XIAHOU LIAN ATE AND SLEPT, slept and ate, virtually living the life of a pampered young master.
Each courtyard was its own little world. Not only was Xiahou Lian injured, Xie Jinglan was indulging him; as long as that continued, no one would object to Xiahou Lian's behavior, no matter how domineering he became. During his convalescence, he acted more like a young master than the actual young master himself.
Xie Jinglan didn't completely ignore the threat to the Xie family Xiahou Lian had reported. He had Lianxiang tell the steward to be cautious and tighten the manor's security. With that, however, he closed his door to focus on his studies. He assumed the steward would handle the matter; there was no need for children like himself and Xiahou Lian to worry.
After a couple weeks, Xiahou Lian's wound had mostly scabbed over. He spent his days lounging in bed, occasionally wandering into Xie Jinglan's room to disrupt his studying. Fortunately, thanks to his training at Zhuiyue Tower, Xie Jinglan had developed the ability to tune out noises. Thus, he paid no attention to Xiahou Lian's chatter.
When Xie Jinglan did engage, he subtly probed about Xiahou Lian's former life. Mentally replacing all mentions of "thieves" or "bandits" in their conversations with "assassins," he pieced together something close to the truth.
Xiahou Lian's stories were exciting at first, but over time, they became extraordinarily dull.
Most people imagined Qiye Garden as a place of indulgence, where assassins drank fine wine, embraced beautiful women, and sang all night, their bloodstained blades resting among the flowers. In reality, the assassins lived on a remote mountain with a laughably quaint name. The Garden's leader was an ancient monk on the verge of death who guarded a dilapidated temple. The supposedly fearsome Garuda, meanwhile, spent her days chasing her troublesome son across the mountain and begging neighbors for rice to feed them.
The assassins had all been forced to ingest a poison called "Seven Fifteen." Once a year, they had to take an antidote, or they would suffer an excruciating death on the fifteenth day of the seventh month. Each winter, when snow sealed off the mountain, the assassins gathered in the crumbling temple, holding cups of hot tea. There, they listened to the abbot recite scriptures longer and more torturous than an old woman's foot-binding cloth. After, each assassin reported how many heads they'd taken that year and received their annual dose of the antidote from a communal alms bowl.
Every year, some faces disappeared, never to return to the mountain. The bodies of those assassins rotted out in the mud like dead fish in salt. No one would speak their names again, and new assassins quickly replaced them. Although he usually fell asleep halfway through the abbot's lengthy scripture recitation, Xiahou Lian had always thought that it was meant as a prayer for those lost souls.
His mother was often away, leaving him to roam the mountains like a wild monkey. He invented all sorts of bizarre contraptions, making ammunition from bird droppings or caltrops from wood, and if he hit one of the mountain's assassins by mistake, they'd catch and beat him. Thus, Xiahou Lian developed a thick skin.
Few assassins stayed on the mountain year-round. The only permanent resident was the old monk, and that old geezer never spoke plainly, only mumbled scriptures. When Xiahou Lian misbehaved too much, Uncle Duan sometimes dragged him to the temple and forced him to sit beneath the Buddha statue while the abbot droned on. It was pure torture.
More often, though, Xiahou Lian lay alone in the woods, lost in thought. He'd raided every bird's nest and waded through every stream on the mountain, and its creatures were wise to his antics. Knowing what a terror he was, birds and beasts vanished wherever he went.
Surrounded by endless mountainside, the ceaseless rustling of pines, and the empty huts of the assassins, Xiahou Lian would sit on the steps of Qiye Garden, fighting off sleep as the old monk mumbled endlessly. In those circumstances, he had no alternative but to retell himself the stories he'd learned in Qiye Garden and wander the familiar mountain paths day after day.
In a way, Xie Jinglan was his first friend.
"Aren't any paths available to you beyond taking up the family business and wandering the jianghu?" Xie Jinglan asked him.
"People like us have only two paths from birth: We follow our elders into the jianghu or grow old on the mountain," Xiahou Lian replied, poking at the charcoal in the brazier. "And since I don't want to be trapped on the mountain for the rest of my life, I have to learn the trade."
"The old monk's really that powerful? He can hold that many of you hostage?"
Not wanting to explain what "Seven Fifteen" was, Xiahou Lian just sighed. "Yes. Not even my mother could defeat him."
Sunlight filtered through the carved window frame, casting intricate patterns on Xiahou Lian's body. Half his face was in shadow, his eyes downcast as his right hand occasionally stirred the charcoal.
Apparently, even someone as carefree as Xiahou Lian had moments of melancholy.
"I really envy you, Jinglan-shaoye," Xiahou Lian said softly. "Do you remember once asking me why I was helping you?"
The question took Xie Jinglan aback.
"It's because I'm destined not to have a future." Xiahou Lian looked up, his eyes sparkling with faint amusement. "But you'll have one. Studying, becoming an official, improving yourself, managing your family, and bringing peace to the nation—you could leave a legacy for the ages and be celebrated for generations. That's amazing!"
He and Xie Jinglan were on completely different paths—one leading to darkness, the other to glory.
Xie Jinglan felt a faint sting in his heart, as if tiny needles were pricking it. He opened his mouth. "I…"
Did he really want that?
In the beginning, he'd studied in order to make the Xie family kneel in regret someday. Under Dai Shengyan's guidance, he'd abandoned that petty ambition. But even now, what he cared most about wasn't the bustling masses in the streets; they were too distant, too numerous, and his heart was too small and shallow. It could only hold a few things.
"I am going to save you, Xiahou Lian. When I rise to power, you'll be free. However strong your boss is, he can't defeat an entire army."
Xiahou Lian stopped poking the charcoal and scratched his head sheepishly. "When you put it like that, it almost sounds like I'm some stunning beauty, and you're mobilizing the entire nation's troops to win my hand."
Xie Jinglan had been nervous, expecting Xiahou Lian to mock his overconfidence. After all, how could he be sure he'd someday rise to power? Even if he did, could Xiahou Lian wait that long? But Xiahou Lian, uneducated and full of tales about scholars and beauties, generals and princesses, had turned the conversation absurd.
Xie Jinglan glanced at Xiahou Lian. "Your looks aren't so bad. You could pull it off."
Time flew by, and soon it was spring. Xiahou Lian stood in a basin, stamping on Xie Jinglan's undergarments, his sleeves and trouser legs rolled up to reveal slender limbs. At twelve years old, he was sturdy and full of youthful energy. Still, he'd been washing for a while; his hair was damp with sweat and stuck to his cheeks.
Xiahou Lian didn't dare stamp for too long. If Xie Jinglan caught him washing clothes this way, he'd be furious. Ever since that "pants-wetting" incident, Xie Jinglan had refused to let Aunt Lan or Lianxiang wash his undergarments. Since Xiahou Lian already knew that secret, Xie Jinglan simply tossed the dirty garments to him instead.
After finally finishing the laundry, Xiahou Lian hung the clothes on the line, cleaned himself up, and headed to the library to fetch Xie Jinglan. Dai Shengyan had gone to Mochou Lake for a few days, so Xie Jinglan had been studying in the library on his own. There would be a temple fair that evening, and Xiahou Lian had been begging Xie Jinglan to sneak out with him to see the lanterns.
Xie Jinglan was buried in a pile of books at the pearwood desk, wearing a light-pink jacket that made his pale skin look like white jade. Despite that, his frail frame gave him a sickly appearance, as if he were a paper doll that the wind could sweep away.
"Shaoye!" Xiahou Lian called. Xie Jinglan looked up and gave him a fleeting glance. His beauty was almost otherworldly, and even a glance from him was captivating. Mentally, Xiahou Lian stuck out his tongue and coined a new nickname for the other boy: Princess Jinglan.
Xiahou Lian helped tidy and shelve the boxes of books, then handed Xie Jinglan a set of servant's clothes. This wasn't their first time absconding. Xiahou Lian had a knack for leading people astray; he'd even persuaded Lianxiang to sneak out with him once, but she'd spent the entire time at a cosmetics shop. Xiahou Lian had vowed never to take her out again.
"Only an hour," Xie Jinglan warned.
Xiahou Lian nodded eagerly. "Deal!"
They took a shortcut, scaling two walls before finally reaching the alley outside the manor. As they were about to exit the alley, a sharp voice called out from behind, "Where do you think you're going, San-shaoye?"
Hearts sinking, they both froze and slowly turned around to see the plump face of Matron Liu, her narrow eyes glaring coldly at them.
"I've caught you at last. You've been far too bold. If I weren't keeping an eye on you, the mistress would never know how daring you've become."
Xiahou Lian berated himself for failing to keep an eye on the matron. Xie Jinglan normally stayed late at the library, which was itself relatively secluded from the rest of the manor, so few people visited it. Their plan had been to sneak out to see the lanterns while everyone assumed they were still there studying, but now Matron Liu had caught them.
Xiahou Lian stepped forward. "The idea of sneaking out was entirely mine. If you must punish someone, punish me!"
Xie Jinglan grabbed Xiahou Lian's wrist. "Xiahou Lian, you're speaking out of turn! Matron Liu, there's no need to say any more. If the mistress wishes to punish us, so be it."
Matron Liu didn't let either boy off, escorting both to the main hall. The moon hung over the willow trees, and the lit lanterns cast a dim glow, which did little to dispel the heavy shadows below the rafters and pillars. Inside, Lady Xiao and Xie Bingfeng sat at the head of the room. The shadows obscured Xie Bingfeng's face, obfuscating his expression.
Xie Jinglan knelt and bowed his head. "I've come to confess my wrongdoings, Father."
Xie Bingfeng's voice was disappointed. "I thought you were a good and studious child, but it seems you're just as unruly as the rest. Where were you planning to go?"
"To the temple fair," Xie Jinglan said meekly, his face the picture of chastened obedience. "I know I was wrong. Please punish me severely. I won't do it again."
Watching his son's meek and docile apology, Xie Bingfeng relented. "Fine. You're young, and it's normal to want to play. Go back to the library and study hard. I'll let it go this time."
Xie Jinglan bowed again and was about to leave when Lady Xiao spoke up. "Wait, my lord. Our Jinglan has always been diligent. You're rarely home, so you wouldn't know, but I've seen how hard he studies. He's never done anything like sneaking out to a temple fair before. Someone must've led him astray."
Xie Bingfeng's gaze shifted to Xiahou Lian, his eyes filling with anger. "Xiahou Lian, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Before Xiahou Lian could speak, Xie Jinglan interjected, "Father, Xiahou Lian did mention the temple fair to me, but it was my decision to go. I've always wanted to go to festivals, but the mistress kept me home out of concern for my health. Still, I wished very much to go but was too afraid to ask. That's why, today, I made the foolish decision to sneak out. I know I was wrong. Punish me if you must."
Xie Bingfeng glanced at Lady Xiao and coughed. "Your mother meant well. If you wanted to go, you should just have asked. We wouldn't have kept you confined."
Lady Xiao, caught off guard, was furious. She cast a meaningful look at Matron Liu, who stepped forward.
"My lord, there's something else you don't know," Matron Liu said cryptically.
Xie Bingfeng frowned. "Speak plainly. We don't tolerate nonsense here."
Matron Liu replied quickly, "Xiahou Lian not only encouraged the young master to go to the temple fair but also took him to listen to songs at the Wanxiang Tower brothel. Who knows how much money they spent? The young master was always well-behaved, but Xiahou Lian has been using up his monthly allowance. Just the other day, while cleaning the young master's bed, I found…"
Xie Bingfeng tamped down on his anger. "Found what?"
Matron Liu pretended to hesitate. "I found a handkerchief embroidered with words—something about 'your heart' and 'bedrock.'"12 She sighed. "I've never read or studied, so I don't know what they meant."
Lady Xiao covered her crimson lips with a fan, her eyes gleaming with predatory delight. "My lord, just look at this Xiahou Lian. He's a true scourge. He not only refuses to study, he's also leading Jinglan astray."
"You're lying!" Xiahou Lian shouted. "I've never been to Wanxiang Tower!"
"If you don't believe me," said Matron Liu, "search his room for leftover money. And search the young master's person. He carries that handkerchief with him daily."
"Father," said Xie Jinglan, "we've never been to Wanxiang Tower, and the only person who cleans my room is Xiahou Lian. When did Matron Liu ever set foot inside it? She's lying. You can summon the servants from Qiuwu Courtyard to confirm that."
Xie Jinglan was starting to panic. Damn it, he thought. Lady Xiao was clearly after Xiahou Lian. Xiahou Lian had spent his entire monthly allowance on snacks, so how could he have money left? Matron Liu must have planted the handkerchief somehow, so they absolutely couldn't let themselves be searched.
And how come she brought up Wanxiang Tower? There were countless brothels along Jinling's Qinhuai River. Why fixate on Wanxiang Tower?
Lady Xiao raised her voice. "We'll question the servants but check you as well. Servants, search them!"
Maids immediately stepped forward and began thoroughly searching Xie Jinglan. In the course of doing so, one maid reached into the lining of his jacket and pulled out a bright-red handkerchief. To the onlookers, she appeared to have taken it from near Xie Jinglan's chest, though it had really been hidden in the jacket's lining.
At the sight of the handkerchief, Xie Jinglan and Xiahou Lian went pale.
Lady Xiao feigned sorrow. "You're so young, and you've already picked up such vile habits. Whatever will become of you? Xiahou Lian, Dai-xiansheng freed you from servitude and took you in. The lord has even allowed you to stay by the third young master's side as a schoolmate. And this is how you repay us? By leading the young master astray? What were you thinking?!"
Xiahou Lian was speechless. He could only panic silently.
Xie Bingfeng took the red handkerchief, the overwhelming scent of perfume nearly making him sneeze. In the corner was a short poem, signed Liu Xiangnu. The sight made his blood boil.
Liu Xiangnu was the full pseudonym of Lady Liu, Wanxiang Tower's top courtesan. She was notoriously selective and rarely entertained guests. Even Xie Bingfeng had gone to considerable effort composing countless poems in the hopes of winning her favor. He also had a handkerchief embroidered with her name, though the poem on his read, May I be the star, and you the moon, shining brightly together every night.13
Was Lady Liu mass-producing such handkerchiefs? Handing them out to every patron, each with a different poem?
Xie Bingfeng didn't know whether to be angrier at Xie Jinglan for visiting brothels at such a young age, at Lady Liu for her mass-produced handkerchiefs, or at the knowledge that he and his son had unwittingly shared the same courtesan. He picked up a teacup and hurled it at Xie Jinglan, drenching him in tea. The cup shattered against the floor.
The room fell silent. Xie Bingfeng threw the handkerchief to the ground. "You little brat! What have you done?!" he roared. "Why do you have Lady Liu's handkerchief?"
Though the teacup had struck Xie Jinglan, he remained expressionless. He picked up the handkerchief, examined it, and tossed it back to the ground. "This handkerchief isn't mine."
Xiahou Lian leaned in to look as well. Seeing the name "Liu Xiangnu" in the corner, his expression grew complicated.
Lady Xiao fixed her hair and sighed. "Remember how grand the Xie family's gathering at Yanbo Lake was, my lord? Yet only this boy caught Dai-xiansheng's eye. You thought the Xie family had finally produced a promising seedling, someone to bring more glory to our ancestors. But in the end, he's still young and easily led astray." Glancing at Xiahou Lian, she added, "This matter mustn't reach your friends, or they'll mock us."
Xie Bingfeng had always valued his reputation over his life. Even if his insides were rotten, he could gild them with a gold-and-jade veneer. Dai Shengyan's recognition of Xie Jinglan had initially brought Xie Bingfeng great pride; scholars and the literati praised him as a "mighty father who begot a talented son" and lauded the Xie family as "the epitome of scholarly refinement." The emptier the pretenses that propped up his reputation, the more fiercely he guarded it. He was now accustomed to chasing fame and prestige, and he would not tolerate those things being even slightly blemished.
In a fit of rage, he pointed at Xie Jinglan and shouted, "You're a disgrace to the family! This filthy thing was found on your person, and still you dare to deny your actions? If this handkerchief isn't yours, it must belong to that wonderful schoolmate of yours! I raised you, and this is how you repay me? By engaging in such despicable behavior?!"
Seeing Xie Jinglan expressionless and unmoving, Lady Xiao felt a surge of loathing and added fuel to the fire. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. If the hen falls short, how can the egg be any better?"
Xie Jinglan suddenly looked up, glaring at Lady Xiao.
Xie Bingfeng coughed awkwardly. "What does this have to do with his mother?"
"What? I can't bring her up?" Lady Xiao sneered. "You were the one who got drunk and lost your wits. Not only did you sire this disgraceful brat, you were demoted three ranks, and your once-promising future was ruined. You reap what you sow."
"How many times have I told you not to speak of that despicable woman?" Xie Bingfeng said impatiently. As soon as the words left his mouth, he remembered that Xie Jinglan was still present. He glanced at his son, whose head hung low, revealing a hint of pale chin identical to his mother's. He quickly suppressed his flicker of fresh guilt, and irritation crept like vines through his heart. He closed his eyes. "Enough. Xie Jinglan, go kneel in the ancestral hall and reflect on your actions. From now on, you're confined to the courtyard. You may not leave except to attend Dai-xiansheng's lessons. As for Xiahou Lian, the Xie family can no longer risk keeping you. When Dai-xiansheng returns, he can take you away!"
Unable to hold back any longer, Xiahou Lian retorted angrily, "The dead are gone, yet you're still so spiteful toward them. How can you call your family prestigious?!"
"You brat!" Xie Bingfeng roared. "Who gave you permission to speak?"
Inwardly, Xiahou Lian spat. Then he glanced at Xie Jinglan. Kneeling behind him, Xiahou Lian could only see his back.
Xie Jinglan's head was still bowed. His pale face was hidden in shadow, his expression inscrutable. He could hear the servants whisper around him, their voices like the rustle of an insect's fine wings as it moved across a table. The candle on the table flickered with a popping sound, and the shadows on the floor swayed. Beyond the wall, the night watchman struck his temple block, each thud echoing in Xie Jinglan's dully throbbing heart.
Suddenly, Xie Jinglan spoke. His voice was soft, but everyone heard it clearly.
"The handkerchief isn't mine."
"Oh? You're saying it belongs to Xiahou Lian?" Lady Xiao's red lips curled as she smiled.
Lifting his head slowly, Xie Jinglan stared directly at Lady Xiao. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and for a moment, Lady Xiao thought she saw something demonic lurking within them.
"If I'm not mistaken, it belongs to Xie Jingtao, your son."