At dusk, in a narrow Tongguan trail.
Wu Du steers his horse through the mountain path, entering the prairies.
“Gup!”
Spurring the horse on as much as he could, the way back to Xichuan is easy-going, and it’ll take only two days and a half for him to get there. Coming back the other way is all uphill, but if everything goes as planned he can be back in another three days on top of that.
At the end of an unbroken chain of mountaintops, the sun is slowly setting, bathing the peaks in a dark crimson light and casting intersecting shadows in between. He has no idea when this came to be, but at some point Wu Du has begun to dislike the night. Every time night descends on the world he would get this desolate feeling that another day is about to end; he has no idea when this came to be, but he’s gotten used to moving about during the day, and he no longer wants to go back into the night.
You’re an assassin. Assassins don’t have days — only nights. That voice rings out next to his ear once more.
Urging his horse forward, he chases after that last splash of sunset to the west, almost like he doesn’t want to see the world fall into darkness so quickly; he keeps watch over these last few slivers of light until the sun sets entirely, when what’s left in the sky behind the mountains is a stripe of magnificent deep blue, leaving him a tranquil, dazzlingly colourful dream.
He can still remember how he disliked the day when he was little, and how he was only fond of the night. Only by melding into the night did he feel safe and reassured. Yet right now he would much rather live in the daylight hours; the day is more exciting, and far more interesting. In the morning when that kid wakes up he’d talk to Wu Du with a smile on his face, busying himself with this or that, and in an instant the world would come alive around him.
As soon as night comes they would go to sleep and stop talking, and Wu Du would feel like he had returned to his own world to guard that closed door and to wait for Duan Ling to wake up again so they can talk to each other. Another day passes, it’s time to sleep, and the door closes again.
It reminds him of an occidental clock sent from one of the foreign nations as a tribute that he once saw in Zhao Kui’s estate. Whenever a certain time of day came, a door would open on the clock, and a little figurine would come out of it to make a bunch of incomprehensible sounds. The first time Wu Du saw it he thought it was hilarious, but the figurine only ever came out at a specific time; the rest of the time whenever he passed by the room he would halt outside to wait for the figurine that announced the time.
There was so little he enjoyed in life that Wu Du can’t help but lament at what a pathetic life he’s led.
The stars rise, and the Big Dipper twinkles in the autumn sky, guiding his way ahead. In a few days, it’ll be the Seventh of Seventh.
How should they spend the Seventh of Seventh?2 It’ll be the last day so it probably won’t be easy for them to get away … Wu Du begins to think about how he’s always been on his own ever since he left his sect; the festival days never felt like festival days, and New Year’s never felt like New Year’s either. This time, when they’re done with this task, they can take their time to rest.
Wu Du feels as though he can never see through to the heart of that boy — this young man named Wang Shan seems to have been hiding something ever since the day he arrived at Wu Du’s side, something buried so deep and concealed so well that it’s like he’s wearing a mask. Yet when he thinks about it carefully, Wang Shan hasn’t taken any action that seems too out of the ordinary.
Sometimes he’s as cunning as a fox, and sometimes he seems completely guileless. Wu Du wonders who he really is …
From the quiet nighttime mountain paths a pleasant wind blows, and even the horses’ hooves seem to become lighter. Fallen leaves fly up into the air next to Wu Du, rustling as he leaves them in the dust. The Northern Gate of the Black Tortoise has also risen;3 following the twisty mountain paths, Wu Du steers his horse towards the southwest into the highway in the mountains.
Duan Ling wakes up the next morning at the crack of dawn from a long, groggy sleep, looking utterly exhausted.
A thick fog has rolled over everything today, and when he steps out of the courtyard he can barely see his own fingers, let alone the way. Duan Ling subconsciously calls for Wu Du, but before he does he recalls that Wu Du has already left for Xichuan. The steward comes with a message, and so Duan Ling leaves to go see Bian Lingbai.
Fei Hongde’s leg has mostly recovered, and he’s with Bian Lingbai, waiting for Duan Ling to come have breakfast. There are also several military officers inside the room.
Bian Lingbai turns to Duan Ling, “The circumstances of your arrival several days ago were rather rushed so I haven’t had a chance to introduce them to you. They’re all deputies of Tongguan, and they’re also of your uncle’s generation.”
Duan Ling’s about to get up to bow when those military officers politely decline before he can. “Oh that won’t be necessary.”
Bian Lingbai introduces the men one by one; two Vice Generals, two Colonels, one Official Registrar.4 One is named Vice General Wang, another is Vice General Xie, while the Registrar is entirely ineffective in contrast. If Bian Lingbai wants to do anything, he always consults his brilliant adviser Fei Hongde, and when it comes to internal affairs he’s even less willing to allow the Registrar to interfere. Thus when food starts to be served, the colonels as well as the registrar retreat from the room, leaving Wang and Xie to keep them company.
Once they finish breakfast, Bian Lingbai tasks someone to get some men together so they can leave Tongguan with himself and Duan Ling for the eastern section of Qinling, to check whether his treasure is still in one piece.
Tongguan is built against the mountains, with roads to Xichuan to the south, Huaiyin and Shangzi to the east and Xiliang bordering its north, it has been vied for by military commanders since time immemorial.
Once they exit the mountain pass, Duan Ling sits atop his horse before the great mountains and feels the world before him broadening.
Clouds spread out before him like an ocean as the fog rolls in; his field of vision increases with the altitude as though the mountains are parting before him, the clouds pouring through the gaps of the mountaintops like a waterfall, while in the far reaches the Yellow River surges. Mountain peaks gather, turbulent waves billow; Tongguan road winds through mountains and rivers inside and out.5
“Rong’er.” Bian Lingbai is riding side by side with Duan Ling at a moderate clip.
“Hey, uncle.”
“You speak too little. Always so quiet like that. We can say you’re mature and earnest, that’s true, but if you speak too little I worry that I can’t assist you.”
“This is how I’ve always been at home. Your advice is sound, uncle. I’ll try to talk more often from now on.”
“Your dad was a cautious man. He who talks much errs much, the more you say the more mistakes you make, that’s correct. Now tell me, what do you think about the present situation between Liao and Xiliang?”
Duan Lingbai knows Bian Lingbai is planning to turn against the government, and he’s also deliberately not hiding that from Duan Ling; vaguely, and as though meaning to do so, he’d divulge some of his plans, yet he won’t hand the overall scheme over. Presumably he’s planning to test Duan Ling’s loyalty.
“Whatever you think, uncle, that’s what I’ll do.”
Bian Lingbai bursts out in a hearty laugh, never expecting for Duan Ling to put it like that. Most fools are unable to see their own foolishness, but they do tend to be vigilant against those close to them being too smart — Li Jianhong was the one who taught Duan Ling that.
“There’s something I need you to do for me.” Bian Lingbai adds, “I think that Tangut prince seems to be quite fond of you. Do me a favour and arrange a meeting with him — tell him to meet you outside the city. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Sure.” Duan Ling agrees to do it without pausing to think.
Bian Lingbai is a bit surprised to see Duan Ling not ask him any questions at all, but this attitude of not asking any questions suits Bian Lingbai just fine.
“But I’m not entirely sure.” Duan Ling gives this a bit of thought, “What if he doesn’t want to go with me? I’m just worried that he may … get suspicious? Speaking of which, uncle, what are we trying to do anyway?”
Bian Lingbai gives him an enigmatic glance. “Can’t you think of something yourself?”
Duan Ling goes quiet.
Bian Lingbai says, “Spend some more time with him. If there’s anything you don’t understand, go ask Master Fei.”
Duan Ling can only nod. He thinks to himself: aren’t you just asking me to use my sex appeal? But that happens to be just fine — he’s wanted to get a chat in with Helian Bo anyway.
The mist had dissolved, but Qinling had been shrouded in a dark cloud all day. They get to the place where Fei Hongde was attacked.
Duan Ling says, “It should be right around here.”
Bian Lingbai is just about to order his people to carry out a search when Duan Ling gives the corner of his robe a slight tug. “Uncle, I have something to tell you.”
Bian Lingbai walks away from the group. It occurs to Duan Ling now that Fei Hongde didn’t come this time, and he must give it to the old fox — the last time they were here, Fei Hongde already knew Duan Ling found the entrance to the treasure trove! But he had said nothing at all.
“I have suspicions about this spot,” Duan Ling whispers near Bian Lingbai’s ear, “and I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Take me over there now,” Bian Lingbai says. He leaves his subordinates instructions to wait here for him and asks Duan Ling, “Do you know how to use a sword?”
“I can use a bow.”
Thus Bian Lingbai gives him a bow and quiver set, then tosses him a sword as well. Holding a sword himself, Bian Lingbai signals for Duan Ling to get on a horse. Duan Ling leads the way, galloping into the forest.
“Over here. I saw it the last time we came, but I didn’t tell Master Fei.”
What Duan Ling means to convey to Bian Lingbai is, I didn’t tell Master Fei, so you shouldn’t let this slip either, but Bian Lingbai has misinterpreted his words. With a subconscious nod he says, “Right. Good boy.”
Duan Ling nearly laughs; he doesn’t even know what to say.
Carefully, Bian Lingbai gets off his horse, and the two of them peer into the cave the assassin passed by the other day. A cool draft is coming from inside. Without consulting him, Bian Lingbai walks on ahead, while Duan Ling nocks his arrow to cover his back. When his arrow points at the back of Bian Lingbai’s neck, Duan Ling can’t help himself from quivering.
It’s all over if he lets this arrow go now, but even if he shoots him now he won’t be able to get away from here. He’d better wait for Wu Du to come back first.
Bian Lingbai turns back towards the outside of the cave and says, “Come on in.”
Duan Ling checks for marks and scratches around the area, and it’s obvious that there’s still a winding, zigzagging path that leads inside to the deepest part of the cave. When they get to the end of it they find the space opening up to an underground cliff. Duan Ling lights a candle and tells Bian Lingbai to look — there are footprints at the edge of the cliff.
“Uncle, we can’t go any farther.”
Bian Lingbai’s expression wavers as though he’s thinking about something.
“Look over there, at the back,” Duan Ling adds, “a length of rope.”
“It should be right here.” Bian Lingbai nods slowly. “We’ll dig it up some other day, I’ll have Master Fei divine a good day for it.”
“Let’s go.” Bian Lingbai takes point, shielding him. Duan Ling suddenly doesn’t feel like killing him anymore, just a little bit — after all, aside from wishing to turn against the empire and kill Helian Bo, it seems like Bian Lingbai hasn’t really done anything too excessive towards Duan Ling himself.
Bian Lingbai turns back to glance at Duan Ling with a strange look in his eyes, as though his mind is occupied. Duan Ling is just thinking about when Wu Du will be back when suddenly Bian Lingbai kicks out a foot and hooks Duan Ling’s ankle forwards. Duan Ling doesn’t dodge out of the way in time; he slips back towards the edge of the cliff, crying out loudly as he does so.
Bian Lingbai stares at Duan Ling without a word, looking a bit regretful.
“I’m so sorry, Rong’er. I’ve been thinking this over, and I believe the less people know about this secret the better. At any rate, the rest of the Zhao family’s already gone, so you’ll be able to reunite with your dad in the underworld. This is it, I suppose — Uncle Bian will make sure to burn some paper money for you.”
Then Bian Lingbai stomps hard on Duan Ling’s hand, and with an anguished cry, Duan Ling rolls down from the edge of the cliff.
By the evening, without stopping to rest and going as fast as he can, Wu Du has already entered the city of Xichuan.
The imperial order for the capital’s relocation had already been announced, and within a fortnight all the great families will be leaving this majestic imperial city that had flourished for a thousand years; the city is a scene of pandemonium.
“Where’s the Grand Chancellor?” Counting the night he stole the ledger, it’s already been three days and two nights since Wu Du had gotten any sleep, and his eyes are bloodshot from fatigue. The first thing he does when he enters the estate is to look for Mu Kuangda, yet the inside of the chancellor’s estate looks deserted, with hardly anyone around — they must have gone to Jiangzhou ahead of time.
Wu Du lets out a quiet cuss in his head. The chancellor had better not have left already, otherwise he’ll have to go all the way to Jiangzhou, and there’s no time for that!
Chang Liujun is kicking a shuttlecock around with Mu Qing in the courtyard, and when Wu Du comes in they both give him a look.
Mu Qing looks flabbergasted that he’s here. “Wu Du?! Where’s Wang Shan?! Where did you guys go?!”
Chang Liujun considers Wu Du with suspicion. Still out of breath from his trip, Wu Du is standing with his hands at his sides. “I seek an audience with Chancellor Mu with urgent military intelligence.”
Chan Liujun laughs derisively. “You’re going so far to say ‘seek an audience’ eh? Must be urgent. Sadly, Chancellor Mu has already gone ahead to Jiangzhou.”
Wu Du regards him with silent hostility.
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. ↩︎
This isn’t a note per say, but a reminder: Duan Ling told Wu Du that his birthday is on the Seventh of Seventh. (His actual birthday is on the sixth of the twelfth month.) ↩︎
While the big dipper is basically the same in Chinese (the north dipper) as it is in English, The Northern Gate is the Chinese name of the Fomalhaut. Chang’an’s Northern Gate during the Han dynasty was named for the star. ↩︎
A registrar functions like a secretary (in charge of records) while usually also acting as a high-ranking adviser. There’s no English equivalent of the 校官 Xiao Guan, and they’re usually split into upper, middle, and junior, which I’d usually translate to Colonel, Lieutenant Colonel, and Major respectively, but since those are NEVER used in this novel, I’ll just give them all the colonel rank. ↩︎
A verse by Zhang Yanghao, Yuan dynasty poet about the scenery of Tongguan. You can find the whole poem translated on his wikipedia page. ↩︎
At dusk, in a narrow Tongguan trail.
Wu Du steers his horse through the mountain path, entering the prairies.
“Gup!”
Spurring the horse on as much as he could, the way back to Xichuan is easy-going, and it’ll take only two days and a half for him to get there. Coming back the other way is all uphill, but if everything goes as planned he can be back in another three days on top of that.
At the end of an unbroken chain of mountaintops, the sun is slowly setting, bathing the peaks in a dark crimson light and casting intersecting shadows in between. He has no idea when this came to be, but at some point Wu Du has begun to dislike the night. Every time night descends on the world he would get this desolate feeling that another day is about to end; he has no idea when this came to be, but he’s gotten used to moving about during the day, and he no longer wants to go back into the night.
You’re an assassin. Assassins don’t have days — only nights. That voice rings out next to his ear once more.
Urging his horse forward, he chases after that last splash of sunset to the west, almost like he doesn’t want to see the world fall into darkness so quickly; he keeps watch over these last few slivers of light until the sun sets entirely, when what’s left in the sky behind the mountains is a stripe of magnificent deep blue, leaving him a tranquil, dazzlingly colourful dream.
He can still remember how he disliked the day when he was little, and how he was only fond of the night. Only by melding into the night did he feel safe and reassured. Yet right now he would much rather live in the daylight hours; the day is more exciting, and far more interesting. In the morning when that kid wakes up he’d talk to Wu Du with a smile on his face, busying himself with this or that, and in an instant the world would come alive around him.
As soon as night comes they would go to sleep and stop talking, and Wu Du would feel like he had returned to his own world to guard that closed door and to wait for Duan Ling to wake up again so they can talk to each other. Another day passes, it’s time to sleep, and the door closes again.
It reminds him of an occidental clock sent from one of the foreign nations as a tribute that he once saw in Zhao Kui’s estate. Whenever a certain time of day came, a door would open on the clock, and a little figurine would come out of it to make a bunch of incomprehensible sounds. The first time Wu Du saw it he thought it was hilarious, but the figurine only ever came out at a specific time; the rest of the time whenever he passed by the room he would halt outside to wait for the figurine that announced the time.
There was so little he enjoyed in life that Wu Du can’t help but lament at what a pathetic life he’s led.
The stars rise, and the Big Dipper twinkles in the autumn sky, guiding his way ahead. In a few days, it’ll be the Seventh of Seventh.
How should they spend the Seventh of Seventh?2 It’ll be the last day so it probably won’t be easy for them to get away … Wu Du begins to think about how he’s always been on his own ever since he left his sect; the festival days never felt like festival days, and New Year’s never felt like New Year’s either. This time, when they’re done with this task, they can take their time to rest.
Wu Du feels as though he can never see through to the heart of that boy — this young man named Wang Shan seems to have been hiding something ever since the day he arrived at Wu Du’s side, something buried so deep and concealed so well that it’s like he’s wearing a mask. Yet when he thinks about it carefully, Wang Shan hasn’t taken any action that seems too out of the ordinary.
Sometimes he’s as cunning as a fox, and sometimes he seems completely guileless. Wu Du wonders who he really is …
From the quiet nighttime mountain paths a pleasant wind blows, and even the horses’ hooves seem to become lighter. Fallen leaves fly up into the air next to Wu Du, rustling as he leaves them in the dust. The Northern Gate of the Black Tortoise has also risen;3 following the twisty mountain paths, Wu Du steers his horse towards the southwest into the highway in the mountains.
Duan Ling wakes up the next morning at the crack of dawn from a long, groggy sleep, looking utterly exhausted.
A thick fog has rolled over everything today, and when he steps out of the courtyard he can barely see his own fingers, let alone the way. Duan Ling subconsciously calls for Wu Du, but before he does he recalls that Wu Du has already left for Xichuan. The steward comes with a message, and so Duan Ling leaves to go see Bian Lingbai.
Fei Hongde’s leg has mostly recovered, and he’s with Bian Lingbai, waiting for Duan Ling to come have breakfast. There are also several military officers inside the room.
Bian Lingbai turns to Duan Ling, “The circumstances of your arrival several days ago were rather rushed so I haven’t had a chance to introduce them to you. They’re all deputies of Tongguan, and they’re also of your uncle’s generation.”
Duan Ling’s about to get up to bow when those military officers politely decline before he can. “Oh that won’t be necessary.”
Bian Lingbai introduces the men one by one; two Vice Generals, two Colonels, one Official Registrar.4 One is named Vice General Wang, another is Vice General Xie, while the Registrar is entirely ineffective in contrast. If Bian Lingbai wants to do anything, he always consults his brilliant adviser Fei Hongde, and when it comes to internal affairs he’s even less willing to allow the Registrar to interfere. Thus when food starts to be served, the colonels as well as the registrar retreat from the room, leaving Wang and Xie to keep them company.
Once they finish breakfast, Bian Lingbai tasks someone to get some men together so they can leave Tongguan with himself and Duan Ling for the eastern section of Qinling, to check whether his treasure is still in one piece.
Tongguan is built against the mountains, with roads to Xichuan to the south, Huaiyin and Shangzi to the east and Xiliang bordering its north, it has been vied for by military commanders since time immemorial.
Once they exit the mountain pass, Duan Ling sits atop his horse before the great mountains and feels the world before him broadening.
Clouds spread out before him like an ocean as the fog rolls in; his field of vision increases with the altitude as though the mountains are parting before him, the clouds pouring through the gaps of the mountaintops like a waterfall, while in the far reaches the Yellow River surges. Mountain peaks gather, turbulent waves billow; Tongguan road winds through mountains and rivers inside and out.5
“Rong’er.” Bian Lingbai is riding side by side with Duan Ling at a moderate clip.
“Hey, uncle.”
“You speak too little. Always so quiet like that. We can say you’re mature and earnest, that’s true, but if you speak too little I worry that I can’t assist you.”
“This is how I’ve always been at home. Your advice is sound, uncle. I’ll try to talk more often from now on.”
“Your dad was a cautious man. He who talks much errs much, the more you say the more mistakes you make, that’s correct. Now tell me, what do you think about the present situation between Liao and Xiliang?”
Duan Lingbai knows Bian Lingbai is planning to turn against the government, and he’s also deliberately not hiding that from Duan Ling; vaguely, and as though meaning to do so, he’d divulge some of his plans, yet he won’t hand the overall scheme over. Presumably he’s planning to test Duan Ling’s loyalty.
“Whatever you think, uncle, that’s what I’ll do.”
Bian Lingbai bursts out in a hearty laugh, never expecting for Duan Ling to put it like that. Most fools are unable to see their own foolishness, but they do tend to be vigilant against those close to them being too smart — Li Jianhong was the one who taught Duan Ling that.
“There’s something I need you to do for me.” Bian Lingbai adds, “I think that Tangut prince seems to be quite fond of you. Do me a favour and arrange a meeting with him — tell him to meet you outside the city. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Sure.” Duan Ling agrees to do it without pausing to think.
Bian Lingbai is a bit surprised to see Duan Ling not ask him any questions at all, but this attitude of not asking any questions suits Bian Lingbai just fine.
“But I’m not entirely sure.” Duan Ling gives this a bit of thought, “What if he doesn’t want to go with me? I’m just worried that he may … get suspicious? Speaking of which, uncle, what are we trying to do anyway?”
Bian Lingbai gives him an enigmatic glance. “Can’t you think of something yourself?”
Duan Ling goes quiet.
Bian Lingbai says, “Spend some more time with him. If there’s anything you don’t understand, go ask Master Fei.”
Duan Ling can only nod. He thinks to himself: aren’t you just asking me to use my sex appeal? But that happens to be just fine — he’s wanted to get a chat in with Helian Bo anyway.
The mist had dissolved, but Qinling had been shrouded in a dark cloud all day. They get to the place where Fei Hongde was attacked.
Duan Ling says, “It should be right around here.”
Bian Lingbai is just about to order his people to carry out a search when Duan Ling gives the corner of his robe a slight tug. “Uncle, I have something to tell you.”
Bian Lingbai walks away from the group. It occurs to Duan Ling now that Fei Hongde didn’t come this time, and he must give it to the old fox — the last time they were here, Fei Hongde already knew Duan Ling found the entrance to the treasure trove! But he had said nothing at all.
“I have suspicions about this spot,” Duan Ling whispers near Bian Lingbai’s ear, “and I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Take me over there now,” Bian Lingbai says. He leaves his subordinates instructions to wait here for him and asks Duan Ling, “Do you know how to use a sword?”
“I can use a bow.”
Thus Bian Lingbai gives him a bow and quiver set, then tosses him a sword as well. Holding a sword himself, Bian Lingbai signals for Duan Ling to get on a horse. Duan Ling leads the way, galloping into the forest.
“Over here. I saw it the last time we came, but I didn’t tell Master Fei.”
What Duan Ling means to convey to Bian Lingbai is, I didn’t tell Master Fei, so you shouldn’t let this slip either, but Bian Lingbai has misinterpreted his words. With a subconscious nod he says, “Right. Good boy.”
Duan Ling nearly laughs; he doesn’t even know what to say.
Carefully, Bian Lingbai gets off his horse, and the two of them peer into the cave the assassin passed by the other day. A cool draft is coming from inside. Without consulting him, Bian Lingbai walks on ahead, while Duan Ling nocks his arrow to cover his back. When his arrow points at the back of Bian Lingbai’s neck, Duan Ling can’t help himself from quivering.
It’s all over if he lets this arrow go now, but even if he shoots him now he won’t be able to get away from here. He’d better wait for Wu Du to come back first.
Bian Lingbai turns back towards the outside of the cave and says, “Come on in.”
Duan Ling checks for marks and scratches around the area, and it’s obvious that there’s still a winding, zigzagging path that leads inside to the deepest part of the cave. When they get to the end of it they find the space opening up to an underground cliff. Duan Ling lights a candle and tells Bian Lingbai to look — there are footprints at the edge of the cliff.
“Uncle, we can’t go any farther.”
Bian Lingbai’s expression wavers as though he’s thinking about something.
“Look over there, at the back,” Duan Ling adds, “a length of rope.”
“It should be right here.” Bian Lingbai nods slowly. “We’ll dig it up some other day, I’ll have Master Fei divine a good day for it.”
“Let’s go.” Bian Lingbai takes point, shielding him. Duan Ling suddenly doesn’t feel like killing him anymore, just a little bit — after all, aside from wishing to turn against the empire and kill Helian Bo, it seems like Bian Lingbai hasn’t really done anything too excessive towards Duan Ling himself.
Bian Lingbai turns back to glance at Duan Ling with a strange look in his eyes, as though his mind is occupied. Duan Ling is just thinking about when Wu Du will be back when suddenly Bian Lingbai kicks out a foot and hooks Duan Ling’s ankle forwards. Duan Ling doesn’t dodge out of the way in time; he slips back towards the edge of the cliff, crying out loudly as he does so.
Bian Lingbai stares at Duan Ling without a word, looking a bit regretful.
“I’m so sorry, Rong’er. I’ve been thinking this over, and I believe the less people know about this secret the better. At any rate, the rest of the Zhao family’s already gone, so you’ll be able to reunite with your dad in the underworld. This is it, I suppose — Uncle Bian will make sure to burn some paper money for you.”
Then Bian Lingbai stomps hard on Duan Ling’s hand, and with an anguished cry, Duan Ling rolls down from the edge of the cliff.
By the evening, without stopping to rest and going as fast as he can, Wu Du has already entered the city of Xichuan.
The imperial order for the capital’s relocation had already been announced, and within a fortnight all the great families will be leaving this majestic imperial city that had flourished for a thousand years; the city is a scene of pandemonium.
“Where’s the Grand Chancellor?” Counting the night he stole the ledger, it’s already been three days and two nights since Wu Du had gotten any sleep, and his eyes are bloodshot from fatigue. The first thing he does when he enters the estate is to look for Mu Kuangda, yet the inside of the chancellor’s estate looks deserted, with hardly anyone around — they must have gone to Jiangzhou ahead of time.
Wu Du lets out a quiet cuss in his head. The chancellor had better not have left already, otherwise he’ll have to go all the way to Jiangzhou, and there’s no time for that!
Chang Liujun is kicking a shuttlecock around with Mu Qing in the courtyard, and when Wu Du comes in they both give him a look.
Mu Qing looks flabbergasted that he’s here. “Wu Du?! Where’s Wang Shan?! Where did you guys go?!”
Chang Liujun considers Wu Du with suspicion. Still out of breath from his trip, Wu Du is standing with his hands at his sides. “I seek an audience with Chancellor Mu with urgent military intelligence.”
Chan Liujun laughs derisively. “You’re going so far to say ‘seek an audience’ eh? Must be urgent. Sadly, Chancellor Mu has already gone ahead to Jiangzhou.”
Wu Du regards him with silent hostility.
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. ↩︎
This isn’t a note per say, but a reminder: Duan Ling told Wu Du that his birthday is on the Seventh of Seventh. (His actual birthday is on the sixth of the twelfth month.) ↩︎
While the big dipper is basically the same in Chinese (the north dipper) as it is in English, The Northern Gate is the Chinese name of the Fomalhaut. Chang’an’s Northern Gate during the Han dynasty was named for the star. ↩︎
A registrar functions like a secretary (in charge of records) while usually also acting as a high-ranking adviser. There’s no English equivalent of the 校官 Xiao Guan, and they’re usually split into upper, middle, and junior, which I’d usually translate to Colonel, Lieutenant Colonel, and Major respectively, but since those are NEVER used in this novel, I’ll just give them all the colonel rank. ↩︎
A verse by Zhang Yanghao, Yuan dynasty poet about the scenery of Tongguan. You can find the whole poem translated on his wikipedia page. ↩︎
