Was it a man or a woman? Now that he’s home, Duan Ling keeps going over the masked assassin’s moves in his head. The other person was covered tightly all over so he couldn’t tell whether they were a man or a woman, but they could only have come from the Viburnum, for only an assassin from the Viburnum wouldn’t dare hurt Duan Ling. If the assassin was sent by the Han family, they’d have killed him with their first move …
“You’re back?” Cai Yan’s voice rises out of the darkness.
Duan Ling nearly faints dead away from fright. “I’m back. What are you doing here?”
“We agreed to meet, no?” Cai Yan is sitting in the courtyard drinking alone, and who even knows where the wine comes from. Duan Ling drops his sword, letting it lie where it falls, and sits down across from Cai Yan with a swagger, then picking up the wine jug he pours himself a cup.
Cai Yan has been chosen, but Yelü Zongzhen won’t give him any important responsibilities — unless he defects to Yelü Zongzhen, his close ties to the Han family is a liability. On the other hand, Duan Ling isn’t really worried about Cai Yan’s prospects, but that’s just because he has to leave sooner or later. With Cai Yan’s talent, he probably won’t have a problem responding to his situation.
“I don’t know why but I suddenly started thinking about my dad today. If he’s still alive he’d probably be pretty happy.”
“If my dad finds out I’m sure he’ll be happy too. When I get to Zhongjing I’ll send him a letter and ask him to come get me.”
Cai Yan knocks back cup after cup, but Duan Ling dares not drink more lest he says something that he ought not say if he happens to get drunk. Reality proves he worries overmuch though, as Cai Yan drinks himself into a stupor, sobbing and laughing, and ends up draping himself over the table to bawl his eyes out.
Duan Ling carries him into a bedroom, putting him on his bed, and goes to lie down where Li Jianhong used to sleep. Cai Yan is still over there ceaselessly rambling nonsense to himself.
“Prosperous … realm. Realm, this realm …”
Duan Ling feels his heart jumping up to his throat, but ultimately Cai Yan doesn’t say much else. He mumbles drunkenly some more before falling into a deep slumber.
By the time he wakes up the next day Cai Yan is already gone. The same morning, a soldier comes knocking at his door.
“His Lordship wants to know if you’re willing to leave for Zhongjing today.”
“What?” Having drank the night before, Duan Ling’s head still hurts, but he’s suddenly all the way sober. “Which Lordship?”
“My superior said that you’d know as soon as I told you.” The soldier too, looks utterly bewildered. “You don’t know? His exact words were: his Lordship wants to know if you’re willing to leave today for Zhongjing. No one knows about this, you’re the only one he’s telling, and if you’re willing to leave now, the northern administration will dispatch a squad to escort you on your way. This is top secret. If you’d rather wait for him in Shangjing that’s okay too.”
Duan Ling searches his brain for a while and he suddenly recalls Yelü Zongzhen. He already left last night?! Naturally, Duan Ling has no wish to leave right now. As soon as he leaves, all of the plans will be thrown into disarray.
“I have unfinished business here. For now, I cannot get away.”
“This is for you, from His Lordship. You must keep one of these items safe — you mustn’t lose it. You’ll need to give me some proof that you’ve received it, and I’ll send it to Zhongjing.”
The northern administration soldier has brought a food box and a small case. The food box is filled with all kinds of exquisite snacks, alongside a writing set of ink, brush, paper, and inkstone, and there’s also a sword. Duan Ling opens the small case to find a plaque forged out of gold; it’s quite heavy. And so he nods at the soldier and goes back inside. He gives this some thought, but realising that he has nothing he can give as a present, he snaps off a branch that has bore a few unripe peaches and puts it in the case, peaches and all. Sealing it, he hands it to the soldier.
The allegory says “get a plum back for his peach”, not out of gratitude but as a sign of our eternal friendship.2 Though the original actually says give me a wooden peach, and a wooden peach is a papaya. He doesn’t have any papaya on hand though, so he’ll have to make do with peaches. He believes Yelü Zongzhen will understand it.
For the next few days, aside from leaving to buy some food, Duan Ling almost never leaves the house. Every time he passes by the tea shop he’ll stand there and listen for a long time, trying to glean some news from the south. The information itself is myriad and contradictory: some say Zhao Kui’s staged a revolt, some say Mu Kuangda’s defected to Li Jianhong, some say the Southern Chen emperor and the Fourth Prince have died, and momentarily Duan Ling has no idea whom he should believe.
In the meantime, Cai Yan makes one visit. He says to Duan Ling, “His Majesty returned to Zhongjing a fortnight ago.”
Duan Ling is sitting by the well scrubbing clothes. He feigns astonishment. “So he’s left just like that?”
“The army in Zhongjing was as ready as a nocked arrow. Yelü Dashi wrote a secret missive, and when His Majesty returned he convened all the court officials and blocked the decision to march in spite of Imperial Tutor Han’s opposition.”
Duan Ling thinks thank the heavens and feels at ease at long last.
“Your dad isn’t back yet?”
“No.”
“Did he write to you or not? Is that letter on the table in the parlour from your dad?”
Duan Ling looks at him in surprised silence for a moment before running inside to check. He finds a still-sealed letter that wasn’t there before, sitting squarely on the table. Cai Yan steps out of the parlour without Duan Ling having to ask him, and Duan Ling opens the letter.
You ask of my return, but that day is not yet set;
Mount Ba’s rainstorms have flooded the pond in autumn.
When will we two trim the wick by the west window,
and speak of the night rains that fall on Mount Ba?3
Wait for me.
Li Jianhong has won the war.
Seven days ago, Jianmenguan surrendered.
It is a rainy night, and it has started raining in front of Jianmenguan, a torrential downpour that comes down from horizon to horizon. Lighting crisscross the mountain ranges, the flash of it brightening the sky; mud and stone on either shore of the river merge as one into the flood, the deluge screaming through the night as it rushes downstream of the mountains in the dark.
A visitor arrives in the Black Armours’ encampment with a child and a masked bodyguard.
Li Jianhong is facing the side of the tent as he drinks, his one foot resting on a box full of weapons. Lamplight casts his profile onto the wall of the tent.
“It really is raining so hard.” The visitor unties his bamboo hat and rush raincoat, exclaiming, “If it wasn’t for Chang Liujun carrying me on his back all this way I probably would have never made it here in front of your highness on my own.”
“Chancellor Mu, it has been years since we last met.” Li Jianhong points at a chair. “Have a seat.”
Xie You sits nearby, staring at Mu Kuangda in silence.
“Heat up some ginger soup for Chancellor Mu to ward off the cold,” Li Jianhong hands down a command.
“This is my son,” Mu Kuangda says, “Mu Qing. Qing’er, kowtow.”
Mu Kuangda’s son steps forward, kneeling down in front of Li Jianhong, and leans over to kowtow. Li Jianhong makes a small gesture with one hand to let him know that formalities are not necessary.
“Those who travel far must always be treated as guests. No matter what you intended by coming here today, Chancellor Mu, for your courage in coming alone I will let you leave freely. I won’t stop you.”
“I told him I had to come here in person. Chang Liujun is always so cautious. I said to him, it’ll be alright, since I can come in one piece, His Highness will let me leave in one piece.”
“Speak.” Xie You says grimly, “His Highness is waiting.”
Mu Kuangda says, “His Majesty is dead.”
“When?” Li Jianhong asks without much concern.
“Five days ago, at an hour before midnight.”
“How come I don’t know that?” Li Jianhong says casually.
“Zhao Kui has the palace on lockdown, making sure that the news of His Majesty’s death goes unannounced.” Mu Kuangda continues, “Your Highness, the imperial order handed down six years ago wasn’t my idea. It was Zhao Kui, overstepping his bounds.”
“I know,” Li Jianhong says indolently.
“And mobilising the Shadow Guard was also something I couldn’t stop him from doing.”
“I know.”
“If Your Highness doesn’t get this war over with quickly, if Han Weiyong and Empress Xiao can’t contain themselves and the Khitan army returns, it will spell imminent doom for Great Chen. We cannot endure a secession. Let alone that both sides will be ruled by the imperial family, therefore further separation will be meaningless.”
“Uh huh.”
“Zhao Kui issued a military order today wishing to redeploy more than half of the troops at Yubiguan down the central plain to join the fight against your highness. Xichuan is already under his control. If your highness loses this battle, Zhao Kui will definitely return to Xichuan and use this army to force an abdication.”
Li Jianhong’s brows furrow. He says nothing.
“I will go issue an arrest warrant now, and coordinate with the Shadow Guard. In three days’ time at the signal of a whistle, the Shadow Guard will work with Your Highness and open the gates to Jianmenguan.”
“Chancellor Mu, is there something you’d like me to do?”
“No tax increases for Xichuan for the next ten years, and no mandatory draft. And it’s about time … the capital is moved to Jiangzhou.”
Li Jianhong smiles. “Chancellor Mu, seems you’ve got everything figured out for me.”
Mu Kuangda smiles. “I have always been a tactful man.”
Li Jianhong turns to look at Mu Kuangda’s son then. Mu Qing grows somewhat fearful beneath his gaze and backs away a bit.
“For the next few days Qing’er will stay by Your Highness’s side so he can learn something. Your Highness, this is the child I love the most, I hope that Your Highness will …”
“No need. I trust you. Go on then, I’ll wait for your signal in three days.”
And so Mu Kuangda takes his son and Chang Liujun away from the military encampment once more.
In the middle of the night three days later, there is a sudden alarmed wave of birdsong all over the mountains, and the men guarding the gates at Jianmenguan are killed. Overnight Li Jianhong captures Jianmenguan, and Zhao Kui’s two-hundred thousand troops defending it are defeated; they flee along the Xichuan Road. The two sides meet in a decisive battle beneath Mount Wenzhong at dawn.4 Zhao Kui, who only managed to hastily set his troops in order, loses first to Xie You, then he’s ambushed by Li Jianhong.
At the end of the battle, the sides of the highway are covered in the bodies of the dead, and the wilderness all around them are full of deserters. Li Jianhong leads a squad to hunt down Zhao Kui himself, but after Wu Du rescues him somewhere along the way, he flees towards the city of Xichuan.
“When Mount Wenzhong’s bell rings nine times, old regime gives place to new …”
“When the ice of Feng River thaws, winter gives place to spring …”
By the time Zhao Kui has fled to the foothills of Mount Wenzhong, children in the distant city of Xichuan are singing this song. And what waits for him on the highway is the mutinous Shadow Guard. Wu Du holds back the Shadow Guard alone with his sword, while Zhao Kui retreats once more, fleeing to the west.
A great tree stands in the middle of the wilderness; with all his options exhausted, Zhao Kui has made it here with a dozen or so bodyguards. Mount Wenzhong towers over them in the distance.
“If I’d known, I should have just died an honest death,” Zhao Kui exclaims.
On a clear autumn day you can see forever. There is a rustling in the wheat fields, and a tall assassin approaches them, moving against the wind. Alarmed, the bodyguards roar, “Who’s there?!”
And yet before these guards have a chance to make a move, several stripes of bright light flash by and Zhao Kui’s personal guards have fallen dead to the ground where they stood…
“Greetings,” the assassin says, “my name is Chang Liujun.”
“Finally, I get to hear these words too,” Zhao Kui says.
“I’ve come to kill you,” Chang Liujun unties his mask, and tells him this politely.
The very last thought on Zhao Kui’s mind is the white tiger tattoo on the side of Chang Liujun’s face.
A streak of red stains the horizon at dusk, and in the wilderness, a lone tree rustles. Covered head to toe in cuts and slashes, Wu Du has followed Zhao Kui’s trail here to the Maple Gorge. What he sees when he arrives are the bodies of Zhao Kui and all his guards, and Chang Liujun bending down to wipe the blood off his sword with Zhao Kui’s ripped cape.
Wu Du’s pupils dilate slightly, but Chang Liujun doesn’t even bother to look at him. “You have two paths to choose. One is to kill yourself so at least you can die with your body intact; second is to start running right now. I’ll count to ten. When I get to ten I’ll come kill you.”
Wu Du can’t stop trembling. He doesn’t run, and neither does he take his own life. He merely draws the sword hanging by his waist as he keeps shaking.
“Did you think that everyone would run?” Wu Du sneers at him.
Chang Liujun raises the sword in his hand, and yet right at that exact moment a look of surprise hits them both. Chang Liujun quickly returns his sword to its scabbard, turns to enter the wheat field, and vanishes without a trace.
Slowed by his injuries, Wu Du staggers toward Zhao Kui’s body, howling with grief and rage.
A horse gallops towards him along the highway. Dressed head to toe in iron armour, Li Jianhong’s cape flutters in the autumn breeze. Wu Du immediately turns around to face him.
“Sheathe your sword,” Li Jianhong says.
Wu Du looks hesitant. Li Jianhong tosses out a letter and it lands in front of Wu Du. Still shaking, he opens the letter. When he finishes reading it, Li Jianhong repeats, “Sheathe your sword.”
Wu Du abruptly returns his sword to the scabbard. Its call of metal rings like a dragon’s cry which shakes the very heavens, reverberating in the wind, and in that valley it becomes a lingering echo.
Without losing a single soldier, the entire city of Xichuan surrenders to Li Jianhong. Mu Kuangda leads a full procession of officials out of the city to welcome him; Li Yanqiu comes to greet him personally.
“Third Brother, you’ve come back.”
Li Jianhong is about to say something when the sound of a great bell being tolled reaches them from Mount Wenzhong, a resonant call ringing through the sunset.
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. ↩︎
Give me a papaya, I return a piece of ornamental jade, not out of gratitude but as a sign of our eternal friendship is from “The Papaya”, a poem in the Book of Songs / Classic of Poetry. ↩︎
A Letter to the North Written on a Rainy Night is a poem by the Tang dynasty poet Li Shangyin. It was either for his wife or for his friend; we don’t know. We do know that by the time he wrote this poem, his wife already passed away from illness, he just didn’t get the news yet. “Trim the wick” is an euphemism for staying up late to talk all night, as night is the only time you’d need candles, and only when a candle is burning too long does one need to trim the wick. Mount Ba is on the eastern edge of Sichuan. (Xichuan is the older name for Sichuan.) ↩︎
Mount Wenzong (literally “Mountain where the bell is heard”) is a fictional location that also appeared in Yingnu, and according to the MC in Yingnu it’s within Xichuan province, to the north (and probably east) of the city of Xichuan. Incidentally, the bell was melted in Yingnu, more than 500 years ago. ↩︎
Was it a man or a woman? Now that he’s home, Duan Ling keeps going over the masked assassin’s moves in his head. The other person was covered tightly all over so he couldn’t tell whether they were a man or a woman, but they could only have come from the Viburnum, for only an assassin from the Viburnum wouldn’t dare hurt Duan Ling. If the assassin was sent by the Han family, they’d have killed him with their first move …
“You’re back?” Cai Yan’s voice rises out of the darkness.
Duan Ling nearly faints dead away from fright. “I’m back. What are you doing here?”
“We agreed to meet, no?” Cai Yan is sitting in the courtyard drinking alone, and who even knows where the wine comes from. Duan Ling drops his sword, letting it lie where it falls, and sits down across from Cai Yan with a swagger, then picking up the wine jug he pours himself a cup.
Cai Yan has been chosen, but Yelü Zongzhen won’t give him any important responsibilities — unless he defects to Yelü Zongzhen, his close ties to the Han family is a liability. On the other hand, Duan Ling isn’t really worried about Cai Yan’s prospects, but that’s just because he has to leave sooner or later. With Cai Yan’s talent, he probably won’t have a problem responding to his situation.
“I don’t know why but I suddenly started thinking about my dad today. If he’s still alive he’d probably be pretty happy.”
“If my dad finds out I’m sure he’ll be happy too. When I get to Zhongjing I’ll send him a letter and ask him to come get me.”
Cai Yan knocks back cup after cup, but Duan Ling dares not drink more lest he says something that he ought not say if he happens to get drunk. Reality proves he worries overmuch though, as Cai Yan drinks himself into a stupor, sobbing and laughing, and ends up draping himself over the table to bawl his eyes out.
Duan Ling carries him into a bedroom, putting him on his bed, and goes to lie down where Li Jianhong used to sleep. Cai Yan is still over there ceaselessly rambling nonsense to himself.
“Prosperous … realm. Realm, this realm …”
Duan Ling feels his heart jumping up to his throat, but ultimately Cai Yan doesn’t say much else. He mumbles drunkenly some more before falling into a deep slumber.
By the time he wakes up the next day Cai Yan is already gone. The same morning, a soldier comes knocking at his door.
“His Lordship wants to know if you’re willing to leave for Zhongjing today.”
“What?” Having drank the night before, Duan Ling’s head still hurts, but he’s suddenly all the way sober. “Which Lordship?”
“My superior said that you’d know as soon as I told you.” The soldier too, looks utterly bewildered. “You don’t know? His exact words were: his Lordship wants to know if you’re willing to leave today for Zhongjing. No one knows about this, you’re the only one he’s telling, and if you’re willing to leave now, the northern administration will dispatch a squad to escort you on your way. This is top secret. If you’d rather wait for him in Shangjing that’s okay too.”
Duan Ling searches his brain for a while and he suddenly recalls Yelü Zongzhen. He already left last night?! Naturally, Duan Ling has no wish to leave right now. As soon as he leaves, all of the plans will be thrown into disarray.
“I have unfinished business here. For now, I cannot get away.”
“This is for you, from His Lordship. You must keep one of these items safe — you mustn’t lose it. You’ll need to give me some proof that you’ve received it, and I’ll send it to Zhongjing.”
The northern administration soldier has brought a food box and a small case. The food box is filled with all kinds of exquisite snacks, alongside a writing set of ink, brush, paper, and inkstone, and there’s also a sword. Duan Ling opens the small case to find a plaque forged out of gold; it’s quite heavy. And so he nods at the soldier and goes back inside. He gives this some thought, but realising that he has nothing he can give as a present, he snaps off a branch that has bore a few unripe peaches and puts it in the case, peaches and all. Sealing it, he hands it to the soldier.
The allegory says “get a plum back for his peach”, not out of gratitude but as a sign of our eternal friendship.2 Though the original actually says give me a wooden peach, and a wooden peach is a papaya. He doesn’t have any papaya on hand though, so he’ll have to make do with peaches. He believes Yelü Zongzhen will understand it.
For the next few days, aside from leaving to buy some food, Duan Ling almost never leaves the house. Every time he passes by the tea shop he’ll stand there and listen for a long time, trying to glean some news from the south. The information itself is myriad and contradictory: some say Zhao Kui’s staged a revolt, some say Mu Kuangda’s defected to Li Jianhong, some say the Southern Chen emperor and the Fourth Prince have died, and momentarily Duan Ling has no idea whom he should believe.
In the meantime, Cai Yan makes one visit. He says to Duan Ling, “His Majesty returned to Zhongjing a fortnight ago.”
Duan Ling is sitting by the well scrubbing clothes. He feigns astonishment. “So he’s left just like that?”
“The army in Zhongjing was as ready as a nocked arrow. Yelü Dashi wrote a secret missive, and when His Majesty returned he convened all the court officials and blocked the decision to march in spite of Imperial Tutor Han’s opposition.”
Duan Ling thinks thank the heavens and feels at ease at long last.
“Your dad isn’t back yet?”
“No.”
“Did he write to you or not? Is that letter on the table in the parlour from your dad?”
Duan Ling looks at him in surprised silence for a moment before running inside to check. He finds a still-sealed letter that wasn’t there before, sitting squarely on the table. Cai Yan steps out of the parlour without Duan Ling having to ask him, and Duan Ling opens the letter.
You ask of my return, but that day is not yet set;
Mount Ba’s rainstorms have flooded the pond in autumn.
When will we two trim the wick by the west window,
and speak of the night rains that fall on Mount Ba?3
Wait for me.
Li Jianhong has won the war.
Seven days ago, Jianmenguan surrendered.
It is a rainy night, and it has started raining in front of Jianmenguan, a torrential downpour that comes down from horizon to horizon. Lighting crisscross the mountain ranges, the flash of it brightening the sky; mud and stone on either shore of the river merge as one into the flood, the deluge screaming through the night as it rushes downstream of the mountains in the dark.
A visitor arrives in the Black Armours’ encampment with a child and a masked bodyguard.
Li Jianhong is facing the side of the tent as he drinks, his one foot resting on a box full of weapons. Lamplight casts his profile onto the wall of the tent.
“It really is raining so hard.” The visitor unties his bamboo hat and rush raincoat, exclaiming, “If it wasn’t for Chang Liujun carrying me on his back all this way I probably would have never made it here in front of your highness on my own.”
“Chancellor Mu, it has been years since we last met.” Li Jianhong points at a chair. “Have a seat.”
Xie You sits nearby, staring at Mu Kuangda in silence.
“Heat up some ginger soup for Chancellor Mu to ward off the cold,” Li Jianhong hands down a command.
“This is my son,” Mu Kuangda says, “Mu Qing. Qing’er, kowtow.”
Mu Kuangda’s son steps forward, kneeling down in front of Li Jianhong, and leans over to kowtow. Li Jianhong makes a small gesture with one hand to let him know that formalities are not necessary.
“Those who travel far must always be treated as guests. No matter what you intended by coming here today, Chancellor Mu, for your courage in coming alone I will let you leave freely. I won’t stop you.”
“I told him I had to come here in person. Chang Liujun is always so cautious. I said to him, it’ll be alright, since I can come in one piece, His Highness will let me leave in one piece.”
“Speak.” Xie You says grimly, “His Highness is waiting.”
Mu Kuangda says, “His Majesty is dead.”
“When?” Li Jianhong asks without much concern.
“Five days ago, at an hour before midnight.”
“How come I don’t know that?” Li Jianhong says casually.
“Zhao Kui has the palace on lockdown, making sure that the news of His Majesty’s death goes unannounced.” Mu Kuangda continues, “Your Highness, the imperial order handed down six years ago wasn’t my idea. It was Zhao Kui, overstepping his bounds.”
“I know,” Li Jianhong says indolently.
“And mobilising the Shadow Guard was also something I couldn’t stop him from doing.”
“I know.”
“If Your Highness doesn’t get this war over with quickly, if Han Weiyong and Empress Xiao can’t contain themselves and the Khitan army returns, it will spell imminent doom for Great Chen. We cannot endure a secession. Let alone that both sides will be ruled by the imperial family, therefore further separation will be meaningless.”
“Uh huh.”
“Zhao Kui issued a military order today wishing to redeploy more than half of the troops at Yubiguan down the central plain to join the fight against your highness. Xichuan is already under his control. If your highness loses this battle, Zhao Kui will definitely return to Xichuan and use this army to force an abdication.”
Li Jianhong’s brows furrow. He says nothing.
“I will go issue an arrest warrant now, and coordinate with the Shadow Guard. In three days’ time at the signal of a whistle, the Shadow Guard will work with Your Highness and open the gates to Jianmenguan.”
“Chancellor Mu, is there something you’d like me to do?”
“No tax increases for Xichuan for the next ten years, and no mandatory draft. And it’s about time … the capital is moved to Jiangzhou.”
Li Jianhong smiles. “Chancellor Mu, seems you’ve got everything figured out for me.”
Mu Kuangda smiles. “I have always been a tactful man.”
Li Jianhong turns to look at Mu Kuangda’s son then. Mu Qing grows somewhat fearful beneath his gaze and backs away a bit.
“For the next few days Qing’er will stay by Your Highness’s side so he can learn something. Your Highness, this is the child I love the most, I hope that Your Highness will …”
“No need. I trust you. Go on then, I’ll wait for your signal in three days.”
And so Mu Kuangda takes his son and Chang Liujun away from the military encampment once more.
In the middle of the night three days later, there is a sudden alarmed wave of birdsong all over the mountains, and the men guarding the gates at Jianmenguan are killed. Overnight Li Jianhong captures Jianmenguan, and Zhao Kui’s two-hundred thousand troops defending it are defeated; they flee along the Xichuan Road. The two sides meet in a decisive battle beneath Mount Wenzhong at dawn.4 Zhao Kui, who only managed to hastily set his troops in order, loses first to Xie You, then he’s ambushed by Li Jianhong.
At the end of the battle, the sides of the highway are covered in the bodies of the dead, and the wilderness all around them are full of deserters. Li Jianhong leads a squad to hunt down Zhao Kui himself, but after Wu Du rescues him somewhere along the way, he flees towards the city of Xichuan.
“When Mount Wenzhong’s bell rings nine times, old regime gives place to new …”
“When the ice of Feng River thaws, winter gives place to spring …”
By the time Zhao Kui has fled to the foothills of Mount Wenzhong, children in the distant city of Xichuan are singing this song. And what waits for him on the highway is the mutinous Shadow Guard. Wu Du holds back the Shadow Guard alone with his sword, while Zhao Kui retreats once more, fleeing to the west.
A great tree stands in the middle of the wilderness; with all his options exhausted, Zhao Kui has made it here with a dozen or so bodyguards. Mount Wenzhong towers over them in the distance.
“If I’d known, I should have just died an honest death,” Zhao Kui exclaims.
On a clear autumn day you can see forever. There is a rustling in the wheat fields, and a tall assassin approaches them, moving against the wind. Alarmed, the bodyguards roar, “Who’s there?!”
And yet before these guards have a chance to make a move, several stripes of bright light flash by and Zhao Kui’s personal guards have fallen dead to the ground where they stood…
“Greetings,” the assassin says, “my name is Chang Liujun.”
“Finally, I get to hear these words too,” Zhao Kui says.
“I’ve come to kill you,” Chang Liujun unties his mask, and tells him this politely.
The very last thought on Zhao Kui’s mind is the white tiger tattoo on the side of Chang Liujun’s face.
A streak of red stains the horizon at dusk, and in the wilderness, a lone tree rustles. Covered head to toe in cuts and slashes, Wu Du has followed Zhao Kui’s trail here to the Maple Gorge. What he sees when he arrives are the bodies of Zhao Kui and all his guards, and Chang Liujun bending down to wipe the blood off his sword with Zhao Kui’s ripped cape.
Wu Du’s pupils dilate slightly, but Chang Liujun doesn’t even bother to look at him. “You have two paths to choose. One is to kill yourself so at least you can die with your body intact; second is to start running right now. I’ll count to ten. When I get to ten I’ll come kill you.”
Wu Du can’t stop trembling. He doesn’t run, and neither does he take his own life. He merely draws the sword hanging by his waist as he keeps shaking.
“Did you think that everyone would run?” Wu Du sneers at him.
Chang Liujun raises the sword in his hand, and yet right at that exact moment a look of surprise hits them both. Chang Liujun quickly returns his sword to its scabbard, turns to enter the wheat field, and vanishes without a trace.
Slowed by his injuries, Wu Du staggers toward Zhao Kui’s body, howling with grief and rage.
A horse gallops towards him along the highway. Dressed head to toe in iron armour, Li Jianhong’s cape flutters in the autumn breeze. Wu Du immediately turns around to face him.
“Sheathe your sword,” Li Jianhong says.
Wu Du looks hesitant. Li Jianhong tosses out a letter and it lands in front of Wu Du. Still shaking, he opens the letter. When he finishes reading it, Li Jianhong repeats, “Sheathe your sword.”
Wu Du abruptly returns his sword to the scabbard. Its call of metal rings like a dragon’s cry which shakes the very heavens, reverberating in the wind, and in that valley it becomes a lingering echo.
Without losing a single soldier, the entire city of Xichuan surrenders to Li Jianhong. Mu Kuangda leads a full procession of officials out of the city to welcome him; Li Yanqiu comes to greet him personally.
“Third Brother, you’ve come back.”
Li Jianhong is about to say something when the sound of a great bell being tolled reaches them from Mount Wenzhong, a resonant call ringing through the sunset.
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. ↩︎
Give me a papaya, I return a piece of ornamental jade, not out of gratitude but as a sign of our eternal friendship is from “The Papaya”, a poem in the Book of Songs / Classic of Poetry. ↩︎
A Letter to the North Written on a Rainy Night is a poem by the Tang dynasty poet Li Shangyin. It was either for his wife or for his friend; we don’t know. We do know that by the time he wrote this poem, his wife already passed away from illness, he just didn’t get the news yet. “Trim the wick” is an euphemism for staying up late to talk all night, as night is the only time you’d need candles, and only when a candle is burning too long does one need to trim the wick. Mount Ba is on the eastern edge of Sichuan. (Xichuan is the older name for Sichuan.) ↩︎
Mount Wenzong (literally “Mountain where the bell is heard”) is a fictional location that also appeared in Yingnu, and according to the MC in Yingnu it’s within Xichuan province, to the north (and probably east) of the city of Xichuan. Incidentally, the bell was melted in Yingnu, more than 500 years ago. ↩︎
