"DO I LOOK LIKE someone who can sing?" asked Xiahou Lian. "Although I do know some ritual dances."
Xie Jinglan suddenly recalled the white light shooting from Xiahou Lian's wrist back when they'd leapt aboard the boat. He grabbed Xiahou Lian's right hand and pulled up his sleeve, startling him. "What is this thing?" he asked, staring.
On Xiahou Lian's wrist was a metal bracer attached to a tiny, intricate crossbow. Xie Jinglan looked at him suspiciously. "Where did you get something like this?"
"Uh..." Xiahou Lian stammered, unable to offer an explanation.
"You mentioned your mother in the library, and now you say you've traveled all over. Could it be...?"
Xiahou Lian broke into a cold sweat, his hands and feet growing clammy. How was he going to smooth things over this time? If Xie Jinglan discovered he was an assassin, it would be disastrous. Once an assassin's identity was exposed, they had to withdraw immediately...
Though he didn't have a placard yet, so he didn't count as a true assassin.
Then Xie Jinglan seemed to realize something. "So is your mother a thief too? Is stealing your family trade? If so, you can't just call yourselves thieves at that point—you're a sect of jianghu bandits!"
"If...if you say so..."
Xie Jinglan let go of his sleeve. "Keep this secret; don't let anyone find out. I knew that there were clans of gentry and martial arts sects, but I had no idea that thievery could also be a family vocation... Such underhanded acts aren't becoming of a gentleman. It's good that you turned over a new leaf. Work hard going forward, and don't do those things again."
Xiahou Lian quickly agreed, breathing a silent sigh of relief.
Xie Jinglan gazed up at the wispy clouds drifting overhead. Every now and then, a bird darted past, only to vanish in the distance.
If he could just become a bird or a cloud in the sky, oblivious and unaware, perhaps he'd truly be able to live without regrets or grievances.
"Xiahou Lian," he said softly. "Tell me about your parents."
"Huh?"
"I used to think that, though my mother was gone, I at least still had a father. He was just far away in the capital, unable to take care of me; I was sure he loved me regardless. I never expected that he'd completely forget he had another son." Xie Jinglan smiled wanly. "So, tell me about your parents. I'm curious about how it feels to have them."
Xiahou Lian scratched his head. "Well, I actually don't have a father either. I grew up with my mother, and we lived in the mountains. She was a big deal in our line of work, so she was always taking on jobs. Sometimes I didn't see her for months. But whenever she was free, she took me into the mountains to hunt pheasants and rabbits or raid birds' nests. It was a lot of fun. Life in the mountains was tough, especially in our area. Famine was common, and even money didn't help much. When we ran out of food at home, my mother and I would sometimes walk miles to other houses to beg for food. At times, she'd manage to get us a bite or two. Other times, the family had no rice either, and they'd chase us away with a broom. But my mother taught me not to fear shame—putting food in your belly is more important."
Xie Jinglan wasn't sure what to say. He struggled with his response before finally replying, "Your mother is truly...extraordinary."
Perhaps it was better not to have a mother.
Xiahou Lian naively took this as a genuine compliment and smiled sheepishly. "She's pretty unreliable sometimes—she makes holes bigger when she mends them, and she practically burns down the kitchen when she cooks. Still, she's got quite a reputation in our line of work. As for my father, well, I've been trying to find out who he is for a long time. I think he may have been a great hero in the jianghu. After all, given my mother's personality, she wouldn't have fallen for a scholar, right? One day, he'll come riding on a horse to take me and my mother away. We'll roam the jianghu, happy and free."
"Then where is your mother now? Why did she sell you to a trafficker?"
"She took a job in the Western Regions. Before she left, she entrusted me to my uncle, but he found me annoying and sold me off. He said he'd buy me back once my mother returned."
Rather than responding, Xie Jinglan wondered, What kind of family is this? He suddenly felt that it was miraculous that Xiahou Lian had survived this long.
"But my uncle says that we're always gambling our lives in our field," Xiahou Lian continued. "Our colleagues on the mountain seldom live past forty. Recently, two of our seniors died on that same job in the Western Regions. I don't know if my mother will make it back."
"It's that dangerous? Then why take the job?"
"Well, people like us don't really have a choice," Xiahou Lian replied evasively, unwilling to go into further detail. "We have a boss; if we don't comply, he'll kill us."
Xie Jinglan was still confused, but he wasn't one to pry. From Xiahou Lian's shiftiness, he guessed that this was forbidden information, so he pressed no further. "It'll be fine," he clumsily comforted Xiahou Lian instead. "Your mother's amazing, so I'm sure she'll return safe and sound to fetch you."
"Mm-hmm," Xiahou Lian said vaguely.
Uncle Duan had warned him about the Western Regions' dangers, but Xiahou Lian stubbornly believed that his mother was invincible—not because he was so sure of her strength but because he didn't want to think about it too deeply.
For a while, neither boy spoke. Xiahou Lian felt a little tipsy. Face flushed, he turned to look at Xie Jinglan, who was frowning slightly with a somewhat forlorn expression.
Xiahou Lian leaned over and wrapped his arm around Xie Jinglan. "What's wrong?" he asked with a grin. "Going to miss me? Don't worry—I'll come visit you every now and then! We're brothers, after all!"
Xie Jinglan turned his head away and snorted. "Who's your brother? You're my servant—my book-boy!"
Then he lowered his gaze. His crescent-shaped eyelashes fanned low, casting a shadow over his eyes and concealing the emotions within. He'd long understood that no one could stay with anyone forever. His mother was gone, and eventually Aunt Lan and Lianxiang would be too. Xiahou Lian would someday leave as well—it was only a matter of time. If parting was inevitable, then he shouldn't put too much of himself into certain feelings.
He gently shook free of Xiahou Lian's embrace and started down the cobblestone path. No matter how many times Xiahou Lian called after him, he didn't look back.
Lianxiang and Aunt Lan were overjoyed upon hearing Xie Jinglan's good news. Now that Xiahou Lian had genuinely helped the young master, Lianxiang warmed up to him significantly. That evening, she made rice cakes and even brought one to Xiahou Lian, something she'd never done before.
However, Xiahou Lian gradually noticed that Xie Jinglan had begun to ignore him no matter what he did. Even when Xiahou Lian accidentally spilled tea at Xie Jinglan's feet, Xie Jinglan merely lifted his eyes, glanced at him, then walked away to continue reading. His lips remained tightly sealed; he refused to speak to Xiahou Lian at all.
Given how fussy and fastidious Xie Jinglan normally was, he should have long since flown into a temper.
Even Aunt Lan and Lianxiang, who were usually oblivious, noticed that something was off. Between themselves, the pair quietly discussed how the young master had grown colder and wondered whether someone had angered him. After a bit of self-reflection, they declared themselves innocent and dragged Xiahou Lian in for questioning, but poor Xiahou Lian was as clueless as they were.
Before Xiahou Lian could solve the mystery, the mistress had sent people over. They brought in books, writing materials, and even a full set of desks and cabinets. The moment the matron leading them stepped into the courtyard, she cried, "My goodness! How could the third young master live in such a shabby place? He doesn't even have a study! What are you servants doing? The roof's leaking, and no one reported it to the steward to get it fixed? Quick, clean this mess up and make room for a study!"
"I wonder what ill wind blew these weasels in," Lianxiang muttered.
It was indeed quite strange. Normally so neglected, Qiuwu Courtyard was now full of people milling about. Each was more raucous than the last, to the point that Xie Jinglan found himself with a pounding headache. The matron jabbed and prodded, disparaging Aunt Lan as "bumbling" and Xiahou Lian as "shifty." She assigned four or five new maidservants to the courtyard, then insisted on giving Xie Jinglan a new book-boy. Only Xie Jinglan's firm rejection allowed Xiahou Lian to keep his position, and the new book-boy was sent to the study with some trivial duties.
In truth, Xiahou Lian wanted to be replaced. Lounging around in the study all day, reading fiction, sounded like heaven.
"San-shaoye, we apologize for the delay in delivering your writing materials. The mistress went to the market personally to purchase them, then hired craftsmen to make these cabinets and desks. Look—they're all high-quality pearwood. We hope you can forgive us," the matron said with a bow.
Xie Jinglan nodded expressionlessly and gestured to Xiahou Lian to bring some of the writing materials to the inner chamber. He also strictly forbade anyone other than Xiahou Lian to enter his bedroom.
The matron's expression darkened. So young and already so imperious, she thought.
If Xiahou Lian had heard her thoughts, he would've laughed his head off. In truth, Xie Jinglan simply considered outsiders unclean. Xiahou Lian was only allowed into his bedroom because Xie Jinglan forced him to bathe three times a day—although Xiahou Lian's method of bathing was simply pouring three buckets of water over his head.
The craftsmen started repairing the house, clanging and banging. Xie Jinglan turned a deaf ear to the noise and greedily ran his fingers over some long-coveted rice paper, enchanted by its softness. He'd only ever practiced on rough straw paper. Although Xiahou Lian had given him rice paper before, he hadn't dared to use it. Now, he could write freely on high-quality paper.
As he examined it closely, he realized it was the same paper Xie Jingtao used.
Bursting with excitement, he mixed some ink and began writing. The moment his brush tip touched the paper, ink bloomed in its wake. He wrote a few characters and judged them passable, then raised his head to see Xiahou Lian flipping through the new books, clearly bored out of his mind.
Handing him the brush, Xie Jinglan asked him to write a couple characters. Xiahou Lian didn't refuse, promptly writing his name. Xie Jinglan looked down. The strokes were wild and sloppy—an ant's haphazard tracks might've pleased the eye more.
"Don't look too hard. I've never practiced before; I just scribbled whatever," Xiahou Lian said. He set down the brush to gawk at the chaos outside the window, head propped in his hand. "The first wife and your father are birds of a feather—both hypocrites. Look at how they spoil you now that you're Dai Shengyan's disciple."
Xie Jinglan's new writing materials had brightened his mood. He was about to respond when he remembered he was ignoring Xiahou Lian. Swallowing his words, he picked up the brush and focused his full attention on practicing his calligraphy.
Xiahou Lian was baffled. However he racked his brain, he couldn't figure out what he'd done to upset Xie Jinglan so.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Xiahou Lian opened it to find Matron Liu from earlier standing there. "Shaoye," she said, "the mistress says that, since your health has improved, you must participate in the morning and evening greetings again. Out of consideration for your poor health, we haven't been enforcing the rules in recent years. But now that you're Dai Shengyan's disciple, you must recognize proper etiquette. Thus, after dinner this evening, the mistress requests your presence in the main courtyard so that you can learn proper manners. Otherwise, you could make mistakes during your studies and become a laughingstock."
Xie Jinglan nodded indifferently, dismissing the matron. "I understand."
At that point, an awkward silence fell over the two boys. Xie Jinglan didn't seem to mind, picking up a book to read, but Xiahou Lian found the study stifling. That blockhead Xie Jinglan now paid attention only to reading and practicing calligraphy. Xiahou Lian couldn't get a word out of him, no matter how he squeezed.
Bored out of his mind, Xiahou Lian snuck back to his room for a nap, only to be caught by the lately arrived Matron Liu. She found this distasteful and spent a full afternoon bad-mouthing Xiahou Lian to Xie Jinglan. His head pounding from her complaints, Xie Jinglan decided that Xiahou Lian might as well sleep in the study. With the door closed, no one would know whether Xiahou Lian was serving tea or napping anyway.
But every time Xie Jinglan saw Xiahou Lian sprawled there, asleep, he couldn't help but wonder whether master and servant had reversed their positions. Resigned, Xie Jinglan poured his own tea, mixed his own ink, and fixed Xiahou Lian's blankets when they slipped off.