THE UNFAMILIAR BED made a restful night's sleep impossible. When dawn finally broke, Xiahou Lian rose and pushed open the door, noticing that Xie Jinglan's house was already lit. He carried a cup of tea into the study to find Xie Jinglan at the table, book in hand. The candle beside him had melted nearly to its base.
This kid couldn't have read all night without a wink of sleep, could he?
Xiahou Lian had guessed correctly: Xie Jinglan had indeed stayed up all night. The books he'd previously scavenged had had pages missing, or torn corners, or they'd been filled with Xie Jingtao's nonsensical scribbles. This was different. Xie Jinglan had never before gotten his hands on a volume of such quality. He'd spent the entire night absorbed in it, savoring what he could comprehend and memorizing what he could not. By morning, he'd managed to get through over half of the text. Thirsty as a parched man encountering a long-awaited rain, he yearned to imbibe the entire book in one gulp.
To avoid disturbing him, Xiahou Lian quietly left the room. He grabbed a tray from the kitchen and wandered through the residence, pretending to be a servant at his chores.
A skilled assassin's most important task was to become thoroughly familiar with the terrain, nailing down the best routes for both the assassination and their escape.
When he was young, Xiahou Lian had followed his mother down the mountain, chasing her while surveying his surroundings. Although Qiye Garden could have provided maps, his mother traversed every street, ditch, well, and hidden cellar on foot.
It took Xiahou Lian some time to locate the outer wall of the sprawling Xie property. The area was deserted. Seizing his chance, he vaulted over the wall. As soon as he landed, a large hand clamped over his mouth and lifted him clean off the ground. When Xiahou Lian turned to see who'd grabbed him, he recognized Uncle Duan, whom he hadn't seen in ages. Excitement rushed through Xiahou Lian; his uncle must've come to give him his mission.
"Hey, kid. Did they punish you in there? Look at you, you little monkey! Even as a servant, you can't sit still—always climbing around." Uncle Duan set him down and handed him a few steamed buns, then lit a pipe for himself. He blew out a few swirling rings of smoke.
"Tell me who I'm supposed to kill, Uncle. Quickly! I promise I'll do it swiftly and flawlessly!"
"You really think you're ready to kill someone? You'd be lucky to survive! Stay inside, and don't cause me any trouble. I have work to do. I'm heading to North Zhili. Your mother went to the Western Regions and won't be back for another six months. Stay here and be good. If you find yourself in trouble, just seek out the manor's elderly firewood collector," Uncle Duan urged, pressing a few silver coins into Xiahou Lian's hand.
When Xiahou Lian's mind caught up to his uncle's words, he was furious. "No way! You promised that if I succeeded this time, you'd give me my plaque, didn't you?! You're just leaving me hanging so I won't get in your way!"
"Your plaque? Do you think we're running a brothel? And do you really think a plaque would mean success? With your skills, you'd end up dead meat before you even got near the target." Uncle Duan poked his forehead. "Listen, kid. This is for your own good. You don't really think this line of work is easy, do you?"
"I'm going to be a mighty assassin like my mother! Somebody who makes everyone tremble with fear!"
Uncle Duan shook his head, gazing at Xiahou Lian for a long moment before sighing deeply. "You're old enough now. It's time I share some hard truths with you. Know what your mother is really up to right now?"
"She's assassinating the Chakravarti of the Western Regions. I know all about it; I've seen the files on him. He's really underhanded, skilled with traps and poisons, and he has godlike talent with the machete. So? Against my mother, he's a dead man all the same."
"Then did you know that two assassins from Qiye Garden have already died at his hands? The Western Regions are remote, the sandstorms treacherous. That area isn't like the Central Plains. Skilled as your mother is with a saber, going there is still a threat to her life." The typically lighthearted Uncle Duan's serious expression made Xiahou Lian uneasy. "Assassins live on borrowed time; we often pay for the lives we take with our own. Tell me, have you ever seen an assassin over the age of forty in Qiye Garden? It's not that we don't allow older members, it's that no one survives to that age!"
"B-bullshit! My mother's different. She earned the position of Garuda by the time she was twenty! The leader of the Jindao Sect and the inheritor of the Blizzard Saber technique in the north—both were terrors of the jianghu, and they still lost their heads to my mother!"
"Fine, fine. Your mother is the best—I won't argue with you there. Just keep your own limitations in mind. Your blade can handle pheasants and rabbits just fine. Maybe it could even hold its own against tigers and leopards. But assassination? That's still beyond you. You won't survive in the field with your current skills, and your mother entrusted me with your safety. If you throw your life away, don't expect me to burn money at your funeral!"
With that, Uncle Duan donned a straw hat and picked up a rack of goods he'd propped against the wall. In an instant, he'd transformed into a traveling merchant. It was impossible to tell that he was a ruthless assassin of the jianghu.
As Uncle Duan walked away, Xiahou Lian watched his retreating back, his broad shoulders and strapping build. The coarse fabric of his uncle's shirt did little to conceal his ropey muscles. When Uncle Duan wielded a saber, he transformed into a formidable assassin of Qiye Garden. He'd once pursued a then-Chief Grand Secretary across thousands of miles to an inn. The Embroidered Uniform Guard had surrounded the building, creating an ironclad enclosure. Yet, the next morning, an attendant opened the door to find a headless corpse. No one knew how Uncle Duan had infiltrated the inn and claimed the Chief Grand Secretary's head.
Every assassin had their own tale, yet they all shared the same fate—an untimely death and a burial in the wilderness.
Uncle Duan walked along the cobblestones, carrying the rack of goods, one calloused big toe poking from a hole in his straw shoes. Watching him, Xiahou Lian was inexplicably struck by a subtle sense of desolation.
Clutching the silver in his pocket, Xiahou Lian kicked a pebble at his feet as he made his way to Longfu Temple Street in the western suburbs. There, he purchased ink, paper, and brushes. He'd never been one to save money—the silver Uncle Duan had just given him slipped through his fingers like water. Soon, he was left with only a handful of copper coins.
On his way back, Xiahou Lian noticed carriages parked in front of the Xie residence, which suggested that the lord had returned. Heading back to Qiuwu Courtyard, Xiahou Lian handed the ink, paper, and brushes to Xie Jinglan.
Xie Jinglan stared at him in surprise, momentarily speechless. Brimming with glee, Xiahou Lian awaited the boy's tears of gratitude. To his shock, however, Xie Jinglan grabbed his hand and snapped, "Where did you steal these from? You need to break this terrible habit!"
Xiahou Lian was ready to retort, "How do you know I stole them?" But he stopped. A complete set of ink, paper, and brushes was pricey. If he claimed that he'd bought them, he'd also have to explain where the money had come from. Defeated, he replied, "Fine, I stole them. So what?"
"You—" Xie Jinglan was so furious, he didn't know what else to say.
Xiahou Lian rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I didn't get caught. These won't be traced to you. Just relax and use them."
Xie Jinglan grew even angrier. After Xiahou Lian had risked everything to help him steal those books the day before, he subconsciously started to see the other boy as one of his own. He wasn't worried about the potential repercussions for himself; he feared that Xiahou Lian would get caught and have his hands broken. It hadn't even occurred to Xie Jinglan that Xiahou Lian might be brash enough to sneak out of the residence—he assumed the boy had pilfered the writing tools from within. The mistress was a noxious, callous woman, greedy and miserly. If she caught him, a beating was certain.
But Xie Jinglan had a difficult temperament; he always put on a tough facade, refusing to show any vulnerability. "That's right!" he snapped. "I am worried that they'll trace these back to us! Life in the manor is hard enough already. If this becomes another mess, good luck cleaning it up! I refuse to use these things. Make sure this doesn't happen again!"
With that, Xie Jinglan packed away the ink and writing tools and stashed them at the bottom of the cabinet, determined to leave them there to gather dust. Xiahou Lian's good intentions had gone unappreciated—now he mourned his lost silver and felt miserable to boot. He stormed off to the courtyard to do his chores, and both boys ignored each other until, suddenly, Lianxiang burst into the courtyard with a joyful shout.
"Shaoye! Shaoye! I have good news!"
"What good news?"
"The lord was just in the study, reviewing Da-shaoye's homework. You'll never guess what he found!"
There was no need to guess; he'd discovered the album of erotica that Xiahou Lian had left on Xie Jingtao's desk.
Lianxiang didn't wait for her master's response. "You won't believe it! The lord actually found erotic artwork hidden inside Da-shaoye's copy of the Book of Rites! He was so furious, he grabbed a whip himself and flogged Da-shaoye until he was a blubbering mess. Even the mistress couldn't stop him! Ha ha ha! Da-shaoye won't bother us for a while now. He probably can't even get out of bed. I heard the lord whipped him for half an hour!"
Xie Jinglan fell silent, then pushed open the window and spotted Xiahou Lian washing clothes by the well. He hesitated, agonizing over whether to go to him and apologize. As he struggled, Xiahou Lian whipped his head around and held up a pair of underpants. He shot Xie Jinglan an impish grin.
Spotting the familiar underwear, Xie Jinglan quickly looked away. He opened the cabinet, only to find that the underpants he'd hidden inside were missing. Aunt Lan must've taken them.
Xiahou Lian's teasing voice rang out. "Jinglan-shaoye, did you wet yourself last night?"
"You shut up!" Xie Jinglan slammed the window shut.
Xie Jinglan ignored the other boy for three full days, but Xiahou Lian remained unfazed. He kept to his business, even taking the time to rifle through all the birds' nests around Qiuwu Courtyard.
He was quite entertained that Xie Jinglan was a hypocrite. Look at him! Just a few fleeting glances at some erotic artwork left him that flustered. Xiahou Lian tucked that little secret safely away in his heart; he'd pull it out to amuse himself whenever Xie Jinglan threw a tantrum. That thought, combined with Xiahou Lian's naturally carefree disposition, would make dealing with Xie Jinglan's ill temper fairly easy.
Xiahou Lian was confident he understood Xie Jinglan's personality perfectly. The guy had the temperament of a spoiled young lady; he couldn't be indulged. The more that happened, the more of a pampered headache he'd become.
For instance, Xie Jinglan was disturbingly obsessed with cleanliness. His clothes had to be laundered until they were utterly spotless, free of even the slightest stain. His dishes had to be scrubbed until they were perfect mirrors. Everything had to be washed and rewashed four or five times—at least.
Second, Xie Jinglan was a constant busybody, always criticizing Xiahou Lian for chewing with his mouth open, or complaining that he hadn't washed his hands before eating or rinsed his mouth after. Xiahou Lian was used to his own devil-may-care former lifestyle. He'd suffered no such constraints on his manners during his time in the mountains. Furthermore, he was a man. He didn't feel that men should concern themselves with trivialities nor fret over tidiness or hygiene. To Xiahou Lian, that was all just nagging and nitpicking, and he couldn't understand Xie Jinglan's pursuit of a gentleman's noble demeanor. Xiahou Lian felt that the other boy simply poked his nose into everything—he seemed to be a meddler through and through.
Alas, Xiahou Lian was only a servant—and, on top of that, Xie Jinglan's exclusive attendant. Despite knowing better, he had no choice but to humor him. Xiahou Lian would've summarized what he'd learned thusly: In the future, he definitely shouldn't marry anyone like Xie Jinglan.
On his third day of ignoring Xiahou Lian, Xie Jinglan returned to his inner chambers after dinner to read, as was his routine. Opening the book, he found a bright-yellow flower nestled in its pages, the vibrant color contrasting beautifully with the aged paper.
A shaggy head poked through the window. "Like it?"
Xie Jinglan picked up the small flower and said with disdain, "It's all squashed. Hideous."
"Oh no! I traveled such a long way to find that flower. I spent my entire day picking out the best of the best! It's a token of my feelings for you, Jinglan-shaoye!" Xiahou Lian said, adopting a deeply hurt expression.
Seeing his melodramatic face, Xie Jinglan felt both guilt and annoyance. He turned his head away, refusing to look at Xiahou Lian.
"I've got something serious to discuss with you," Xiahou Lian continued. "The lord didn't return alone—he brought someone back with him. You must've heard of Dai Shengyan. Do you know who he is?"
Xie Jinglan flipped through the book. "Mm-hmm. I know who that is: my father's teacher. He had the top exam score during the twenty-eighth year of the Qiyuan era. Then he was chosen as a shujishi5 and rose to become the Minister of Ceremony. He has pupils from all over the nation and is known as the lord of the Hanlin Academy."6
"Exactly. The Minister of Ceremony is a fourth-rank official! That's far better than your hypocrite of a father's position," Xiahou Lian said as he climbed through the window. "He wants to take on a new disciple, so he'll test the young men of the Xie family at Lanfang Pavilion tomorrow. This is your chance, Shaoye. We must find a way to sneak in."
Xie Jinglan had been preparing to scold Xiahou Lian for climbing in through the window, but the moment he heard that Dai Shengyan was accepting a disciple, his eyes widened. Dai Shengyan had always had a keen eye for talent and a penchant for fostering promising youths; becoming his disciple would certainly brighten Xie Jinglan's prospects. Then he started to worry.
"Can I really do this? I've never properly attended any lessons; I've only overheard a couple of lectures, and I haven't finished all the texts. On top of that, they already discovered that I've been studying in secret, so the mistress must already be on guard. I fear I'll never even get the chance to meet Dai-xiansheng."
Xiahou Lian wrapped an arm around Xie Jinglan's shoulders and chuckled. "Who cares whether you meet him or not? Let's give it a try! That won't cost us anything. As for the mistress, I have my own ideas for dealing with her."
Seeing Xiahou Lian brim with confidence, Xie Jinglan couldn't suppress his suspicions. "Xiahou Lian, why are you trying so hard to help me?"
"Because I have a good heart!" Xiahou Lian was about to blurt, only to turn and see Xie Jinglan gazing at him with the utmost seriousness, eyelashes fluttering like delicate wings, his face as fair as fine porcelain. Xiahou Lian had never seen a youth so lovely in his twelve short years. His lips parted in a grin, and he said instead, "It's your fault for being so dazzling, Jinglan-shaoye! I can't help but adore you. I was captivated by you at first sight! I, Xiahou Lian, would brave fire and flood or traverse a forest of blades for you!"
Not responding, Xie Jinglan held his hand to his forehead. He shouldn't have asked.