Batu tells him, “Go on, eat.”
Batu only drinks the tea he’s holding, but looking at the table crowded with food, he does feel somewhat envious. Duan Ling keeps trying to talk him into eating, but Batu just insists he’s already eaten at the Illustrious Hall so Duan Ling can do nothing but let him be. The two half grown children talk for a while, chatting and laughing. Duan Ling is speedily making headway in his studies; he’s already entered the ink room, and he’ll be in the intermediate classes by the beginning of the month.
Once Lang Junxia has also eaten, Duan Ling gets a few things together and a set of clothes for Batu to wear and takes him to the bathhouse to bathe. At first Batu wasn’t really willing, but sadly he just stinks too much — when he went to the Cai estate to ask for directions earlier he was met with quite the stink-eye. And so despite half heartedly refusing the invitation, he gets hauled off by Duan Ling.
They soak in the public bath. Batu’s sheepskin coat is handed to the workers at the bathhouse for washing, then drying by the fire, and he plays with Duan Ling for a while before Lang Junxia calls for someone to shave Batu’s face and trim his nails, while Lang Junxia tends to Duan Ling himself.
“Your eyes are like a lake.” Duan Ling looks in the mirror, and turns to look at the Batu in the mirror. “They’re so pretty. I wish I had blue eyes too.”
"You envy my blue eyes, but I actually envy your black eyes,” Batu replies.
Lang Junxia says impassively, “Blue eyes have their own advantages, and black eyes have their own advantages. To each of us is due our fate — there’s no point in coveting something you can’t have.”
Duan Ling nods. He doesn’t understand what Lan Junxia means yet. A long, long time will pass before this phrase that Lang Junxia says now will, for some reason, often appear in his and Batu’s memories.
Late in the night, wearing a damp sheepskin coat, Batu says to Duan Ling, “I’m leaving.”
“Just sleep at my place,” Duan Ling says.
Batu waves, and before Duan Ling can say anything more, runs off in a flash. Duan Ling watches as Batu goes, and for a long time he doesn’t say anything at all.
Batu moves through the alleys and arrives at the outside of the Illustrious Hall. He crawls through the garden fence, pushes a pot of sacred lily back into place to cover up the hole in the fence, and returns to the library to sleep.
“You can be friends with the boy from the house of Borjigin.” Lan Junxia cautions him, “But you mustn’t take on all of the ways he conducts himself and his principles.”
Duan Ling nods.
Young people like to have fun by nature, and it’s not like nobody wants to be friends with Duan Ling — it’s just that Duan Ling always sits alone, cautiously abiding by Lang Junxia’s teachings. On top of that, the vigilance his childhood has burned into him makes him scared of losing everything, terrified that his actions may prove detrimental to his father who’s still so far away. And so he keeps himself to himself in the side courtyard and doesn’t make any friends.
The greater part of Duan Ling’s world is taken up by Lang Junxia and the dad he has never met.
At first, everyone just thinks Duan Ling is timid and doesn’t dare mix with them, but as time goes on they realise that he seems truly disinclined to socialise, and accepts that fact. Shangjing’s norms tend towards freedom and letting people do as they like; Khitan customs would never force others to do what they wish not do, and people respect one another. When they do run into him occasionally, they’ll nod at him, and Duan Ling will politely follow what the headmaster taught him. He’ll stop walking, pat out the creases in his clothes, and return the gesture.
This is true to the saying “nodding acquaintance”, and his fellow students used to giggle about this, thinking of it as something quite novel, but later they find Duan Ling, with his delicately pretty features, look rather good as he give his salutations, and so for a while the gentleman salute becomes quite popular within the Illustrious Hall. Only Cai Yan began to regard him as someone quite special; and though this regard is not something they say out loud, it is something they both understood. Cai Wen also saw Duan Ling a few times afterwards and he too likes Duan Ling’s calmness and earnestness.
When Duan Ling advances to the ink room, he’s surprised to find himself sharing a desk with the tall, stuttering Helian Bo. His new desk mate speaks very little and most of the time he’s rather silent, but that happens to suit Duan Ling’s quiet temperament quite well.
Time passes by surprisingly quickly; before they know it the days begin to grow longer, the snow melts completely, and winter is replaced by spring. Rather than staying around in school, Duan Ling would much rather go home. Since that day, Lang Junxia has never been late again, and sometimes when Duan Ling is attending classes at the Illustrious Hall, he even feels like someone’s behind him, keeping an eye on him.
It is gradually getting hotter. During afternoon classes, Duan Ling’s mind wanders, and draped over his desk, he dozes off. Suddenly, a plum hits him on the head.
“Aiyoh!” Duan Ling raises his head and spots a silhouette flashing by on the top of the wall and then suddenly disappearing, so he’s left with no choice but to go back to learning to write. The beginner course only takes Duan Ling three months, faster than any other children, and soon he is transferred into another class. There are more books to read, more variety to the subjects — astrology, divination, formal essay composition6 — and all of it most taxing on the brain.
There is a titillating scent in the warm, evening spring air, and a strange restless stirring in Duan Ling’s heart. That glimpse of Lang Junxia from the back that he caught at the Viburnum on the first night he arrived in Shangjing seems to always occupy his mind.
Outside the side courtyard, mellifluous flute music suddenly begins to play; on a spring night like tonight where the flowers are in full bloom, it sounds like the notes are speaking to him. Duan Ling has a vague feeling that it’s Lang Junxia playing the flute, but he can’t see him. He runs outside to stand barefoot beneath the moon, and only when the music fades away does he goes back to his room and lies down. But he tosses and turns, unable to fall asleep.
In the blink of an eye half a year has gone by. Lang Junxia is doing exactly as he promised, and hasn’t travelled far since. He keeps the Duan estate in perfect order, and each time Duan Ling has days off he’ll take him out on spring outings; galloping on the boundless plains, watching herds of livestock; sitting beneath the Altyn-Tagh to drink biting cold snow-melt and go fishing in the river. Occasionally he’ll also take Batu with them.
Duan Ling often thinks that he’s very happy, but Batu doesn’t seem to want to share in his happiness. Over time, he begins finding excuses not to be with Duan Ling. Lang Junxia says that everyone has their own way of thinking, and at such times there’s no need to force things.
“Is my dad coming yet?” Every time Duan Ling comes home he’ll ask this question of Lang Junxia.
“He’ll be here soon.” Lang Junxia explains to Duan Ling, ” He would never abandon you.“
Duan Ling seems to only be asking this question for the sake of receiving the customary answer. Lang Junxia promises him again, “You need to take your studies seriously. That’s the only way not to disappoint your dad.”
The Duan estate is well managed. Duan Ling has planted many medicinal plants in the garden. Some of them lived, some didn’t manage to live. Lang Junxia wonders aloud, “Why did you grow so many medicinal ingredients?”
“It’s fun.” Duan Ling answers, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Do you want to study medicine?”
Duan Ling thinks about it. Maybe it’s because his childhood was full of pain and illness, and it’s left him feeling always on edge. Human life is filled with hard times, and no one is immune from death that may come at any given time; perhaps that’s why his interests lean towards curing sickness and saving people. Outside of studying he’ll often borrow medical books regarding the identification of medicinal plants.
“Don’t study medicine.” Lang Junxia says, “Your dad has high hopes for you. There is much you must accomplish in the future.”
Duan Ling says stubbornly, “I was just thinking about it.”
“Since you like planting things, you may as well plant this.”
Lang Junxia has bought Duan Ling a peach sapling from the market. It’s come by caravan from the south; Jiangnan is covered in peach blossoms, but it’s difficult to keep them alive once transplanted in the north. After planting the peach tree with Duan Ling, Lang Junxia tells him, “Your dad should be here by the time the peach blossoms bloom.”
“Really?” Duan Ling says.
So he treats that peach tree with even greater care, but unfortunately it doesn’t agree with the climate and always looks a bit sickly. When spring comes, it makes a few sparse flower buds, but before they manage to bloom, they’ve already wilted.
Another autumn has come; fields and fields of rusted grass surround Shangjing. A gale whips through from the other end of the mountains, and Lang Junxia leads the horse along, stopping at the shore of a winding river like a ribbon7, staring off into the distance.
By now Duan Ling has mostly forgotten all about remote Runan. From primary school to the ink room and further advancement into the literature pavilion, there are less and less Mongols, Khitans, and Jurchens, and more and more Han. From his fellow students he has found out a lot of things Lang Junxia never speaks of —
For instance, how most of the Han in Shangjing has come from the south.
For instance, how the headmaster of the Illustrious Hall is once a great Confucianist of southern Chen.
For instance, how the Viburnum is where the northern and southern administrations’ officials go to drink and make merry, and all the girls in it were brought back from the south during the founding Liao emperor’s southern punitive expedition.
For instance, how, to most Han, there is a homeland in their dreams. In that dream, the soft cottony seeds of willow trees drift through the air, and peaches are in full blossom.
For instance, how it is difficult for peach trees to take root in Shangjing, but many people are growing them anyway; how the books of the Han are difficult to read and hard to understand, but a lot of people are studying them anyway.
For instance, his fellow students in the Illustrious Hall such as Borjigin Batu, Helian Bo, Urlan … how their dads all share a special status. It’s called “hostage”.
For instance, how the house of Cai, Lin, and Zhao … how their relatives at home also have a post, they’re called “south-side bureaucrat”.[^saf]
[saf]: See reference page for links on how the Liao dynasty was organised. But for a cliff’s notes version, the southern admin mostly dealt with Han living within Khitan territory, that’s why Batu called them “dogs”. While the northern admin was the heart of the military, and kept the northern tribes in-line by holding royal members of the tribes as hostages.
And everyone is missing their respective homeland. Though they do not speak of it, nearly all of them believe this in their heart of hearts without the shadow of a doubt — that one day, they will go home.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
“Soft force” is often used in real life to describe the force behind a move in Taichi, but in wuxia terms it’s literally using “the force”, where a martial artist put their hands on someone and push qi through them. Leaves no bruises. Hurts internal organs. ↩︎
The light arts. In this novel it is totally wire-fu. We’re flying. ↩︎
Orchid, peony, hibiscus, angelica, jasmine, gardenia. ↩︎
Xiyu ↩︎
Remember your essay burgers? Classic Chinese essay writing is called 起承轉合, which stands for introduction, supporting arguments, transition, conclusion.(It’s basically an acronym) ↩︎
The actual Jindai river is in Guangzhou, which is FAR south of where they are, so I’m treating 錦帶 like an adjective instead of a proper noun. (It’s never used again.) ↩︎
The masked man scoffs, and instantly launches an attack from behind the tree — Qingfengjian morphing into countless copies of itself, forming a web to surround Wu Du.
This single move covers all corners; Wu Du has no other option but to retreat to the stable, one hand going for his sword as a taunting smile appears on his face.
The masked man’s sword goes right for Wu Du’s throat.
Wu Du doesn’t seem phased by this — there’s still a smile on his face. Abandoning defence, with a flick of his wrist he turns his sword on the unconscious Cai Yan.
But against his expectations, the masked man is ignoring any danger that may befall Cai Yan, and stays his course to come at Wu Du at top speed. In a moment that lasts merely as long as a lightning strike, Wu Du realises that even if he kills Cai Yan, the masked man’s sword will pierce right through his throat, leaving him no choice but to change tactics. Yet Wu Du has already lost his chance at a first strike — as he turns his head to dodge, the masked man has changed his forward thrust to a side sweep, the blade at once drawing a bloody line across Wu Du’s cheek!
Wu Du backs up to retreat once more, and the masked man comes after him like a relentless shadow. Realising that the youth in his keeping cannot be utilised as a hostage, Wu Du is now required to parry the blows. The two swords entangle, fly off to the stable’s ceiling, and embed themselves into a wooden pillar. The masked man relinquishes his sword, and with both palms out, presses them both flat against Wu Du’s abdomen.
It’s a move that makes nary a sound, yet channels the full force of the masked man’s strength. Where this soft2 force reaches, the energy shocks through Wu Du’s internal organs — and he spits out a mouthful of blood, falling directly backwards.
Wu Du nearly pays for his one moment’s error in judgement with his life. Yet as he crashes through the stable’s ceiling and flies out the other side, with one wave of his hand he tosses out a handful of poison powder. The masked man immediately holds his breath, grabs his sword, and leaps into the air. Wu Du moves through the poisoned fog, pulling his sword out of the pillar as he does so, and with a stumble chases after the masked man.
The masked man leaps onto the courtyard wall in his retreat, cloak fluttering behind him. Wu Du is hot on his tail, and the two of them step onto the roof of the Illustrious Hall, flitting past the guards from above. The masked man seems debilitated from already having been hurt, while Wu Du has sustained internal injuries from that one-palm move soon after they started fighting, so both of them slip along the rooftops, sending tiles flying.
At the noise the bodyguards streams out to look above them.
While they’re occupied, Duan Ling and Helian run out swiftly and pick up Cai Yan together, bringing him into the corridor.
By the time the guards look up, Wu Du and the masked man are already gone; both having utilised their light arts3 at the same time, flying across the eaves on silent feet to reach the roof of the main hall.
The cut on Wu Du’s cheek is still dripping blood as he catches up to the masked man on the biggest rooftop of the Illustrious Hall.
Wu Du and the masked man stare at each other, neither can afford to be careless, both knowing that only one of them will come out of this fight alive.
The masked man’s voice becomes very hoarse. “How on earth did you find out?”
Wu Du sneers. “I only let you live because I wanted to lure that big fish out of you. After we parted ways you immediately took off for Shangjing. Who else but protecting his progeny warranted such a rush? If there’s an heir, they’re probably about this age by now.”
The masked replies in a hoarse timbre, “Best laid plans oft go awry. Wuxiong, you’ve outsmarted me.”
“You can keep him safe for now, but you can’t keep him safe forever.”
“I will keep him safe as long as I can. You’re the one who’s lost today.”
Wu Du laughs tauntingly, “That’s far from conclusive.”
The masked me says no more; he suddenly focuses his energy into one foot and stomps on the roof, and all the tiles his internal force can reach collapses with a loud rumble. A look of alarm crosses Wu Du’s face, but it’s too late for him to jump out of way, and together they fall right into the main hall beneath them!
Yelü Dashi is still handing out gifts inside the hall when all at once the roof collapses right on top of them. This is why the Hans have a proverb that goes those with great riches should not sit beneath the eaves lest the tiles fall on them. Now two assassins fall down at the same time and the hall descends into utter pandemonium; in an instant, the prince is snarling, the guards are yelling, the headmaster is screaming, and the children are pissing themselves — every reaction under the sun is represented, how lively it is!
“Who’s there —!”
“Assassins!”
“Protect his highness!”
Yelü Dashi is also a master of martial arts, and promptly makes the decision to lift up the desk and throw it straight at them.
But both Wu Du and the masked man, who only just managed to leap out of the mess, don’t say anything more. Simultaneously they vault and crash through the windows, the masked man escaping to the east and Wu Du to the west, and close behind them, nearly a hundred arrows are launched at their backs.
The gust of wind the arrows whip up brushes past an icicle, and a drop of water drips down.
The masked man springs up onto the rockery in the front courtyard.The Khitan skill in archery is beyond compare, highly accurate, and all the arrows are aiming for his vital points; the arrows will reach him in an instant. The masked man’s eyes narrow. Every last arrowhead turns into points in his vision.
Thereupon he spreads his arms apart, and pushes off the rockery in a back flip like a tercel spreading its wings. He instantly evades all the arrows and drops behind the back courtyard walls.
In contrast, Wu Du is leaping onto the wall as the arrows close in on his back. With one hard step on the top of the wall, he uses the momentum to turn himself entirely around — the centripetal force of his gown entangling the arrows’ advance. Then propelling his qi outwards, the arrows fly off in every direction!
The bodyguards run out of the front courtyard to go after him, but there’s no longer any sign of Wu Du.
The clippity-clop sound of horses echoes down the lane as Cai Wen arrives with his horsemen. Batu spots Wu Du landing and calls out, “That’s him!”
The horsemen charge. Injured to begin with, Wu Du dare not stay to fight, and so he flees deeper into the alleyways. But as soon as he takes a turn out of the back alley, more horsemen arrive. Seeing that the guardsmen are galloping down along the major roadway next to the river and he’ll soon be surrounded, Wu Du leaps up into the air. He draws his sword and cuts an arc midair, aiming at the frozen river.
With a crash the ice breaks into pieces; Wu Du dives into the water, vanishing without a trace.
In the side courtyard, Duan Ling and Helian Bo are shaking Cai Yan.
“Cai Yan!” Duan Ling anxiously calls his name.
“Water.” Helian Bo hands Duan Ling some water to feed to Cai Yan.
Without any warning, the masked man lands. Helian Bo quickly grabs Duan Ling to move him back, but Duan Ling waves a hand to indicate it’s alright. They see the masked man bend down to first check for Cai Yan’s breath before checking his pulse. Daun Ling’s about to say something but the masked man raises another hand and presses it against Duan Ling’s lips.
Cai Wen is saying something outside their courtyard. Finally the masked man points at Cai Yan, and shakes his index finger at Duan Ling. Duan Ling understands that to mean Cai Yan’s life is not in danger. Then, the masked man departs by climbing over the wall, and Cai Wen arrives.
That afternoon, Yelü Dashi is furious. He locks down the Illustrious Hall and has every child interrogated. Everyone is worn down and spent by the end, and some of them won’t stop crying.
Batu had gone to get reinforcements and didn’t get to see the masked man who fought Wu Du, while Duan Ling has already described the entire ordeal three times in great detail. He didn’t dare mention Lang Junxia, and intentionally kept some of the particulars to himself. He only tells them that when he went to see Batu, he happened to see Cai Yan being taken, and then another mysterious assassin appeared as well and so on.
And Cai Yan on the other hand, once woken up, didn’t know anything at all; Yelü Dashi listened to their testimonies personally, and when he went to verify the story with Helian Bo, Helian Bo stammered inarticulately. Yelü Dashi would truly rather listen to Duan Ling recall the story ten times than to hear Helian Bo repeat it even just once. In the end Duan Ling and Cai Yan’s testimonies were taken as fact and made a record of. Further investigation by Cai Wen turns up nothing — everyone seems to be in the dark, and so the matter is simply dropped.
All the questioning has made Duan Ling physically and mentally exhausted; he barely manages to get a few bites down at dinner, and when he returns to his side courtyard to sleep his head is still steeped in what happened during the day, making him toss and turn, unable to sleep. But now someone is playing the flute outside the way they did before, a melody mellifluous and sweet, and Duan Ling slowly calms surrounded by the music and falls into a deep sleep.
The next day everything goes back to normal excepting that Cai Yan looks rather exhausted. Duan Ling goes to show his concern, and Cai Yan merely nods. The two of them talk for a long time, and even Cai Yan can’t figure out who it was his own family could have offended. He only tells Duan Ling that his brother Cai Wen found an unconscious worker behind the ink hall, and presumably that’s how the assassin sneaked in — by pretending to be a worker.
As for why he chose to attempt an assassination at the school at this particular time, why his target was Cai Yan, and the identity of the other masked man, even Cai Yan is left scratching his head. Luckily the city guards found a hole in the ice in the moat outside the city, and from this they have inferred that the assassin has already fled.
That night, the Viburnum.
Facing a mirror, Lang Junxia mixes the medicinal powder with a liquid and spreads the mixture on the cuts at his waist and back. At his side is a screen, and behind the screen are six gorgeously attired girls including Ding Zhi, each of them a leading courtesan at the Viburnum — Lan, Shao, Jin, Zhi, Mo, and Zhi.4
Of the six, one girl lights a hand warmer, another offers up a teacup; all of them are sitting around a lady in the parlour, looking like a brightly coloured bouquet. She would be the “madam” of which Ding Zhi previously referred to — the owner of the Viburnum.
“You and that child seriously got lucky.“ The madam says coolly, “Why not find another residence in the next few days and we’ll trouble you two to move again.”
Lang Junxia’s shadow falls onto the screen, casting the outside of a man’s fit silhouette, bare to the waist.
“Rather than to hide and dodge, better to sit still and lie in wait.”
“That child’s fate is blessed by the stars, for the one who came this time to be Wu Du.” The madam says, “First is that unforeseen series of mishaps — ‘Zhu’ is already quite skilled as one of the shadow guards, to think he’d somehow die in a little child’s hands. Surely the powers that be have already decided their fates. But the next one who comes may not be Wu Du.”
“And so what if it’s Chang Liujun?” Lang Junxia sets down the medicine dish and answers nonchalantly.
“Do not underestimate the enemy.” Serenely, the madam says, “Though Wu Du is well-versed in poisoning, he’s an eccentric among your kind. He’d poison to the point of unconsciousness whenever he could, let live whom he could let live. Each time he kills he leaves more survivors than enemies, and he’d often let someone live out of compassion. Those too kind cannot become assassins up to the task.”
Lang Junxia finishes changing his poultices, puts on an outer gown, and after belting it closed, he comes out from behind the screen.
Dressed head to toe in dark red brocade on which is embroidered a lifelike red-crowned crane with its wing spread, the madam’s brows are like the arch of a far-off mountain range, her eyes like looking into the depth of clear mountain springs. Though she’s the queen of the many flowers of the Viburnum, she is not yet thirty, and her features bear traces of someone from Xiyu.5
“I believe Chang Liujun will not come,” Lang Junxia says.
The madam says impassively, “Your nerves have always been rather unshakeable.”
“The Southern Chen emperor can’t hold on for much longer. The northern expedition is finished. The Southern Chen army cannot cross Yubiguan within the next three years. The only thing Zhao Kui and Mu Kuangda have left to keep them busy is going to be infighting.”
“And once they start fighting each other, Neither Wu Du nor Chang Liujun will dare leave their respective masters.” Lang Junxia finishes, “Shangjing is Khitan territory. Sending famous assassins halfway across the world just to search for a child whose identity isn’t even verified — I expect that they won’t do something so pointless.”
Lang Junxia nods at the madam, then turning, he leaves the Viburnum.
The madam keeps her own counsel.
Night time; Southern Chen.
“Let him live,” Zhao Kui says.
“What?” Wu Du thinks he heard wrong.
Wu Du has returned from Shangjing in quite a fix, neither able to find out Li Jianhong’s whereabouts nor kill off the fabled Nameless One — the only thing he brought back is one piece of useful information.
Zhao Ku is sitting in the parlour with his back to a dim light, casting down a suggestion of a shadow. The same light shines on Wu Du’s face. The assassin’s expression is complicated to say the least.
“Who else knows?” Zhao Kui asks.
Wu Du shakes his head, and answers, “Zhu is already dead, and the other assassins from the shadow guards didn’t even manage to infiltrate Shangjing. They were all outside the city acting as support. This information was something I deduced myself. But I don’t understand …”
“His majesty is running out of time.” Zhao Kuai says slowly, “The fourth prince doesn’t yet have an heir, and Li Jianhong is missing. I’m afraid the future imperial court will become Mu Kuangda’s. If we don’t keep an option open, he may become so powerful so as to be uncontrollable. Just pretend this never happened.”
Wu Du gets it now. He nods.
“General, I abandoned the third prince’s trail and changed course for Shangjing. Perhaps Chancellor Mu … already managed to guess why.”
Zhao Kuai says derisively. “Even if Mu Kuangda knows he surely wouldn’t dare send Chang Liujin to Shangjing without consulting anyone. Outside of Chang Liujin’s protection he can’t even get a good night’s sleep. And besides, after your previous trip, the security would have been tightened. Another chance like this won’t come again.”
The city of Shangjing goes under martial law for ten days, and there are often guards patrolling the Illustrious Hall, watching the children closely. Even more so than they, the teachers can hardly breathe. After this incident, Cai Yan and Duan Ling grow, imperceptibly, a great deal closer. Cai Yan will occasionally let Duan Ling ask him for help with his homework, and lays out whatever he can’t understand for him, urging him to take his studies seriously.
The day the guardsmen pulls out happens to be the last day of the first month, and there are more kinsfolk out waiting beyond the gates than usual, each has found out about the earlier assassination attempt, and all look worried, discussing the matter spiritedly among themselves. The opening of the street is packed with carriages, with many of the rich families’ carriages guarded by hired fighters.
“Duan family — young master Duan.” The gatekeeper sings-songs, “Not here?”
Lang Junxia is the first one to arrive today, waiting at the gates when it’s barely even afternoon.
“Here! Here!” Duan Ling hurries out and hands in his name plaque, throwing himself into Lang Junxia’s arms where he’s clasped instantly into a hug.
“Let’s go home.” Lan Junxia takes Duan Ling’s hand, but Duan Ling can’t stop himself from looking behind him, through the lattice work of the Illustrious Hall’s main entrance where Batu stands in the front courtyard, staring at Duan Ling from afar.
Lang Junxia realises what Duan Ling is thinking and stops walking. “You’ve become friends with Borjigin?”
Duan Ling nods.
Lang Junxia asks, “Do you want to invite him over to our place for dinner?”
“Can we?”
“He’s your friend. Of course we can.”
“Batu!” Duan Ling calls out to Batu, “Let’s go together! Come to my place for the evening.”
Batu waves him off. Duan Ling waits a while longer, until most everyone waiting in the lane is gone and Batu still hasn’t come out, presumably this time too, no one’s come to pick him up. Duan Ling calls him again, “Let’s go!”
Batu doesn’t answer. He turns away and heads into the inner courtyard with his bell-banging metal rod. Twilight shines in from the end of the alleyway; Duan Ling feels a little bit of melancholy hit him.
But once he gets back home, what little bit of melancholy disappears with nary a trace — that’s because Lang Junxia has made a ton of dishes and arranged them on the table. Cheering, Duan Ling takes his seat, about to start eating before he’s even washed his hands, but Lang Junxia holds him in place, wiping down his dirty little puppy paws.
“I’m not a very good cook.” Lang Junxia says, “I don’t have Zheng Yan’s skills. Someday when you taste better food than this you won’t think much about this table full of food, but for now you’ll have to make do.”
Who’s Zheng Yan? Duan Ling thinks, but that’s not important; he hardly even has a mind left to talk anymore, his mouth is so stuffed full of food. Soon, someone starts knocking on the door. A furrow appears between Lang Junxia’s brows.
“Duan Ling!” Outside, Batu’s voice calls out.
Duan Ling hurriedly swallows the food in his mouth and runs off to open the door. The sheepskin coat Batu’s wearing has gone unwashed for many days already and kind of dirty, and now a bunch of dirt and leaves are hanging off of it. He stands outside the gates and says, “Cai dog’s older brother was right, you really do live here. This is for you.” And he hands Duan Ling a package of snacks.
Duan Ling asks, “How did you sneak out?”
“I have my ways, of course.”
“Quick, come in and eat.”
Duan Ling wants to pull Batu inside, but Batu doesn’t seem to want to. The two push and pull at the door for a while until Lang Junxia appears behind Duan Ling. “Come in and have some tea.” Only then does Batu stop declining and enters the Duan estate.
Lang Junxia puts down another set of chopsticks for him, but Batu says, “I’ve eaten already. I’ve come to talk to him.”
“You two do as you like.” And Lang Junxia leaves the room. Duan Ling feels somewhat disappointed, but then he sees Lang Junxia bring a stool to sit outside the door.
Duan Ling wants to call for him, but Batu tells him, “Go on, eat.”
Batu only drinks the tea he’s holding, but looking at the table crowded with food, he does feel somewhat envious. Duan Ling keeps trying to talk him into eating, but Batu just insists he’s already eaten at the Illustrious Hall so Duan Ling can do nothing but let him be. The two half grown children talk for a while, chatting and laughing. Duan Ling is speedily making headway in his studies; he’s already entered the ink room, and he’ll be in the intermediate classes by the beginning of the month.
Once Lang Junxia has also eaten, Duan Ling gets a few things together and a set of clothes for Batu to wear and takes him to the bathhouse to bathe. At first Batu wasn’t really willing, but sadly he just stinks too much — when he went to the Cai estate to ask for directions earlier he was met with quite the stink-eye. And so despite half heartedly refusing the invitation, he gets hauled off by Duan Ling.
They soak in the public bath. Batu’s sheepskin coat is handed to the workers at the bathhouse for washing, then drying by the fire, and he plays with Duan Ling for a while before Lang Junxia calls for someone to shave Batu’s face and trim his nails, while Lang Junxia tends to Duan Ling himself.
“Your eyes are like a lake.” Duan Ling looks in the mirror, and turns to look at the Batu in the mirror. “They’re so pretty. I wish I had blue eyes too.”
"You envy my blue eyes, but I actually envy your black eyes,” Batu replies.
Lang Junxia says impassively, “Blue eyes have their own advantages, and black eyes have their own advantages. To each of us is due our fate — there’s no point in coveting something you can’t have.”
Duan Ling nods. He doesn’t understand what Lan Junxia means yet. A long, long time will pass before this phrase that Lang Junxia says now will, for some reason, often appear in his and Batu’s memories.
Late in the night, wearing a damp sheepskin coat, Batu says to Duan Ling, “I’m leaving.”
“Just sleep at my place,” Duan Ling says.
Batu waves, and before Duan Ling can say anything more, runs off in a flash. Duan Ling watches as Batu goes, and for a long time he doesn’t say anything at all.
Batu moves through the alleys and arrives at the outside of the Illustrious Hall. He crawls through the garden fence, pushes a pot of sacred lily back into place to cover up the hole in the fence, and returns to the library to sleep.
“You can be friends with the boy from the house of Borjigin.” Lan Junxia cautions him, “But you mustn’t take on all of the ways he conducts himself and his principles.”
Duan Ling nods.
Young people like to have fun by nature, and it’s not like nobody wants to be friends with Duan Ling — it’s just that Duan Ling always sits alone, cautiously abiding by Lang Junxia’s teachings. On top of that, the vigilance his childhood has burned into him makes him scared of losing everything, terrified that his actions may prove detrimental to his father who’s still so far away. And so he keeps himself to himself in the side courtyard and doesn’t make any friends.
The greater part of Duan Ling’s world is taken up by Lang Junxia and the dad he has never met.
At first, everyone just thinks Duan Ling is timid and doesn’t dare mix with them, but as time goes on they realise that he seems truly disinclined to socialise, and accepts that fact. Shangjing’s norms tend towards freedom and letting people do as they like; Khitan customs would never force others to do what they wish not do, and people respect one another. When they do run into him occasionally, they’ll nod at him, and Duan Ling will politely follow what the headmaster taught him. He’ll stop walking, pat out the creases in his clothes, and return the gesture.
This is true to the saying “nodding acquaintance”, and his fellow students used to giggle about this, thinking of it as something quite novel, but later they find Duan Ling, with his delicately pretty features, look rather good as he give his salutations, and so for a while the gentleman salute becomes quite popular within the Illustrious Hall. Only Cai Yan began to regard him as someone quite special; and though this regard is not something they say out loud, it is something they both understood. Cai Wen also saw Duan Ling a few times afterwards and he too likes Duan Ling’s calmness and earnestness.
When Duan Ling advances to the ink room, he’s surprised to find himself sharing a desk with the tall, stuttering Helian Bo. His new desk mate speaks very little and most of the time he’s rather silent, but that happens to suit Duan Ling’s quiet temperament quite well.
Time passes by surprisingly quickly; before they know it the days begin to grow longer, the snow melts completely, and winter is replaced by spring. Rather than staying around in school, Duan Ling would much rather go home. Since that day, Lang Junxia has never been late again, and sometimes when Duan Ling is attending classes at the Illustrious Hall, he even feels like someone’s behind him, keeping an eye on him.
It is gradually getting hotter. During afternoon classes, Duan Ling’s mind wanders, and draped over his desk, he dozes off. Suddenly, a plum hits him on the head.
“Aiyoh!” Duan Ling raises his head and spots a silhouette flashing by on the top of the wall and then suddenly disappearing, so he’s left with no choice but to go back to learning to write. The beginner course only takes Duan Ling three months, faster than any other children, and soon he is transferred into another class. There are more books to read, more variety to the subjects — astrology, divination, formal essay composition6 — and all of it most taxing on the brain.
There is a titillating scent in the warm, evening spring air, and a strange restless stirring in Duan Ling’s heart. That glimpse of Lang Junxia from the back that he caught at the Viburnum on the first night he arrived in Shangjing seems to always occupy his mind.
Outside the side courtyard, mellifluous flute music suddenly begins to play; on a spring night like tonight where the flowers are in full bloom, it sounds like the notes are speaking to him. Duan Ling has a vague feeling that it’s Lang Junxia playing the flute, but he can’t see him. He runs outside to stand barefoot beneath the moon, and only when the music fades away does he goes back to his room and lies down. But he tosses and turns, unable to fall asleep.
In the blink of an eye half a year has gone by. Lang Junxia is doing exactly as he promised, and hasn’t travelled far since. He keeps the Duan estate in perfect order, and each time Duan Ling has days off he’ll take him out on spring outings; galloping on the boundless plains, watching herds of livestock; sitting beneath the Altyn-Tagh to drink biting cold snow-melt and go fishing in the river. Occasionally he’ll also take Batu with them.
Duan Ling often thinks that he’s very happy, but Batu doesn’t seem to want to share in his happiness. Over time, he begins finding excuses not to be with Duan Ling. Lang Junxia says that everyone has their own way of thinking, and at such times there’s no need to force things.
“Is my dad coming yet?” Every time Duan Ling comes home he’ll ask this question of Lang Junxia.
“He’ll be here soon.” Lang Junxia explains to Duan Ling, ” He would never abandon you.“
Duan Ling seems to only be asking this question for the sake of receiving the customary answer. Lang Junxia promises him again, “You need to take your studies seriously. That’s the only way not to disappoint your dad.”
The Duan estate is well managed. Duan Ling has planted many medicinal plants in the garden. Some of them lived, some didn’t manage to live. Lang Junxia wonders aloud, “Why did you grow so many medicinal ingredients?”
“It’s fun.” Duan Ling answers, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Do you want to study medicine?”
Duan Ling thinks about it. Maybe it’s because his childhood was full of pain and illness, and it’s left him feeling always on edge. Human life is filled with hard times, and no one is immune from death that may come at any given time; perhaps that’s why his interests lean towards curing sickness and saving people. Outside of studying he’ll often borrow medical books regarding the identification of medicinal plants.
“Don’t study medicine.” Lang Junxia says, “Your dad has high hopes for you. There is much you must accomplish in the future.”
Duan Ling says stubbornly, “I was just thinking about it.”
“Since you like planting things, you may as well plant this.”
Lang Junxia has bought Duan Ling a peach sapling from the market. It’s come by caravan from the south; Jiangnan is covered in peach blossoms, but it’s difficult to keep them alive once transplanted in the north. After planting the peach tree with Duan Ling, Lang Junxia tells him, “Your dad should be here by the time the peach blossoms bloom.”
“Really?” Duan Ling says.
So he treats that peach tree with even greater care, but unfortunately it doesn’t agree with the climate and always looks a bit sickly. When spring comes, it makes a few sparse flower buds, but before they manage to bloom, they’ve already wilted.
Another autumn has come; fields and fields of rusted grass surround Shangjing. A gale whips through from the other end of the mountains, and Lang Junxia leads the horse along, stopping at the shore of a winding river like a ribbon7, staring off into the distance.
By now Duan Ling has mostly forgotten all about remote Runan. From primary school to the ink room and further advancement into the literature pavilion, there are less and less Mongols, Khitans, and Jurchens, and more and more Han. From his fellow students he has found out a lot of things Lang Junxia never speaks of —
For instance, how most of the Han in Shangjing has come from the south.
For instance, how the headmaster of the Illustrious Hall is once a great Confucianist of southern Chen.
For instance, how the Viburnum is where the northern and southern administrations’ officials go to drink and make merry, and all the girls in it were brought back from the south during the founding Liao emperor’s southern punitive expedition.
For instance, how, to most Han, there is a homeland in their dreams. In that dream, the soft cottony seeds of willow trees drift through the air, and peaches are in full blossom.
For instance, how it is difficult for peach trees to take root in Shangjing, but many people are growing them anyway; how the books of the Han are difficult to read and hard to understand, but a lot of people are studying them anyway.
For instance, his fellow students in the Illustrious Hall such as Borjigin Batu, Helian Bo, Urlan … how their dads all share a special status. It’s called “hostage”.
For instance, how the house of Cai, Lin, and Zhao … how their relatives at home also have a post, they’re called “south-side bureaucrat”.[^saf]
[saf]: See reference page for links on how the Liao dynasty was organised. But for a cliff’s notes version, the southern admin mostly dealt with Han living within Khitan territory, that’s why Batu called them “dogs”. While the northern admin was the heart of the military, and kept the northern tribes in-line by holding royal members of the tribes as hostages.
And everyone is missing their respective homeland. Though they do not speak of it, nearly all of them believe this in their heart of hearts without the shadow of a doubt — that one day, they will go home.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
“Soft force” is often used in real life to describe the force behind a move in Taichi, but in wuxia terms it’s literally using “the force”, where a martial artist put their hands on someone and push qi through them. Leaves no bruises. Hurts internal organs. ↩︎
The light arts. In this novel it is totally wire-fu. We’re flying. ↩︎
Orchid, peony, hibiscus, angelica, jasmine, gardenia. ↩︎
Xiyu ↩︎
Remember your essay burgers? Classic Chinese essay writing is called 起承轉合, which stands for introduction, supporting arguments, transition, conclusion.(It’s basically an acronym) ↩︎
The actual Jindai river is in Guangzhou, which is FAR south of where they are, so I’m treating 錦帶 like an adjective instead of a proper noun. (It’s never used again.) ↩︎
